#so I block him. he proceeds to hit on me on Instagram

[stuntgirlatthevampiremansion]

Weird men need to stop hitting on me idk how many more “yeah my very real gf thinks I’m beautiful too”s I got in me

[pleathewrites]

boys, boys, boys

chapter 2: revelations

Summary: Does Iwaizumi have a thing for setters or do setters have a thing for Iwaizumi?

“Maybe Iwa-kun does have a thing for grey hair,” Sugawara muses, the tip of his index finger circling the rim of his drink. He’s got that signature sly smirk across the very lips that locked with Hajime's a decade ago. 

“Oh my God.” 

Hajime is seriously considering begging Oikawa to jump-serve a volleyball to his head and knock him clean out just so they can all stop having this conversation - ‘Hell, Tooru’s strong as hell now. Might knock the entire memory of this night right out of my brain, for good.’ 

“Hey, I just made out with him - and possibly gave him his gay awakening. But I wasn’t the one who convinced him to change his career.”

“Oh my God.”

“Wait, what are you - ”

“Daichi, baby, seriously, you need to go see that doctor. I am actively concerned about you developing early-onset Alzheimer's," Sugawara says, tucking a strand of Sawamura's hair behind his ear, his impish smirk melting into a fond smile, "Does Shiratorizawa ring any bells?”

“Hey, I have my own life to worry about! I’m not gonna keep track of someone else’s love life - no offense, Iwaizumi-san.”

“Hey, non-taken. Please, never think about my love life.”

Much to Hajime’s horror, Daichi’s expression turns contemplative, “Wait, actually, though -”

“Fuck -”

“… Grey hair, Shiratorizawa...” Daichi snaps his fingers and points his index at Iwaizumi with a much-too-proud smile on his face, completely unaware of the man’s rising irritation. “Yes, right! Iwaizumi, didn’t you..?” 

“Ugh, God, that one,” injects Oikawa. 

Hajime feels the vein on his forehead throb at Oikawa’s tone, “Kawa... why are you so shitty.” 

“Well, sorry, if I don’t like the edge-lord that busted my entire future!” 

“Oikawa… You are literally at the Olympics… for the second time...” 

“Yeah, with you on the opposing side,” Oikawa says with a closed throat, sliding out of the booth, and heading off to the direction of the entrance doors.

Hajime sighs.

 *

 Their loss to Shiratorizawa is soul-crushing - it always is. 

‘Always’ - that’s the most crushing thing, Hajime despairs, ‘We always lose to that school.’ And Hajime feels the blow, of course, he's devastated, but it’s not personal, hell, it’s not even for his team - ‘God, I’m such a shitty Vice-Captain.’  

No, the absolute heartbreak he feels is for Tooru.

Hajime loves his team, he believes every single member has outrageous talent, but he knows that all their abilities combined, including his own, wouldn’t even hold a candle to Oikawa’s blinding torch.

Shiratorizawa is a school for rising champions, Abo Johsai is a school for kids with talent.  

Oikawa Tooru is on a completely different level, it's a fact - he outranks his own team. It keeps Hajime up at night because he knows that if Oikawa had a team that matched his talent and ability, he would never have to experience such consistent defeat. 

In times like these, Hajime feels shameful and useless, ‘How long will I hold Oikawa back?’

Hajime knows Oikawa. He knows he’s the real reason Oikawa chose Abo Josai, that because Hajime wasn’t good enough to get into Shiratorizawa, Oikawa shackled himself to a team that weighs more than he can carry. It reminds Hajime of those free-body-diagrams from physics class that Oikawa had to explain to him ten times over; Oikawa is the upward force, striving for victory at the speed of light, Hajime is the opposing frictional force, and Abo Johsai is plain gravity times mass times sine (or was it cosine?). Hajime only managed to scrape a B- in that class, so the only answer he can give this problem is that Oikawa isn't going anywhere, any time soon. 

A harsh slap to his back snaps Hajime out of his thoughts. He jumps with the force of it and doesn’t even have to turn his head to know who’s hand is laying firmly between his shoulder blades. He keeps his eyes downcast, but Oikawa - a true Captain - doesn’t force Hajime to look at him when he firmly whispers, “Next time, Iwa-chan. We’ll get ‘em.”

Their coach takes the team for ramen, gives them a speech about being proud and working hard, all while Oikawa is making faces at Hajime from across the table and, slowly, Hajime begins to let himself smile.

Halfway through dinner, Hajime feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. Thinking it’s his mother asking when he’ll be home, Hajime turns on the lockscreen and sees it’s an Instagram notification. He unlocks his phone and swipes down his Notifications - Hajime had to reset his phone notifications to conceal messages ever since becoming friends with Sugawara Koushi because the boy has zero filter and he doesn’t need his mom accidentally seeing messages with eggplant and squirting emojis, encouraging Hajime to make ‘his move’, whatever that means. 

EITA (@notsemisemi) has requested to follow you.

Now, Hajime is confused. He doesn’t even remember the last time he posted a picture on Instagram - he only really made the account because Oikawa started crying about, “Iwa-chan, I want to tag you in this picture, people should know that you’re capable of smiling! Everyone else has an Instagram, let me make you one, you won’t even have to do anything!” - so he’s not really sure how or why a random person requested to follow him.

'Maybe it's a spam account?'

He looks closely at the username and tries to think if he knows anyone with that name. When nothing comes to mind, he clicks on the person’s account and is met with very aesthetically angsty selfies of a grey-haired boy with sharp eyebrows and deep collarbones. ‘

He’s kind of…’ Hajime tries to think of the right words. He wants to say ‘pretty’, but that doesn’t feel right - Sugawara is pretty, Oikawa is pretty. Pretty people are soft and round and peppy. This guy is… 

‘Hot.’ 

And weirdly familiar. 

He elbows Matsukawa, who’s sitting on his right, and turns his phone screen towards the boy, “Do you know this guy?”

“Hmph?” Matsukawa’s lazy eyes roam over his screen and he swallows his food before speaking, “Yeah, isn’t that the reserve setter? He came in as a sub when Oikawa hit Shiratorizawa’s main setter.” 

Like a self-conscious self-absorbed bat, whenever Oikawa’s name is merely uttered, the boy in question will hear it, no matter what he's doing, “Eh? Oikawa hit who? I swear, it couldn't have been me, I’m a pacifist!” And he proceeds to put his hands up in surrender. 

The lightbulb goes off in Hajime's head, “Oh! When Oikawa jump-served the ball at that small guy’s face? With the uneven bangs?” He makes a downward sloping motion across his forehead. 

“Yeah, that one,” Matsukawa points to the phone screen, “Pretty sure that’s the guy who subbed for the rest of the set.” 

“Yeah…” Hajime trails, before adding softly, “He was good… Wonder why their coach didn't give him more playtime.”

Oikawa’s quick-clapping hands bring Hajime out of his thoughts, “Oh! I know what we’re talking about now! First off, I didn’t hit Shorty, he wasn’t fast enough, that’s the consequence of the game! Also, why are we talking about this?”

“Iwaizumi is on the sub’s Instagram page.”

Oikawa squeaks, “Is this about your grey-hair-slash-old-man fetish?!”

Hajime groans and facepalms, “No, oh my God, stop telling people I have a fetish, Shittykawa! He followed me.”

“Block him!” 

Hajime sighs, locks his phone, and puts it away, “Just forget it.”

“Hmph. That guy’s not even first string. What does he want with our ace?”

Hanamaki joins in, “I wonder why he’s not first string, though. I’m pretty sure he’s a third year, he’s been there every time we played against them. 'M pretty sure that Shorty is definitely a second year.”

Oikawa’s face turns from snooty to serious and he crosses his arms, “He’s good, but he lacks instinct. His technique is fine, but he doesn’t have what Shorty does. Maybe if he worked harder, but from the looks of it tonight, he doesn’t want it bad enough. He’s not on Shiratorizawa’s level - maybe he was once, but not anymore.”

'Not on Shiratorizawa’s level… Sounds like we might have something in common, after all.’

That night, before Hajime goes to sleep, he accepts EITA’s follow request and follows him back.

continue to read chapter

[isthisthingeven0n]

not those girls : d.d

brief summary: having a crush on your friend isn’t easy, especially when he’s surrounded by other girls who clearly have caught his eye - or at least you believe so

word count:  1.4k requested: it was indeed by a lavelyyyyy anon and this idea was golden i swear warnings: mentions of insecurities 

* masterlistin’ / masterlistin’ 2.0

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it hasn’t been approved me unless specified. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK - IT IS ALL MY OWN WRITING

Sitting in the living room, you watch from behind your laptop as David films another TikTok with Addison.

You notice how she glances up at him with those big eyes and bright smile, listening to his goofy laugh as he messes up another move or interrupts her dancing with his flame thrower. She’s lapping it up and as she finishes filming, your eyes follow as she stands close beside David, leaning against him as they watch back the footage.

It was always the same, there was always another girl more pretty, more successful, more talented for David to spend time with. You’ve always been there, in the background and that’s all you’ll ever be; just a background member of the vlogsquad.

“Hey, Y/n?” David calls out, snapping you from your own thoughts.

Lifting your head up, you smile in his direction as Addison ruffles his hair, making him chuckle and your hopes dishearten once more. “Yeah?” You respond.

“Do you mind filming this for us?” He asks, holding out his phone and you nod, rising to your feet and filming him and Addison doing a couples dance routine. It was goofy, but it was undeniably cute and will do nothing but fuel dating rumours further.

Once the routines are over, you silently hand him back his phone. David mutters a thank you before Addison continues to talk as you return to working.

“Oh, we should totally film again with the others sometime!” She suggests, leaning against the pool table as David stands in front of her with his arms crossed. “Like a group collab.” She adds, nudging him playfully.

David clears his throat, nodding in response. “That’d be cool. I’m hanging out with Madison later, but I can do Tuesday? Just check with Natalie.” David brushes it off, how he’s trying to fit in a TikTok star as he’ll be too busy with a musician and model tonight.

Trying to not roll your eyes, you save your work and sidetrack to Instagram on your phone in an attempt to block out the rest of David’s conversation.

It’s only when David waves to Addison and turns around to see you with your back turned that he takes the time to pick up a cushion and throws it at your head.

Falling forward, you quickly turn and glare at him. “David!” You call out, your cold look warming as he chuckles with that goofy smile. “Oh, you’ll pay for this.” You mutter, picking a cushion up as you proceed to chase him around the living room.

“You’ll never catch me, Y/n!” He continues to run away from you as you hold two cushions, holding them high in the air as you head toward the sofa after him.

Just as you lean out to clap his head with the cushions, you feel a pair of hands wrap around your waist and pull you down.

“David.” You laugh lightly, realising he’s now on top of you, trapping you on the sofa.

Both of your laughs subside and silence takes over as David remains on top of you. The cushions are both gone, resting by your side as David’s breathing deepens and his eyes flicker toward your lips.

“Dave, I-” Before you’re able to say anything else, the front door opens.

Quickly David pulls himself from you and straightens up. “Hey, guys!” He waves as Zane, Heath and Mariah walk in whilst you slowly sit upright, pushing back whatever you thought could’ve happened once more.

*

It had been a few weeks since your almost moment, and you still couldn’t find yourself to fully focus on David. Every time you looked in his direction, all you could feel were butterflies in your stomach as your thoughts clouded over. Yet, the second another girl started to flirt with him, those clouds became thunderous until you either excused yourself or she gave up.

“You know, you could just talk to him.” Mariah mutters beside you, catching you off guard as you’re all sitting in David’s room whilst he attempts to finish editing.

You scoff lightly, looking over your shoulder to make sure David isn’t paying any attention. “I don’t know what you mean.” You shrug a shoulder, but Mariah knows you better than you know yourself sometimes.

“Oh, really?” She quirks an eyebrow as she peers her head over to look at David and begins to part her lips to call him, but you quickly tug on her arm to back down.

Letting out a quiet sigh, you collapse further into the beanbag. “Okay fine.” You admit. “I won’t because it’ll just end badly, and I don’t want that sort of tension.” You explain, just as David picks his phone up to see a message from Stass.

“Stass is coming out with us tonight, she said she’ll probably bring Olivia and Madison too.” David says as he reads the message straight from his phone, looking around as a series of nods meet his gaze, all except for you.

“See what I mean?” You quietly question Mariah who pats your arm sympathetically. “I might as well just head home and chill. Like I wanna spend all night seeing a bunch of attractive girls feeling him up.” You mutter to Mariah as you rise to your feet and grab your bag.

Immediately, David focuses on you as a frown wears heavy on your lips. “Where you going?” David questions and a few others look around to see you hovering by the doorway, David now leaning on the edge of his bed.

Tugging on your bag, you force your eyes away from his. “I’ve got a lot of admin to do before the weekend, thought I’d go see my manager and get it sorted.” You explain, oblivious to David’s shoulders slumping.

“Are you coming tonight though?” He asks you, only to watch as you shake your head. 

“Some other time though.” You comment before you pass through the door, hearing as conversations resume, but David’s voice remains absent. 

Mariah focuses on David as he glances over, seeing her motion for him to follow you out.

As David heads toward the door to follow you, Mariah lets out a sigh of relief as she relaxes back into the beanbag. “My work here is done.” She mutters under her breath with a smile on her face, knowing the right thing is finally being done about you both.

“Hey, Y/n.” Pausing in his driveway, you turn around to see David closing his front door and walking toward you. “Are you okay?”

Raising an eyebrow, a nervous sigh follows from your lips. “I mean, yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” You question, crossing your arms with your keys dangling from your fingertips.

“You’ve just been acting off lately, not coming out with us,” David explains as you continue to avoid eye contact. “and you’re barely looking at me, even now.” He adds, catching you off guard as your eyes snap onto his. 

“I’ve just been busy, that’s all.” You reason, but David shakes his head as he stands closer.

“No, it’s not just that.” David mutters as he tries to think back to the last few times you’ve been absent, where they went and who went with them. And then it hits him, and David can’t help but chuckle under his breath. “Are you jealous, Y/n?” 

“Jealous of what?” You quickly retort, only spiking David’s curiosity further. “Of the girls that have been around lately?” You watch as a smirk begins to rise across David’s lips, but you scoff. 

“As if I’d be jealous. Why would I anyway? I’m allowed to be busy David, my world doesn’t revolve around you.” You bite back before turning around to walk to your car, but David quickly moves to stand in front of you, blocking your way. “David, just move.” You sigh. 

“Not without doing this.” David comments before resting his hands on your cheeks and leaning in, kissing you passionately. 

After a split second of confusion, you kiss him back. Your hands rest around his shoulders, lost in your own world as you deepen the kiss before eventually pulling away to catch a breath. 

“So, does this mean you won’t be jealous anymore?” David questions as you chuckle. “Because I think it’s clear who I like.” 

You hum to yourself, your hand rising to play with his hair. “I’m not sure, you’ll have to remind me somehow.” You playfully smile before kissing him once more, knowing this is just the beginning. 

[terreisa]

Love Down the Line: Epilogue

The last thing Indie musician Emma Swan needs is a gigantic wrench thrown in the workings of her biggest tour to date weeks before its launch.  When her backing guitarist that caused the problem says she has the perfect solution Emma is skeptical but left with little choice but to accept.  Unfortunately she isn’t really prepared for said solution to be former Rock Star and leading man of Emma’s teenage fantasies, Killian Jones.  With no other options and a month of performing across the country ahead of her Emma just hopes she doesn’t come to regret letting Killian onto her stage and into her life.

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, AO3

~*CS*~

Los Angeles, Three Years Later

“You know, the last time I was here they only gave me those itty bitty bottles of water.”

Killian laughed to himself but kept his eyes trained to his phone.  He knew if he looked up the love of his life would be scowling at the unnecessarily large bottles of expensive water lined up along the counter of the green room they were waiting in.  Emma Swan was prone to many wonderful things but graciously giving up on a grudge was not one of them.

“The last time you were here you hadn’t won five Grammys in one fell swoop.  When I was doing the first interviews with Realm of Jewels we were lucky to get cups of tap water.  We thought a slice of lemon was the height of luxury.”

“Yeah, well that was what?  Three hundred years ago?” She teased, moving across the room to flop down beside him on the couch with a huff, “They should at least have a water cooler or something.  Reusable bottles are the way of the future.”

“First you complain about the water they’re providing and now you’re complaining about the one their not?  Can they do nothing to please you?”

He looked over at her with a raised brow and she gave him a smirk.

“They fired Walsh so that’s a step in the right direction.”

“Thank bloody fuck,” he growled, turning back to his phone with a scowl.

Emma had eventually told him the full extent of what had happened the day of her interview with Walsh Hoakley.  Not only had the wanker reported gossip as though it were truth, which caused the brief falling out between him and Emma that had made them both miserable, but the berk had hit on her not ten minutes after.  When she finally had told him, only a few days after they had reconciled, it had taken an hour for him to calm down and at least a week for her to convince him not to fight her battles for her.  The news of Hoakley’s firing less than a year later had been celebrated with a sparkling cider toast.

“So-” Emma peered over his shoulder and he felt some of his tension melt away, “What’s got you paying more attention to your phone than the expensive goodies they’re trying to get on our good side with?”

With a snort he tilted his phone towards her, “Just going over the contract one last time.”

“We have a fancy lawyer for that don’t we?” She asked crossing her arms as she sat back, “And Ruby wouldn’t try to scam you.  I mean, look what’s happened since she decided to become my manager instead of staying in my backing band.”

“Well, aside from those five Grammys I mentioned-”

“What?!” Emma’s brows shot up and her mouth dropped open in clearly feigned shock, “I won five Grammys?  I had no idea!”

“Hush, love, you deserved them and I’m honored to brag on your behalf,” he chided though he gave her a wink, “Although, I don’t rightly think we can give Ruby the credit for that.”

She scoffed and burrowed further into the couch, “If she hadn’t forced me to let you audition then we wouldn’t have met.  Then we wouldn’t have had our grand romance that in turn inspired In the Middlemist and I wouldn’t have won those Grammys.”

“I believe that we would have met eventually, love.  If not through our careers then we would have certainly been invited to Ruby’s wedding where I would have been immediately smitten with the blonde in the crimson bridesmaid dress,” he said lowly, pleased to see her cheeks flush.

“And I probably would have freaked out even more meeting you for the first time there than at the studio.  You know how much I like seeing you in a suit-” she said huskily, leaning up to press a soft kiss under his jaw.  Then she sat back and smiled wide, “Even then Ruby would still be the reason we met.  That’s why I dedicated it to her and not you.”

“Is that why?  I thought it was because you were still upset with me over the tiny misunderstanding over your choice in vehicle.”

He gave her a knowing look and she glared right back at him.  When he raised his brow in challenge she rolled her eyes at him.

“Fine, that was part of it,” she conceded, “But I did mention you in every acceptance speech.”

“Which was wonderful aside from the camera they kept shoving in my face to capture my every proud tear in HD,” he grumbled, remembering the repeated messages from Will that were just the GIF of him crying after Emma had said she loved him onstage holding her third award of the night.  He blew out a breath, “As I was saying: aside from all that I will admit that your career has flourished under Ruby’s care.  She has become quite the adversary of Regina, stealing her best clients away.”

“Regina’s over it now,” she dismissed with a wave of her hand, “Ever since you reintroduced her to Robin in a non-business setting and then moved to that corner office things have been great.”

Just as he was about to make a somewhat lewd comment as to exactly why both those things would put Regina in a good mood there was a knock on the door.  It was opened a moment later by the intern that had initially led them there.

“They’re ready for you, if you’d like to follow me.”

He let Emma proceed him as he stowed his phone in his pocket.  She was right, of course, Ruby wouldn’t dream of sneaking in last minute changes to the contract making her his new manager.  If anything she would have been fine with a verbal agreement and the promise of making her the godmother of whatever child he and Emma might have.  Unfortunately all of their fancy, and expensive, lawyers required things in writing and in triplicate.

The intern led them to a broadcasting studio that looked like every other one he’d ever been interviewed in.  One glaring difference, however, was the radio host who squealed when she saw them and practically skipped towards them with open arms.

“Finally, you guys!  I’ve been waiting all week for this!”

Emma laughed and accepted the hug easily, “Us too, Tink.  Killian’s had it marked in all of our calendars the second Ruby booked it.”

Tink pulled back from Emma and gave him a wide smile, “I’d heard she finally got you to make it official.  There’s no stopping her now.”

“As though there was a chance before,” he chuckled. “Lovely to see you again, TInk.”

“If you guys lived here I’d see you more,” she chided gently before stepping forward to wrap her arms around him, “Everyone’s still on for dinner tomorrow, right?”

“Of course, Will wouldn’t let us hear the end of it if we didn’t,” he scoffed, giving her a light squeeze before letting go.

“Great!  I still can’t believe he ditched Emma to be in your band,” She said with a laugh, grinning broadly at Emma’s frown.  Something over his shoulder caught her eye and she nodded before focusing back on them, “Alright, my producer’s about to throw a fit if we waste any more time.  Go ahead and get settled while I do my thing.”

As he and Emma moved to the seats awaiting them Tink bounced over to her chair and donned her headphones.  With a bit of awe and intimidation he watched Tink easily slip into performance mode, softening her accent and dialing up her enthusiasm as she introduced herself and the start of her broadcast block.  She hadn’t been a DJ for long but he could clearly see she had found her calling.  When she teased their interview she gave them an overexaggerated wink that had him stifling a laugh.

After two songs and a small promo of Enchanted’s other stations Tink gave them a thumbs up as her producer let them know that their mics were live.

“That was the latest from The Killers and I don’t know about you but I’m more than ready for their new album to be released.  I’m Tink and this is Rock Alt, home to all the alternative rock hits here on Enchanted XM.  Today is a very exciting day because in the studio with me, right this very moment, are two people that you should be very familiar with: five time Grammy winner and indie darling Emma Swan and two time Grammy winner and alt rock god Killian Jones.  Once upon a time I toured with Emma as part of her backing band and on one of those more memorable tours Killian decided to join us.  Welcome, welcome!”

“I can truthfully say we’re excited to be here,” Emma chimed in brightly, her grin wide and happy.

“Yes, thanks for having us, love,” Killian said warmly. “Though I feel it’s only right to mention that those two Grammys were won with Realm of Jewels.”

“Aw, it’s only a matter of time before they’ll be joined by plenty of others, especially with this new album-” Tink waggled her eyebrows and he had a feeling she wasn’t going to go easy on them just because she was their friend. “There’s no question that you two are more than just friendly collaborators, with a couple of writing credits on each other’s albums and a duet on Killian’s acoustic cover album of Realm of Jewels’ greatest hits.  We’ve also seen the red carpet photos and Instagram glimpses of your romance.”

He looked over at Emma and received an eye roll in return.  When they’d first truly started dating they’d kept it hidden from anyone that wasn’t close friends or family.  They had both felt that they wanted to start their relationship without the hounding from the press and scrutiny from the gossip mongers.  It wasn’t until nearly a year and a half later, when Emma had clearly been his date to American Music Awards, that they’d gone public.  Even then they had both agreed that they’d keep their personal lives as private as possible and continued to do so.  Including the fact that they’d been married for two years.

“But now you’ve released a surprise album as a duo,” Tink continued, “going by the name Charles & Leia, which also happens to be the title of the album.  It’s amazing by the way and if any of you out there haven’t listened to it yet I suggest you do so, but only after this interview is over, of course.  So, how did this come about and why Charles & Leia?”

Emma gave him a shrug and a nod and he leaned closer to his mic, “As you mentioned earlier we’ve been playing together for some time now.  After that tour I was a part of we were both starting on our next albums and would often work through arrangements or fine tune lyrics, using the other as a sounding board.  This has, as evidenced, continued through the years until one day we thought we might try our hands at creating a whole album together.”

“We didn’t want it to be an album of my songs featuring him or vice versa though,” Emma chimed in. “Then it would have just been the same thing we’d already been doing which would have been fun but kinda boring at the same time.  We wanted to challenge ourselves to create something new together from the beginning.  Luckily our label was open to the idea and let us run with it.”

“And the name?” Tink prodded.

“A bit of an inside joke, really,” he said with a chuckle, reaching over to clasp Emma’s hand in his, “Whenever we made reservations or had to give a name for whatever reason I used Charles and Emma used Leia.  I don’t even remember why-”

Emma snorted, “When he made the reservations for our first date and they asked for a name he panicked.  We’d been watching The Crown and he blurted out the name Charles.  At least he didn’t completely lose his shit and say Elizabeth.”

Emma’s eyes widened at the curse and clapped her hands over her mouth.  Tink waved her hand in dismissal.  Not a moment later the producer let them know through their headphones that cursing was fine but to keep it to a minimum if possible.

“Anyway,” Emma said evenly, though her cheeks were pink, “When it was my turn to make reservations I kept it going.  Princess Leia was my hero when I was a kid.  Still is actually.”

“As she is for us all,” Killian jumped in, “Of course we no longer use those as our aliases but when we were trying to decide how we wanted to present ourselves for this album this seemed appropriate.”

“We also figured it would give people the chance to listen to the songs without already having an idea of what they thought it should sound like because they knew it was us,” Emma explained, “I mean, it’s not like we’re trying to deceive anyone or anything but a lot of times people don’t try something out because they think they know exactly what it’s going to be.  I know I’m totally guilty of it sometimes.”

“I’ve been listening to the album non-stop since it came out last week and you’re absolutely right, if I hadn’t already known that it was you two I wouldn’t have even been able to guess.  Now, I’ve played alongside both of you and have been a fan of each of your music since both of your beginnings and I have to say, Charles & Leia is nothing like the music you’ve released before.  What would you say were the biggest influences on how you approached the creation of this album?”

Killian took a moment to consider Tink’s question.  He immediately dismissed sharing the long convoluted answer that began with innocent questions about one another’s past that led to a months long search into the mystery of Emma’s beginnings that came up empty while he nearly spiralled out of control once more over the unhealed pain of his borderline abusive and neglectful father.  They were still working through some of those issues in therapy and even with the personal nature of the songs they’d written he didn’t feel it was necessary to elaborate on what the lyrics already implied.

“I can’t speak for Emma but for me it’s a look to the past and what influence it has on the present and the future.  Take the title track for instance, my mother was Irish so I looked to the old Celtic folk songs and the instruments used, mimicking the flow of the music before playing around with more modern sounds.  The result was entirely unique but still felt familiar, like an auditory deja vu, if you will.”

Tink was nodding furiously while Emma rolled her eyes at him, “I definitely won’t be that eloquent but yeah, we both have things in our past that sometimes takes a toll on who we are today.  Our music was already pretty personal.  I mean, I’ve written songs about growing up in foster care or when I was in jail but this was something else.  Every day when we finished recording whatever song we were working on I felt like I’d been turned inside out and then wrung out but in a good way?  It makes no sense but I’ve also never been this proud of one of my albums.”

“Well you should both be damn proud!  I may be the tad bit biased but I think this may be the best album to come out this year and we’re only halfway through,” Tink effused.

“Thank you lass,” he mumbled as he scratched behind his ear at the compliment.

He caught Emma’s eye and she gave him an indulgent smile.  She was well aware that sincere praise always tended to discomfit him, as he felt he was undeserving of it, especially when it came from someone he knew well.  It was something he was working on getting better at accepting, with her help of course.

“Since the album was a surprise release there hasn’t been any confirmation of a tour yet.  Any chance we’ll be seeing you two taking this act on the road?”

“We’re doing a kind of a mini tour on the east coast and then a couple of dates out here,” Emma explained, her eyes sparkling, “We didn’t want to get too ahead of ourselves and book a bunch of dates and then not have anyone show up.”

“I doubt that will be a problem,” Tink dismissed with a bright laugh, “From what I’ve been told nearly every show is sold out.  So if any of you listeners out there want to see Emma and Killian perform songs from this brilliant new album I’d say don’t wait to buy your tickets.  I already have mine.

“Now, I know this album is only weeks old and you both have flourishing solo careers but I have to ask: can we expect even bigger things from you two in the future?”

With a smile he had no hope of quelling he gave Emma a wink, though he was reasonably sure that it was nowhere near subtle.  It didn’t matter though, as no one had a clue what it could mean since she had only shown him the positive pregnancy test earlier that morning.  Emma gave him a beaming grin of her own and he kept his eyes on her as he spoke into his mic.

“I think you can, Tink.  In fact, I’m quite certain that this is merely the happy beginning of grand things to come.”

[k-llama-llama]

Snow Escape

Stray Kids AU: 10th member

Tori x Stray Kids

Jeongin makes it his mission to be Tori’s buddy on a snowy day

A/N: Please check out my PATREON (patreon.com/kllamallama) for exclusive posts you can’t get anywhere else, as well as lots of other cool benefits!

Requests are OPEN and your feedback is still greatly appreciated!

Masterlist and other Follow Me links in bio!

“Where are you taking that?”

Jeongin froze as Seungmin turned everyone’s attention to him. He turned slightly, trying to hide the two mugs in his hands. “To my room.”

“Your room is the other way, genius.” Jisung looked back from his spot on the couch. “What’s in the mugs?”

Chan wandered over, giving Jeongin no choice but to show him the mugs. He was holding the matching set of Aladdin and Jasmine mugs, both of which were steaming from the hot chocolate.

Chan raised his eyebrows. “Where’s Tori?”

“She might be waiting for me on the fire escape.” Jeongin winced.

Chan inspected the maknae. “Two scarves?”

“It’s snowing and she’s in her pyjamas.”

“Proceed.”

Jeongin scurried away.

“Seriously that’s it?” Seungmin snorted. “They’re out on the side of the building in a snowstorm and you’re just okay with it?”

Chan shrugged. “It’s six in the morning, I’m too tired to argue. Besides, I’d rather she have a buddy in case she falls asleep out there.”

Jeongin was down the hall and out on the fire escape before the rest of the group had even finished debating. He slipped out the door, stepping out into the cold air.

Tori was sitting on the landing, wrapped up in a blanket. The landing above blocked some of the heavy snow, but she still had snowflakes in her hair.

“I brought the hot chocolate, Noona.” Jeongin sat down next to her, placing the pink Jasmine mug next to her and taking a sip of his own.

Tori turned to him and smiled. “My hero.” She picked up her mug, giving it a sniff. “It smells amazing.”

“It’s not as good as yours,” He admitted, setting his mug down. “But I’m getting better.”

“It’s delicious.” She promised, taking a sip and sighing contently. “You can’t fully enjoy a snowy morning unless you have hot chocolate.”

“I’m impressed that you can enjoy anything this early in the morning. It’s freezing out.” He hunkered down under his coat.

“I know.” Tori just smiled, looking up at the sky. She blinked to keep snowflakes from hitting her in the eyes. “Doesn’t it just make everything look so clean and peaceful?”

“It does.” Jeongin took another sip of his hot chocolate. “You do this every time it snows, you know.”

“Hmmm, last time you weren’t here.” She leaned against the railing. “It’s nice to have some company.”

“Noona?”

“Yeah?” She didn’t look away from the falling snowflakes.

“Do you miss home?”

Tori sighed, resting her cheek against the cold metal. “I don’t know. Sometimes, I guess.”

“You haven’t been home since we debuted, right?”

“Since a few months before the survival show.” She took a sip of her hot chocolate. “Why?”

“Because you seem sad right now, and I don’t know how to make it better.”

“Aw, Jeonginnie.” Tori gave a tiny smile and reached for his hand. “I’m not sad.”

“You promise?” He squeezed her hand. “I hate it when you’re sad.”

Tori smiled, scooting closer to him. She leaned her head onto his shoulder, snuggling into the warmth. “I promise I would tell you if I was sad.”

“Good.” He took a sip of his hot chocolate, and then frowned. “Please tell me your secret. Because this is not as good as yours.”

She grinned. “It wouldn’t be a secret if I told you.”

“Yeah, but now I just think that any hot chocolate that isn’t your’s is disappointing.” 

“Well, then I definitely can’t tell you. Otherwise why would you keep me around?” She teased.

“I don’t know, sometimes you can dance okay too.”

“Yah, and here I thought you loved me.” She pouted.

“I do, I do!” He laughed, reaching forward. He took the hot chocolate out of her head, and poured it down the fire escape. The snow melted away, dripping down to the levels below. “Now, I have a plan.”

“It better be good, you just took my hot chocolate.”

Jeongin stood, brushing snow off of his pants before offering his hand to help her up. “We go in, put on warm clothes, and then go to the park to take Instagrams.”

“I’m listening.” She shook her hair, letting the snowflakes flutter down around them.

“And then we go get bubble tea.” He offered. “Just us.”

Tori beamed. “Aw, you’re being sweet.”

“I know.” He flushed. “But it’s your favourite kind of day, so I have to be sweet. Which means I’m buying you one of your ridiculously sugary drinks that gives you a sugar crash.”

“They just got sakura syrup!”

“Then let’s go get you some.” Jeongin held open the door to the fire escape, letting her step inside. “Maybe we’ll even get fishcakes on the way back.”

“Really?” She turned to hurry towards their apartment. “Wait, can you wear your striped sweater?”

“Sure, why?”

“Because I’ll wear my striped dress and then we can be matching!” Tori beamed. “Is that okay?”

“I’ll find those red hats you bought us, so we can match even with our coats on.”

“I like the way you think.” She bopped him on the nose. “Let’s go. You earn enough points today and I might just tell you the secret to my hot chocolate.”

“Well now the stakes are high.”

[lanajvmeson]

emerges frm a field of corn slinking in w a faux mink shrug dangling around my elbows n a strand of wheat between my teeth..... farmer eleganza.... hlo! my name’s nai. i am bt a humble ghoul arrived to haunt ur home. 23 n she/her pronouns n i live in manchester. fun fact my friend’s neighbour used to b harry styles PE teacher. i played delilah yrs ago as carlson young (n even cara delevingne at one point what the fk) which feels so weird n ancient to me nw bt i missed her a lot so decided to spruce her bk to life.... ANYWAY delilah’s pinterest is here n i’ll jst leap right into things without further ado

(NICOLA PELTZ, CIS-FEMALE) - Have you seen DELILAH ASTOR? LILAH is in HER JUNIOR year. The POLITICAL SCIENCE MAJOR is 21 years old & is a CAPRICORN. People say SHE is BEGUILING, BLUNT, CUNNING and APATHETIC. Rumors say they’re a member of CALLOWAY. I heard from the gossip blog that SHE WAS IN A REHABILITATION CENTRE IN SWITZERLAND INSTEAD OF DOING CHARITY WORK LIKE HER SOCIAL MEDIA CLAIMED.  (NAI. 23. GMT. SHE/HER.) 

HISTORY

their family is kind of modelled off the sedgwick family like old money n pretty dysfunctional bt all abt keeping up a seamless facade of perfection... with a pinch of the kennedy’s in there. her dad’s high up in politics n his dad before tht ws in politics n it’s just a long prestigious line of clones in expensive suits as far as delilah’s concerned. her dad i picture as like.... nate archibald’s grandfather in gossip girl.... personality wise.

for as long as she cn remember she’s found this cookie cutter white picket fence life boring. stifling. to delilah it’s like being hemmed in a stuffy room n forbidden frm opening a window. it’s all vry Rich People Problems i wnt lie bt <3 she feels everlastingly bored. All The Time. plus her family hs always been a focal point fr tabloids etc which doesn’t help this feeling of not rly Living but just being the focus of a spectator sport. they’re lowkey a bit of a household name so they get a bunch of scrutiny n......... well. new bullet point alert! cue a powerpoint transition

(self harm & depression tw) frm being young delilah always knew there ws sort of. a white noise inside her where everyone else saw a technicolour movie screen. it rly hit her at like 12 i’d say as she was jst coasting towards adolescence. it ws pretty obvious frm her behaviour i’d say bt her parents only became Aware it ws a problem when she stuck a fork into a socket n short circuited the power in the house. she got shocked unconscious n when she woke up she told the in house dr they’d called (to keep it under wraps frm outsiders) tht she just.... couldn’t feel anything. she’d been reading frankenstein (she’s always liked gothic literature) n thought it’d zap her to life like the monster

her parents got her on medication n figured that wld fix everything. they didn’t like to talk abt things and that was that. it wasn’t to be mentioned again

delilah’s parents r just very.... sterile. family is abt appearances. they’ll be all smiles n flowing conversation when ppl are around bt it feels like being an actress n reading frm a script. being a toy in a dollhouse

she had two siblings: an older sister named clara & a younger brother named elijah. clara ws always like.... the Dream daughter. did everything right. amazing grades. america’s sweetheart. LOVED by the press. did sm charity work. elijah was fine/kind of a slacker compared bt coasted by on athletic prowess (captain of the rowing team). delilah hs very much always been the anomaly in this idyllic line-up. middle child effect! altho having said tht she’s always ran w the popular crowd of her age group bc Rich + Pretty = Status. it’s all quite superficial n delilah’s attitude on the matter can b summed up w this photoset. having said tht there was Some merit in constantly being paraded around as “such a pretty thing” bc a few modelling agencies attempted to scout her bt delilah found that boring. she wants to b called brilliant not beautiful. her mother called this her “not playing to the advantages that god gave her”. with a tight-lipped smile and a “god forbid i use my brain”, delilah only disappointed her further <3

(drugs & ed tw) delilah gt pretty heavy into partying fr the sake of trying to Feel something. intense on the drugs front (coke n prescription pills). rarely eating. she got a silver broach of a swan tht she pins to most of her clothes n u can unscrew the swan’s neck n pull it out to reveal a little powder spoon. still wears this today. clara n delilah were always super close n clara wld cover fr her a bunch. making up lies n jst having her back to their parents if they ever asked where she was / she ws in trouble n needed to keep it under wraps. when delilah hd an article in a tabloid pretty mch like this one clara talked their parents dwn frm sending her to a rehabilitation centre in switzerland. they gt it pretty much scorched frm existence bt delilah kept a clipping bc honestly she thought it was funny hw pale her mother went abt it

(car accident & drunk driving & death tw) at a fancy benefit the astors were all attending among 4857925974 uppity families delilah wound up heading off w some of the rich kids n one thing lead to another n a couple of them gt arrested fr a coke scandal. delilah used her phone call to contact clara n fr once clara hd let loose a little n hd something to drink bt still drove to the station to bail delilah out n try n fix her mess bt.... skipped a red light n crashed. she died upon impact.

(hospitalisation & drugs & addiction tw) this made delilah spiral massively obviously.... she clung on by the skin of her teeth fr a while bt she rly was just getting quite out of control doing an extremely excessive amt of coke to get by at this point so her parents actually did.... end up shipping her off to switzerland for rehabilitation. they didn’t tell anyone this tho n as far as ppl were/are aware she was doing charity work with habitat for humanity in trinidad. her parents literally........... hired ppl to take photos of things there n a social media team posted them to her instagram account jst. the most elaborate lie.... it’s a lot.

delilah jst pretty much went along w whatever they said at the facility bt didn’t absorb any of it too much.... she did get sober there bt it was vry much bc she had no other choice rather than a want to......... she even pretended to “find god” while she ws there n memorised bible lines to recite w a coolly detached smile. in her head she ws probably thinking abt hw her mandated therapist cld gladly eat shit and she’d be happy to watch. it was just like.... everyone there was RLY hideously overpaid bt did they actually Care abt their work or patients? debatable. wasn’t the most healing experience thru delilah’s eyes bt... maybe it’d work better if she’d actually opened her mind to it bt anyway...... <3 cornelius fudge voice: she’s back. the dark lord.....

PERSONALITY:

nw tht her history is out of the way i’ll leap like a flea off a shaggy dog’s back into personality! aesthetically she almost ALWAYS wears white/cream. reminds me of the woman in white frm sharp objects. rarely she’ll dabble in silver or gold or like..... vry pale green bt.... always muted tones. usually white or cream. big white sunhats. white sunglasses. white pussybow blouses w a little white skirt n a pearl barrette in her hair. she even smokes white sobranie cigs tht r imports like it’s a lot she’s truly committed to the aesthetic.... paired w like. classic patent mary janes.... she tends to flutter around the place like a silk moth. likes lace too. hs a very put together image n even demeanour like she’s very lithe n graceful n drifts like a ghost which kind of contrasts w... who she is at her core bt in the astor family it’s all abt appearances <3 the only deviation from this is she sometimes wears dark blue mascara once in a blue moon n if ppl comment on this she’s like. idk what ur talking abt? glides away like a ghost in a haunted mansion n is never seen again.

very perceptive. incredibly observant. yrs of early life media training n being born frm politicians means she’s an excellent liar. she knows ppl n knows what makes them tick bt she’ll only use this when necessary. she isn’t a terrible person bt she knows how to b Very mean n will equip this as a weapon shd a situation call fr it. also more prone to lashing out since her sister......... she hs sometimes played chess games socially fr kicks

dark n biting sense of humour. rather frank abt things. VERY ruthless when scorned bt she isn’t particularly?? emotive abt it??? her bf cheated on her once n when he told her she slapped him rly hard in front of sm ppl he knew n then jst walked away. blocked him on literally everything. removed him frm the face of the earth as far as she ws concerned. had him blacklisted frm every event n told ppl they’d be cut too if they continued to associate w him. goodbye sir <3 u are the weakest link <3 needless to say he regretted it <3

very loyal to u until she isn’t. finds it very easy to cut ties if need be. once her trust is broken it is gooooone baby goone.... the trust is Gone. selective in who she cares abt

vry cavalier abt sex. she doesn’t sleep around hugely i dnt think??? bt when she does it isn’t often tht emotionally invested she’ll jst out of the blue very nonchalantly blow out a wisp of smoke n b like. so u want to fuck me then? cool. proceeds to get up as if she’s walking to leave n then looks bk n is like what do ur legs not work? follow me. n leads them somewhere

nothing rly.... moves her particularly. she isn’t very animated. it’s like she jst finds the entire world thoroughly unimpressive. it’s difficult to stimulate excitement from her. it’s like that hugh laurie quote where he realised he had depression bc “boredom is not an appropriate response to exploding cars”.

has a pet swan bk at home she’s named lilith inspired by satan’s offspring. lilith bites ppl if they get close n is honestly an abomination of a bird. delilah finds her funny n throws her bits of croissants sometimes bt even she isn’t immune to her pecks. in some ways they’re similar...... hv a graceful surface appearance / aesthetic bt a darker attitude beneath the surface

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

exes: the ex bf tht cheated on her n she got blacklisted from 94872347 social events cld be a fun thing to explore..... delilah wld be EXTREMELY cold towards him n honestly want him dead. wouldn’t show any shred of caring abt him at all she’s very gd at stoning her emotions n keeping them inside. hasn’t cried since her sister died as an example of how..... withdrawn she is from confessing her innermost thoughts n desires. maybe an ex bf before tht that she rly didn’t take seriously at all..... typically she just isn’t interested/invested in romance she’s vry apathetic abt it all

party friends: those tht run in similar rich kid circles tht she would have smuggled off with at fancy events so they could let loose.......... ppl tht r completely her opposite who she finds interesting bc they represent everything she always wanted outside the oppression of her strict regiment family....... mutual bad influences tht are heavy into drugs n always enable each other...... u name it!

hook-ups: she doesn’t have a HUGE amt of these bt.... maybe a select handful.... some she wld have hooked up w once n never again n just been like >_> if they implied they shd as if it was preposterous n she was thoroughly over it.... some maybe she’d find interesting enough to extend beyond tht...... none she’d invest in if she cld help it altho? maybe someone as an exception to tht rule cld be fun

friends of her sister: (death tw) clara was universally well liked for being rly sweet n well intentioned n she attended yates only two yrs delilah’s senior so she might have some connections here still somehow??? cld be angsty to work with

i won’t lie i’m rly hungry as i write up these wcs so my brain’s going blank n i’m gna have to sprint to get some toast bt <3 roommates, enemies, competitive friendships, resentments, angst, chaos, drama, strife, u name it n i am dwn!!!! hits post n takes off galloping dwnstairs

[eternaljouska]

Take Care of Me, Please - Kim Mingyu

Pairing: Mingyu x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1447

A/N: My friend planted it in my head that this sounds and looks like it should’ve been a rated fic. Boi, did I doubt my choices. I swear it’s not. I got this idea back when I was just a tiny bit sick earlier this week.

You know it even before you wake up. Through the cold that replaces your blanket around you, the extra energy you require to open your eyes, and the pain that attacks your head immediately after you do. You forgot to turn off the light last night, and as the consequence, that’s the first thing your poor eyes need to handle, which is proved to be too much. Your eyes water and then narrow into slits, trying to block it away. “God,” you groan as you try to move and kill the unwanted light.

The pounding in your head only worsens when you suddenly sneeze, causing you to throw your head forward in such an abrupt motion. You let out another groan. And then more since your groping hands take too long to successfully locate your phone. It’s a good idea that you unlock the rectangular device far from your face because you’ll never know whether your hand can hold it and not drop it on your face. Plus, even in this one-arm length, the light from your screen still manage to hurt your eyes.

You press number one on your speed dial, but it only rings and rings until it goes to the voicemail. A single whine escapes your slightly chapped lips. You need water, but you were so tired last night that you couldn’t even bother to change into your pajamas, moreover to prepare a glass of water on your bedside table like you usually do. It is frustrating enough that you get hit by the world on the day that you’re actually off from work. But now to top that, you can’t even reach the only person you can ask to grab you some water.

To: Gyuu~

Mingyuuuuuuuuuuu, come over rite nowwww

I’m sick I can’t move I need water

Sent: 5.23 AM

As soon as the message’s delivered, another sneeze forces its way out of your body, and you quickly type another message for him.

To: Gyuu~

No, forget water. I need tissues :’(

Sent: 5.23 AM

And another.

To: Gyuu~

TISSUE! TISSUE! TISSUE! WALK OVER HERE.

GYUUUUUUU

BABY

Now my eyes are watering because I spent too long on the phone.

Sent: 5.24 AM

You give up, throwing your phone away sulkily only to have it landed on the carpet, too far away from your reach now that your stupid boyfriend’s name lighting up the screen from an incoming call. Talking about great timing, eh?

After ten excruciating minutes of you pinching your nose with your fingers and breathing from your mouth as to keep your snot from running down, you heard the door to your apartment opens. And not long after that, Mingyu enters your room with the box of tissues from your living room. “Hey, baby, I’m sorry. I was asleep. Here,” he says, taking a seat on the bed as he bestows you the blessing that is a soft, square, white, paper-ish thing you’ve ached for since the moment you opened your eyes earlier this morning. “How bad is it, hmm?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you fall into the succession of blowing your nose into the tissues and then smile triumphantly when you finish, thinking that successfully holding it inside while waiting for Mingyu is such an achievement. But if he asks you, you’ll surely insist on a reward, for, you know, holding your snots despite the countless sneezes you need to get out of your system is surely some God works.

The tall man places the back of his hand on top of your temple, but he doesn’t feel a significant difference between both of your bodies’ temperatures. At this point, you explain, “No fever. Just this”—you bring his index finger to your eye—“and this”—your nose—“and this”—and your throat.

Mingyu nods in understanding before he leans forward. “I’ll bring you some water and a wet cloth for your eyes. And you lie down here while I cook something for you and I’ll see if you have something in the medicine box, too, alright, love?” He lands a light peck upon your forehead and sets to do his tasks like he’s a man on a mission.

It’s been about thirty minutes that Mingyu has completed his mission and is just lounging around on the bed with you, feet tangling together and your head resting atop his packed chest. And you can’t help but think that it gets a little boring, not doing anything like that. You play with the compress on your closed eyelids and move your head so it lies on Mingyu’s arm instead. “Gyu, look at me.”

He hums.

“Gyu, I can feel my eyeballs,” you say in a mock-voice, which is the lowest tone you can get without hurting your already hurting throat.

He chuckles then proceeds to ruffle your hair before scolding you half-heartedly, “Get some sleep, baby.”

You ignore him and proceed with another request. “Gyu, I need my lip balm.”

“No.” His answer is short, and you whine in protest before he cuts you with a peck on your lips. “I’m not moving.”

Half of you is stunned and the other half is mad, so you move your bottom lip forward in a pout. That makes Mingyu wants to give you an actual kiss in place of his previous peck. You look cute, with your lips jutted forward that way and the cloth strewn over your eyes. Mingyu takes out his phone as he bites on his lower lip, preventing him to turn into a giggly mess from looking at you like that.

“Gyu, my lips are so dry. Come on.” You wait for a few seconds, but you don’t hear or feel anything, neither a response directly from his mouth nor something that signifies him moving to fulfill your request. “Gyu?” you ask, removing the cloth from your eyes so you can see the reason for the zero response coming from him. And when you do, you snap—in a sneeze.  Not the response you’re trying to give, but you can’t help it. After you wipe your nose, you finally face him with a serious look on and snap the way you initially wanted. “Why are you on your phone?”

The man only grins and flips his phone to face you, and it welcomes you with the picture of yourself on his Instagram feed, eyes covered with the cloth and lips pouting. “Hey! You took a picture of me? And not only that, you uploaded it!” you pause as you read over the caption he typed underneath the picture, which is anything you have said that started with his name. From ‘Gyu, look at me’ to ‘Gyu, my lips are dry.’

You stretch both of your hands to grab his phone, but of course, he slides his arm from under your head in an instant and being the tall bean that he is, gets the phone out of your reach without much of a problem. You slump down lower on the bed, knowing well that if you were to sit down or stand up or doing any more than you did to reach for his phone, it will only bring the pounding back to your head. At that, Mingyu chuckles. He takes the cloth you’ve abandoned and places it back on your eyes, garnering a whine from you.

“That’s the consequence of not listening to me.”

“What?” you protest.

“I told you to sleep. Rest your eyes, Y/n.” Mingyu lets out another chuckle when he hears you grumble out incoherent words as a reply. “Come here,” he says as he slowly lies down on his side with arms wide open, signaling you to snuggle closer to him.

And you do, but not after you voice out another request for him. “Gyu—“

“Hmm?”

“Where’s my phone?”

“Y/n”—he sighs—“Why are you searching for your phone after I told you to rest your eyes?”

“I need to respond to that.”

Mingyu furrows his eyebrow and looks at you with judgment written on his eyes even though there is no way you can see him through the cloth. “To what? Wait, wait. To my post?”

You nod, and he scoffs, “It’s that important, huh?”

“Type it for me.”

“You’re asking me to type a response for my post?”

Now it is your turn to sigh. “I can’t see,” you say, pointing at the compress blocking your vision before gesturing to the carpet under Mingyu’s side of bed. “My phone’s somewhere over there.”

“Tsk, you’re unbelievable, you know that? Come on, what’s your comment?” he asks after his long arm’s blind groping successfully retrieves your phone .

“Gyu, I love you.”

[spidermecc]

Unintentional love (Elu fake dating AU) Ch.4 - It’s a date

The new chapter of my fic is ready. Enjoy, and let me know what you think. Read it on AO3 here.  Also I really need to come up with a proper title soon, but I’m blank right now, help a mec out. 

Lucas woke up with a splitting headache. His mouth felt dry as a desert and the room was indeed still spinning. He grabbed his water bottle from the nightstand and drank it all in one go. Yesterday was all a bit of a blur, he remembered sitting on the couch with Eliott, talking. Eliott disappearing and then himself, drinking shots with some guy. What was the guy’s name again? Conan? Conrad? Lucas couldn’t remember, but he did remember him saying that Eliott had been talking to his ex-girlfriend. He felt his stomach starting to churn, and he wasn’t quite sure if it was the hangover and the fact that he hadn’t eaten in over 24 hours, or if it was the thought of Eliott bailing on him with his ex. Ex-girlfriend, so Eliott was into girls.

He grabbed his phone from his jacket pocket, which had been thrown on the floor next to him. Six unread messages, the first two was from the group chat with the boys.

(23:55) Yann: Yo Lucas, where did you go? Eliott is asking for you

(00:04) Arthur: Lucas are you okay? Some of the girls said they’d seen you ran out in a hurry. Did you have too much to drink again haha

Eliott was asking for him? Hadn’t Eliott left before him? He quickly typed in a reply, not wanting to worry the guys.

Lucas:  Hey I’m good, I just had one shot too many, had to go home and sleep it off.

As he exited the chat he saw four unread messages from Eliott.

(22:50) Eliott: Hey I have to leave for an hour or so, I’m really sorry but something came up. I’ll be back as fast as I can, don’t go anywhere, I’ll explain later.

Lucas hadn’t checked his phone at all last night after Eliott disappeared. He felt a warmth surge through him, when he realized that Eliott hadn’t just left without saying anything. But the feeling didn’t last long. ‘Something came up’? Was that ‘something’ his ex? Had Eliott really left him alone at the party, to go God-knows-where, with his ex?

(00:01) Eliott: Where are you, I’ve been looking for you for ages, I’m really sorry I left.

(00:10) Eliott: Someone said you left in a hurry. I hope everything is okay?

(01:20) Eliott: Lucas, can you please text me when you see this?

Eliott had actually come back to the party as he’d said he would. Lucas checked what time Eliott had sent the other messages, to see how long he’d been away. An hour, Eliott had been away for an hour with his ex-girlfriend. It’s not like Lucas thought it was an actual date, he knew that Eliott was doing him a favour, and he had no right to be upset, but still, he couldn’t help the feeling of betrayal creeping up on him. He’d thought they were having fun, talking, laughing, getting to know each other. So why had Eliott left? And why had he come back? The confusion was too much for a hungover Saturday, so he typed in a quick response, secretly hoping that Eliott wouldn’t answer, so he could go back to sleep and wallow in self-pity.

Lucas: Hey, I’m fine, I just had a bit too much to drink so I left.

Not even one minute later a reply came.

Eliott: Good, I’m glad you’re okay. You had me worried there.

Worried? If he was so worried, then why the fuck did he just bail on him like that? He knew he was being petty as he was typing his response, but he just couldn’t help himself.

Lucas: No need to worry. Met a really cool guy, hung out with him the rest of the night, so it was all good.

He could feel his heart starting to race faster. Why did he write that? It’s not like Eliott was going to be jealous, he didn’t care, he wasn’t even into boys for God’s sake. But still, there had been moments yesterday when Lucas had allowed himself to hope, if only for a split second, that this thing between him and Eliott could be real. He was such a dumbass, he always had been and always would be.  

Eliott: Okay, cool.

He threw his head on the pillow and let out what must have sounded like a whale sighing. Eliott was the human equivalent of a rubiks cube, and Lucas had, to his dismay, never been able to solve one of those in his entire life. The memory of 10-year old Lucas throwing a rubiks cube into the wall and crying out of sheer frustration came back to him. It had been a gift from his father, and he had been desperate to solve it, so he could show him and make him proud, always desperate to please him. But he never had succeeded in either one of those things.

He could feel his phone vibrate again and he grabbed it embarrassingly fast, hoping for another message from Eliott.

@curtisno1 started following you

Curtis, that was the guy’s name, Lucas thought as he opened up the Instagram app, looking through the guy’s photos. He looked slightly younger in his photos than he did yesterday, but then again, Lucas had been completely fucked, so it might just have been his memory failing him. He hit the follow button, and exited the app as he closed his eyes and welcomed the sleep he had been deprived of last night.

As he closed his eyes, he tried to space out and not think of the fact that that was probably the last time he’d talked to Eliott. Yeah they’d greet each other in the hallways, but Eliott had upheld his part of the deal. Lucas would have to tell the boys (and everyone else) that they’d broken up, so he could let Eliott off the hook. But still, flashes of beautiful blue eyes, slightly puffy and pink lips, and messy brown hair kept appearing, until sleep finally gave him release he’d been craving.

__ “Ugh Lucas, your room smells worse than my piss after eating asparagus” Mika exclaimed, drawing the curtains and opening the window in his room.

He had spent the whole weekend watching stupid comedies on Netflix, intentionally ignoring the massive pile of homework that was basically screaming ‘do me’ at him. Surprisingly he had slept through the entire night, but even though he felt well-rested, he didn’t quite have the energy to deal with Mika on a Monday morning.

“Mika please leave, it’s my room, I payed for it” he said, pulling the covers over his head, in an attempt to block out the sunlight.

“You barely pay rent, and also you’re going to be late for school if you don’t get that tight ass of yours out of bed” he said, pulling the covers away from Lucas.

“Shit, what time is it?” he said, suddenly painfully aware of just how bright it was, he must have slept through his alarm.

“It’s 7:40, and even though I don’t go to school anymore, I’m pretty sure classes still start at the same time they did when I was young and tight”.

Lucas didn’t even bother answering him, too busy putting on the first pair of pants and t-shirt he could get his hands on, and exactly 10 minutes later he was out of the door. He arrived at school with two minutes to spare, which was a complete miracle. What wasn’t a miracle was the way he looked. On the bus ride he noticed a big yellow stain on the t-shirt he was wearing, cursing under his breath, he’d tried rubbing it away with his spit and thumb, but it had only made it worse and to top it off, he’d forgotten his biology and math books at home on his desk.

It had been a stressful day to say the least, so when lunch break came, he almost ran to the cafeteria, desperate for food.

“Yo bro” Yann said, dumping his tray next to Lucas, followed by Basile and Arthur.

“Well you look like shit today” Basile said, eyeing Lucas, looking almost disgusted.

“Thanks, I felt bad that you were always the ugly one, so I thought I’d help a bro out for once” Lucas shot back, always ready to shoot down Basile.

“Daaaaaaayum” both Yann and Arthur yelled, laughing and high-fiving Lucas, leaving Basile as the loser as usual.

“Yeah yeah whatever” Basile muttered, as he shoved his face with lasagna.

“So, what happened to you and Eliott on Friday?” Yann suddenly asked, nudging Lucas’ shoulder.

It’s not like Lucas didn’t expect them to ask about Eliott today, but he had thought that he’d have time to make up a cover story. But the whole day had just been so stressful that he’d completely forgotten about the fact that he had to tell the boys that he and Eliott were not a thing anymore. He cursed under his breath, vowing never to snooze his alarm ever again.

“Uhm, not much I guess? I just went home early, wasn’t feeling well” he managed, hoping they’d leave it at that.

Yann gave him a glance that gave Lucas the impression, that he wasn’t completely buying the story. Nevertheless, he offered; “He’s a really cool guy though, I liked him”.

“Bro, he was looking for you for ages, I felt so bad for the dude, I thought you’d dumped him or something” Basile said chuckling, “We had to calm him down and tell him you’d probably just gotten too drunk” he continued.

“It’s true” Arthur chimed in “he was really worried, so we got worried as well, but we figured you’d just went home”

“Yeah, thanks” Lucas muttered, not exactly sure how to proceed. He felt a strange surge of pride by the fact that Eliott had seemed genuinely worried. But then again, Eliott was an incredibly good actor, he’d almost fooled Lucas as well, he thought, bringing himself down to earth. He had to tell the guys now, before he lost his nerve.

“So I have to tell you guys so-“ he started, before he was caught off by a warm hand on his shoulder, gently nudging him. He already knew who the hand belonged to before he turned around, as if already having memorized Eliott’s touch.

He turned around, and there he was, taking Lucas’ breath away once again. Eliott looked tired, as if he hadn’t slept much, and he had a sudden urge to wrap him into a blanket and take care of him.

“Salut” Eliott said, addressing the guys, who all looked way too pleased to see him, given the fact that they’d only met him once. It must be the Eliott effect, Lucas thought.

“Can we talk in private?” he said, looking at Lucas this time.

“Sure” he answered, getting up from his seat, secretly thanking Eliott for interrupting them at just the right moment.

Eliott led the way, and Lucas followed him, down to the basement into the library. When they reached the spot by the radiators, Eliott finally turned around and looked at Lucas, with a serious expression on his face.

“I’m really sorry about Friday. I uh- met my ex” he said fidgeting with his backpack strap.

“Oh?” Lucas said, looking anywhere but directly at Eliott.

“Yeah, I told her that I was dating someone new, and she kind of freaked out so I had to try and calm her down, and it just ended up taking a lot longer than I thought” he said, surprising Lucas. He’d told his ex-girlfriend that he was dating Lucas?

“You told her you’re dating me? Why?”

“Well everyone already thinks we’re dating, and honestly I’ve been trying to tell her it’s over for a while, but she won’t really accept it, so this whole thing might actually benefit me as well” Eliott answered, trying to catch Lucas’ gaze.

Was it just Lucas or did Eliott actually look nervous?

“Oh.. I didn’t realize that we were going to keep doing this” he replied, not sure of what to say, so deciding to be honest.  

“You want to call quits already?” Eliott asked, looking almost sad, or was Lucas just imagining things?

“No I-uhm.. I mean no, not if you’re up for it. I mean I was kind of dreading telling the guys that we weren’t together anymore and you know, Chloe might get suspicious so..” he trailed off, not sure what he was trying to say and pretty sure he wasn’t making any sense at all. It was just all confusing and overwhelming. Eliott hadn’t ditched Lucas at the party, he’d told his ex that he was dating Lucas. So here they were, there was no turning back.

“Cool, it’s a deal then. We keep doing this for a while. At least until Lucille and Chloe start to move on, right?”

“It’s a deal” Lucas said, finally looking directly at Eliott. He couldn’t help but smile a bit to himself, this meant that he’d get to spend more time with Eliott, get to know him better, which was all he’d wanted from the moment he laid eyes on him.

Before Lucas could register what was happening, Eliott was impossibly close, cupping his face in his hands.

“Don’t freak out, but Chloe is right behind you, and she is staring” he whispered, as he took Lucas by surprise and moved in close, so close, and planted a kiss on his lips. His lips were slightly damp, and ever so soft, it almost felt like being stroked with a feather, but it was over before Lucas could even register, let alone respond to the touch.

If Lucas could have one wish, it would be that Eliott did that again, so he could savour the moment, bottle it up and put it under his pillow for safekeeping. Eliott was still cupping his face, looking him in the eyes, almost daring him to say something, do something, anything. But Lucas just stood there looking dumbfounded at him.

“Is- uhm- is she still there?” he asked, desperate to get out of the library and away from Eliott before he lost all his self-control and went in for another kiss. Desperate to taste those soft lips, he’d been dreaming about. He could feel his cheeks burning underneath Eliott’s touch. His hands were so soft, Lucas wondered how they’d feel stroking his back, his arms, his stomach, below…

He regretted saying anything, because as he did, Eliott looked up and gently removed his hands from Lucas’ face and took a step back.

“Nope, she’s gone. The coast is all clear” his cheeky smile was back. “I gotta get to class, but I’m glad we talked, see you soon mon mec” he continued laughing at his own joke yet again while adjusting his backpack, and with a slight wave, he was gone, leaving Lucas alone at the library with the ghost of his lips still on him.

__ The rest of the day went by impossibly slow, for someone who was desperate to go home and replay the events of what happened at the library over and over until his brain cells gave up.

When he finally got home, he decided to do some of the neglected homework that was staring judgingly at him from his desk.

He’d contemplated texting Eliott, but every time he typed in a message he deleted it as fast as he could, before his traitorous hands hit send by mistake. He was desperate to talk to Eliott, he wanted to know how his day had been, if he’d been thinking about the kiss as much as Lucas had. He wanted to know what he ate for dinner and whether or not he got enough sleep. He had to snap himself out of it multiple times. “You’re not really dating, Lucas” he repeated over and over to himself almost like a mantra.

As if the universe heard his prayers, a message came from Eliott, and Lucas almost dropped his phone, desperate to see what it said.

Eliott: So when are we hanging out?

His heart started racing at the prospect of seeing Eliott again, but then he remembered. There were no parties this weekend, and the guys hadn’t asked to meet Eliott again, so he typed in a reply.

Lucas: I don’t think the guys have asked to meet you again any time soon, and there aren’t any parties this weekend, so I don’t know.

Eliott: I didn’t mean with your friends. I meant just the two of us.

Holy fucking shit. Eliott wanted to hang out, just the two of them. If anyone had heard Lucas at that moment, they might have mistaken him for a thirteen-year old girl, by the sound he made.

He’d been so busy screeching, that he’d forgotten to reply to Eliott’s text, when his phone vibrated again.

Eliott: You want to make the relationship believable right?

Lucas: I mean, yeah

His replies literally became dumber and dumber. Why was it so hard to formulate a proper response? Honestly he wouldn’t blame Eliott if he just blocked him and found a new pretend boyfriend, because this one apparently had peas for brain cells.

Eliott: Honestly Lucas, have you never watched To all the boys I’ve loved, before? Hanging out is crucial if you want people to believe your lie

Lucas: I have no idea what that even means

Eliott: It’s a movie, Lucas

Eliott: The ending is my personal favorite ;)

Lucas made a mental note to watch the movie at some point, but given that Eliott’s favorite was Titanic, he probably wouldn’t be all that into it.

Lucas: Is it about rats turning into raccoons?

Eliott: Ha ha ha, very funny. No, it’s about a hedgehog that gets its ass kicked by a badass raccoon

Lucas: Sounds fake

Eliott: It’s based off a true story you know

Lucas: I’m making a mental note to watch it soon then, because it sounds CRAZY. But given your favorite movie is Titanic, I’m not getting my hopes up.

Eliott: Damn Lucas, you keep breaking my heart, soon there won’t be anything left.

Lucas: Sorry :(( How about we hang out Wednesday then?

Eliott: It’s a date!

Lucas might or might not have had a minor heart attack reading the last message. Surely Eliott was just being his usual funny and teasing self, but that didn’t stop his heart from doing back flips whenever he read and reread the last message. It’s a date.

[the-canary]

Wednesdays - L.T (2/10)

Summary: Only you had the balls to deal with his outrageous order on that day. You just didn’t know how bad it would get. (Barista!Reader/Lance Tucker).

A/N: I am still trying to grasp Lance’s character, so I am sorry that it sucks but thank you for taking the the time to read it. If anyone wants a taglist or to be added, let me know! 

Feedback is always appreciated.

“The old man isn’t serious, right?” Madison asks in disbelief, as she goes from looking at the proposal sitting in her large desk to the man sitting across from her. The blond shrugs, unsure of what to say either.

“He really thinks the kid has turned a new leaf,” George explains, as he simply repeats what the old man --the owner and lead partner in the company-- had told him a day before, “Stan did always have a soft spot for him.”

“I know that, but really after the leaked tape, after the whole pregnancy incident,” Madison could go on with the lists of notorious scandals that their poor P.R department had gone through hell over in the name of Lance Tucker, because as much as his name had been worth once -- it had been dragged to the mud too many times before until they had cut times with him a few years ago.

It didn’t help that the whole gymnastics world was still shaking in the aftermath of several other scandals as well. However, Stan had always managed to see the good in people and was often ahead of the curve in somethings.

“He seems to have turned a new leaf,” George keeps playing devil’s advocate, much to her annoyance, “Steady business in a couple of states, plus no recent troubles with the media or no new baby mama either.”

“Why would he need us then?” Madison can’t help but ask, as George smiles just a bit -- he knows he is close to trapping her if she is that curious.

“To show off his new talent, those kids in his schools,” he explains as Madison nods, “He knows well enough how this type of world works. One good win or one tape that goes viral and everyone is gonna want a piece of that kid and their coach. A sad way to relieve his own 15 minutes of fame.”

“That’s kind of pathetic, no?” she responds as George shrugs once more with a chuckle at how she could change her opinion so quickly.

“Why should it matter to us? We’re getting paid for it,” he states leaning a bit more into his seat, “And your little prodigy could use some real world experience. Why not with grade A douchebag Lance Tucker?”

“I wouldn’t want to let her suffer through all that, but you do have a point.”

“Always do.”

Aside from Mondays, Wednesday slowly becomes your least favorite day of the week after the shift change. Instead of sleeping in like your normally would have done once, you end up walking up near 9am to make you get into work just in time for your shift to starts. It leads into the early evening, where you grab a bite to eat before heading to your evening class on the other side of town. A three hour class, the never ending traffic followed by readings and work prep for your other part time job mean you didn’t go to sleep until around 1am.

It was a difficult sort of thing, but getting your Masters was the goal and it was something you were going to give up, as you hold back a yawn --the lunchtime rush had been slower than usual-- as the clock strikes 12:20pm. It was only your second week talking Serena’s shift but you knew what was coming through that door at any moment.

You hear the door like clockwork as you are working a dirty chai, only to notice bright red blinding your vision as the sunlight hits it in just the right way. Tracksuit douchebag.

“Unsweetened Pineapple Kona Pop Brewed Tea,” you look at Micah with a frown, as she justs shrugs. Both of you knew he might pull the shit he did last week, but there was nothing you could really do about as you went about making the drink. You didn’t know if the man had weird tastes or if he was just trying to prove some type of strange point -- you weren’t his preferred barista.

“Grande Chai with a Shot of Espresso for Meghan,” you yell out as the petite dark-haired college student, a frequent customer, grabbed her drink and headed back to her table, “Grande Unsweetened Pineapple Kona Pop Brewed Tea for Lance.”  

He gets up from his own table, none of his students were in the store today preferring to check out the Jamba Juice down the street, as he grabs the cup and the straw. You try your best to smile, but by the twitch of his perfect eyebrows --like with the Strawberry Banana smoothie last week-- something was wrong with it.

You know what comes next, as he states: “It taste like is had sugar, remake it again.”

“Yes, right away,” you sign out through clench teeth, as he simply smirks because you’re the one that is going to get in trouble is you fight with a customer, especially with an actual manager in the back today.

You remake it once, twice before he seems to be satisfied. He calls out to Micah for her to have a good day and leaves the Starbucks without another word as you proceed to work on another order, though angrier than before.

“Fucking jerkface,” you can’t help but mumble to yourself as Micha laughs.

“Do you even know who that is?” Micha scoffs good-naturedly  at you lack of celebrity knowledge, but unlike her you barely knew how to work the video on Instagram, much less even know what Snapchat was, “The guy you have been giving the stink eye for the past three weeks.”

“Nope,” you pop the the last syllable in the end in annoyance.

“Lance Tucker,” she states with a hand on her hip, as you don’t seem to connect that name with anything of the top of your head,  “Gold and Silver medalist. The god of gymnastics.”

“People who watch the Olympics obviously have too much free time,” you can’t help but remark as you throw the returned tea into the trash can and sigh.  Micha frowns as if you have offended her in some way, but unlike her a celebrity from a few years ago didn’t really grab your interest. She doesn’t say anything else due to a new customer coming in

The sour mood this has put you in doesn’t leave you for the rest of the day, as your shift ends and instead of getting your usual protein box and favorite beverage you go down the street two more blocks and grab a wrap and iced tea from that organic food diner.

The thought of the dinner, then looking at the Jamba Juice that is one the right and the Macchiato further down than that made you pause, as the asshole popped into your head for the second time today.

Why if there were so many healthy options near the area did he fucking decide to go to Starbucks?

How stupid was he?   

It’s 3pm when Lance is able to take a small break just before his after school kids come in for practice. He had been running a fewer hours of sleep today since his renewed proposal between himself and his old agency was being looked though. It wasn’t like Lance himself needed the publicity, but some of his kids --especially one girl in Houston-- was grabbing the attention for the USA team and he was slightly protective of her.

No, not in that Maggie Townsend way from a few years back, which had ended up destroying most of his career, but in an older brother or even father figure sort off especially when he knew Katherine’s mother wasn’t the most easiest of people to deal with.

So, he waited for a call or email back from them all day. They had said by noon and when nothing had transpired, he had been freaking out on his wave to the Starbucks. He was craving sugar, but he knew it wasn’t the best option for now, even on his cheat day.

And while he might not have had the best attitude, Lance was grateful towards that damn annoying barista for giving him some high quality stuff, even when he knew it didn’t have any sugar in it. He was just being an asshole about, but the customer was always, right no?

He was downing the last bit of his tea when his phone rings -- a new email. Lance jumps from his ergonomically correct chair and quickly taps in his passcode. The email is from a Madison Castro.

Mr. Tucker,

We have reviewed your initial proposal and would like to set up a meeting with you in regards to the PR team you would be working with and contract specifications.

Please answer back with your earlier availability possible.  

Thank you, Madison Castro.

Senior Vice-President Lee and Assoc.

Lance can’t help but get up and scream in excitement, promising himself that he needs another drink next Wednesday as the old school hip-hop starts blaring in his small office.

[sighobii]

Zealous

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Jung Hoseok (SOPE), Min Yoongi x Park Jimin (YOONMIN)

Genre: angst, (eventual) fluff

Summary: “you know that feeling where you’re in love with your best friend who’s in love with your other best friend? yeah. that shit sucks.”

in which jung hoseok is utterly, utterly in love with a man named min yoongi

Length: 1,456 words

Warnings: language

Prev // Part 1 // next

It’s a rainy day in Seoul, the type of weather Hoseok can’t stand. It’s cloudy, gray, and ruins his whole mood. Not only that, but he has to walk in it and step in puddles, so his shoes are wet, he forgets his umbrella, you get the picture. However, his beloved roommate Min Yoongi loves the rain, so he can only imagine how happy he is right now. Thinking to himself, he’ll probably take him out on a stroll after work, just to make him happy.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have many classes to teach today. Being a dance teacher is tough, especially with kids and rebellious preteens (not to mention it’s basically a 3 hour long workout everyday). He just wants to get it over with and go home to Yoongi.

Currently, Hoseok is in the break room for lunch, and a certain blonde man comes through the door.

“This seat taken?” Jimin asks, pointing to the seat next to Hoseok.

“You know it’s never taken. How’s your day been?” He doesn’t look up, lazily eating a sandwich and scrolling through memes on Instagram.

Jimin chuckles a bit, “Pretty okay. Watching 10 year olds dance is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Some of those kids are actually good!”

“Really?” Hoseok sighs, “some of my kids are absolute devils. Glad you got the good ones”

“Sorry, man. We can switch some of them around! ...If we had the power to, that is…” He gave the other a playful pout. “By the way, I’ve managed to get a date tonight! So this day’s going pretty well for me” He has a giant smile on his face, and Hoseok secretly thinks it’s extremely adorable.

“Ohhh, Jiminie has a date tonight!” Hoseok teases, patting the blonde’s back. “Who’s the lucky one?”

“Actually… It’s this hot ass tattoo artist a few blocks away. Min Yoongi, he gave me a tattoo a while ago and we really hit it off. He finally asked me on a date!” Jimin’s practically swooning mentioning Yoongi’s name.

Hoseok’s heart shattered at that moment. Yoongi. Min Yoongi, to be exact, his best friend, his roommate, and love of his life, asked out Park Jimin, his other best friend, on a date, which he wasn’t even told about. He actually never told Jimin about Yoongi before, it’s a sensitive topic (also, he’d go on and on about Yoongi without stopping, according to Namjoon and Seokjin).

“Oh? That’s great Jiminie!” he tries to put on the best smile he can, but it probably seems really fake.

“I know! Hopefully, he takes me to his place, I’m trying to get some action, y’know. He’s super cute” Jimin goes on, but Hoseok just zones out. He feels a billion things right now. His best friends are going on a date, probably are going to hook up, become official, and who knows what else will happen? He’s extremely jealous and feels it in his throat, insecure of their friendship because Yoongi never told him anything. At the same time, he’s happy Yoongi and Jimin are happy with each other, that’s all he really wants.

Well, so much for taking Yoongi out after work.

Instead of heading home after he’s done with work, Hoseok heads to Namjoon and Seokjin’s house. Namjoon and Hoseok have been friends for the longest time, since elementary school, maybe even since the womb and their mothers were pregnant with them. It’s been a long two decades. Seokjin is Namjoon’s husband, they’ve been married since they were 19, but they’re perfect together. The wedded couple are the only ones who know about Hoseok’s love for his roommate (well, Taehyung actually knows too, but let’s not talk about it for now).

He knocks on the door and is greeted by a broad shoulder man, holding a small white puppy. “Let me guess, Yoongi?” Seokjin says, knowing Hoseok so well he can feel the anxiety radiate off him. “Who else would it be, Seok #2?” Hoseok sighs as he comes in and has a seat at the kitchen table. “Hey! I’m taller! Don’t call me that!” He put the dog down to playfully slap Hoseok’s arm, and Hoseok giggles. “Alright ‘Seok #1,’ what’s up?” He makes coffee for the two. “Joonie is still at work, but you have me!”

“Jimin and Yoongi are going on a date. That’s what.”

Seokjin stops in his tracks. “Jimin? Park Jimin? The dancer? Who emits angelic vibes?”

“Thanks, hyung” Hoseok rolls his eyes.

“I’m sorry! But you have to admit, he’s pretty fucking magical!”

“I work with him, he told me. He’s my friend. I wouldn’t have even known if he didn’t say anything, Yoongi didn’t tell me.” he groaned.

“Oh my god. I’ll kill him, babe, I swear-”

“Don’t even bother. He doesn’t have to tell me this kinda stuff, we’re just best friends. I don’t have to know who he fucks, right? Even if it is my other best friend. God, this is fucking weird.” Hoseok sighs. He’s sighed a lot today, it hasn’t been a good one.

“I know, but seriously, I don’t want you getting hurt anymore, Hoseok. You need to tell him or get over him.” Seokjin expresses his concern.

“Are you crazy? I’d drive him away if I told him. He’d be grossed out.”

“Then get over him, Hobi. I know it’s hard, but we’re all here for you! Take a break from him if you have to. Go away for a couple days, the weekend is coming up.”

“Maybe you’re right. This shit’s gonna be hard. I’ll just tell him my mom’s sick, I need to get away from this.” He gets up from his seat, hugs Seokjin, and makes his way from the door, the little puppy walking behind him.

“Good luck, sunshine! Call me if anything!”

Hoseok finally gets home, secretly hoping Yoongi won’t notice so he can call his mom and arrange a getaway for the weekend.

“Seokie? Are you home?” He hears from Yoongi’s room. Of course he has to be home.

“Yeah, I’m home!” he yells back.

“I need your help!! Come!”

His stomach immediately drops, he thinks he knows what’ll happen.

He hesitantly walks to Yoongi’s room, and opens the door to see a half naked Yoongi. He has leather pants on, but no shirt, revealing his beautiful pale chest, a tattoo of Yoongi’s mother’s name on his shoulder, and a butterfly on his left pec. Hoseok stares, but quickly snaps out of it once Yoongi coughs. “Help me pick out a shirt, yeah? I have a date tonight?” Yoongi reveals his gummy smile, and Hoseok’s heart breaks but swells up at the same time. “Who’s the lucky guy?” He asks. “If I bring him home, you’ll meet him, if you get what I mean.” Hoseok’s heart just drops even more. He wants to leave. He gets a grip of himself, and fakes a smile. He quickly leaves the room to get a white shirt from his own closet, and returns to Yoongi. “Here,” Hoseok says. “Put this on. You don’t have any white shirts, so.... I think you’d look good in it.”

“Put it on me, Seokie, I’m lazy.” Yoongi pouts. ‘You just love to fuck with me, don’t you?’ Hoseok mentally curses at the universe, but proceeds to put it on him. His hands brush against Yoongi’s arms and chest, making him mentally curse even more.

The white shirt perfectly exposes Yoongi’s amazing collarbone, and his arms look so good that anyone would drool at the sight of it, like Hoseok probably is right now.

“I’m really nervous. I like this guy a lot. I don’t want to fuck it up.” Yoongi’s never been so anxious about anyone before, so Hoseok knows he’s probably even in love. And that hurts. Because they’re both his best friends. Yup.

“Well,” Hoseok starts, “You look real fucking good right now. Like, really good, you’re a catch.” He tries to restrain from going on about how beautiful he is. “I’m sure this guy likes you too, he’d be crazy if he didn’t. I’ll beat him up if he hurts you! You look perfect, Yoongs, don’t sweat!” He gives the shorter a big smile, and holds his hand for comfort, Yoongi smiling widely back at him. Hoseok loved that gummy smile. “Thank you, Hoseok. I’m ready.” He gives his hand a squeeze before letting go and heads to the door. “I’ll see you later, Seokie! I’ll bring you food, promise!” As the door closes, Hoseok gets his phone out, and makes a call.

“Mom? Hey! No, I’m good. Can I come visit this weekend?”

(A/N: Sorry for the late update on Zealous! Here it is loves! Love Maze continues tomorrow) 

[mailedbypigeons]

TFW a sugar daddy hits you up on Instagram, offers to give you 500 dollars twice a week but you still decline because your friend said it was a scam and you’re raised too sheltered to know for yourself…….ahh……..and then some other guy named Paul hits you up with heyo you wanna promote our jewelry brand, but it could also be a scam so you delete the message before replying……….and then another dude named Michael dms you giving his entire life story and calling you beautiful and then proceeds to ask you a series of questions of wether you’re single or married and where you live and if you have a job, after you send him a message that said: I could be an axe murder for all you know, thanks for giving me your location. See you on the weekend 😉. But instead of deterring him and creeping him out, it interests him more and he’s all like you think you can threaten me, you know what I like girls like you. And then now you’re slightly off put cause you were being trolled and you wanted to troll back and then delete the conversation and block his account.

I also had my first day on my new job today. Sat on a stool and watched videos and answered questions on an iPad for three hours before clocking out.

And then turns out dogs need their teeth to be brushed, but you accidentally use the expired on instead of the new one, so now you’re on the watch for throw ups.

What a day.

[strangely-amusing]

Serendipity

Characters : Taeyong x You

Wordcount : 3532 words.

Genre : Romance, Soulmate!AU

Because the world needs more taeyong fics, and my current obsession towards soulmate au and doctor au. Might change the title later. Pics not mine, credit goes to taeyongggggg on Instagram. Oh and happy new year everyone!♡

Quiet.

That was the first impression everyone had about you. You were not good with words, and you were just too shy and awkward to start a conversation. You never thought of it as a bad trait, but apparently people did.

Growing up was not easy. School had been harsh, you were never be able to be friends with other people. At first, you didn’t really know why because you were just very young and clueless. But as you got older, you realized it has something to do with you. There was something wrong with you, that made people act like they did.

You knew it was because you were very quiet and didn’t talk much. But you couldn’t understand why you were the only one that went through all the bullying.

Maybe people just don’t like me.

You had spent many nights crying your heart out, wondering what is it about you that made people hate you. The icy cold glare that you got every time you entered the classroom, The rude treatment that you got from your classmates, The sick pranks that caused you lots of injuries. No one seemed to care. They all enjoyed seeing you in pain.

You never told your mother about it, not because you were afraid. She was a wonderful mother, and you loved her dearly. The reason why you didn’t told her about it was mainly because you didn’t want to stress her out. You knew raising a child as a single mother was not easy, and yet she managed to do exactly that.

You thought it was already bad enough that you grew up to be such a quiet and reserved person, and she didn’t need to know that you were getting bullied because of it.

She was one of the two things that kept you alive until this day.

The other thing that kept you alive until this day, was the words on your arms.

The first time it appeared on your skin, you were 14. Some people were 10 when they first got it, some people were 18. Everyone was different. You didn’t know why, though. But you vividly remembered what it said.

“I’m exhausted but I can’t give up. No, not right now.”

It was written in black. At first, you thought it was always black. But sometimes, different words appeared in orange or red. Most days it would appear in white.

You didn’t know what it was until almost a year later, when you accidentally clicked on a sketchy website when you were trying to do your assignments.

Soulmate.

You gasped when you read the title of the article, genuinely surprised. You decided to read the article, the title alone was already gaining your interest.

“The words that appear on your arm, are the most powerful words that your soulmate says that day.”

So you can actually find your soulmate? You thought as you continued to read the rest of the article. Tons of questions were running through your head, but you held them back, all this new information was too much for you to take all at once. You looked down at the words on your arm.

“It’s going to be alright.”

Why is it written in white? What does that mean? And I wonder who he’s talking to…

You clicked on the “Next” option at the bottom of the page, hastily closing any pop-up ads that blocked your view.

“The color of the words are determined by one’s emotion, or mood. If the words appear in black, then your soulmate is in a very bad mood. It can vary from anger, sadness, or even stress.”

You then remembered his first words and immediately felt bad for him. What happened to you?

Realizing that you still got assignments to do, You then proceed to read the rest of the article quickly.

“If the words appear in vibrant colors like bright red, yellow, or even neon green, it means that your soulmate is in a happy mood. The colors does not represent specific moods. (e.g. pink DOES NOT mean he/she is in love) Just as long as its vibrant, then they’re happy. The more vibrant, the happier your soulmate is. However, if your soulmate is extremely happy, the words may appear in gold. This rarely happens, but if it does happen, you will also feel the happiness that they are feeling. You will most likely to feel happy for them, even in your darkest days.”

It was beautiful, how different words in different colors appear on one’s arm every single day.

But then a particular question popped into your mind. You quickly typed in your question into the ask box, getting a reply in no time. “You can try to communicate with your soulmate, but it wont be easy. Remember that the words that appear on your arms are the most powerful ones. Fate decides which one.”

Since that day, You checked your arm everyday, excited to see what your soulmate had said.

Most of the times, it indicated that he was tired. You would always feel bad for him, even though you did not know what he was going through.

Some days were better, indicating that he got a great score on whatever test he took.

Some days, his words were sweet and comforting. It almost felt like he was talking to you. His words alone were enough to get you to wake up every single day.

But of course, his words can’t instantly change your world. The bullying still happened, the bruises and cuts were still there, and most importantly, the pain was still there.

You spent many years repeating that cycle, getting bullied, crying for hours, waking up the next day only to get bullied for another day. You feel bad for your soulmate, you can only imagine the words on his arms would be a cycle of “It hurts”, “Please don’t”, and “Please stop”, repeated over and over again.

Some days you didn’t even talk, feeling like such a burden if you do. You didn’t want your soulmate to walk around with these embarrassing words on his arm.

Some days you tried to say only positive words, but you didn’t know if it was powerful enough to appear on his arm.

But after your mother’s death, you never really talked anymore.

♤

“Hyung why are you so worried?The last surgery went well.”

Taeyong snapped out of his thought and sighed, slowly looking at his best friend Jaehyun. He then proceed to pull his sleeves, showing him his bare arm. Jaehyun sighed softly, knowing exactly what he meant. “Again?” Taeyong avoided his gaze and closed his eyes. “It has been like this for weeks…”

Jaehyun shook his head, eyes still glued to Taeyong’s arm. “How can someone spent weeks without saying a single word?”

Taeyong pulled his arm back and traced his veins. “I know she didn’t talk much, but these days….it got worse.”

Jaehyun stayed silent, he didn’t know what to say. Taeyong let out a sigh, looking at the wall blankly. “a “Thank you” written in black appeared on my arm a few days ago, but if it was the words that appear that day, then-“

“that was probably the only word that she said that day.” Jaehyun cut him off, staring into his eyes. Taeyong nodded silently, his eyes getting wet with tears. “I just hope that she’s okay.”

Jaehyun nodded with a smile on his face, hoping that he could cheer Taeyong up. “I’m sure she is, hyung. She has been through a lot of things, I’m sure that she’s strong enough for whatever it is that occurs this time.”

Taeyong closed his eyes, tears already pooling in the corner of his eyes. Jaehyun had watched this scenario more than he can count. Since they were young, the words that appeared on Taeyong’s arms had always been so heart breaking. And Taeyong was a sensitive person, he spent a lot of time crying because of how worried he was because of his soulmate. Jaehyun had suggested Taeyong to try to contact his soulmate multiple times, to know if she is doing alright. But he never got an answer. Fate was cruel, he thought.

“Dr. Lee! There’s an emergency, please come with me immediately!” A high-pitched voice filled the room, interrupting their train of thoughts.

Taeyong immediately wiped his tears and stood up, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. He turned to Jaehyun, giving him a forced smile. “I got to go. I’ll see you soon, Jae.”

Jaehyun nodded, giving him two thumbs up and a sincere smile. “Good Luck, Hyung.”

Taeyong nodded and went to follow the nurse.

“Name, Y/N. 22 years old. No close relatives.” She quickly said, opening the door to the operation room.

Taeyong quickly entered the operation room, scanning the body on the table. “What happened?”

“Stabbed 3 times by a local burglar for ‘being in his way’” the nurse said, shaking her head in pity. Taeyong sighed, pitying the limp body in front of him. “Let’s do our best.”

♤

When you saw your childhood memories being replayed in your head, you thought you were going to die. But you were proven wrong, as you found yourself safely tucked under a warm blanket in an unfamiliar room hours later. Judging by the smell, you assumed you were in the hospital.

The room was empty, no one was there except for you. The walls were painted in mint green, in contrast to the white floor. You found all your belongings on the bedside table, just near the flower bouquet.

Wow. How kind of them.You thought as you touched the petals gently. You couldn’t remember why you ended up in a hospital, though. I must’ve hit my head….

You glanced around and found a painting of two soulmates connected by a thin red string tied to their fingers, hanging above your head. Ah right. Soulmate.

You glanced at your arm, realizing you haven’t checked it for a while.

“I hope she’s alright.”

You frowned and decided to ignore it. But it was really hard to ignore the fact that even your soulmate didn’t care about you. He was caring about some one else. You sighed in disappointment and stared at the paintings above your head.

You sat up, wincing when you feel an agonizing pain in your lower stomach. You looked down at your body and found 3 blood spots, the blood leaking through the bandage that was wrapped around your torso. “I don’t think that is supposed to happen.”

Your heart beat faster as you saw more blood seeping through the bandage. oh my god what am I supposed to do?

You jumped in surprise when the door suddenly opened, a black-haired guy in a white coat bursting into the room. His eyes widened when he saw the blood coming out of your torso, quickly calling the nurses.

But you were too dazed to even notice all of that. His sharp jaw line, his large round orbs, his soft lips, without a doubt, he was the most attractive person you have ever seen. But his physical appearance was not the reason why you managed to stay still, not moving even an inch despite the blood still coming out of your torso. There was something about him, that made you feel multiple emotions all at once. You can’t even describe the emotions that you were feeling. It was… unusual.

“Are you okay? Can you hear me?”

You nodded wordlessly, eyes gazing at the beautiful face in front of you. He was even more gorgeous from up close.

“Okay so Y/N, my name is Dr. Lee and a few stitches popped open so we have to re-stitch your wounds as fast as possible. You wont be able to feel any pain, as we will be giving you some anaesthetic to numb certain body parts. But you will still be able to hear and see everything.” He explained hastily, while putting on a pair of latex gloves.

You nodded, noticing the pool of blood around your torso. He must have seen your change of expression because He then gently pushed you into a lying position, giving you an encouraging smile. “Everything will be alright.”

You trusted him.

♤

Although the anaesthetic that they used was local, you were still exhausted and fell asleep during the small surgery. But this time, you didn’t see your childhood memories being played over and over again. Instead, you see Dr. Lee standing in the dark with soft smile decorating his face. It lasted only for a moment, and it left you with lots of questions still unasked. Dr. Lee’s face was quickly replaced by the now familiar room, mint green walls and white floors.

It was different this time, however. As you found the same guy that appeared in your dream, sitting on the chair next to your bed. He was looking down at the floor, his head hung low. You couldn’t see his face but somehow, you could feel his sorrow.

“Dr. Lee?” You softly called out, trying to get his attention.

He immediately looked up, his orbs glistening with tears. He looked so worried that you could practically see it in his eyes. “Oh my god, you’re awake. Are you okay?”

You nodded silently. “I’m okay.”

“I’m Sorry.” He blurted out, his voice shaking. You looked up at him, confusion written over your face. “But why? I should thank you for saving my-“

“I was being careless. That was so unprofessional of me. I’m so sorry that you have to get your wound re-stitched.” He closed his eyes, regret written over his gorgeous face.

You didn’t know why, but you found yourself reaching for his hands. He looked up, surprised at the sudden touch.

You gulped, suddenly feeling nervous. “but you saved my life…. a-and I’m grateful for that…Thank you, Dr. Lee”

“Just Taeyong would be fine.” He replied with a shaky voice. He then offered a small forced smile and shook his head. “I don’t deserve your gratitude. I should have been more careful. I’m so sorry y/n.”

Your eyes widened at his words, realizing how hard he was being to himself. “Y-You can tell me what’s distracting you… only if you want…” You whispered, almost inaudible. You didn’t know why you feel so brave saying those words. But there was something about him that made you feel this way.

He bit his lips, unsure whether or not he should share it with you. A few moments of silence passed, you silently cursed to yourself for saying those words. Of course he wont tell me. Its his personal problem, I’m so stupid.

“Its about my soulmate.”

You snapped out of your thoughts, surprised that he actually decided to tell you. “S-Soulmate?”

He nodded, forcing a smile. “nothing too important, really. As much as I hate to admit it, I am a sensitive guy so I got worried a lot about her.”

You nodded, feeling a tiny bit of disappointment. But you didn’t know if its because you were not the one who got to be his soulmate, or because he already had a soulmate and probably living a happy life with her.

“Have you met yours?”

You quietly shook your head. “Not yet. All I know that he is a hardworking person.”

“Wow you must be so lucky then.” you saw a sincere smile decorating his face for the very first time since you met him, and it was gorgeous.

You avoided his gaze and played with your fingers. “Maybe. It doesn’t really matter anymore though. Looking from the injuries that I got over these past few years, I might be dead before I can even meet him.” You whispered, lips curling into a bitter smile.

“Don’t say that.” He said harshly, quickly realizing that the tone he was using was a tad bit too harsh. You noticeably flinched and unconsciously pulled your hand back.

He realized that almost immediately and shook his head. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it like that I’m so sorry.”

You nodded silently, deciding not to say a word anymore. He looked at you and sighed. “I’m so sorry… I really am… its just that… you reminded me of my soulmate.” He put his hands on top of his lap and looked down at his feet. “Ever since I was young, the words written on my arm were heart breaking. It was always written in black, sometimes grey, but never gold. The same words appear over and over again and its awful. I was so worried of my soulmate that I had tried to contact her numerous times, but I never got an answer.” You took a close look at the guy in front of you, and saw a broken man. The cold facade that you saw a few hours ago was long gone. He looked so hurt that you can almost feel his pain. You didn’t know why but you felt a strong urge to hold him.

“Fate is cruel, I guess.” He said, followed by a humourless laugh.

You found yourself reaching out for his hand. He didn’t flinch or pull his hand back, a signal for you that it’s okay to do so. “Taeyong, I’m sorry…” “Its okay. I’m just a little bit worried.” He answered with shaky voice, intertwining his fingers with yours gently. You glanced at his covered arms. “Why don’t you check your arm? To know if she’s alright.”

Taeyong shook his head, feeling too weak to read the words on his arm. “Its okay. I can do it later. On the other side, I think the words on your arm just changed.” He said, pulling up his sleeves even more so you couldn’t see it.

You understood that he didn’t want to share it with you, and decided to stay quiet about it. You then followed his suggestion and checked your arm.

“Fate is cruel, I guess.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you re-read the words written on your arms for numerous times. You read it correctly.

Taeyong must have noticed your silence because the next second he was already pulling your arm to see the words. You watched as Taeyong’s expression mimicked yours, eyes widening in surprise. Silently, he pulled down his sleeve to reveal the words on his arm.

“Taeyong, I’m Sorry.”

You couldn’t believe your eyes, blinking countless of times just to make sure that you weren’t seeing things. Taeyong’s gaze went from his arm to you, looking at you with pain in his eyes.

Before you can say anything, he quickly pulled you into his embrace, his hands wrapping you tightly. His voice was shaking, and he was trying to hold the tears from falling. “what happened to you?….”

You knew exactly what he meant, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Instead, the painful memories started to come back. Tears started to pool in the corner of your eyes, as you found yourself hugging him back just as tight. “I’m so sorry…”

His heart broke when he heard you say those same words that he had been seeing on his arm for years.

He pulled away gently, just enough so he can take a look at your face. He gently cupped your face with his hands, his heart breaking when he notices your tears. “why do you keep apologizing? You did nothing wrong…”

You shook your head gently, tears started to stream down your face.

“Everything that I do is always wrong.” You replied with small voice, barely audible.

He gently wiped your tears, slowly leaning closer. You found yourself unable to pull back, although there was nothing behind your back. “Please, stop…” He murmured, leaning even closer that your foreheads touch. You looked into his eyes and took a deep breath. “…..Saying sorry?…”

“Apologizing when you don’t even have to.” He replied, eyes staring back at you. You avoided his gaze, looking everywhere but his eyes. “But I’m-“

Your sentence was cut off abruptly when you felt his soft lips on top of yours, moving slowly against your lips. You closed your eyes, feeling your tears streaming down.

His lips were soft, and it felt so right. his kiss was full of love and passion, and it was the first time that you feel loved.

He broke the kiss first, sighing softly when he did. He pressed his forehead against yours, bumping your noses together. “Don’t do that again, okay?” You nodded wordlessly, unable to form any words as you were still dazed from the sudden kiss. Taeyong looked at you and gave you a weak smile. “You can tell me when you’re ready.”

“I will…” You replied softly, your hands finding its way to his large ones. He gently squeezed your hand, loving the way how small your hand is compared to his. He gazed at you lovingly, the corner of his lips slowly curling into a smile, a sincere one this time. “Turns out i was wrong” He suddenly said, the sudden change in his tone made you look up at him questioningly. You raised your eyebrow, wondering what he was talking about.

He gave you a wide smile before gently wiping the remaining tears on your face.

“Fate isn’t so cruel after all.”

[melaninmomma]

CONTENT warning ⚠️

Adult conversation, mental/emotional abuse, sexual content.

situation i think I'm finally ready to vent about is the situation however long ago with my mentally/emotionally abuser.

I remember one day after posting pictures with him.

I had a girl hit me up saying she wanted to be friends but thought the same man was in love with her too, we'll call her E.

We ended up talking about it to which i found out he was flirting with her behind my back.

It hurt of course.

Feeling embarrassed, betrayed.

I had messaged him sending him screenshots, name and picture blurred out. He of course knew exactly who i was speaking with and messaged her angrily.

He got mad at me of course, they all do when they get caught.

She ended up blocking him, proceeding to talk to me about him how low he apparently made her feel about herself, how she couldn't stand him and that she was glad he was out of her life.

She would tell me about how she thought i should leave him because i told her about how he wasn't the best partner, i told her about the addiction he obviously didn't tell her as well, as well as abusive behaviour he had.

Mind you i never brought him up during our conversations it was always her bringing it up to ask me questions about him.

One thing i found odd was she seemed kinda odd and obsessed with the idea of him having an STD.

As apparently some girl, we'll call her H.

H apparently told E that he was on heroin, meth and had herpes.

Mind you the meth part is true that's his DOC.

Heroin i know nothing about and that STD he did not have.

She would often ask me about it, convinced of him having it despite me telling her he didn't.

She would also say things such as i needed to get tested (i get tested regularly)

Asking me if we used condoms or not, if i enjoyed sleeping with him, what it was like sleeping with him. Etc etc.

She made it clear age didn't believe me nor him on our STD status which i found weird.

Well sooner or later after her telling me for a bit to leave him i finally decided i wanted to leave him, it doesn't help when someone's in your ear.

The moment i decided i wanted to leave him she switched up, talking about how much she missed him, wanted him, wanted to sleep with him etc .

Despite her at the time having a boyfriend, that didn't really seem to like my boyfriend.

Of course it caught me of guard and made me defensive.

I felt as if she was trying to lure me away from him so she could try taking him.

I obviously changed my mind and decided i wanted to keep talking to him, i guess to "defend my territory" on some toxic shit.

She started telling him things differently, such as we didn't talk anymore, when we did apparently i was the one constantly mentioning him. Etc.

She would get jealous over her boyfriend, as to be 100 honest and clear i told her that me and her boyfriend used to be involved, mind you we had never actually met or been intimate together. I made it clear despite me having talked to him in the past that i wasn't interested in him, seen him as only a friend and did not want anything more from him. That i didn't even message him, we only react/share and maybe comment on each other's stuff.

To which she still would get jealous, asking me if I message him or asking me if we were messing around with each other. Of course i said no because we were not.

She made it clear she didn't want me talking to her boyfriend despite her constantly talking to and trying to get at mine, which he was absolutely no help not knowing how to turn someone down.

Despite her making it pretty clear she didn't fully believe us when we said we didn't have an STD she still would make moves on him and even started flirting with me, wanting to sleep with me. Which i found odd, if you think someone and their partner has an STD, thinks they're probably lying about not having it, why would you proceed to want to sleep with both of them if you do not trust them? Odd.

At one point i even told her that i didn't want to be friends with anyone who still talked to him. I didn't want him and i definitely didn't wanna be friends with her if she wanted to keep contacting him.

To which she pulled a bunch of bullshit saying she liked and trusted me more than him.

That she stopped liking him when he asked her to do ice with him, despite also talking about how he was her friend. Odd how you wanna continue to be friends with someone you don't trust because they offered you drugs.

We stopped talking, to which she later came back having blocked him saying she wanted my friendship more than his, i accepted and we started talking again.

It was a constant cycle of all of us having beef, blocking each other (her though I've only blocked once and have kept blocked since)

He didn't like me talking to her, i knew me talking to her was a bit reason he kept talking to her, he gets pissy when i don't do what he wants (he originally asked me to block her to which i said no)

I do believe that to a degree but i also believe he's grimy, i wouldn't have been talking to her in the first place had he not been talking to her behind my back. So that's on him.

She would constantly send me screenshots of their conversations, which always made me extremely upset, insecure, depressed and gave me thoughts of self harm/suicidal ideation.

He would often stop talking to me and talk to her instead.

We had another incident of when his dead best friends baby mom messaged her talking shit, because she was going around talking about him, how she wanted him, wanted to date him etc. But he was on some bullshit and was no longer mobile since he had his car put in impound.

I finally got sick of it all, i sent her a message and blocked her, I had deactivated my Facebook account but left my messenger active, he noticed of course.

He messaged me asking what was up, i told him i had deactivated since his side girl wanted to constantly upset me by sending me screenshots, we talked about it, i later told him that i blocked her and that he could have fun with his "lil girlfriend"

Then he apparently told her he would show up at her work and she blocked him.

I do not fully believe either of them, or trust either of them. He only got upset because he probably didn't like the idea of losing his girlfriend over it, i was fully ready to leave him. She's been gone since, she had messaged my baby dad over Instagram saying foul shit, about her not wanting him, that i needed to get my shit straight. Etc.

She definitely didn't act like she didn't want him.

I messaged back saying me blocking her for my mental health was me getting my shit together.

She just wanted to be toxic. She's been trying to befriend me again since, which i really just can't. No friend of mine would so blatantly fw my relationship knowing i didn't like it.

This situation has been on my mind heavy for a while. No matter how much i try to forget or move on it still hurts, knowing she would betray me like that while calling me her friend, knowing he would betray me like that telling me he loved me, cared for me and calling me his partner.

That situation has helped push this gao between us, a big reason as to why I've built a wall between us, why i became less affectionate, less trusting, more insecure and sad. And simply not believing he wants me.

He tries to "reassure" me. Well did technically (since we do not talk anymore)

No matter what though i could not stop the sadness i felt after it all happened.

Recently E sent me a friend request on a new Facebook i made, since my other two got put on postblock. It made me really upset and reminded me of the past. I've not known how to feel about it, i haven't accepted it. I don't plan on it, just upsetting she tried and still tried every once in a while to be my friend again after the whole situation.

[jejublr]

boyfriend!jun

A/N: whoa, you guys must’ve love Vernon, huh??? thank you so much for your likes and support! ^^ Couldn’t help but agree he’s pretty boyfriend material (Cheol should watch out). Here’s another installment of the boyfriend series starring Jun! I hope you guys will give him as much love as you did Vernon bc Jun is a national treasure. Enjoy!

I like to think of him as a guy who finds the chase really thrilling?

loves the idea of having to conquer someone’s heart

but would definitely treasure you once you said “yes”

awkward first date but would be be shameless on the second one

starts showing his dorky side by the third date

him shyly playing the piano in front of you

“stop looking at me like that!”

would get excited if you ask him to teach you how to play

would definitely try harder when you’re around

sends you random selcas 

1638292010 of them

“which one do you think is better?”

“jun, they’re all the same.”

“no, they’re not!”

loves messing with you in public but v v soft for u in private

midnight calls when he’s away

soft-spoken “I miss you..” and yearning smiles

you guys are the “no, you hang up first” couple

also, he’ll come up with the most ridiculous nicknames istg

“hey, my hunniebunnie.”

“my sweet, sweet snuggle nugget.”

you: “are u ok mate?”

Minghao tries to avoid you guys at all cost when he starts acting up in front of him

the type to hit you up at the worst moments just to tell you to like his post on Instagram lmao 

spams you just for the heck of it

“I’m going to block you.”

“I know your password.”

steals your food just to annoy you

“I swear, Wen Junhui, if you dare to even glance at my fries one more time, I will not hesitate to stab you with this fork.”

treats you like a princess

he’s totally the type to spoil you

like, he’ll randomly buy you the necklace you’ve been eyeing or one day you’ll find a new box of shoes with a post it note saying “I thought you’d like these ;)”

bc he’s not the type to just treat you on anniversaries or special days like Valentine’s

bc he thinks that’s how you should be treated everyday aww

and he may be a greaseball, but if you take the initiative to make the first move on him he’d be done for

HE’LL GET CAUGHT OFF-GUARD AND GETS SUPER SHY

“why are you looking at me like that?”

“why? you don’t like it, hui?”

ffffff he’s done for if you start acting up

loses his cool façade and is super dorky when you’re around

secretly loves it when you’re being a little clingy and get jealous and act mad at him

“wen junhui! I’m angry! why are you laughing!!”

“it’s just..you’re cute.”

“uGH.”

gets super shy if you compliment him but at the same time has no shame?

“you look really hot today.”

“m-me? hah ofc I’m wen junhui, what do you expect.”

shameless, I tell you

his phone home screen would be a picture of you, even if his lockscreen isn’t 

bc he doesn’t want the others to see that pretty picture of you 

although he gets jealous, jun is never one to get possessive of you

if someone comes up to him and tell him how pretty you looked, he’d be just “yeah, of course they are.”

bc he knows his s/o is someone incredibly talented and attractive and it’s only natural for people to flock around you

so he takes great pride that he’s able to call himself your boyfriend

knows you only look at him and you, too, know he only looks at you and there’s a strong mutual trust established

whines if you don’t laugh at his pun lol

prolly has a second acc on Instagram bc he got receipts to pull out all the time

putting up ur ugly pics with captions like “what an ugly thing. but they’re my ugly thing.”

likes to stare at you while doing things

like you’d be reading and he’ll suddenly start giggling yes wen junhui giggles, like have u seen him

“is there something on my face?”

“no, you just make me really happy.”

and then you’ll start giggling too bc oH MY GOD WHY IS YOUR BOYFRIEND SO CHEESY

you two are a mess smh

also imagine going on a trip with jun to china so he could introduce you to him family

his younger brother wants to marry you

“you’re so pretty. would you marry me?”

“YAH SHE’S MY GIRLFRIEND, FIND YOUR OWN.”

I mean, you can’t get mad at him, Jun, he learned from the best

him pulling out his wushu moves to look cool in front of you

puts things out of your reach just to tease you

“if you want it, you have to kiss me first.”

honestly, he’ll go great lengths to get some smooch from you

“JUN HUI GET DOWN FROM THAT TREE.”

“NOT BEFORE YOU KISS ME.”

acts like he’s dying if he doesn’t get it

“I feel weak.. I need.. I need your love~”

“Nice try, ass****, you’re still washing the dishes tonight.”

getting along with minghao fairly easily bc it’s always a roast fest with him 25/8

but also secretly learning how to speak chinese from Minghao so you can surprise Jun if you don’t speak the language

him almost crying when you talked to him in chinese once you get the hang of it

proceeds to pick you up in Chinese lol

“okay, I don’t know what you just said but sure.”

I like to think Jun is the kind of man who thinks a lot about his future with you??? just bc

plans his whole life ahead with you by his side but never really telling you bc he’s shy

but also bc he’s scared that he’ll lose you

dating Jun isn’t just dating a greaseball ok

Jun is so much more than the persona he made himself to be on camera

because under all the winks and suaveness is a caring guy who I think is brimming with love and care he’s dying to share with someone and honestly if you caught yourself a Wen Junhui, Prince Of China, you better never let go

Other Boyfriend!Seventeen

S.Coups | Jeonghan | Joshua | Jun | Hoshi | Wonwoo | Woozi | DK | Mingyu | The8 | Seungkwan | Vernon | Dino

[yogaposesfortwo]

Meet the Next Generation of Yoga Changemakers

These young yogis—representing Gen Z—are changing the planet through peace, love, and compassion. Many are quick to tsk-tsk “kids these days” for nonstop smartphoning and a self-centered attitude. But this most-diverse generation, with nontraditional views on everything from identity to power structures, is more conscientious than you would possibly think—and that’s very true for these five up-and-coming yoga teachers (most of whom started practicing before they hit double digits). prepare to be inspired.

Tabay Atkins: Showing us the way to follow your dharma, because the country's youngest yoga teacher

By Meghan Rabbitt

Tabay Atkins Age: 14 Lives in Maui, Hawaii My yoga model is my mom, because she beat cancer. My biggest accomplishment thus far is graduating highschool at age 14. My favorite teaching moment was once I led a yoga class with Tao Porchon-Lynch, the oldest living yoga teacher. She told me, “Keep doing what you’re doing, and stay faithful you.” In the year 2030, I’ll be teaching, traveling the planet , and sharing my love of yoga and veganism with as many of us as I can. Yoga is for everybody . Yoga isn’t about stepping into the “best” pose. I wish more yogis would realize the amazing benefits of a plant-based diet. The promise I make to myself a day is to be the simplest version of myself that I are often . It was a complete fluke that six-year-old Tabay Atkins found himself with a stack of coloring books within the corner of a San Clemente, California yoga studio. His mom, Sahel Anvarinejad, had just finished treatment for non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma and showed up there for what she thought was a tea date with Carolyn Long, a lover of a lover who’d sent countless texts and emails with supportive and galvanizing messages during her cancer treatment. Long had asked Anvarinejad to satisfy her at her studio without exactly clarifying that they’d be doing quite having tea. “I had only been cancer-free for 2 weeks, and once I walked into the studio that night, i used to be so skeptical of yoga,” says Anvarinejad. “I wanted to run out. But something told me to remain .” Long had a plan—albeit a rather sneaky one. What were the probabilities that Anvarinejad would suggest meeting on the precise day and time that her studio’s yoga teacher training was starting? Didn’t that mean she was meant to hitch the training—to find out how yoga could be a neighborhood of her post-cancer healing journey? Anvarinejad felt resistant. She’d never even done yoga before, and now she was getting to join an educator training? But Long was persistent. So, Anvarinejad signed up—if a touch reluctantly. Before the second class, she tried to bail because she didn’t have childcare for her young son. “Bring him!” Long told her emphatically. Which is how Atkins ended up in yoga class thereupon stack of coloring books. Except Atkins did more watching than coloring that day. The next, serving as a prop helper for the trainees, he delivered bolsters and blocks to their mats as required . Then, Atkins started trying a number of the postures from the sidelines, too. “A few days every week , i might practice with my mom,” says Atkins, now 14. “She’d inquire from me to remind her the way to do the poses, and that i would show her. a tremendous transition happened from the start to the top of my mom’s training—there was this super-change in her. Before yoga, she’d been sad and scared then low on energy and mobility due to the intensive chemo. After the yoga training, she was happy again—back to her old self, but better.” While most second graders might simply be psyched to possess their mom back to normal, Atkins wanted more: He wanted to urge certified to show , too. “I wanted to assist people the way yoga helped my mom,” he says. “There were numerous people within the single bed next to her who didn’t even realize yoga. i assumed if I could share this amazing practice, others could find an equivalent quite healing and happiness, too.” A Teacher is Born During her training, Anvarinejad often considered how grateful she was that her son was being introduced to yoga—and what proportion she could’ve used the practice when she was a toddler . due to all of the strain kids face at college , with friends, and reception , she decided that the right thanks to get her teaching legs under her would be to volunteer at her son’s school. She taught during gym classes and after school, and shortly parents started posing for private lessons and summer yoga camps for his or her children. Within a year, Anvarinejad opened the primary kids’ yoga studio in Orange County—and Atkins was right by her side, a self-proclaimed “helper” at age eight. “My mom started getting various certificates to concentrate on kids’ yoga—like the way to teach kids on the spectrum, teaching tweens and teenagers , and even restorative yoga—and I joined her for all of these ,” Atkins says. He was seven when he got his first yoga certificate, to show autistic kids, and a couple of years later, he found himself helping his mom lead a category at a faculty for autistic children in San Francisco . The principal warned Atkins that the youngsters he was close to teach were susceptible to violence and shouldn’t make physical contact with him or each other . But when Atkins started chatting with his peers, they were calm and captivated. When he led the scholars through a partner exercise—and they happily leaned on one another as they held Tree Pose—the principal and therefore the teachers within the room started crying. “They couldn’t believe what was happening,” Atkins says. “But I did. I thought, This just goes to point out you all how capable they really are.” After that experience, Atkins was officially sold on teaching yoga; it had been another pivotal moment that propelled him forward on his teaching journey. When he was 10, he completed a 16-day, 200-hour yoga teacher training and officially became the youngest yoga teacher in America. During Atkins’s training, it had been Anvarinejad’s address sit within the corner of the studio and fetch props and snacks for the scholars . “It was amazing to observe Tabay undergo the teacher training experience himself, then much fun watching him surprise everyone—including his teacher!—with his knowledge of the practice and true interest in learning more,” she says. Immediately after he graduated, Atkins started teaching at the studio his mom owned, and offering donation-based classes, with all proceeds getting to organizations that support kids with cancer. How to accept No Regrets Every morning, Atkins wakes up and does a brief flow together with his mom—typically some Sun Salutations and a couple of favorite poses, like Tree Pose and Crow Pose. They each name what they’re grateful for, too—a practice Atkins credits with reminding him of the transformative power of yoga and therefore the honor in sharing its benefits with others. “It’s so amazing to ascertain students walk into my classes looking exhausted and leave feeling energized and more alive,” he says. “But what I’ve realized is that it’s one thing to share the practice and another to measure it.” Enter his commitment to eating vegan—a concrete way he says he puts the principle of ahimsa (nonviolence) into practice. It’s a method Atkins says he lives his favorite mantra: Think good thoughts, speak kind words, feel love, be love, and provides love. “In this world immediately , we all got to do more of this,” he says. “There’s not enough love going around.” But if you recognize where to seem for love—and stay hospitable the moments when it'd spontaneously appear—you’ll find it, Atkins says. To wit: the kismet that was his mom—and him—finding yoga. Atkins says he often cares how life may need unfolded differently had his mom not suggested she meet Long just when yoga teacher training was starting. He considers how different her path post-cancer may need looked and the way the course of his childhood likely would have taken very different turns. “It’s all proof that everything happens—or doesn’t happen—for a reason,” Atkins says. “By living with this mindset, I won’t regret anything.” That’s to not say Atkins is watching life unfold because it will; he’s pursuing opportunities to spread the facility of yoga far and wide. “I think the longer term is so bright for my generation,” he says. “We’re educating ourselves and our parents. We’re walking our own paths and doing things differently. We’re trying to shake things up by coming together to speak about things like how our choices affect our surroundings .” “I see yoga helping us still do that in even bigger and better ways—and I’m so grateful to be a neighborhood of it.”

Ashley Domingo: Using Technology to Create Yoga Experiences for Gamers

By Bria Tavakoli

Ashley Domingo Age: 23 Lives in Portland, Oregon My yoga model is my teacher Rosie Acosta. She is that the most real person i do know , but at an equivalent time, the foremost mystical. My biggest accomplishment thus far is completing my 500-hour training and teaching within the space where I first started my journey. My favorite teaching moment was when an in depth friend told me she experienced an emotional release in one among the primary classes I taught. In the year 2030, I’ll be creatively fulfilled and ready to help my loved ones with whatever they have . Yoga is being here, now. Yoga isn’t only about embodying love and light; it's the acceptance of the opposites also . I wish more yogis would realize you don’t need to be the entire shebang—vegan, wearing Alo leggings on Instagram, drinking a smoothie for breakfast every morning—to be a “yogi.” If you've got a body and you'll breathe, you'll be a yogi. The promise I make to myself a day is what I call No Zero Days: a day I do something to maneuver toward being the person i would like to be. Some days I’ll move a mile, some days I’ll move an in. . Some days I’ll have time to try to to a 90-minute practice; some days i'd just roll in the hay my legs up the wall for a couple of minutes as my asana practice for the day. It doesn’t matter how big the move—as long as it’s not a zero. Ashley Domingo skipped college in favor of yoga teacher training and real-world job experience. Today, she’s creating a virtual yoga program for gamers that suffer from stress, anxiety, and depression. Growing up, Ashley Domingo was an honest student and an ingenious free agent with a love of crystals and tarot cards. As an adolescent weary of the criticism she was receiving from her hip-hop dance teachers, she started exploring yoga on her own through YouTube and other apps. That was the straightforward part. The not-so-easy part was choosing to forgo college, despite good grades and sky-high family expectations. “My mom was salutatorian of her highschool and went back to the Philippines to offer an interview about the importance of education,” says Domingo, who teaches yoga at her office and informally to friends. So embarking on yoga teacher training rather than attending a university was certainly off brand for her family, with whom her relationship was tumultuous. She felt sort of a disappointment to her parents, she says, who didn’t understand what she wanted to try to to together with her life. Five years later, she credits yoga with helping create a shift in perspectives—both hers and her family’s. Love initially Savasana At 19, Domingo took a full-time job working in insurance, where she started taking weekly beginner yoga classes at her office. “After that first Savasana, i used to be hooked,” she says. So she began to seek out a studio where she could explore her curiosity and deepen her practice. One teacher, she recalls, read poetry aloud at the top of her class. “It felt so safe and open,” says Domingo. “It was so different from the fear and judgment I faced in dance class.” it had been that warm feeling of acceptance that nudged her to become an educator . “I wanted to make that environment, because I knew what proportion it had been helping me with courage and clearing self-doubt.” She went on to try to to just that. After completing her 200-hour training in 2018, she began teaching the exact same class where she’d once found such comfort and relief from workday stress. Top of Her Game Last year, news of a high-profile player’s suicide rocked the web video-gaming community, during which Domingo had been a participant since 2010. (A 2017 review of fifty observational studies published within the Journal of Health Psychology found that depression and anxiety were particularly prominent among gamers.) Domingo recognized that her online peers needed “the tools to recollect their self-worth and value outside of the persona they show online,” she says. In response, she’s creating a month-long virtual yoga and meditation program for gamers, complete with meditations, asana, and instructional videos on topics starting from the importance of rest to how yoga can improve focus. She hopes to launch the series, dubbed “Bringing Peace to the Keyboard Warrior,” this year. “I know tons of my friends are very hard on themselves, and that i can give them more tools—and guide them through some exercises which will help. patiently ,” she adds, “You can do belongings you didn’t know you'll .” And she’s speaking from experience. At last, she says, “I desire I’m within the right place, and that i trust that.”

Maris Degener: Setting an example for how to work through anxiety, depression, and eating disorders

As told to Meghan Rabbitt

Maris Degener Age: 21 Lives in Santa Cruz, California My yoga model is Susanna Barkataki, for her commitment to using yoga’s teachings as a vessel for social change. My biggest accomplishment thus far is saying “yes” to recovering from my disorder . My favorite teaching moment is whenever I desire I’ve created a secure container for college kids to be their own teachers. In the year 2030, I’ll be doing the simplest I can with what I’ve learned so far . Yoga is unity. Yoga isn’t a contest . I wish more people would realize that this practice may be a thanks to hook up with healing and compassion, to not “fix” you or cause you to feel unworthy. My Favorite Mantra I can do hard things. Words of wisdom I live by “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” —Dr. Luther King, Jr. The promise I make to myself a day Try your best and roll in the hay pityingly . I’d been out of the hospital for just a couple of days, on bed rest reception , but still skeptical of why I’d needed to be hospitalized within the first place. i used to be 13 years old, and albeit the doctors and nurses showed me my weak vitals on the machines surrounding my bed during my three-week stay, I still couldn’t grasp how sick I was—how much damage I’d done to my body by not eating. So, after I’d been discharged, despite my strict bed-rest orders, i made a decision to try to to a pushup. I wanted to prove i used to be strong. I climbed out of my bed and came to my knees on the carpet beside my night table. How hard could this be? i assumed . I slowly placed my hands on the bottom beneath my shoulders and inched my feet back to urge into Plank Pose. I dropped to my knees, immediately realizing I couldn’t support my very own weight in Plank, including lower myself to the bottom then lift myself copy . therein moment, it clicked: mental disease isn’t an attention-seeking game; it’s a matter of life and death. I knew I had hurt myself, and it had been time on behalf of me to heal. Hello, Yoga? It’s Me, Maris When I was within the hospital, the doctors and nurses told me how important it might be on behalf of me to urge my strength back without strenuous exercise. Yoga was a logical choice, and once I noticed a replacement studio had opened near my hometown—and they were hosting free classes on Sunday mornings—I asked my mom if I could provides it a try. I got there embarrassingly early and ended up lecture Jenni Wendell, the studio owner and therefore the teacher that morning, before class. I’ll always remember how seen I felt by Jenni, which definitely took the sting off how absolutely overwhelmed I felt before and through that first-class . i used to be getting back in-tuned with my body and learning what it had been wish to be present. There was tons happening , like trying to maneuver into the varied postures and learn the various Sanskrit words. i used to be lost within the chaos of it all, except for the primary time in my life, I didn’t feel overwhelmed by that fact. Yoga gave me permission to not have it all found out . And Jenni met me exactly where i used to be . There was such a lot to find out and no finishing line . There was no competition or prompt for comparison. I realize now how lucky i used to be to fall under a studio where these beautiful tenets of yoga were emphasized. After that first-class , Jenni gifted me a yoga mat. it had been her way of creating sure I knew that my presence really mattered. Jenni cared if I came back—and not just during a business sense but during a way that felt to me like this person genuinely cared that I showed up. What i do know now's that when you’re handling depression and anxiety—and I grappled with both, starting at such a young age—you don’t believe that folks care if you’re around. the very fact that Jenni, a stranger, was caring on behalf of me felt revolutionary. Let the Healing Begin I desire my hospitalization and first chapter of my anorexia recovery were focused on the physical, which mostly involved ensuring i used to be eating enough calories and getting back to a healthy weight. once I found yoga, I wasn’t during a precarious place with my health. Still, that first yoga class was really challenging. In some ways , yoga felt sort of a clean slate , which was so nice after what I’d been through. I became a faithful student, getting to multiple classes every week , and after a couple of months, I got employment at the studio’s front desk. One day, Jenni told me she was performing on producing the studio’s yoga teacher training, and she or he offered me a scholarship to hitch . i used to be in awe of the practice and my teachers, but i assumed Jenni was crazy—I thought there was no way someone my age could teach yoga. Jenni described that she was designing the training to be more sort of a study group, where we’d study the philosophy of yoga and the way to integrate it into our lives, additionally to the way to teach. Now, I see that Jenni wanted me to hitch the training to assist me integrate yoga into my life beyond the 75 minutes i used to be thereon mat she’d given me. When I taught my first-class therein training, Jenni said she’d never seen me look so joyful. Something changed in me; all I wanted to try to to was expire what had been given to me. My teachers emphasized that the work of the yoga teacher is to expire what you’re learning, which suggests the simplest teachers are the simplest students. This gave me permission to be a vessel for the practice to return through; the way my teachers instilled that sort of humility in me cleared the way for my voice to emerge. I reflected on the teachers who’d had the foremost impact on my journey. The common thread? Their willingness to be vulnerable with me. They were human—always willing to return to my level and say something like, “Oh, I’ve experienced that, too.” They held space on behalf of me and didn’t attempt to “fix” me. And in being their authentic, beautiful selves, they inspired me to try to to an equivalent . My Story—on the large Screen When a filmmaker from my hometown who knew about my struggle with anorexia approached me about being during a documentary she wanted to form about eating disorders, all I saw were red flags. I’ve seen numerous films about eating disorders and are disappointed and unnecessarily triggered by them. Most of the documentaries romanticize skinny bodies. Some would go away me feeling like there was no hope for full recovery. Worse, many actually served as a guidebook to fuel my disease. (That woman ate only X amount of calories? I should eat less.) “Yoga Helped Me Remember Who I Am—and Dream about Who i would like to Be” I shared all of this with the filmmaker, and she or he really listened to my points and promised me that we’d create something different. I told her I didn’t want to speak about my weight or diet or show any pictures from the time i used to be sick. I wanted to urge to something deeper—with attention on my catalyst for healing, which was finding my practice. i assumed of my yoga teachers’ vulnerability—and the strength that shone through because of it—and I aimed to point out up with an equivalent quite truth they’ve always showed me. In i'm Maris, we mention my journey, yes. But what we actually tried to try to to is urge people to seek out their thing—the thing that speaks to their version of healing. When I hear from people who’ve watched the film, what seems to possess resonated the foremost is that the power of vulnerability. I feel closest to people when they’re vulnerable with me first. In making this documentary, I need to be that friend—the one who exposes in order that others can, too. And if I even have given even one person permission to share their story or reflect on their own experience, I desire the gift is mine. You never know what your journey—or even just your presence—might mean to someone.

Maryam Abdul: Teaching yoga and being a doula has helped her heal her community

Maryam Abdul Age: 23 Lives in l. a. , California My yoga model is @Yogi_Goddess Phyllicia Bonanno on Instagram. She’s an unapologetically black yogi who shows that there's representation within the community for black women doing this practice. My biggest accomplishment thus far is preparing and launching private yoga and birth doula businesses. My favorite teaching moment is when my students or friends say they feel better, more open, and calmer from the yoga. In the year 2030, I’ll be hosting yoga retreats, opening a yoga and wellness studio and a birth center within the Watts/South Central LA community—plus a juice bar. i would like such things to be accessible to members of my community. Yoga is your own journey together with your body and mind. Yoga isn’t alleged to only be this super-beautiful, on-the-beach, Handstands-and-splits practice. I wish more yogis would realize we've the liberty to be as creative with our yoga as we would like to be, and that we can explore more parts of ourselves. Be very gentle with yourself therein exploration. We don’t got to be hard on ourselves. Just a couple of years ago, Maryam Abdul was a sophomore in college, feeling disconnected, depressed, and anxious. “I had no sense of purpose. I felt lost and confused. Like I didn’t belong,” she says. What led her to become a significant yoga student was the motivation to reclaim her body after a sexual assault: “I lost myself— i used to be a shadow. I didn’t have anything to rest on , because I had let everything that was good on behalf of me go.” That included elements of her Islamic faith, which she says paved the way for her to eventually find yoga. Almost four years after the assault that rocked her foundation, Abdul is rooted during a solid, clear sense of purpose and mission: to help underserved communities, specifically the South Central l. a. neighborhood of Watts where she grew up— an area she calls a food desert with few outlets for yoga and wellness activities. Last year, at age 23, Abdul began training to become a yoga teacher and a doula almost simultaneously. almost like midwives, doulas provide mental, physical, and emotional support to mothers during pregnancy, delivery, and even miscarriages, and help their clients navigate a health care system that disproportionately fails black women. Abdul’s passion and curiosity had led her to review the medical industry’s early-20th-century effort to regulate , pathologize, and institutionalize black midwives—which has negatively affected birth complications among black mothers. Armed with this information, she enrolled during a local doula educational program . “We see an enormous disparity in black maternal death and infant deathrate ,” she says. “Meanwhile, stress is literally killing black mothers. i exploit yoga and meditation with my doula clients to cultivate peace and calm—with an intention to combat the statistics. i would like my people to measure , and live well. And that’s why I do what I do.” —BT

Natalie Asatryan: Bringing yoga to kids so she can change the world

Age: 15 Lives in l. a. , California My yoga model is 101-year-old Tao Porchon-Lynch, who proves yoga are often practiced at any age. My biggest accomplishment thus far is raising money for charities by teaching donation-based yoga classes. My favorite teaching moment was once I led my high school’s eleven through a yoga class. -In the year 2030, I’ll be a yoga teacher, student of yoga, and doing whatever I can to form the planet a far better place. Yoga is that the unity of the mind, body, and soul. It’s an indoor and external experience at an equivalent time. Yoga isn’t about striving to be perfect. I wish more people would realize how important it's to share yoga with the younger generation, because it might make humanity better. My favorite mantra is Om, because the buzzing of the “m” is that the eternal sound of God that lives within you in every breath. How cool is that? Words of wisdom I live by Be kind—but also courageous. The promise I make to myself a day I’m getting to do my best with what I’m given today, and whatever else happens, happens. Natalie Asatryan was five years old when she learned the way to really breathe. She was in her first yoga class—at an area studio crammed with other kindergarteners—and the teacher told them to imagine that they were hot-air balloons and had to light a fireplace in their hearts and breathe deeply so as to fly. “Then, when we’d lay in Savasana, the teacher would tell us to be as loose as noodles, and if our muscles weren’t tense when she picked up our legs and gave them a wiggle, we’d get a sticker,” says Asatryan, now 15. “My Generation goes to Run the planet Soon. The More folks Who Do Yoga, the Better” At age 12, Asatryan would continue to become the youngest girl to become a 200-hour certified yoga teacher. How did that happen? We asked her to offer us the backstory. Author: Yoga Journal Staff Source: https://www.yogajournal.com/teach/meet-the-next-generation-of-yoga-changemakers Discover more info about Yoga Poses for Two People here: Yoga Poses for Two Read the full article

[easyfoodnetwork]

Black-Owned Restaurants in Detroit Are Hard Hit by the Pandemic

Inside Norma G’s, which remains open for takeout in Detroit’s Jefferson Chalmers neighborhood | Michelle and Chris Gerard/Eater Detroit

After decades of structural racism, Detroit’s Black restaurateurs are facing both health and economic crises

This story was originally published on Civil Eats.

In late February, Lester Gouvia was looking forward to transitioning out of the slow season and seeing business pick up again. The owner of Norma G’s, a full-service Caribbean restaurant with 113 seats, a full bar, a menu that includes beef patties, curry goat, and jerk chicken, Gouvia says things were on track at the beginning of March. But in the second week of March, as coverage of the coronavirus picked up and Metro Detroit confirmed its first two cases, Gouvia noticed a sudden slowdown.

“Normally, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday are busy for us,” he says. “When I saw that Thursday slow-down, I was like, ‘Okay, there’s a problem there.’”

Gouvia’s suspicion was confirmed the next day when 90 percent of the restaurant’s revenue dropped. Three days later, Gov. Gretchen Whitmer issued an executive order closing public establishments to prevent the spread of the virus. For restaurateurs with a dine-in model, that meant making an urgent, difficult decision: convert to carry-out and delivery or close the doors completely. Gouvia chose carryout.

“In the Caribbean, food and drink is an important part of our culture,” Gouvia says. “I wanted people to come and have an experience.”

As the first sit-down restaurant to open in Detroit’s Jefferson Chalmers neighborhood in 30 years, Norma G’s was also a part of revitalization efforts for the east side neighborhood.

“Many Black businesses don’t have the agility to pivot to a different business model.”

For all these reasons, Gouvia found the switch to carryout especially challenging. But, for now, it’s keeping the doors open.

“I look around by myself and I think, ‘All the work I put in, it wasn’t for this.’ But in order to keep my brand and stay in business so people don’t lose track of me, this is what I have to do.”

The coronavirus has hit the Black population in Detroit especially hard — in health as well as economic impacts — but that’s not where the racial inequity ends. While many Black restaurateurs like Gouvia are hanging on, Devita Davison, executive director of the FoodLab, an organization that provides incubator space and other support for food businesses in Detroit, is concerned about what’s to come.

Black restaurateurs have long struggled with the racist structure of the food world, and that is most evident in the vast differences they often experience when it comes accessing capital. Therefore, they are often less equipped to weather a storm this big. And Detroit, which has seen a boom in restaurant culture in its downtown area in recent years, is a stark example of those disparities.

“Many Black businesses don’t have the agility to pivot to a different business model,” says Davison. For that reason, she worries they may be less likely to see their restaurants standing after the economy reopens.

So far, Ima, a casual full-service restaurant serving Japanese-style noodles and rice bowls, and Detroit Vegan Soul have both temporarily closed one location. However, the Block Neighborhood Bar and Kitchen — a casual gastropub — has permanently closed.

Pivoting, Trimming Hours

Like Gouvia, Nya Marshall decided to invest in the under-resourced east side of the city when she opened Ivy Kitchen and Cocktails at the end of 2019. She wanted to hire folks from the neighborhood, and she was driven by feedback from neighbors who wanted to see a fine dining restaurant in the East English Village neighborhood. The 60-seat Ivy Kitchen offered small plates such as buffalo cauliflower and mezcal wings and entrees like farro etouffee and short rib stroganoff. There was also a 12-seat bar.

“We are offering an elevated dining experience to Detroiters because I felt like we were left out of that experience from a cultural perspective,” says Marshall.

“The social component of the dining experience was what the [business] model was predicated on,” she adds. “Carry out and delivery was never a component.”

Marshall hadn’t been open for 90 days when the coronavirus forced her model to change. The business went from serving what Marshall estimates to be 800-1,000 guests a week to between 30 and 50. She had to furlough most of her employees, going from a staff of more than 20 to just three people.

At first, she maintained her normal business hours, but it was so slow that she cut down to Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Her menu changed, too, converted into what Marshall describes as “comfort and family style” meals such as fried chicken with roasted red mashed potatoes.

A Beacon of Light

Since mid-March, Detroit has become a hotspot for the coronavirus, which is disproportionately impacting the Black community all over the country. The city’s population is nearly 80 percent Black, and that group accounts for approximately 65 percent of confirmed cases and 77 percent of deaths. The three counties that make up metro Detroit account for a significant number — 80 percent — of the state’s cases.

Now, restaurateurs like Gouvia and Marshall, who chose to open their business in neighborhoods that have long been disinvested in, are operating in the epicenter of the virus. So, there’s also an added risk to their staff members.

In the second week of March, Sam Van Buren, co-owner of Detroit Soul — a counter service restaurant offering soul food classics with a healthier twist — fell ill. He didn’t know whether or not he had the virus. Van Buren’s wife ended up staying home with him.

The restaurant was left “kind of flying on one engine,” says co-owner Jerome Brown, whose wife was the only cook remaining.

View this post on Instagram

This is the #NormaGsCuisine crew ready and waiting for your arrival. Hope everyone is safe and doing well! Shout out to Renee our kitchen mom for making our cloth masks...Angelo left his in the wash today... lol.

A post shared by normagscuisine (@normagscuisine) on Apr 21, 2020 at 1:47pm PDT

Eventually, Van Buren was tested, and his results came back negative for the coronavirus. Still, the co-owners had to decide how to proceed in the current environment. They didn’t have to alter their business model but did see a small decline in business, and decided to stay open for their community.

“Our core mission kicked in [because] we wanted to be a beacon of light in the neighborhood from a health and economic perspective,” Brown explains.

They retooled the menu by giving customers the chance to buy larger portions at a time, and they only allow five customers in the building at a time. But they’ve kept the days and hours of operation the same, for the sake of maintaining a sense of normalcy for their customers and their employees.

“We want to be a symbol of stability in the neighborhood,” Brown says. He adds that Detroit Soul wants to be healthier option against fast-food options that “contribute to the continual decline of health within our ethnic group.”

“We talk about people needing to keep their health and immune system up and be as healthy as they can be during this time,” Brown says. “So we were real pressed, like, ‘We gotta be here with these greens, we gotta be here with this cabbage, we gotta be here with this baked chicken.’”

Black Business Owners at a Disadvantage

FoodLab’s Davison is monitoring the impact of the virus on the restaurant industry. She says Black-owned business and businesses owned by other people of color are being hit the hardest.

Not only has the coronavirus brought to the forefront the racial, gender, and economic disparities in the restaurant industry, it’s exacerbating them. High-profile restauranteurs and hospitality groups backed by wealthy investors are leveraging public relations firms to frame them as the heroes on the frontlines to save the industry, despite closing restaurants, furloughing and laying off workers.

“It may seem absurd that the vast and varied ecosystem of American restaurants are represented by celebrity chefs and fast-food executives who are exclusively male and overwhelmingly white, but not really when you understand that in this capitalist system resources flow in the direction of power,” explains Davison.

Recently, when the Trump administration announced the Great American Economic Revival Industry Groups, the executives and industry leaders named to represent the food and beverage industry included high-profile chefs Thomas Keller and Wolfgang Puck, and chains and restaurant groups such as McDonald’s, Darden Restaurants, and YUM! Brands.

“Where are the women? Where are the Black people? Where are the queer [and] nonbinary folks?” Davison asks. “Who will advocate for immigrant and undocumented workers? The restaurant industry is nothing without all of these people, yet all you have in the White House economic group are white men?”

The latest blow to neighborhood restaurants came from the Small Business Administration’s $349 billion Paycheck Protection Program (PPP), created to offer businesses with fewer than 500 employees a loan to cover payroll costs for eight weeks. Many small businesses scrambled to apply to the first round of loans only to learn that but large restaurant groups were awarded with multi-million-dollar loans. The chains Ruth’s Chris Steak House, Potbelly, and Shake Shack have since announced plans to return the money. And while a second round of loans opened on Monday, Ashley Harrington, of the Center for Responsible Lending told CBS News, “that upwards of 90 percent of businesses owned by people of color have been, or will likely be, shut out of the Paycheck Protection Program.”

In Detroit, dozens of restaurants have set up GoFundMe campaigns to raise money to help their employees. Last month TechTown Detroit, a tech startup and local business incubator and accelerator, offered an emergency fund to provide qualifying small businesses with grants worth up to $5,000. The Detroit Economic Growth Corporation, in partnership with the City of Detroit, recently created a $3.1 million COVID-19 for eligible small businesses ranging from $2,500 up to $10,000.

Marshall applied for all of these forms of support, but has yet to receive any funding. Gouvia applied for the TechTown and DEGC grants and was awarded both. Brown applied for four grants and loans, including DEGC and PPP, which he was approved for, but is waiting for funds.

Davison says that Black-owned businesses are often missing a component that could help them to weather this storm: a marketing and communications strategy.

“[If] you haven’t even built a [strong] communications and marketing infrastructure, you can’t communicate with your clientele that you’re pivoting,” says Davison. Restaurants need to be able to tell their clientele, “here is what our menu looks like, here’s how you can reach us, here’s how you can order delivery, here’s what our hours are,” she adds.

Marshall, who does her own PR, agrees. “If these stories and initiatives aren’t being pushed, if no one is advocating on your behalf, people are not aware that you exist,” she says.

While many restaurants have relied on delivery apps like Grubhub and UberEats, much has been reported on their predatory practices, squeezing neighborhood restaurants out of 30 percent of commission from each order (Neither Gouvia nor Marshall use them for that reason). However Black and Mobile, a black-owned food delivery service launched in February 2019 in Philadelphia has recently expanded to Detroit, is working with up to 20 Black-owned restaurants from midtown, as well as the east and west sides of the city.

When the virus passes, Davison says she also hopes to see discussions take place about crisis management strategies.

“When we get through this, I’m judging our impact and our successes on how many Black and brown entrepreneurs’ doors were we able to keep open,” she says. “And then we can start having conversations about how we help them to recover and how we help them to become resilient.”

• Black-Owned Restaurants in Detroit Are Hard Hit by the Pandemic [Civil Eats] • COVID-19 Shows That It’s Time for the Hospitality Industry to Listen to Black Women [E]

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/2YkJbWd https://ift.tt/3aTFwBA

Inside Norma G’s, which remains open for takeout in Detroit’s Jefferson Chalmers neighborhood | Michelle and Chris Gerard/Eater Detroit

After decades of structural racism, Detroit’s Black restaurateurs are facing both health and economic crises

This story was originally published on Civil Eats.

In late February, Lester Gouvia was looking forward to transitioning out of the slow season and seeing business pick up again. The owner of Norma G’s, a full-service Caribbean restaurant with 113 seats, a full bar, a menu that includes beef patties, curry goat, and jerk chicken, Gouvia says things were on track at the beginning of March. But in the second week of March, as coverage of the coronavirus picked up and Metro Detroit confirmed its first two cases, Gouvia noticed a sudden slowdown.

“Normally, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday are busy for us,” he says. “When I saw that Thursday slow-down, I was like, ‘Okay, there’s a problem there.’”

Gouvia’s suspicion was confirmed the next day when 90 percent of the restaurant’s revenue dropped. Three days later, Gov. Gretchen Whitmer issued an executive order closing public establishments to prevent the spread of the virus. For restaurateurs with a dine-in model, that meant making an urgent, difficult decision: convert to carry-out and delivery or close the doors completely. Gouvia chose carryout.

“In the Caribbean, food and drink is an important part of our culture,” Gouvia says. “I wanted people to come and have an experience.”

As the first sit-down restaurant to open in Detroit’s Jefferson Chalmers neighborhood in 30 years, Norma G’s was also a part of revitalization efforts for the east side neighborhood.

“Many Black businesses don’t have the agility to pivot to a different business model.”

For all these reasons, Gouvia found the switch to carryout especially challenging. But, for now, it’s keeping the doors open.

“I look around by myself and I think, ‘All the work I put in, it wasn’t for this.’ But in order to keep my brand and stay in business so people don’t lose track of me, this is what I have to do.”

The coronavirus has hit the Black population in Detroit especially hard — in health as well as economic impacts — but that’s not where the racial inequity ends. While many Black restaurateurs like Gouvia are hanging on, Devita Davison, executive director of the FoodLab, an organization that provides incubator space and other support for food businesses in Detroit, is concerned about what’s to come.

Black restaurateurs have long struggled with the racist structure of the food world, and that is most evident in the vast differences they often experience when it comes accessing capital. Therefore, they are often less equipped to weather a storm this big. And Detroit, which has seen a boom in restaurant culture in its downtown area in recent years, is a stark example of those disparities.

“Many Black businesses don’t have the agility to pivot to a different business model,” says Davison. For that reason, she worries they may be less likely to see their restaurants standing after the economy reopens.

So far, Ima, a casual full-service restaurant serving Japanese-style noodles and rice bowls, and Detroit Vegan Soul have both temporarily closed one location. However, the Block Neighborhood Bar and Kitchen — a casual gastropub — has permanently closed.

Pivoting, Trimming Hours

Like Gouvia, Nya Marshall decided to invest in the under-resourced east side of the city when she opened Ivy Kitchen and Cocktails at the end of 2019. She wanted to hire folks from the neighborhood, and she was driven by feedback from neighbors who wanted to see a fine dining restaurant in the East English Village neighborhood. The 60-seat Ivy Kitchen offered small plates such as buffalo cauliflower and mezcal wings and entrees like farro etouffee and short rib stroganoff. There was also a 12-seat bar.

“We are offering an elevated dining experience to Detroiters because I felt like we were left out of that experience from a cultural perspective,” says Marshall.

“The social component of the dining experience was what the [business] model was predicated on,” she adds. “Carry out and delivery was never a component.”

Marshall hadn’t been open for 90 days when the coronavirus forced her model to change. The business went from serving what Marshall estimates to be 800-1,000 guests a week to between 30 and 50. She had to furlough most of her employees, going from a staff of more than 20 to just three people.

At first, she maintained her normal business hours, but it was so slow that she cut down to Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Her menu changed, too, converted into what Marshall describes as “comfort and family style” meals such as fried chicken with roasted red mashed potatoes.

A Beacon of Light

Since mid-March, Detroit has become a hotspot for the coronavirus, which is disproportionately impacting the Black community all over the country. The city’s population is nearly 80 percent Black, and that group accounts for approximately 65 percent of confirmed cases and 77 percent of deaths. The three counties that make up metro Detroit account for a significant number — 80 percent — of the state’s cases.

Now, restaurateurs like Gouvia and Marshall, who chose to open their business in neighborhoods that have long been disinvested in, are operating in the epicenter of the virus. So, there’s also an added risk to their staff members.

In the second week of March, Sam Van Buren, co-owner of Detroit Soul — a counter service restaurant offering soul food classics with a healthier twist — fell ill. He didn’t know whether or not he had the virus. Van Buren’s wife ended up staying home with him.

The restaurant was left “kind of flying on one engine,” says co-owner Jerome Brown, whose wife was the only cook remaining.

View this post on Instagram

This is the #NormaGsCuisine crew ready and waiting for your arrival. Hope everyone is safe and doing well! Shout out to Renee our kitchen mom for making our cloth masks...Angelo left his in the wash today... lol.

A post shared by normagscuisine (@normagscuisine) on Apr 21, 2020 at 1:47pm PDT

Eventually, Van Buren was tested, and his results came back negative for the coronavirus. Still, the co-owners had to decide how to proceed in the current environment. They didn’t have to alter their business model but did see a small decline in business, and decided to stay open for their community.

“Our core mission kicked in [because] we wanted to be a beacon of light in the neighborhood from a health and economic perspective,” Brown explains.

They retooled the menu by giving customers the chance to buy larger portions at a time, and they only allow five customers in the building at a time. But they’ve kept the days and hours of operation the same, for the sake of maintaining a sense of normalcy for their customers and their employees.

“We want to be a symbol of stability in the neighborhood,” Brown says. He adds that Detroit Soul wants to be healthier option against fast-food options that “contribute to the continual decline of health within our ethnic group.”

“We talk about people needing to keep their health and immune system up and be as healthy as they can be during this time,” Brown says. “So we were real pressed, like, ‘We gotta be here with these greens, we gotta be here with this cabbage, we gotta be here with this baked chicken.’”

Black Business Owners at a Disadvantage

FoodLab’s Davison is monitoring the impact of the virus on the restaurant industry. She says Black-owned business and businesses owned by other people of color are being hit the hardest.

Not only has the coronavirus brought to the forefront the racial, gender, and economic disparities in the restaurant industry, it’s exacerbating them. High-profile restauranteurs and hospitality groups backed by wealthy investors are leveraging public relations firms to frame them as the heroes on the frontlines to save the industry, despite closing restaurants, furloughing and laying off workers.

“It may seem absurd that the vast and varied ecosystem of American restaurants are represented by celebrity chefs and fast-food executives who are exclusively male and overwhelmingly white, but not really when you understand that in this capitalist system resources flow in the direction of power,” explains Davison.

Recently, when the Trump administration announced the Great American Economic Revival Industry Groups, the executives and industry leaders named to represent the food and beverage industry included high-profile chefs Thomas Keller and Wolfgang Puck, and chains and restaurant groups such as McDonald’s, Darden Restaurants, and YUM! Brands.

“Where are the women? Where are the Black people? Where are the queer [and] nonbinary folks?” Davison asks. “Who will advocate for immigrant and undocumented workers? The restaurant industry is nothing without all of these people, yet all you have in the White House economic group are white men?”

The latest blow to neighborhood restaurants came from the Small Business Administration’s $349 billion Paycheck Protection Program (PPP), created to offer businesses with fewer than 500 employees a loan to cover payroll costs for eight weeks. Many small businesses scrambled to apply to the first round of loans only to learn that but large restaurant groups were awarded with multi-million-dollar loans. The chains Ruth’s Chris Steak House, Potbelly, and Shake Shack have since announced plans to return the money. And while a second round of loans opened on Monday, Ashley Harrington, of the Center for Responsible Lending told CBS News, “that upwards of 90 percent of businesses owned by people of color have been, or will likely be, shut out of the Paycheck Protection Program.”

In Detroit, dozens of restaurants have set up GoFundMe campaigns to raise money to help their employees. Last month TechTown Detroit, a tech startup and local business incubator and accelerator, offered an emergency fund to provide qualifying small businesses with grants worth up to $5,000. The Detroit Economic Growth Corporation, in partnership with the City of Detroit, recently created a $3.1 million COVID-19 for eligible small businesses ranging from $2,500 up to $10,000.

Marshall applied for all of these forms of support, but has yet to receive any funding. Gouvia applied for the TechTown and DEGC grants and was awarded both. Brown applied for four grants and loans, including DEGC and PPP, which he was approved for, but is waiting for funds.

Davison says that Black-owned businesses are often missing a component that could help them to weather this storm: a marketing and communications strategy.

“[If] you haven’t even built a [strong] communications and marketing infrastructure, you can’t communicate with your clientele that you’re pivoting,” says Davison. Restaurants need to be able to tell their clientele, “here is what our menu looks like, here’s how you can reach us, here’s how you can order delivery, here’s what our hours are,” she adds.

Marshall, who does her own PR, agrees. “If these stories and initiatives aren’t being pushed, if no one is advocating on your behalf, people are not aware that you exist,” she says.

While many restaurants have relied on delivery apps like Grubhub and UberEats, much has been reported on their predatory practices, squeezing neighborhood restaurants out of 30 percent of commission from each order (Neither Gouvia nor Marshall use them for that reason). However Black and Mobile, a black-owned food delivery service launched in February 2019 in Philadelphia has recently expanded to Detroit, is working with up to 20 Black-owned restaurants from midtown, as well as the east and west sides of the city.

When the virus passes, Davison says she also hopes to see discussions take place about crisis management strategies.

“When we get through this, I’m judging our impact and our successes on how many Black and brown entrepreneurs’ doors were we able to keep open,” she says. “And then we can start having conversations about how we help them to recover and how we help them to become resilient.”

• Black-Owned Restaurants in Detroit Are Hard Hit by the Pandemic [Civil Eats] • COVID-19 Shows That It’s Time for the Hospitality Industry to Listen to Black Women [E]

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