#rattan desk

[simpledeals12]

The Best Electric Ride-On Cars for Kids: Our Top Picks

In an age where playtime is increasingly intertwined with technology, electric ride-on cars have emerged as a favorite among children and parents alike. These cars offer more than mere entertainment; they provide a unique way for kids to explore their surroundings, develop motor skills, and foster a sense of independence. With a plethora of options in the market, it can be challenging for parents to choose the best ride-on cars that suits their child's preferences and needs. This article aims to highlight some of the best electric ride-on cars available, focusing on quality, safety, and fun.

Understanding Ride-On Cars

Ride-on cars are battery-powered vehicles designed for children, typically ranging from toddlers to early teens. These cars come in various designs, including replicas of real-life vehicles, which excite the imagination of young drivers. Most ride-on cars are equipped with features like working headlights, sound systems, and remote controls, allowing parents to supervise and control the car's movement. Safety is paramount, and reputable brands ensure that their products meet rigorous safety standards, providing peace of mind for parents.

When selecting a ride-on car, several factors must be considered, including the age of the child, the car's weight capacity, and the type of terrain it can handle. Additionally, some ride-on cars come equipped with added features, such as adjustable speeds and parental remote controls, making them suitable for younger children.

Top Picks for Electric Ride-On Cars

Among the plethora of options available, certain models stand out due to their design, performance, and safety features. Simple Deals offers an impressive range of ride-on cars, ensuring that every child finds their ideal vehicle.

One standout option is the Kids Ride-On Car Jeep 12V Electric Remote Control. This car combines rugged aesthetics with practical functionality. It features an adjustable seatbelt for safety, and the remote control allows parents to steer when necessary. Designed with a sleek look, this ride-on car is perfect for adventurous kids who want to emulate their favorite off-road vehicles. Its robust construction ensures durability, making it a wise investment for families.

Another fantastic choice is the Kids Ride-On Car Audi Licensed Ttrs Toy Cars Remote 12V Battery. This model offers an authentic driving experience, complete with the iconic Audi styling. It comes with a rechargeable battery, ensuring hours of playtime. Equipped with a remote control, parents can take charge if their little ones need assistance. This car is perfect for kids who dream of driving luxury vehicles, providing them with a taste of the high life while ensuring their safety.

For those looking for versatility, the Kids Electric Ride On Car Off Road Jeep Remote 12V Blue/Red is an excellent pick. This ride-on car is designed for various terrains, making it suitable for both indoor and outdoor adventures. Its sturdy build and powerful motor allow it to tackle grass, gravel, and more without compromising performance. The remote control feature adds an extra layer of safety, enabling parents to control the car's movements when necessary. This model embodies fun and practicality, making it a favorite among children and parents alike.

The Rigo Kids Electric Ride On Car Bulldozer Digger Loader Remote 6V Red is another captivating option for children who love construction vehicles. This ride-on car is modeled after a real bulldozer and comes with realistic features like working lights and sounds, captivating young imaginations. It’s designed with safety in mind, featuring an adjustable seatbelt and a sturdy frame. The ability to control the car remotely is particularly appealing for younger children who are still mastering their driving skills.

Safety Features to Consider

When it comes to ride-on cars, safety should always be a top priority. Parents must look for cars that adhere to safety standards and come equipped with essential safety features. Many modern ride-on cars feature adjustable seatbelts, parental remote control options, and sturdy construction to withstand rough play. Additionally, cars with lower maximum speeds are ideal for younger children, providing a safer driving experience.

It is also essential to consider the weight capacity of the ride-on car. Parents should ensure that the chosen model can accommodate their child comfortably, allowing for safe and enjoyable play. Furthermore, opting for cars with non-slip tires can enhance stability and control, particularly on uneven surfaces.

Conclusion

In conclusion, electric ride-on cars offer children an exciting and engaging way to explore their environment while developing essential skills. From the rugged Kids Ride-On Car Jeep to the luxurious Audi Licensed Ttrs, there are numerous options available to cater to various preferences and budgets. Safety features, such as adjustable seatbelts and parental remote controls, ensure that children can enjoy their ride-on cars without compromising their safety. Simple Deals provides an extensive selection of ride-on cars, allowing parents to make informed choices while ensuring their children have a blast. Investing in a quality ride-on car not only guarantees hours of entertainment but also fosters a sense of independence and adventure in young drivers.

[vintagehomecollection]

Osborne & Little The Decorated Room, 1988

[jakkenpoy]

[waxonfilm]

Contemporary Home Office - Freestanding Large trendy freestanding desk carpeted and beige floor study room photo with gray walls and no fireplace

[theyeartochange]

Beach Style Bedroom Miami Bedroom - small coastal guest carpeted bedroom idea with brown walls

[queen-moors]

Bathroom 3/4 Bath Inspiration for a small contemporary bathroom remodel with a hinged shower door, solid surface countertops, dark wood cabinets that look like furniture, a one-piece toilet, gray walls, and 3/4-white tile and stone tile flooring.

[harmonieworkshop]

Transform Your Workspace | Scandinavian Wood Desk with Drawers

[dolphinflamingo]

Boho Chic Wicker and Rattan Writing Desk 👉Tap/touch/feel/explore photo for info 🐬 🦩 🐬 🦩 🐬 🦩 #postmodern #vintagefurniture #80sfurniture #80sdecor #interiordesign #interiordecorator #vintageflorida #artdeco #floridavintage #hollywoodregency #midcenturymodern #delrayvintage #mcm #midmod #vibes #rattan #rattanfurniture #rattandesk #rattantable #desk #vintagedesk #writingdesk #wicker #wickerfurniture #wickerdesk (at Delray Beach, Florida) https://www.instagram.com/p/CmEftVaOtrI/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition)

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus (+ maybe the other MLs!) and an oblivious player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, maybe some suggestive language?? will add more tags as the story progresses A/N: This is gonna be a multi-chapter fic! I’m still not sure whether to do the boys in rotation, or just focus on one ML per series. Don’t take my word for it atp tho – I’m not even sure if I can actually finish a series lol.  Also, I’ve had the creative liberty of changing stuff from the actual gameplay here and there. (Except for the self-awareness. That’s most definitely real.) Hope you enjoy~!

Chapter 1

It’s a quarter past eight and you’re still on your desk working overtime on a Friday night. 

You let out a big sigh, leaning back on your office chair after an unhealthy duration of bad posture from hours of slouching down in front of your computer. There’s nothing ergonomic about the way this job is killing you, and the ache in your lower back can attest to that. 

An irate orange tabby plops himself in front of you, blocking your view of the glaring screen and you figure that it’s time for a break. 

“Me-oow.”

“I know, I know,” You answer tiredly, standing up to dodge a stray paw clawing your way and you hear cracks in three different places that are honestly unbecoming of a woman your age. You haven’t even reached thirty yet, for god’s sake. “I’m a bad mother. But mom also had to skip dinner to make it to the seven PM meeting, so cut me some slack, okay?” 

A high-pitched “meooowr!” is the only response you get; it seems like there’s no excusing late dinner time this time around. 

As much as you’d like to hem and haw and complain, the main reason why you’re still keeping this job is because you can work remotely. If it weren’t for the fact that you’re stuck most days at home working hours past your regular nine to five, having to be on-call around the clock at all times, and that you’ve consumed more sodium than a nitrite victim with the way you live off cup ramen, then, really, it beats working in an office where you’d physically have to clock in and out from exactly nine to five. 

Your right eye twitches. No, I have not fallen in love with the system that exploits me, thank you very much. 

“Here is your Fancy Feast, your highness,” you tell the hungry feline who’s already ignoring the hand that feeds for the bowl full of white fish paté. He eats healthier than you, sure, but you work like this for him to eat like this. The life of a single mom is an uphill battle, but extremely rewarding. 

You raise your hand to pat your son’s head lovingly, aborting the gesture halfway when you hear a warning growl. Alright, tough crowd. 

After nuking a half-eaten takeout box in the microwave and grabbing a cold Bundaberg from the fridge, you hunker down on the “chaise lounge” (see: an old wingback and a rattan ottoman you’ve refurbished as a makeshift seat a few weeks back when you had guests over) for a late meal. 

You barely register the taste of lukewarm rice on your tongue, mouth moving mechanically while your mind runs on autopilot about everything and nothing at the same time. 

Maybe it’s time to check Jobstreet again

Is there like a laundromat near the area that’s open twenty four seven

Eugh, I hate cold peas

What do we feel about Chromakopia? 

I will… die alone

I really need to stock on some fresh produce this weekend–

Ping! 

A notification from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts – and like a well-trained dog pavlov’d into responding, you visibly perk up at the sight of your lock screen lighting up and the familiar banner you’ve already memorized by heart. 

Your Galaxy Explorer rewards are here. Did you put my hotel’s address as the shipping address? 

Ah, just like clockwork. 

You press on it with a quiet, bubbling anticipation, chewing on the plastic spork as you wait impatiently for the silly mobile game that’s been your short respite at intervals – for more than you’d care to admit – to boot up. 

Offhandedly, you wish that the devs would add more variations to the game’s push notifications; more random, personalized stuff like maybe a reminder to drink water, or a fun update about their day. What you’d give – pay – for a: "Less on the overtime, kitten. I miss you,” dialogue from a certain character, but you digress. 

Oh, well. Probably better this way, lest you dig yourself deeper into delusion. 

The game greets you with the usual picturesque view of a silver-haired man sitting cross-legged on a chair, looking all the bit at ease in his signature crimson and white button up. The warm ambience of the Destiny Café at night draws you in, already pulling your attention away from the never-ending stream of thoughts in your brain. 

“Before seeing you, I thought today would be another dull day,“ Sylus comments airily. The way he drawls out the words in that deep timbre of his voice never fails to make your heart flutter – just a teeeensy bit.

“Ever the charmer,” you sigh happily in return, situating yourself more comfortably on the sofa, almost horizontal from how far you’re leaning back on the cushion. “You’re looking awfully normal tonight. What, no pineapple glasses for your favorite girl?” 

Having bypassed the initial cringe of talking to yourself after literal months of gameplay, it almost comes off natural, the banter. You’ve already accepted the fact that you’re crazy about a fictional, pixelated man – what’s pretending to have actual conversations with him gonna do? It’s not as if he actually hears you yap your nonsense; there are worse things in the world than a parasocial attachment to an otome game character. 

Your little jab at the sometimes random addition to his choice of attire earns you a laugh from the man itself– or at least it looks as though it does, making you blink momentarily in surprise. Happy coincidence, I guess.

You shake your head, cracking a smile, then proceed to do the routine of completing the daily agenda and then some. 

It’s tedious business, sure. You’ve dedicated hours upon hours on this game and you’re honestly starting to feel pretty bored with some of the gameplay elements, but you *do* like the ritualistic nature of ticking off the tasks one by one. It’s almost ironic – the way you dutifully do one thing after the other in this game, just to avoid the pile of work that’s waiting for you in real life. 

It’s not as if anything, or anyone’s relying on you to do your daily log-ins, so you suppose it’s due to that lack of pressure as well. 

Pulling yourself away from the five-star Xavier memory card you’ve grinded to level seventy, you stare despondently at the sad little 2 on your remaining energy. The embarrassing amount of materials you lack to ascend the card seem to mock you, even as you exit the Memories window. Another goal for another day, perhaps.

All tasks on the daily agenda are complete, except for one that you’ve always saved for last.

You’re met with a standing Sylus on the game’s home screen, arms crossed and wearing an expression you’d almost describe as impatient, if you didn’t know any better. The sight makes you grin. 

Cheekily, you poke his crotch.

You’re looking forward to getting a playful remark, or if you’re lucky, a blush along with an embarrassed retort about your shamelessness. 

 What you get, however, is a resounding scoff. Your eyes snap back to his face – from, ahem, your prolonged staring at the area below his waist – and you do see the familiar tinge of pink on his cheeks, but what he says in response catches you off-guard.

“You spend that much resource for a card that isn’t mine?” Sylus tsks, both his voice and expression coming across as… affronted? “Kitten, I’m actually hurt.” 

Huh?

You haven’t heard that line from him before. Was there a recent update you weren’t aware of? The man in question then appears to look amused, from the way you’ve been rendered speechless by the unexpected dialogue. 

All at once, you gasp when you realize what the new response means. 

“That’s so smart,” you say giddily. You see Sylus cock his head to the side, synchronously quirking an eyebrow—expectant. “They actually added a feature that lets them know which memory I’ve upgraded last, and make you react to it. Oh, that’s so cool!” 

If you weren’t too busy being excited over what you think is a new update from the game,  you’d see the chagrined look on Sylus’ face. But when you glance back at him, all trace of the emotion is gone before you could notice anything different. 

“Don’t worry, Crow Man. You’re still my favorite,” you assure him, making his mouth tick upwards in a semblance of a smile. He looks pleased all of the sudden, his demeanor shifting into something more relaxed.

Then a pout forms on your face. You crinkle your nose in frustration as you complain, “It’s just really hard to level your cards up at this point. It takes ages and a shit ton of energy just to level you up past seventy five.” Sighing, you add, kind of bitterly, “And I’m too broke to be spending money on growth packs.” 

Checking the time on your phone, you see that you’ve already spent more than an hour on your self-imposed break time and you know that you ought to get back to work soon. With a groan, you pull yourself to sit upright, savoring the last few minutes of free time before you slave off for the rest of the night. 

You’re about to clean up what’s left of dinner when you notice the oddly thoughtful look on Sylus’ face. 

There’s a deep furrow in his brows as he brings a hand up to cover his mouth. He closes his eyes shut for a few seconds. He's never done that gesture before... Ugh, he looks really hot–

Suddenly, you see a flicker— then a weird, sort of graphic distortion happening in the background. Uh, what??

A beat; then a glitch on the screen. “Ah, shit.” 

The game crashes.

You exhale loudly as the game’s interface goes back to the loading screen, tapping your thumb impatiently as the bar slowly loads to 15%... 50%..... 81%....... 

“Maybe make sure to patch up first before releasing an update next time, jeez— Huh?” 

For a quick second, nothing seems to be amiss. But then the first thing you see on the home screen is Sylus’ figure standing before you, wearing an expression one could only describe as a cat that ate the proverbial canary. 

He speaks— and it’s another intro you haven’t heard him say, ever. 

“You should’ve told me sooner, sweetie,” he almost coos the words out, making your eyes bug out in shock. 

“Now, why don’t you go check your–” he pauses, and his mouth moves as if he’s rolling the word out, testing it. “Inventory?” 

Sylus slides his gaze towards the upper left corner of the screen, a coy smirk still ever-present on his face. 

There, you see something you haven’t noticed earlier: two notification badges. One on your mailbox, and another on the Hunter’s Info tab. Bewildered, you press on the mail icon first, despite the insistence for you to start with the latter. 

You see a new message: [For You]

A small gift, to bridge our worlds closer. – S 

Nothing is attached to it. You read it twice, perplexed.  

“You’re quite the contradictorian, aren’t you?” Sylus tuts as soon as you return back to the home screen, his gaze boring into you even when he tilts his head sideways in mock exasperation. “Mmm, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Take all the time you need, sweetheart.” 

Helplessly, you open your inventory next. 

Your jaw drops. 

“What. The fuck,” You whisper to yourself, voice wavering in disbelief at what you’re seeing, and the sheer amount of what you’re seeing. “This– this can’t be real.” 

You see that all the materials you own, from the bottle of wishes to the ascension crystal boxes, have been multiplied a hundred times over.

And on top of that–

Ninety nine thousand red dias????

You cannot believe how this– this recent… update (or is it a bug? Infold sure isn’t this generous) didn't make the news. Even as someone as uninvolved as you are with the community and the game’s latest releases, something like this for sure would’ve made headlines on Twitter (X), at least. But you haven’t heard anything. Nada. 

Holy shit. 

You feel a little light-headed, both from incredulity and excitement. Needing a moment to calm yourself down, you exit the Inventory tab in a daze.

You stare at Sylus. He stares back at you with what looks to be mirth in his eyes. 

Skeptically, you mutter, “did–did I get hacked or something?” 

Anticipating another unexpected dialogue to prompt up, you wait for a full minute without saying anything else. And for a moment, the man in front of you looks indecisive, contemplative. 

There’s something very odd, very… human in the way he’s looking at you. He looks as if– as if he’s—

His face falls back into a neutral expression. Not unlike how his idle animation usually looks. 

..

…

….. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to initiate a conversation any time soon, so you hesitantly poke him on the nose. 

“Even in the worst-case scenario, there’s no need to panic.”

You’ve heard that one before.

So he’s back to normal now. You temper the small disappointment that blooms in your gut. 

Shaking your head slowly, you try to make sense of all the stuff that just happened, but a sharp bite on your ankle pulls you out of your reverie. 

“Ow–!” The sight of your cat flopping near your feet reminds you of the time. More importantly, the backlogs waiting for you at your desk. 

“Wait, shit– I gotta get back to work.” This… unbelievable stroke of good luck (?) is gonna have to take a backseat for now.

You grab the carton box and the half-empty bottle of sparkling peach as you stand up. Making quick work of throwing the container in the trash and gulping down the rest of your drink, you rush into your room and back in front of your PC. 

Cracking your knuckles, you gingerly set your phone against the monitor. Setting the timer to one hour in Quality Time, knowing fully-well that you’re going to have to keep extending it until the wee hours of the morning – or until your battery dies, whichever comes first – you give Sylus one last look, letting out a long exhale before locking in.

“Just keep me company for the night, alright? I’ll figure out what’s going on once my shift’s over.” 

It could just be your overactive imagination, but you swear you hear a quiet chuckle from the man polishing his gun in your peripheral.

[dscombobulate]

「 the grove apartment 」

— dakota visited her sister and baby niece in their charming and eclectic apartment by the beach.

living area

plaster wallpaper | ceiling fan, ficus tree, magazines, flower paintings, wall clock, tv , cable box, sofa & pillows, plant basket | strawberry triceratop | laundry basket | shoe bench | handbag | floral pennant | wreath | mirror | dvd player | book basket | end table

kitchen

windows | curtains | copperware rack | dining table | rug | calendar | fridge & microwave | gas stove | kitchen counters | shelving system | milkshake blender | blender | rice cooker & kettle | plate rack | egg case & hand towel | books holder, coffee bag, tea case, and bread box | tea planters | bottle warmer | box of eggs | recipes tin box | sandwich tins | tea tins | oreos | containers | food boxes & cans | cans | banana rack | tea box | toaster | breakfast cereal boxes

kids area

door | bunny rug | poster macrame | toy kitchen, shopping cart, and drums | bear | toy basket | pyramid toy | ceiling lamp & books | books | toy blocks | llama plush

bedroom

sheer curtains | rug | ceramic ceiling light | desk | desk chair | desk mirror | tablet | makeup bag | beauty case | makeup brushes | floor lamp | rattan mirror & macrame tapestry | palm vase | bed frame | mattress | end table

@felixandresims @awingedllama @nolan-sims @syboubou @kirsicca @joyceisfox @plushpixelssims @tudtuds @pierisim @sims-kkb @brazenlotus @caio-cc @harrie-cc @aroundthesims @valiasims @s-imagination @sforzcc @thecluttercat @littlbowbub @leaf-motif @officialsnootysims @imfromsixam @vintage-simmer @surely-sims @irinaseverinka @taurusdesign @plumbobteasociety @myshunosun @lilaccreative @linzlu

follow me on the following platforms!

✧ patreon | instagram | x | pinterest | youtube ✧

[sundays-sims]

I S L A . (early access, patreon)

Welcoming my favorite weather with a set I have been wanting to create for a while: a cute area for your sims to get ready & dessed, either in a bedroom or a walk-in. I tried my best to create nice hanging clothes & a rack, super cute skincare clutter, some slippers etc! Although I made this with a bedroom/home in mind, I can totally see this set as part of a store as well! It's up to your imagination! The isla set contains 18 new meshes, the rack is functional as a wardrobe as well, so simmies can change their outfit using it. The vanity & pouf can also work as a computer desk as well. I hope you enjoy this set, I really enjoyed creating all the details and small objects! ♥

↓ details & download link under the cut ↓

D O W N L O A D - L I N K : [X] (patreon, early access)

SET DETAILS:

clothes rack

hanger

body suit

t-shirt

buttoned shirt

knit sweater

bralette

slippers

vanity desk

pouf

floor mirror

lip oil (2 versions)

comb & earrings

ceramic plate

body lotion bottle

lotion tube

scrunchie

**WCIF: the vanity mirror is from my Ungasan set, the rattan basket from my Rimouski set, the small earring stand with the diamond earrings is from my canggu set**

→ terms of use / TOU ← / / → instagram ←

[laurensxdeath]

Fate

Emily Prentiss x reader

Emily is your soulmate, but you're convinced you aren't hers. (soulmate/soulmark au)

Thanks @ghost-rattan for helping me with this :)

When you turn 15, your soulmate's name appears on your wrist. Emily Prentiss.

You find her when you join the FBI. You're wearing long sleeves that day, so she doesn't notice her name tattooed on your wrist as you shake hands. You decide it's probably best to keep it this way for now, and you continue wearing long sleeved shirts to work everyday.

You like Emily, more than you probably should for knowing someone such a short amount of time.

It starts soon after you join the team. She welcomes you, as do the rest of the team. But with her it's different. She makes you feel like you really belong, you haven't had that before. Maybe that's why it started.

It's about after a month you've joined the team, You, Emily, JJ And Penelope are all having a girl's night. After being questioned relentlessly by Penelope about her soulmate, Emily tells everyone.

"Yes, I've met her. We've been dating for a while and just moved in together" she says, rolling her eyes. Your heart shatters. Emily was in love with someone else. To caught up in the conversation, you excuse yourself to get another drink and no one notices as you slip out of the apartment.

You just drive around in your car aimlessly for a while, thinking. You eventually end up back at your apartment. You park your car and check your phone. It had been blown up with notifications from the girls' asking where you went. You sigh before typing out a response.

JJ

Y/n/n where did you go? Call me back please, we're worried about you.

- 10:47PM

Hey JJ, sorry I wasn't feeling

well and needed to clear my head. Im alright, didn't mean to make you stress. -11:07PM

You unlock your door, tears leaking from your eyes. Frustratedly you wipe them away and go to bed. You find it difficult to sleep, just laying in bed thinking. You eventually drift off.

You wake up to your alarm buzzing. You hadn't slept much. You eat and shower, you search your closet for what to wear. As you reach for a shirt your wrist catches your eye. Emily's name. You take a deep breath, and try to forget about it. It didn't matter anyway.

You'd do what you'd always done when you caught feelings for someone, you'd distance yourself until you got over them.

At least there wasn't a case today, not that paperwork was much fun. You just didn't feel like you could think about anything else properly today.

You walk out of the elevator and Emily's the first to greet you. "Hey Y/n! You feeling alright today? JJ mentioned that's why you left early last night" you grit your teeth, not wanting to talk about it.

"Yeah, much better" she frowns as if she doesn't believe you. "You know you can talk to me?" She reaches for your hand and you don't meet her eyes. "Yeah, I know" you say as you walk away. You glance back over her shoulder and see her frowning at you. Maybe it's best you weren't near her right now.

You make your way over to Garcia's room and she greets you enthusiastically. You give her a small half smile and she questions if you're still feeling off.

"Yeah, a little" you tell her. She frowns at you. "What's the matter?" You sigh. "I'm sorry, I really don't want to talk about it right now" you tell her. She nods. "Okay but I'm here when you're ready!" You smile at her. "Thanks Pen"

You make an instant coffee, and walk back to your desk to get started. You place your earphones in to block out the world around you and manage to work undisturbed until lunch.

You feel a tap on your shoulder. You take an earphone out and turn around to see Emily. "Hey, it's lunch. Have you eaten yet?" You shake your head. "No, I've been working I'll have something later" she frowns. "work can wait a few minutes, let's go get something to eat" you want to, but remind yourself that you're trying to get over her. and the best way to do that is by avoiding her. "I'll have something later, Emily. I want to finish this" she looks sad. Can't she just ask JJ or someone? She walks away and you put your earphone back in.

She walks back in a few minutes later, puts a sandwich on your desk and goes back to her own work. You're starting to hate the butterflies she gives you.

At the end of the day you rush out to your car, hoping she won't try to talk to you again. You drive back to your apartment and immediately get changed into cooler clothes, you could finally wear short sleeves now that you're back.

You turn on the tv and watch that for a few hours. It's good to focus on something other than Emily.

You're about to get up to order takeaway, but you hear a knock at your door. You pause the tv and go to answer it. You open the door and find Emily there.

"Emily?" She smiles. "Hey Y/n/n. Can I come in?" You give a small nod and move out of the way. She gestures for you to follow her and you both sit down on the couch. You fold your arms, unconsciously keeping your tattooed wrist hidden.

"I can tell something's going on with you, you're upset about something and pushing me away. Why?" You don't answer right away, you just sit there with your arms folded while you stare at the ground. "Nothing is wrong Emily. I don't know what you hope to achieve by coming here" you tell her, but she still isn't convinced.

She reaches for your hand and her fingers gently trace against your wrist, you don't even register that it's not covered. "Y/n/n? What's this?" She's says. You freeze.

Fuck. You weren't wearing long sleeves. She'd seen her name on your wrist. You yank your hand back from her gentle grip, as you stand up and wrap your arms around yourself.

You can feel tears pooling in your eyes and you force yourself to breathe normally even though you're panicking.

"I think you should go, Emily" you don't look at her. "Y/n, look at me. Please" you feel sick. She wasn't supposed to find out. She's already met her soulmate.

Tears start to spill from your eyes and you wipe them away quickly. Emily stands in front of you and takes your hand again, but you still refuse to look at her. "Y/n/n, Look at my wrist" you meet her eyes, before looking down at her wrist.

She's removed her watch, that once covered a tattoo of her soulmark. Of your name.

Emily interlaces her fingers with yours. "You're my soulmate too, y/n" you're to confused to speak yet, didn't she have a soulmate already?

"Is this why you've been acting off lately? Why you left Garcia's that night without telling anyone? I remember you only left after we started talking about my partner" You pull your hand back and lean against the wall behind you, crossing your arms in front of you.

"I know you already have a partner Em, this doesn't have to mean anything" you tell her. You wouldn't make her choose. You shut your eyes and try to stop crying as your head rests on the wall behind you.

You only open your eyes again as you feel Emily's hand rest gently on your cheek, wiping away your tears. "Y/n/n, I'm not dating anyone. I only said that to Garcia so she'd leave the topic alone. I love you, you're my soulmate" she says, resting her forehead against yours.

You smile up at her as you lightly thread your fingers through her hair and kiss her gently.

"I love you too, Emily"

I'm still fairly new to writing, feedback is appreciated :)

[foxblood]

The Threads of Memory: I Matchmaker

Chapters: 1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16/17/18/19/20/21/22/23/24/25

Morena sat in the seat across from Madame Toussau in her parlor with her shoulders tight and face slightly pinched, sipping from a teacup decorated with delicate pink ropes of petals belonging to no specific flower.  Her eyes fell upon the matchmaker, narrowed in skepticism, and took in the lush pinks and oranges of her dress that seemed to affront the neatly kept sitting room’s airy blues and greens.

Madame Toussau waited for Morena’s assessment, always best to let the client find the first words.  Especially one as particular as this mother -- single mother, if the portrait of herself and four children on the wall was any indication.  

Morena finally set her cup down on the saucer.  “Please, drink your tea,” her command practiced, and Madame Toussau found the cup in her hand as soon as Morena asked.  Morena continued, “if I may be frank with you madame, a matchmaker is my last resort.  This process brings me no pleasure, but I’ve tried every avenue to return my son Gale to society.  There is no more I can do on my own, and so I am forced to --” she rolled her wrist, “-- If he will not make social connections, then I must make them on his behalf.”

“So, are we seeking a spouse?” Madame Toussau asked.

Morena gave a curt shake of her head.  “I will not impose such a thing upon him.”

Madame Toussau finished her tea and set the cup down.  Morena filled it again, topping her own cup up as well.  Madame Toussau considered the lines of Morena’s face, the worry pulling at her mouth.

“Then a companion,” Madame Toussau ventured, “someone he may get along with, avoiding the mention of marriage.”

“You are capable of such a thing?” Morena watched her face for any twitch or doubt.

“Under the correct circumstances.  Why don’t you tell me about your son?” Madame Toussau prompted.

Gale leaned back in his desk chair, massaging the expanding ache in his chest.  He squeezed his eyes shut and focused on the expansion of his lungs with each slow breath he took.  Sometimes, the orb eased away if he just let it file its complaints and breathed through the ordeal.  Sometimes it would spasm like a crack of thunder through his ribs, hungry and threatening to suck him and the whole of Waterdeep into the abyss if it was not fed.  This, this was just a grumble.

The ceiling beams melted together in his vision when he opened his eyes.  His pulse throbbed hard in his neck, and he missed the first knock at the door because it mixed with the sound of blood in his ears.  He muttered a curse when he heard the second knock, fumbling for the drawer in his desk where he kept the enchanted trinkets Tara managed to pilfer and picking apart the tangled chains of amulets.

The orb throbbed harder, reaching for the weave within the locket.  Gale pressed it to his bare skin, the magic peeling his flesh away and sucking the locket dry of magic until it was hot in his fingers.  He tossed the spent thing beneath his desk and wiped the sweat from his forehead before answering the door with black spots still dotting his vision.

“Mother?” his vision resolved on Morena’s stout frame, then on the tall and thin outline of a second woman, “and a guest,” he smiled politely, “to what do I owe the honor?”

Morena’s eyes stared pointedly past him and into the flat.

Gale stepped aside.  “Please, come in.  I apologize for the mess, I wasn’t expecting company,” he bent down and kissed his mother’s cheek as she stepped across the threshold, “should I make some tea?”

“That would be best, Gale,” Morena’s voice assured him that what followed would not be a request, “I must discuss something with you.”

Peiotr cleared his throat for the third time, his legs dangling uncomfortably off the rattan chair not built for dwarves.  Velim barely glanced at him, tapping the page of their notebook with their pen to feel the muted round of it against the barrier of their fine lambskin gloves, and laid down another line of notes about the ins and outs of matchmaking as Madame Toussau had described.  A loose strand of dull brown-black hair fell out from their ponytail and they tucked it behind their ear.

“Should I not be the nervous one?” Velim teased in their trademark deadpan.

Madame Toussau chuckled, disguising her laughter with a cough when Peiotr’s nose grew redder.  “It’s not unusual for those doing the matching to experience more nerves than the matched,” she assured Peiotr, reaching to squeeze his hand across the table.

“And you’re my agent, not my father,” Velim reminded him as the flush reached his ears.

Peiotr crossed his arms.  “I just want to see him for myself.”

Velim glanced at the clock tower peeking above the buildings.  “Might have decided against it, he’s late.”

“Perhaps nerves on his part, too,” Madame Toussau chimed.

“You intend to get lost once he arrives, don’t you, Peiotr?” Velim asked, dotting a spot of ink on his freckled arm.

He scoffed and tried to wipe the ink away, leaving a black smudge on himself.  “Aye,” he grunted.

Madame Toussau straightened up, her long neck craning over the crowd on the street.  “There he is,” she waved to a man making his way through the crowd.

The man gave her a shy wave back, and Velim closed their notebook to catch a better look at him.  Brown hair slicked back, brows drawn close in concern and a couple weeks’ worth of a beard, tall enough to see over the crowd and well-dressed in the way of a man who stepped out of the house too quickly to consider pressing his shirt.

Peiotr hopped down from the chair as Gale jogged up the stairs with a breathless apology prepared.  Peiotr intercepted him before he reached the table.

“Peiotr Ironfoot,” he extended his hand and shook Gale’s in a crushing grip that left his niceties a pained grimace, “Velim’s agent, good to meet you Mr. Dekarios.”

“Peiotr,” Velim leaned forward on the table and waited for him to look at them so they could mouth “get lost” as they wiped the remaining ink off their pen.

Peiotr cleared his throat and released Gale’s hand, glancing back up at the man’s face, but he was already fixated on Velim.  He met their muddy green eyes and looked away as though burned, then looked back and ran a hand through his hair.

“Shall I get us some coffee?” he asked, “my treat, for making you wait.”

Velim sat back in their chair, assessing him.  “Sure.”

“Nothing for me, thank you, Gale,” Madame Toussau said, “I do no indulging on business.”

“Not even coffee?” Velim asked, flashing the sharp white canines wood elves sometimes possessed.

“Not even coffee, sera,” Madame Toussau made a shooing motion at Velim, “now, you know the rules.  Behave as though I am not here at all.”

“A difficult thing to do,” Velim commented, ignoring her rules as Gale glanced back at them one last time before ducking into the cafe, “where did you find him, anyway?”

Madame Toussau laughed soft, like windchimes.  “I could ask you the same.”

“Peiotr?  He’s the only stranger willing to take a chance on me based on the letter I wrote him, that’s all,” they waved her questions away, “how’d you make your way into matchmaking?”

Madame Toussau scanned Velim’s still face, their skin smooth and flawless when they dropped the practiced facial expressions.  “I used to be a madame of a different sort,” she watched for a reaction.

“Got sick of making yourself the match, then?” Another practiced half-smile.

Madame Toussau restrained herself from scolding Velim for their packaged expression.  If the pair was good, they would begin to emote properly.  Gale returned with two espressos in small cups and a glass full of water, which he placed in front of Madame Toussau.

“Forgive me, my mother raised me better than to leave a lady without refreshment of some kind,” Gale apologized as he sat across from Velim.

Velim took the chipped cup of espresso from the center of the table, long fingers domed over the top so the steam billowed into the palm of their hand and held it like that on their side of the table until Gale sipped his.  They savored the rich warmth against the chill of the encroaching autumn, then set it down with their fingers still resting on the rim.

“I’m sure I’ve been a topic of discussion already as punishment for my tardiness,” Gale began, “but I know very little about you.  This whole process happened in such haste, I hardly remembered your name when I stepped out the door today.”

“Velim, if you need the reminder,” they said, “half-retired Vulture, surgeon, and author.”

“Of course, Velim,” he rolled their name around in his mouth, matching the sound of it to their placid face, “a Vulture, you said?  With the Waterdeep Public Health Corps, I’d imagine?”

Velim inclined their head, urging him on.

“A perilous occupation, how long have you been in it?”

They tapped on the table, counting the years.  “15 years, give or take.”

“15 years?” Gale’s eyes widened.  Madame Toussau also took notice of the statement and leaned in.  Gale stuttered out an excuse for his disbelief, “Gods, are you under some divine protection?”

Velim shrugged.  “Perhaps just lucky, there are more of us highly tenured plague doctors than you may expect.  ‘One who lives the first two years will live another ten,’ the saying goes,” they changed the subject, “I hear you’re a researcher at Blackstaff.”

“Once, but no longer,” he held his espresso in front of his mouth, a barrier between himself and Velim’s probing gaze, “one could say I’ve been on an extended sabbatical.”

“What did you research?” Velim pushed past his shield.

“Ah, well, have you ever heard of the Empire of Netheril?” Gale asked, “I don’t imagine your personal studies take many forays into archaeology.  It once soared above where the deserts of Anauroch sit today.”

Velim leaned forward.  “I know very little about Netheril,” they admitted, “an empire based on magic with floating cities.  That’s about all.”

Gale set his espresso down and seemed to forget about it as he flourished his hand in introduction.  “Then you may be interested to learn that the current state of magic in Faerun -- and, indeed, the world over -- is connected intimately with the fall of Netheril wherein the Archwizard Karsus attempted to wrest control of the weave from Mystryl and destroyed him entirely in the process.”

“Himself, or Mystra?” Velim cocked their head to the side.

“Mystryl,” Gale corrected, “the god of magic before Our Lady of Spells, and the reason we mortals have the limits we do with her arts.”

“Mystryl,” Velim glanced up at the gutter around the roof of the building, where an intrepid pigeon cooed and eyed the finger sandwiches on a neighboring table, “can you find remnants of those floating cities in Anauroch?  I imagine you could, deserts preserve such things.”

“Well, yes, but my particular area of study lies elsewhere at the moment,” Gale bloomed under the rain of their questions, “I’ve been studying the works of an Archmage known as Ortenkus who lived some thousand years before Karsus’ folly.  He was instrumental in the annexation and settlement of the western border of the empire, near the Silver Marches.  Recently, I’ve been investigating a tale regarding a military victory he wrought.  During Ortenkus’ lifetime, a small nation whose name has long since been lost became a wall to Netheril by somehow inverting their magic.”

Velim’s mind added a new observation to their catalog with every word he spoke, relieved that they might observe him unwatched while he spoke.  The spinning wheel earring he wore had no mechanism for removal.  He reeked of magic, and it crackled over them as static because he spoke with gestures pronounced enough to waft it over them from across the table.  Every few seconds, he stole a glance at them with a kind of bashfulness in his eyes as though asking for permission to continue.

Gale continued on, a train rolling down the tracks of his thoughts.  “Ortenkus, as the main strategist for the King at the time, was tasked with laying the nation low.  He spent twenty years and twenty days in the great libraries of Palter -- an enclave known even among the Netherese as a bastion of knowledge -- and when he emerged, he descended to the earth with a strange egg.  He disguised himself as an old man and walked into the foremost bastion of the country, left the egg beneath the center of their government, and walked back to Netheril. 

“Within a year, the country lay in disarray without even the knowledge that they were once allies with any of the other groups within the land.  The infighting destroyed them, and with each fracture Ortenkus led the armies of Netheril in to seize the lands.”

“Wait a moment,” Velim interrupted.

Gale’s speech stuttered to a stop.

“How, exactly, did Ortenkus initiate memory loss on such a mass scale?  The erasure of an entire culture suggests psionic impact on the level of…” they trailed off, unable to think of a comparison, “well, regardless, what could mediate such a thing?  The focus must have been enormous, no smaller than the ones they used to power their cities.”

“Yes, the mythallars,” Gale nodded sagely, then leaned forward on the table as though sharing a secret, “but I haven’t the slightest idea how he did it.  No mention of anything but a strange egg within any translation or account I’ve come across,” a smile tugged at the corner of his lips and he lowered his voice, “my personal theory is that he made use of a living creature of some sort.  Perhaps something of ilithid origin, given their psionic capabilities.  A sufficiently powerful ilithid being placed at the center of a society may cause enough neurological fallout to destroy the whole thing down to the very bolts.”

“Ilithid,” Velim repeated, “no archeological sites for this event, I imagine.”

Gale sat back and ran a hand through his hair, dislodging a greying strand that fell against his forehead.  “One, possibly, but it’s out in the Silver Marches.  Difficult to reach under ideal conditions…”

“Which the Silver Marches do not possess,” Velim finished.

Gale leaned in again.  “So you’ve been?”

Velim glanced at Madame Toussau, and she blinked at them reassuringly.  Velim picked at the chip in the rim of their espresso cup.  “A year ago, for diphtheria.  We lost a whole crate of antitoxin and a horse to the mud before we even reached the outbreak.”

“Gods, what a fetid wasteland it is.  Even the hags avoid the place.” Gale chuckled to himself, “you mentioned you were an author?”

“Just textbooks.  Peiotr’s been looking for a publishing house that might take my fiction, but no such luck as of yet,” Velim explained, “the matchmaking itself is for research.”

Gale thought of his mother’s demand for cooperation and felt a pang of relief as the expectations lifted from his shoulders.  “What are you writing that would require you to employ a matchmaker for research?”

“You’ll laugh,” Velim’s smile this time was genuine, but muted, “it’s a romance about an accidental match with a devil.”

Gale did laugh, just a little.  “What makes a devil lovable?”

Velim shrugged and finished their coffee.  “If there’s anything to love, I’ll find it.”

Gale’s voice ached, and yet Tara sat on the bench beside the door and swished her tail at him with expectation.

“It went well, Tara,” he assured her, scratching behind her ears the way she liked and sitting beside her to doff his shoes.

“Nothing strange about them?” Tara demanded, “no scales or claws?” she sniffed him tentatively.

“No such thing, Tara,” Gale huffed, “I did bump into a dragonborn on my way home.”

She sniffed again.  “Could be.  Your mother asked me no less than four times if I had heard from you.”

“You visited my mother four times?  Tara, you must quit pestering the poor woman,” Gale scolded, his voice soft.

Tara flicked her ear at him.  “She was concerned, you were gone for hours.  I was under strict orders to report back as soon as you arrived, but I only expected you gone an hour.  We both did, and look --” Tara trotted to the glass doors to the balcony and sat pointedly in front of the reddening sky.

“Then it went much better than either of you expected,” Gale stretched and shrugged off his vest, “they’re a surgeon and work with the Waterdeep Public Health Corps, and as though they had the time to spare, they’re also a published author.”

Tara met him at his desk and settled on the shelf he set up above it just for her.  “And did you give them time to speak about being a decorated plague doctor, author, and surgeon, or did you simply talk their ear off until you were hoarse?”

“They kept asking me questions, Tara,” Gale collapsed into his desk chair with a sigh, “thank you for talking me into going.”

“Do you need me to fetch you something?” Tara purred, the scolding out of her voice.

“No, Tara, thank you,” Gale smiled at his ceiling, “I’m feeling just fine.”

Velim closed the door of their flat behind them and slid all three deadbolts into place before their shoulders slumped.  They sat on the bed, pulled off their boots, and tucked them beneath the bedframe, then fell back.

They pulled their gloves off one finger at a time, then plucked the Ring of Mortal Guise off their ring finger and dropped it into one of the gloves for safe keeping.  Their scales reappeared, glossy black in the low light filtering in from the sunset.  They studied the shine on their hands, their claws filed as short and flat as they could get them without hitting the quick.  They ran their hand up their arm until it caught the edge of a scale coming loose.  They pinched the edge between their thumb and forefinger and plucked it off, leaving a pale green patch of skin underneath.  Blood beaded up jewel-like where it had still been attached.  

They listened to their neighbors argue below them until someone threw something soft and dull across the room.  Velim took the increasing volume as their sign to get up.  They sat at their writing desk and lit the oil lamp with a wave of their hand.  They pulled a box from the shelf and dropped the scale into it, replaced it, and pulled a leaf from the sheaf of paper in the drawer and began writing their report on the date with Gale Dekarios.

[timextoxhajima]

Sonder: Part IV

Parts: I II III IV V

member: enhypen heeseung! x oc! woo ki yeom [3rd person pov]

genre: coming of age, slice of life, angst, romance

w/c: 5.8k

warnings: topics on religion, distressed relationships, mental health (I want to leave an a/n here that I grew up with my maternal family being Buddhists so what I've written is based off what I researched online and the way her family practised Buddhism. I'm personally a free-tinker and this narrative is not in any way meant to offend nor support any particular religion.)

synopsis: after being kicked out of her home, Woo Ki Yeom is forced to live life on her own. struggling to find herself in the midst of her chaotic life, she meets lee heeseung, who, like her, can't give any more fucks to life than she does.

"n. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own."

It had taken Heeseung awhile to fall asleep, despite knowing that she was long passed out. If he tried hard enough, he'd be able to hear the first morning birds chirping from a distance.

Ki Yeom was wrapped in her blanket, passed out on the mattress on the floor. Her place was kept simple and somewhat tidy, with an abundance of instant food and a rather adequate range of cutlery and utensils. The furniture is minimal - they look like resale items from garage sales or thrift stores. There's a small desk in the corner where her laptop is, and right next to it is a single-columned shelf with some files and books. He wonders if they have her drawings, but he's too tired to get up and be nosy.

Besides, he's heard enough of her story to feel bad for her, to feel like he was an asshole for thinking the world was a boring place. Suddenly, he feels like a hypocrite.

He had the perfect home, much like the best friend she had described, and yet, he chose to pack up and leave, in search of 'life's purpose'.

Heeseung sighs, breath trembling. He leans his head back on the kitchen cabinets, and prays that his tail bone and neck wouldn't hurt too much in a couple of hours.

By the time Ki Yeom's eyes had finally managed to open (albeit how swollen and uncomfortable they were), she had already managed to make out the blob that's passed out along the length of her kitchen and cabinets.

He slept facing upwards, one arm under his neck and the other over his eyes, hair tousled and his shirt was slightly pulled up to expose his belly button.

She rolls over in her mattress, arm extending to the rattan box she had by it as a tableside top.

11.38am. 3 missed calls. 327 unread messages.

She pulls the notifications bar down.

2 missed calls from Jun Yeol.

1 missed call from Soo Min.

Jun Yeol: Hello?

Jun Yeol: Don't you have an appointment coming in at 12.30pm?

"Fuck."

Ki Yeom sits up, tired eyes struggling to remain open. She swings her legs over the edge and stands, stretching her neck and arms as she walks over to the bathroom quietly.

And for the first time in four years, there's a need to close the bathroom door.

The afternoon sun was ruthless when she stepped out, scorching her skin in all the spots she was exposed, but it felt different.

Ki Yeom wonders if the talk the night before had really made the difference. Why did it make such a huge one?

She pushes herself into the parlour, rushing past Soo Min and Jun Yeol (so they wouldn't be able to spot her swollen eyes that easily) and straight towards her client who was already seated at her booth.

Heeseung jolts awake when a car honks, then he realises the sun wasn't in its usual spot in the mornings when he normally wakes up. He sucks in a deep breath, then yawns, hands fondling his sides for his phone. Gone.

He quickly sits up, wondering for a moment if the girl might've possibly stolen it. But as he sits up, he spots his phone being charged at the plug on her desk.

He sighs, instantly feeling terrible about doubting her. Awkwardly squatting next to her desk, he unlocks his phone without pulling out the charger, looking through the messages that his friends had spammed in their groupchats and the Instagram notifications that he couldn't really care less about.

Maybe I should just delete it, He thinks to himself. Then he unplugs his phone, then grips the edge of the table to pull himself up.

That's when he spots the post-it note pasted to the surface.

Feel free to stay the day. I trust you won't steal anything. I have an appointment and then I have to meet the friend I was telling you about last night for coffee in the evening. Wish me luck.

Heeseung peels it off the desk and reads it again. He gently folds it, deciding he would keep it as some sort of contract for their friendship. As he drops it in his pocket, he realises that he was instantly finding joy in being an annoying friend.

It's a slow afternoon as he goes back to his apartment, freshening himself up before leaving to run errands. But just as he steps out of the lift-

"Hi, I'm looking for a Woo Ki Yeom?"

Heeseung looks up from his phone despite having already walked past him. He doesn't turn, but in his peripheral vision, he can make out an older man, probably in his late 40s, talking to the guard at the counter.

Exiting the building, he turns back and looks in through the glass, watching the man gesture to the security guard. In his wrinkled hand was a little note, which Heeseung assumes is the address, and as he swaps the note from one hand to another, he wipes his free palm on his Bermudas.

Heeseung looks away, heart stopping and breath held.

They have the same tired eyes.

"Alright," Ki Yeom takes a deep breath, sitting upright from the crouched over position she was in. She gently pats the wrap and pulls off her gloves, reaching over for a newly packaged ointment bottle and placing it into a plastic bag. "This is the moisturizer ointment. Wash your tattoo two to three times a day gently with water then dry it, then use the ointment. Don't go sunbathing or tanning until your tat's healed."

"How long before it's healed?"

The girl sits up in the chair and swings her leg over the edge, awkwardly lifting up her arm where the abstractly-drawn starfish was red and swollen.

"Uh..." Ki Yeom laughs a little (on the inside. She doesn't want to hurt the girl's feelings. The star fish has the diameter of a coin). "I'd say a month? Should be fine... Do you go to the beach or go swimming in an outdoor pool or running or...?"

"Oh, no. I just... you know. Wondering how long I have to wait..."

Ki Yeom squints at her before turning around in her roller chair, reaching out to pack her equipment and inks. "Wait? Before... showing it off?" She pauses, studying her client. "Someone doesn't want you to get a tat, huh?"

The girl purses her lips together in an awkward, embarrassed smile. "When it's healed, it's easier for me to say that I've already gotten it done and there's nothing to be done about it."

Ki Yeom smirks cheekily, tossing her used gloves into the bin by her station. "My boss once told me that tattoos belong to the person that's getting it. Your body, your choice. If that's of any comfort."

The client nods again, unsure how to respond. Ki Yeom ignores the horrid ending to the conversation and walks her up to the cashier, where along the way, she spots Ji Yeon loitering outside the parlour like a stalker.

Maybe I shouldn't have told her I was free today.

After her client leaves, Ki Yeom pretends not to see Ji Yeon, meagerly walking back to her station as if dragging out the time and procrastinating the coffee date. Though, she kind of needed it, after all that crying and lack of sleep last night. In fact, Ki Yeom is surprised she had managed to stay awake the entire time she was working.

"She's like an ex-boyfriend," Soo Min calls out from her station, eyes quickly glancing to her and then back to her own client.

"Y'think?" Ki Yeom widens her eyes, well aware that she wasn't in anybody's field of vision to see it, as she crouches to pack her bag.

"Will you be okay?"

Ki Yeom picks up her bag up and swings it over her shoulder as she stands. "I guess I'll find out later."

Soo Min looks up from her client for just a second, and nods.

There's a reluctance in Ki Yeom's chest as she turns around. Ji Yeon was still outside, now back facing the parlour, and turned to face the road. She was looking up at the buildings, eyes still full of wander.

I will always be second to Ji Yeon. As someone experiencing life; as a person. She will always be kinder, and sweeter, and gentle with her words. Polite to the elderly and patient with the children. The type of person that cats and dogs wouldn't hesitate to run up to on the streets, as if they already knew her.

The waitress at the coffee shop was clearly more than surprised to see the unfriendly tattoo artist coming in with another person. And as the cherry on top, said person was the polar opposite of Ki Yeom.

"Hello," Ji Yeon greets the waitress, who beams upon the acknowledgement.

Great, now I look even more like an asshole.

"Hi! Can I get you started on any drinks or appetisers?" The waitress is high-strung, as if excited to finally have someone to talk to. The dinner crowd hadn't come in yet, and Ki Yeom is slightly curious at why she seemed so enthusiastic.

"Give us a couple of moments to look through the menu. What do you recommend?"

"We're known for our coffees! But our pork belly rice bowl and fusion items are popular as well."

"Great, I'll keep that in mind."

And with that, the waitress smiles widely, greeting Ji Yeon again before she walks back to the counter.

"Can we get this over with?"

Ji Yeon looks up from her digital menu and at Ki Yeom, eyes tired and shoulders sunken.

"You look like you didn't sleep a wink last night," She points out as-a-matter-of-factly, looking back down at her phone screen.

"I slept late, and slept badly, just so you know. But we don't have to prolong this. What do you want to talk about?"

"Are you hungry? Shall we get their coffee specials and just a pork belly bowl for sharing?"

Ki Yeom stares at her, wanting to frown but unable to when she looks up from her phone again, eyes bright and spirits lifted.

Then this nagging, digging feeling in her stomach comes again after four long years. The feeling of watching someone be absolutely perfect, knowing you wouldn't be anywhere near and being unable to fathom why.

She was in perfect control of her feelings, her facial expressions, her body language, her tone and her words. Ki Yeom knows that the problem is within herself, but she knows she doesn't have the patience to fix it.

"Can you stop being like this?"

Ji Yeon presses the submit button on the digital order form as Ki Yeom hurtles the words at her. She looks up at her, then locks her phone and places it facing down on the table.

"Like what?" She gently shakes her head and politely places her hands on her thighs.

Ki Yeom tightens her jaw, leaning back in her seat and placing her wrists on the edge of the table, fingers curled in, like she was stretching, while facing Ji Yeon who was sat opposite her. She studies Ji Yeon - That blank, innocent look on her face that tells her Ji Yeon truly has no idea what she's talking about.

It steps on her toes all over again.

"Like a perfect... specimen of a human being. What's wrong with you? Are you so afraid to hurt someone? Are you scared that being angry is going to piss someone off? Are you afraid to make enemies?"

Now, there's a gentle frown slowly forming between Ji Yeon's brows. "I don't understand. What does the way I respond to things have anything to do with this conversation we're supposed to have?"

"Because you're just so perfect! Do you owe the world something? Why do you care so much about how people look at you?"

"What are you talking about?"

Ki Yeom pants slightly, realising that she was speaking abit louder than normal. Her hands were now gripping the edges of the table. She sighs and rubs her eyes.

"No, don't shut down on me now," Ji Yeon reaches out and pulls her hands off her face.

"Don't touch me!" Ki Yeom retracts her wrists sharply.

Ji Yeon is obviously hurt at the rejection, but she leans back and crosses her arms across her chest. "Go ahead. Say something else. After all, this is how much you've spoken in four years."

"Oh, now you're getting mad? All those years of being Miss-Goody-Two-Shoes finally catching up to you, huh? I was the grumpy one and you were always the pretty, smart, nice one and you loved it!"

Ki Yeom pauses, watching as the brutal truth and harsh emotions begin leaking from a cracked bottle that she had tried so hard to wrap up and throw away. It's slow - the beads collecting at the little cracks. So small, that you might mistake the bottle for condensed beads of water.

"And you know what? You loved it all the way until my family fell apart. Even then, being the nice person was your utmost priority! Paying for my meals when I said I could. Buying things for me just because I mentioned it once! And then when it all happened, you ran around asking where I was, announcing that you were just worried. All that effort trying to find me and making sure that I was okay. Well, guess what? With or without you, I was not okay. I needed a friend. A friend who would get angry with me and be broke together and lose all direction in life. Not a fucking guardian trying to replace my fucking parents. Not a role model that's excelling at everything she does. Not a person that never disappoints."

Something in the kitchen dings. It's a good thing nobody else was in the cafe right now, for a pin drop would sound like a metal thermoflask dropping on the floor.

Ki Yeom had completely expected Ji Yeon to pack her things and leave. Maybe throw a cup of water at her. Or at least tear up and cry out of hurt and grief.

But she is Ji Yeon, and to Ki Yeom, she will always be perfect in the way she feels things; sees things; perceives them. Right now, Ji Yeon is just but a person who is victim to the trials and tribulations of life, the victim to individual thought and perception.

"You're right," Ji Yeon responds quietly. The reply stuns Ki Yeom, surprise seeping again into anger. Ki Yeom cocks her head, a disbelieved smirk ripping apart her lips and preparing to retort again, but Ji Yeon interrupts her. "If you think I'm perfect, then I guess to some extent, I am. I don't wish to look imperfect. That's just how I am. I grew up believing that perfection is just a concept, subject to individual perspective."

"Shut the fuck up. You're telling me you had this ideology at what, the ages of six to ten?"

"From the ages six to ten, perfection was not a concept I understood."

Ki Yeom stops.

"From the ages six to ten, I was just learning. God forbid anybody who thought that a kid who just wanted to learn was imperfect. You are angry at my lack of response to the things that happen out of my control. I see it as a waste of time if I respond angrily. What good does it do?"

The anger seems to seep back in again. The irony is, Ki Yeom understood her. Word for word, from her perspective. But the more she spoke, the more perfect she seemed, as if she couldn't be more perfect. What kind of politically correct, woke response was that?

"I know what you're thinking. You're thinking why I'm still acting like I'm perfect. If it's of any comfort, I don't think I am, but you seem to think that I am. And yet, the fact that me being perfect is imperfect to you is a point in itself. Perfection gets on your nerves and imperfection gets on others'. There's no winning."

Ki Yeom sucks in a deep breath, toes curling in her shoes as she buries her face in her hands. She can taste the sour ball in the back of her throat as her nose starts to sniffle with her breaths. There's a muffled second, only able to hear the music playing in the back, then there's an overwhelming grief of loss as the gravity of the truth slowly sets in.

"I'm not here to talk about whether I was perfect and how it bothered you. I wanted to know... how you've been. Clearly, the things I did as you went through that rough patch in your life was not the best sequence of actions from your point of view but it was from mine. I hope you know that even though what I did wasn't of help, but it was still what I thought was best."

There's a pause as the waitress comes by with the coffees. The ceramic clanks onto the table.

In theory, Ki Yeom knows she's right. Ji Yeon is always right. Everything she did, she did with her best interest at heart. She was broke, so Ji Yeon offered to pay. She was kicked out, so Ji Yeon wanted to look for her.

Maybe that's the part Ki Yeom couldn't swallow. Even when she was the victim, she was still the bad guy, not the fallen hero who had a redemption arc.

"I wish we weren't ever best friends," Ki Yeom's voice is hoarse and exhausted. "Because then we wouldn't need to go through this."

"The good friendships are tested to their limits. That's how a bond is formed."

"No. Our bond was gone a long time ago and we are both just here to reconcile with it, and bury it."

There's a special type of grief that comes when you're actively aware when an era or a period of fond memories come to an end - like a holiday.

Or a friendship.

Said grief feels slow, almost insignificant. Like you don't notice it because it's been gone for so long.

There isn't much to say about how it feels. Except that it creeps up on you, no matter how many times you are able to rationalise the feelings to yourself. You could tell yourself the story a hundred times in the mirror and still be unable to swallow that the friendship had turned sour, no matter the exact reason.

And that sucks.

Ki Yeom was too exhausted to feel the sadness and the grief of it all on the way home. She couldn't even cry.

So when she spots Heeseung sitting by the bench outside the apartment building and eating an ice cream, the setting, evening sun casting a mandarin shade on him. She wonders for a moment if he was here for her.

She pauses at the traffic junction, tilting her head as she waited for him to take notice of her waiting for the lights to change. Then he looks up and around, and spots her across the road. Ki Yeom wants to smile, but it doesn't come out.

Then her heart stops, when Heeseung seemed worried. She doesn't know why she had expected him to smile and stand and wave to her, but he doesn't.

The traffic light turns, the incessant beeping somehow making its way past her headphones and into her eardrums, that quite literally explode in them when she gets them off.

"Hey," Heeseung greets first, licking the corner of his lips. "Look, there's something that I think you should know before you go into the building."

Ki Yeom frowns at him, as if he were the one who just broke her heart into a million pieces. He sucks in a deep breath and purses his lips, puffing up the space between his gum and the inside of his mouth, then exhales through a small 'o'.

"I think your father's here."

And just like that. The day literally could not get any worse.

"What?"

Heeseung parts his lips in a bid to say something, but nothing comes out.

"Why don't we go elsewhere? Until late, and maybe he won't be here anymore."

"How long has he been here?"

"I woke up in your place around lunchtime. 12 plus, one? Went home, washed up and came out for errands around two and he was already here. Asking the guard if you lived here."

How many fucking times must she go through this tormenting process in a day?

"You said you had that coffee date today with your friend. I'm assuming it didn't go well. Let's not stay here."

"You just told me he's been here for five hours. Even if he goes away while we're away, he's gonna come back another day."

"I know that but you're not in the state to have another conversation like that."

"Don't talk to me like you know everything about me."

"Then be my guest and go in there. Have that conversation with your father about the last four years he was absent from your life. Tell him that you're doing well but you got an offer to move overseas and that you just fell out with your best friend."

If her thoughts were a mindless man running on a treadmill, he'd halt so abruptly, he'd fly off.

Heeseung raises a brow when she goes quiet.

The street behind them had significantly picked up in traffic all of a sudden. He assumes it's the evening traffic.

"What, did I just summarise your life? Ever since you moved out?"

Ki Yeom frowns and looks away, eyes welling with tears.

"You are so caught up... in- in thinking about the same few things, that you couldn't see anything outside of it. And now that they have finally come knocking on your doorstep, you hate it. But haven't you been giving it the most attention? Given how much you despise it? Four years! And this is all that you think you life amounts to? Topping sales, an offer overseas, a falling out with your best friend?"

She turns and shoves him back on the shoulder, the tears finally billowing over her lower lids. "You think it's so easy to let go? You think I don't wake up wishing that things were different? Maybe if I were a better person and I weren't such a bitch, I'd be a better friend and a better daughter."

Heeseung parts his lips in disbelief, hands ruffling through his hair as he combs through his locks with his fingers. "You don't get it. These are all but mistakes in life, personalities and perspectives that don't align. You've had four years to learn from them, accept them and forget about them before you move on. But you have been your own prisoner."

"Ki Yeom?"

Heeseung gently shuts his eyes when he can hear the fragile voice coming from behind him. His arms drop to his side as he opens his eyes again, watching through her eyes as her inner world crumble even more. He already made her cry, now someone else is here to finish the job.

"Who is this?" The footsteps are anxious as he comes from behind Heeseung, who turns around and meekly greets the elder. "Is he bothering you? Who is he?"

Ki Yeom is speechless, but she can't ignore how different he looks.

She counts the wrinkles on his forehead and around his eyes. His hands are naturally trembling abit more as he points to Heeseung, and he seemed to have a little limp when he walks.

"Ki Yeom, is he bothering yo-"

"Don't."

There's a look of hurt that's somewhat expectant on his face when he knows her response is to him, and not to answer the question.

"Who gave you my address?"

Her father looks down at his feet, slightly ashamed.

"I begged your grandfather for it. I'm sorry. He told me he can't give it to me but I just... kept asking. When he gave it to me, he told me that I could only come look for you in secret, and not reach out. But- but how could I? I mean... it's been-"

"Don't."

Ki Yeom has both palms lifted in the air and facing him in a bid to tell him to shut up. Eyes closed, she blinks the tears that are hindering her vision.

"I'm..." Heeseung's voice croaks. "Going to go-"

"No," Ki Yeom glares at him. "You." She points at him. "Don't move an inch. And you." She turns back to her father. "You have three minutes to say what you have to say because I have nothing to say to you. And regardless of whatever it is you're about to say, I have nothing to say back. I just hope that making this trip and getting it off your chest is enough for you because that's all you're going to get."

Heeseung's brows are slightly furrowed as he side-eyes her father, trying to read his expression from his peripheral vision. The elder man is taken aback, in a 'hurt' type of way that he knows there's nothing he can do to redeem himself.

"I just wanted to know if you're doing well, and if you're safe. If your workplace has been kind to you and whether you need any additional financial help, because I brought some for you," He ransacks his waist pouch for a smaller one, holds it out. Ki Yeom doesn't move an inch, eyes fixated on his. "I wanted to apologise. For the way things happened. I know I can't turn back time and undo what happened but I want to apologise on behalf of your mother and I want to say that she only did what she thought was right-"

"No, she did what she thought was right for herself! If she had any idea what was right for our family, don't you think she would've taken grandpa's help?! But no, being faithful to your religion was enough, wasn't it? That was what would put food on our table, fill our wallets up with money and light up our rooms, right? Right?"

They had been standing there long enough for people to start noticing them, and for the sun to set enough for the street lamps to flicker on.

"And don't you dare think for a moment that this isn't your fault. I don't blame you for losing your job, but I blame you for not being a better father. Not being around to make sure mom didn't do what she did. I know you were out trying to make ends meet but in the midst of all that, you had completely forgotten that I existed. I as in your daughter who just needed a parent."

If Heeseung were watching a soap opera, he'd be on the edge of his seat, eyes widened and fingers holding some chips, but no. This was happening in real time right before his eyes, and he hasn't got a clue what to do (since he knows better than to say something).

He can see the tears drying up her eyes all over again, as if her swollen eyes from the night before had properly recovered. And her father, the indescribable look in his eyes as he tears up as well. Head hung low and fingers anxiously picking at the corners of the cash stack.

The inevitable uncomfortable silence between them sets in, amidst all the noise that was happening around them.

Ki Yeom knows that an apology will not suffice. Nothing ever will. The damage had been done and even if she did take the cash, it will not make a difference.

"Are you done?"

Her father looks up from the floor.

"If you are, please leave."

"Ki Yeom..."

"Now."

A motorbike races past.

"And I never want to see you again."

Heeseung glances at Ki Yeom, and back at her father. His shoulders are sunken. He knows he's defeated. But still, he lifts his hands and tries to offer her the money.

Ki Yeom reaches up to her face to wipe the tears, clearing her throat as she steps back.

"You'll need it when you retire."

Then, she gently grabs Heeseung by the wrist and pulls him along, past her father and away from the apartment building. Heeseung lets her drag him down the pavement, earning strange glances from corporate passerbys who were making their way home from work and whatnot.

But until he was sure they were definitely out of sight of her father, Heeseung holds his weight down, hand reaching out to her forearm.

"Ki Yeom," He says, loud enough for her to hear. But she doesn't respond, ignoring his touch and his call, and continues dragging him with more force.

"Ki Yeom, please."

He finally puts in enough strength to halt her, and so she jerks to an abrupt stop when it's his turn to grab her arm. Her eyes are swelled up again, mucus running down her philtrum and between her lips when she turns around to face him. He can tell she's trying her best not to take a deep breath, for it would trigger one of those hard-to-breathe sniffles and she would collapse into a sobbing mess.

Heeseung doesn't know why, or much rather, how, he has grown to see her. Perhaps, for the first time in a long time, she's the first person that he's known abit more than surface level. Maybe it was because she knew nothing about him, other than the things he has chosen to share, and that made it easier to trust her.

Who said a stranger you meet at a laundromat would stay a stranger?

He awkwardly, but slowly, closes the gap between them, gently releasing her arm. He's careful, trying to read her body language as she stays almost completely still. Then, he can feel the bones in her shoulders under his arms, and she remains so still for a few seconds, he was still unsure.

But like hugging a vase that was haphazardly pieced together with glue without enough time, care and concern, Ki Yeom shatters. He closes his eyes, trying not to cry himself, as her entire frame softens, shoulders shivering with each sob and sniffle.

She doesn't hug him back, but she presses her face into his shoulder so hard that he can feel her tears soaking through his shirt and onto his skin.

"I- I wish it didn't happen- like this."

"I know."

"I- I know he meant- meant well. But- I- just-"

"I know."

The conversation was short-lived.

Sometimes, there aren't enough words to explain a feeling; a feeling of resolution, even if it feels like it's the worst decision you could make.

Perhaps, trying to find the words defeats its purpose.

After Ki Yeom had finished crying, mostly because she regained enough social awareness to realise how embarrassing it was to be hugging in the middle of the street, the duo had found themselves sitting by the pavement, feet on the street as bicycles and cars drove by.

The ice cream was melting quickly, so Ki Yeom fought the urge to close her eyes and finish it. Heeseung tosses the last of the cone into his mouth, swiping his hands against each other to get rid of the remaining crumbs.

He sighs, leaning back with his palms on the concrete by his hips, eyes looking up at the cloudy sky that was partially blocking the moon. There was that dewy scent of rain wafting through the sky, so he looks around somemore, hoping to catch a glimpse of lightning somewhere.

Ki Yeom quite literally shoves the rest of the lemon coating into her mouth, knowing that if she ate any slower, it would start running down the stick and over her hands. She wraps the stick in the wrapper the ice cream came in, and folds it nicely.

She looks ahead, then around, trying to find what Heeseung was looking at previously. Pulling in her knees to her chest, she wraps her arms around her thighs, fingers picking at the dry skin on her elbows.

"You know, what you said to me just now before he showed up... It made sense."

Heeseung takes awhile to turn his head back to her, processing her words before he tilts his head in her direction. His eyes remain looking forward, at the street and the lamp post on the other side.

"I've had so many conversations with myself. Running around in circles and trying to persuade myself that it was time to move on and that I didn't care. But I knew deep down that I needed closure, even if it meant a messy one that I didn't want. I knew I was angry with Ji Yeon and I knew it wasn't her fault. I knew my father did what he thought was best at the time it happened. But I just couldn't forgive them for the things they did."

Heeseung finally turns to her. He pulls his legs into a cross and picks at the threads in his ripped jeans.

"Just because you can understand why they did those things doesn't mean you have to forgive them. I think if that were the case, mankind wouldn't be so complex. We'd all just be aiming to be understanding, and by that condition, we'd be a peaceful society. But we're not, and... I mean, things happen."

Ki Yeom starts to smell the rain as her clogged nose clears up completely.

"When I went through my own difficult times, I'd tell myself that I'm just an anime character that had to go through these stupid arcs to get the character development. Else, I'd just be the lame side character that everybody forgets about."

A little smile cracks through her lips as she looks down into her lap, staring blankly at the cotton stitching on her pants.

"It's not common that a character has to go through two arcs in so little time, but it happens. Usually they're the badass ones that everybody roots for, even if they're morally questionable."

Then the drizzle starts, gentle and kind, like little snowflakes falling from the sky. Like they were trying to wash away her sadness and grief.

"I think I'll stay here for awhile."

Heeseung turns to look at her, face turned up to look at the sky. The droplets land on her skin, and for a moment, it seemed like the sky was doing the rest of the crying for her.

"Are you planning on staying until you're soaked?"

She hums in response. "Maybe."

He turns to look at the sky too, closing his eyes as he let the water run down his face and neck.

"By the way, do you do your laundry on Wednesdays? Because I just remembered it's a Wednesday."

[wiltingroseisdead]

cc used

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[eleemosynecdoche]

Cynically and strategically using the "human rights are a bourgeois innovation" line to explain why the activities I am engaging in using a six-pack of coca-cola, a desk drawer, and a rattan cane, with the assistance of a random person who looks like they listen to NPR, are actually revolutionary activity and more people should engage in them.