#that's literally not a real job just say you're unemployed

[insanity-all-the-time]

"in a modern au eragon would be a soldier" "no he would be a student" "absolutely not he would be an unemployed loser"

No.

your all wrong he would be entomologist

A N T S

[liebgirl]

it’s crazy how women speak to each other so little on this show that kate and sun having one scene together feels like an oasis in the desert. do not get me wrong lost is fine with women it just does NOT pass the bechdel test most episodes unfortunately. nothing to be done we already got once upon a time out of it i wouldn’t ask for more. anyway. kate and sun 🫶

[orangepanic]

For the anon who asked for tips on writing a lot:

For writing a lot, my three tips are a) read a lot, b) take the time to understand your characters, and c) have a boring job.

Reading (books! real books! not just fanfic!) lets you immerse yourself in other styles and genres so that you can pick up what's good and shamelessly try to imitate it. Simply put, the more good writing you expose yourself to (and good is subjective, so good to YOU), the more what you consider good writing will sink into your own brain and hopefully come out again when you try to write.

For getting to know your characters, try to think of them as people. What makes them tick? What's their favorite food and why? How would they approach grocery shopping? The more you can wrap your head around who they are as a person and how they think and make decisions, the easier time you'll have dropping them into new situations. Literally this is internalizing "he wouldn't fucking say that" to the point that when you're writing your characters' speech and actions are consistent.

Finally, the boring job. Fairly self-explanatory. I write a lot because it's more fun than what I am (was) paid to do. And now I'm unemployed so wheeeee all the time in the world.

[ashley-kins]

"Omg, you live out in the country on a farm?! I'm so jealous." I hate that people say this when I say I live in a secluded area.

The worst part of this, is this is said while I'm saying that I hate it. The person starts gushing about how they wish they could be away from all the noise of city or that it's such a introvert dream to be out like that far away.

Okay, fine, you can like the idea of living out here, but let me tell you, I hate the city too. I much prefer the suburbs over country and city.

But, here's my experience:

I cannot get a job. The nearest job is a fucking fast food place 4 minutes away. After that? Nothing for miles upon miles. Gas station next. Then after a 15 minute drive you're in a suburban area with jobs. Oh? but what's that? Oh, they don't hire those "filthy queers" because they're all good Christian Texans who can't hire the LGBT or those of different religions

My nearest friend that is in the city half an hour the other direction from the place where all the jobs are. Oh, and while I'm a useless, unemployed, "spoiled" homebody always on the internet, my friends are all busy doing y'know, actual real life stuff. Meaning our meetings are a few times a year.

I can't do my hobbies. Funny, you'd think that being home all day with no work would allow me to at least have hobbies, but again, nope. I can't go out dancing. I can't master a martial art. I can't do anything that isn't sitting behind a screen.

I can't practice my religions. Remember how I mentioned that good Christian Texans? Well, their neighbors are what they'd call "evil fake Christians" who are accepting of everyone... to a certain extent. My family love me and such, but have banned me from practicing any of my religions for fear that I'll summon Satan himself or something. Though, they're lenient with letting me use tarot or silent prayer.

The animals. I love the animals, I do. Each one. But when the entire area is just animals and all their necessities, it's just shit. It feels more like it's their house than it is a home.

As a introvert, this is actually hell. In concept, country life is good. And people love it, I know. I live with such people. But when it starts to feel like a prison you can't escape? It's absolute shit. It literally feels like I'm in an isolation chamber and my only escape is when I need to go run errands for my family.

For once ONCE I want to be heard and not have someone gush about what an amazing life I have. Or "at least you have a roof over your head" or "damn, I'm sorry you hate it, ANYWAY-"

I hate this and I try to disassociate myself so much. And y'know, sometimes I'm fucking jealous of my siblings who are a system. Like, they can nope out whenever the fuck they want and stay in their massive inner world while someone who wants a break from the inner world madness fronts. I fucking wish I could escape into their inner world and never come back out. But I can't. I'm stuck in the front of my own siglet ass body.

anyhow... I'm done. I'm going to sit in my bed like always and sob into my pillow. Like always.

[italianpawg]

can i say something kinda "unfeminist" real quick. hottest most controversial take that might get me death threats but it's an argument i actually see a lot (most often by people who don't grasp the nuances of it) and i disagree with. anyway opinion under the cut.

so disclaimer, this can apply to any relationship. heterosexual, gay, lesbian, married or domestic partnership, or adults living with their family for free. even between roommates, if relevant.

ultimately, the claim that "domestic labor needs to be financially compensated" is a fair concept theoretically, but i disagree with it in practice. and yes i am familiar with labor theory of value and the interpretation thereof in several schools of thought.

in my perspective as a housewife - if someone else is paying your way, providing for your needs, and in exchange you do housework; being fed and sheltered is equivalent to a wage.

does anyone else see what i mean? like, if my husband is employed and i'm not, and he is paying for my basic needs, it's only natural that the other tasks fall on me automatically + without assumption that i'm otherwise compensated. because i'm not going out of my way. the labor is already evenly divided!!

yes i am definitely still doing "work", i'm not saying it's not work! but i just don't receive liquid currency and this is okay because my "pay" is room and board and food. why should i need or be entitled to an additional paycheck on top of that?

(also, when you're formally employed, you don't get paid for both your job plus cleaning you might do at home. because that's irrelevant.)

he receives tangible funds for doing his job and pays for us to live here; in return, my work is to upkeep it. he buys the groceries so i cook them. i dont need to be paid for these things. they've already been paid for. simple as.

if you disagree, i respect that opinion! if you are in a similar situation too and you receive/want to receive extra compensation, i respect that and believe you deserve it. but if you literally cant understand what im saying and decide to take me in bad faith then you might be fucking stupid.

also no we are not "trad" or conservitards and i am not unemployed by choice. i'm probably not going to engage arguments on this either.

[jack-bytez-genuine-corner]

Yes. We also have a problem of people working themselves to death but we don't admit that. Our minimum wage is not a living wage, you can be denied the right to water and shade during summer months while working on roofs or on roads in set states. You get zero benefits unless you work 40 hours a week, however companies are not required to offer those positions en mass so they can theoretically work you to 39 hours and not give you benefits. Set jobs have a tipper's exception, meaning you can be working a job for as low as 2 dollars an hour. Companies in many states are legally allowed to fire you for any reason as long as the paperwork excludes race, gender, sexual identity or religious beliefs, meaning it's not that they CAN'T fire you for those things, but they CAN do so if they can create a believable enough excuse, example: Muslims don't get hired and get fired for following their religion all the time due to the forced time off, with literally any small excuse being used as the reasoning, such as tardiness of a minute, this also means jobs can fire you for getting your leg broken using the exact same method. Again, it isn't relevant that the real reason for the firing is based on a protected class, it matters far more that they can end your employment at will for any small infraction with zero care nor oversight.

Due to a failure to regulate companies and protect workers rights in the US most Americans are working 2 to 4 jobs on average just to make ends meet while corporations chronically short staff their work places and overwork their existing employees. This dichotomy is leading to a massive amount of unemployed Americans, and due to how strict our "Unemployed" status is the stats will not show it, meanwhile it's largely affecting the youngest Americans who are on track to be financially poorer than their parents despite being more educated on average and having far more technical knowledge and skills.

Basically if you're an adult and work in the US, you're likely being exploited. Not only is there no guarantee of sick or vacation days, companies are very much trained to do everything in their power to resist giving you more money, training you, giving you consistent hours or accepting your commitments. Hell companies don't even bother to staff properly anymore and you can really tell. The only difference between say us here in the USA and Japan is that in Japan people near universally acknowledge the work problem, while here literally no one cares and business leaders are suddenly perplexed why constantly raising prices while laying off thousands of workers to be replaced by fewer, less paid workers is eating into their profits. Like, IDK guys, Ford figured out that your worker needs money to buy your product, didn't seem that hard to figure out.

I think adults need summer vacation. Like let's just close down all our jobs for three months and play outside. Please. I'm so tired.

[aforkstuckintheroad]

It's been a while, reading the things I wrote on here, not a lot has changed but a lot has changed. From that last sentence, at least we can establish that my writing has not changed as much, it's just as dramatic.

Some things are different - I am heading to graduate school and I am moving out of my parents home. God, I am so stressed. I procrastinated hard on a lot of really important things and now I feel so behind on everything and the program hasn't even begun yet. I am already playing catch-up.

My life is taking a drastic and dramatic turn. I quit my job a while ago, and since then I've pretty much been at home and in my room. I wrote a post on here previously about how much I love my room most of the time - and yeah, safe to say, it was not that romantic to be stuck in it without purpose or any semblance of meaning for almost two years. My life keeps taking these big turns - that's how 20s go I suppose? One day you're in college, the next you're out and working, then next you're lost and unemployed, the next you're moving countries for grad school. Relatively, these are pretty normal experiences, nothing out of the ordinary, in fact quite privileged in having access to these experiences. Except my stomach hurts all the time and so does my head. This rapid change of scenery over and over again - the adjustment, the departure, the re-adjustment - I can't breathe when I sit and think about it. So I've stopped sitting to think. Now I only feel stress and anxiety. I don't feel sadness, I don't feel excitement. The stress and anxiety have taken over all my feelings. And the guilt for feeling even these two, given all the privilege, will not even let me feel the stress and anxiety in peace - that's an oxymoron, but you know what I mean? I hope you do. I find solace only in the fact that I am not alone, and people out there understand. I feel alone, in my house, with my friends sometimes. But there are people out there. There's always somebody on Reddit going through the same thing as you. So there's that. Everything just feels like a lot of work, and I do not know how to put in the work. I honestly and plainly - do not want to. I have not found anything yet that makes me feel like I would want to put in that work. Maybe all of this will change in grad school, maybe being back in school will turn my life around. But as I've often seen quoted online - you can run away to a different place, but you can't escape yourself. I hope I do better, I want to do better. But as I sit and write this instead of updating my resume and applying for the on-campus job that I really want - I do not know if I will be any better. The job applications and the housing process is really very deeply stressing me out and I leave in 2 weeks. I just want to get there and start my life. But if I'm not able to put in the pre-start work for my life, will I be able to do it once it all starts full swing?

Therapy was barely helpful with my tasks, what is wrong with my brain? I've just started reading Atomic Habits finally, after seeing it everywhere. Yes I am scared to admit that I am reading a self-help book. I guess it's an indication to how desperate I am to change my life. I cannot miss out on opportunities anymore because of my inability to do tasks! It is excruciating. I absolutely cannot do a single task to save my life right away, quite literally. Even if my life depended on it, I would procrastinate for days and days. Like getting my stomach checked out - because it hurts all the time. There's some hypochondria at play there too though, and my sedentary lifestyle is largely to blame. But still, what if there was a real problem there? I refuse to take any action?

I have no control over myself and my body, and thus there is no me and there is no I. It is just an entity, operating at it's own instinctive will. The writer of this, is just a little part that exists somewhere within this entity, but in no way or form can take claim of forming the entire entity. Because the writer has very little actual control over the entity. That is how I feel. Best, the 5% of the entity

[culttvblog]

Sapphire and Steel: Remember Me and The Flesh and Blood Show

Two non-TV productions today, linked by both being set in a theatre on a seaside pier.

Sapphire and Steel: Remember Me

First up one of the Big Finish audio Sapphire and Steel adventures. This one is about a Time breakout in a theatre on a pier while a TV programme is being made about comedy, centred on a comedian called Eric Gurney. As so often, if you read the existing reviews online you will find ones which are a bit lukewarm, although still saying that this is certainly amongst the best of the Big Finish Sapphire and Steels, and I disagree with this estimation of this adventure completely. It is excellent, right up there with the original TV series set in the railway station and the garage, in my opinion.

To start off with, the setting is so important for Sapphire and Steel. In this case, the setting of the pier is a gift to the production, as well as being a gift to It, to use and get into people's memories. The theatre has been unused for many years, and is full of the relics of previous productions, as well as Mr Gurney's memories of his glittering career.

The adventure achieves a remarkable feat with a tiny cast of five characters of setting up an extraordinary situation in the theatre. It is just as remarkable that the characters are far more phased by the breakout of 'It' and not at all by the extraordinary things Sapphire and Steel do, which they just accept.

We see an interesting side of both Sapphire and Steel's personalities, building on the characters in the TV series where Sapphire has some human understanding but Steel doesn't really. There is a wonderful crisis point where Sapphire stops and starts offering people tea. There is another wonderful point where Steel tells Kate Lambert, the lady from the production company, that she is pregnant in characteristic manner. Of course he literally says, oh and by the way you're pregnant, yes I know you've never been more happy, now can you answer these questions. Subtle. And yet Steel does have a slightly more human side in this one. At one point in an altercation with Gurney, who refers to Steel as 'Mr Rank Charm School', Gurner says that he's the one who makes the jokes. Steel retorts that he hasn't noticed so far!

I only have one criticism, which is that Joannah Tincey, the actress who plays Kate, does an excellent job of being distraught at the strange events and finding out the Steel way that she is pregnant, verging on the hysterical at times. I'm not faulting her performance but there's perhaps a bit too much of the hysteria, and it would have been better more toned down to the confused and quiet persona she has later in the show. This is obviously a completely personal preference and other people might not even notice it.

The Flesh and Blood Show (1972)

The Flesh and Blood Show is a slasher film about a group of unemployed actors invited by an anonymous producer to appear in a play in a theatre on a pier, where they also live because it's out of season and there is nowhere for them to stay. One by one the deaths happen.

It's standard description is a slasher, and indeed a lot of deaths do happen, but my personal opinion is that it is much more than that.

For a start, I just think you can't go wrong with a theatre as a setting, and you can't go wrong with a pier as a setting, so it's a bit difficult to make a complete dud. It was filmed on two real piers - the one in Cromer for the externals and Brighton for the internals - and you automatically get this great sensation of a seaside place outside of season. Bleak is the keynote here, although it draws on the symbolism of a pier as being a holiday destination for pleasure, while also being strangely land and sea at the same time.

It's rarely commented on, but you have to see this film for the photography. This is not some standard low-budget slasher film: there is some very superior atmospheric photography going on here. The film was produced and directed by Pete Walker so we are automatically in the superior weirdness category.

Juxtaposed with the atmosphere and the arty camera walk, the film is essentially an Agatha Christie-style mystery in the vein of And Then There Were None: a number of strangers are thrown together in a closed environment at which point they start being taken out one by one.

If you want a criticism I think I would have to say that the film may attempt to squeeze too much stuff in. The characters are all thoroughly fleshed (geddit?) out so that there is the slasher plot, the detective element, and then all the human stuff going on. There is some sexy stuff going on at various points, and compared to his later films it does rather lack Walker's characteristic sure touch. Later on in his career he was better at homing in on the cannibalistic old lady, for example, and wasn't distracted by anything else.

Nonetheless both of these are excellent productions and highly recommended.

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[irastayshome]

Change requires courage, but not changing doesn't signify the lack of it. There are reasons beyond what my own thoughts can rationalise as to why I can't bring myself to hire a maid.. or continue in this job.. or move in with my parents.. or finally admit I am now single and behave like it.

A book I've been trying to read - keyword 'trying' because my mind can't seem to focus on anything cognitive for long these days - had a profound perspective. The unconscious mind has wisdom far beyond what the conscious mind dictates. If I were to give voice to some of these wisdom, it would sound so odd and misplaced, maybe even stupid. Like if I were to say that I do not wish to hire a maid to solve the daily struggle I have in getting enough sleep before going to work the next day because I was up doing dishes and laundry.. and justify it by my assertion that this space, confined by the walls that witnessed his decline and his demise and our arguments and our reconciliations and all the quiet moments that could easily be lost and swept away in memory.. it is sacred.

I know we do not bring anything or anyone to the ground with us when it is our time. To Him we belong and to Him we return. But allowing a stranger to step in, clean the mess and carnage left behind, someone who has no idea the significance of every receipt or broken household item or anything else one might sensibly decide to throw away without question.. it is too risky. We are still in a bubble.. where the slightest curve in the breeze makes us all unhinged and anxious about when it will all pop. When he will fully be gone from our lives.. when we will finally be forced to move on, even if we aren't ready to let go. How else would I explain all that sensibly, other than how I just did? It sounds like big allegories that may seem empty, but it really isn't.. not for me. Its even more concrete and real to me than a simple "a maid would solve all your sleep and caregiving struggles". The unconscious mind has a far more powerful effect on the will than the conscious mind. Its wisdom commands more respect than most of us are willing to give.

The job.. it's just a job honestly. Its for bills, and for escape, and for some semblance of achievement to keep me from spiraling into despair. But if I'm being truly honest, it's also to fight the loneliness I feel deep in my core. Not the kinda loneliness that makes me wake up heart racing after dreaming about being kissed so passionately and embraced so intensely that it broke my heart a little when I literally woke to reality - though this kind of loneliness I must admit is getting a little too much for comfort. The loneliness I feel deep down is not having anyone to hear what I feel about the genocide in Palestine, or about the political satire in PAP lately, or about my worries for AI taking over, or what I honestly feel about my 6 Yr old falling "in love" with his classmate. Its having a mate.. to laugh with, to muse with, to watch things you don't wanna watch alone with. Someone who just gets you, and accepts you wholly, and calls you out when necessary because they want you to win.. while they're right beside you.

So, in that manner, no. This job does not fight off this loneliness. It drains my bank accounts even more because my impaired mind keeps making lots of financial and ethical blunders, costing us so much more than if I were just unemployed. In terms of achievement and helping the less fortunate, nothing feels satisfying when your own house is on fire and you're not able to save your own family first. That's just how it is for me. Those boys are more important than anything else in the world now, and I'm completely replaceable at work, but not at home.

Sigh. Who are these musings even for. Are you reading this yang, somehow? You've always hated long texts from me.. why would you start liking it now right.. I really do feel like I'm going crazy sometimes.

[bvidzsoo]

Minaaaa, my lovely Mina, let me munch on your cheeks, you're literally so sweet my jaw was on the floor reading this...like SHUT UP

Ngl I was surprised when you said you'd be pushing back reading this cuz DAFUQ Hongjoong is literally your man, but priorities first, I guess-ahahaha, luv u don't come for me ok bye.

Anyways, I don’t even know where to start. Whenever I read something new of yours, it feels like you outdo your previous work, which is crazy because I always think, “This is it, this is the story!” But then you go ahead and prove me wrong by creating a new masterpiece that won’t leave my head for an X amount of time.

Man, keep your toes under the blanket tonight because I might just find them...you always say stuff that just makes me go AUDHIFBIIHFNKABSDKGF-

Both the MC and Hongjoong were really interesting characters in this story and for a good chunk into the fic, I didn't know what to think about Hongjoong. He was quite annoying in the beginning with his "know it all" talk and I feel like his attempt at cheering up the MC was so poorly done on his part, like what was he thinking talking sweet to her when another douchebag was already getting on her nerves? 😭 It wasn't even anything remotely nice, he literally talked about her as if she was an object. what is this shitshow of a man? 👹 I also like how you made his appearance give a hint of "I'm a mysterious guy" but he still turned out to be a douche. I feel like in most stories nowadays, the mysterious character is almost always flawless or perfect. They never get to fuck up.

I feel like you somehow always have beef with my male leads and idk if it's funny or if it's starting to make me sad AHAHAHA, Hongjoong was tryna do good but my mans was smoked out and also just...trying to help lmao. I didn't even intend to make him mysterious, but I'm certainly fine with it coming off like that. Our man, Hongjoong, is far from being perfect so it's good mister didn't get away with anything haha.

Oh, this shit got me fucked up. Lord knows I would've lost my job that night if a customer ever talked to me in that way. Matter of fact, I'd be put on a blacklist and be unemployed for the rest of my life because not only would I jump over the counter, but I'd beat the shit out of him until he wouldn't know the simplicity of the alphabet.

Lmao this sent me into a laughing fit cuz honestly...same, bestie, same. That man would've ended up with water tossed in his face minimum, and then would've come the hands throwing.

THE WAY I SCREAMED, LIKE FUUUUUCK!?!?!?!? WE GOT MULLET!JOONG CALLING ME A PRETTY BARISTA?????? THAT's ANOTHER THING — WE GOT MULLET JOONG BACK!!?! He can psycho analyze me all he wants baby- *GUNSHOT*

I guess this is how long your distaste for him lasted HAHA, I'm glad you'd rather have him [redacted] you than hate on him until the end of the drabble...wink wink

It's crazy how they haven't exchanged names until much later into the story :0 That's another thing that makes this story so real, their interactions aren't long enough for them to just stop and ask for each other's names, but they aren't that short to not have grown into some form of acquaintances.

tbh I haven't even thought about this, but them introducing each other later on felt more organic, so yup, you're right...they did grow into acquittances at last.

Is this said best friend perhaps Park Seonghwa? 👀

...maybe? 👀👀

The scene where Hongjoong and MC talk about their "dreams" /goals is so... nice and so real (again). How Hongjoong won't give his art to just anyone mirrors his irl personality too; how they value their works (songs and paintings) and just how much effort is put into it. We can clearly see the moment he "fell" in love with the MC. It wasn't the first night when she served him a Cosmopolitan or when she called him out on his bullshit, no that just caught his attention. The moment he knew MC was the possible one for him was when she saw him through his paintings. The MC subconsciously showed that she could see beyond Hongjoong's exterior and actually understand his soul. It's quite intimate, at least to me it felt like an intimate scene filled with a lot of emotions and to be frank, it's the best type of intimacy I've read in a while.

I hadn't even considered the fact that the Hongjoong in my story resembles the one irl, but I guess my subconscious is stronger since it worked without me even thinking of it ahahaha...but with that said, I'm glad I could make Hongjoong nuanced and true to his character, and he really did feel like he'd caught God's hand when the MC so easily saw through his art, seeing Hongjoong as he was and what he stood for. All in all...these two are a good pairing and I can assure you they have a happy future lined up in front of them ACK.

Thank you Minaa for reading and for possibly being my biggest supporter...? hehe, luv u lots<3

Through your colours

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: artist!Kim Hongjoong x barista!reader

੭ Warning: recreational drug use (weed), alcohol consumption, swearing ੭ Word count: 11k ੭ Rating: nc-17 ੭ Genre: fluff, angst-ish, slice of life, strangers to lovers, a hint of simp Joong? post university setting ੭ Summary: A broke barista and a broke artist meet in a student infested dingy pub, what do they have in common? The desire to make something great of themselves, to live a fulfilled life. But first impressions can go wrong, deterring people from each other. You're probably lucky that's not how your story with Hongjoong goes, though.

A/N: Hello, hello, my lovelies! I present you another story that was supposed to be a drabble but instead turned into...a smaller oneshot?? I consider anything that's below 15k a drabble because my oneshots just go over 20k all the time, save me! This idea came on a random whim while my pinterest suggested three photos lol, and it took me some time to write it, but it's here at last. Your feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you thought of this little story, and I hope you enjoy it! divider

            Gustav Klimt had once, sometime during the nineteenth century, stated that, “Art is a line around your thoughts”. This could be interpreted many ways, of course, but for an artist it was just as plain and simple as Mr Klimt had said. Whatever was on your mind, you could give it life by putting it on a piece of paper by the brush of ink and feather against the parchment, or by the swift twist of one’s wrist as their brush coloured their canvas. Art comes in many forms, many thoughts, and many interpretations. After all, everyone relates to it based by their own experiences, based on the emotions they feel and have felt before…and overall, their capacity of seeing beyond what’s shoved in front of their eyes. Maybe that’s why Hongjoong would stare at a painting or picture for hours on end without growing tired. He liked to see everything, he wanted to understand every stroke of brush, or why the lightning fell in that specific way on the item in the picture. Hongjoong wanted to feel the same emotions the author of the creation had felt while creating their piece. It helped him draw inspiration, expand his horizons towards new possibilities. Hongjoong liked new challenges as long as they were about his art. In life, he preferred the steady and sure lifestyle, the one that was predictable enough that it wouldn’t send him into an existential crisis over the smallest inconvenience.

Hongjoong needed order in his life since his art was all over the place, judged by many and often misunderstood. He didn’t paint just for the fun of it, sure, there were passion projects he started on a whim without much of a goal in mind, and usually those were well received by his professors, by his colleagues. But whenever Hongjoong wanted to say something through his art, he’d get scrutinized for it. He yet had to find that one person that saw beyond what others called a mess. He’s never thrived for attention or validation, but it had gotten lonely after a while when he realised nobody really understood him. He felt like he was the odd one even in a crowd full of odd people. He’d always been different, more open-minded and receptive to the changes in the world, and he’d always been judged for it. Here, instead of being frowned upon due to his character, he was sometimes ignored because his art was either dull or not good enough. Nobody seemed to understand that art is relative and subjective, that whatever lay on the canvas made by Hongjoong was his and would always be. That he had dipped his brush into a touch of colour from his soul, displaying it for the world to see on the once blank canvas. He became vulnerable for them and yet nobody had appreciated it yet. And so, Hongjoong got used to not being seen for his art, but for who he was.

Quirky with questionable fashion taste to many, bold because he wasn’t afraid to try out new styles—much like with his paintings—and intimidating because no matter how many times he tried out something new, he’d instantly make it his, owning whatever concept he had in mind. Hongjoong knew not everyone was against him out there, but it was easy to fall hostage to such thoughts when he was alone. It would make sense for an artist to have a mind clouded by questions and rarely answers, a mind that worked too fast and yet never good enough. Doubts and fears pulling one down, Hongjoong loved expressing it through his paintings, his hand nothing but a guide to the brush clutched tightly between his fingers, calling out to him even when he chose to step away. Hongjoong was in it for life, and he wondered whether the weeping willow tree by the river bank in his framed painting was a premonition for how his life would look like.

            The bar was busy like every other night in this student-infested town. It wasn’t even a surprise anymore, you should have known better than to wear your boots with high heels. There were no seconds to waste and even less time for breaks between preparing drinks, cleaning the bar, and running around the room to clean the tables too. Nobody wanted their hands sticky because someone had previously spilt their drink, and you were more than ready to clock out for the night. The only problem was, however, that you still had three hours left of your shift. You sighed as you averted your eyes from the clock, realising you hadn’t started preparing the drink the drunk college student had asked for on the other side of the bar. His eyes were glossy and he was swaying in his spot, you debated filling his cup with water rather than Vodka, but you couldn’t risk getting a complaint since your boss was a stinky little fucker. Your hands worked fast, and years spent doing this kind of work were showing as you did a few tricks, hoping you’d get a nice tip. You doubted the college guy would leave a huge tip, if anything at all, but at least you tried. It was all about trying in places like this one. Trying to stay calm when a customer was rude, trying to remain sane when night after night the DJ played the same playlist for the drunken students, trying to smile and hide the fact that you hated when these frat boys flirted with you. And also try and hide the fact that you were fed up with people, and needed at least a month away from civilisation.

But if one wanted to achieve something in life, one had to work for it to happen since it wouldn’t fall from the sky. Going abroad and starting a new life over there wasn’t for free, and it especially wouldn’t happen overnight. You were well aware of that, that’s why you were working day and night, taking up shifts that were probably too long to be healthy. But the dream you had in mind demanded such sacrifices, and if it meant working hard right now for a comfortable life in the future, you were willing to spend your nights sleepless and surrounded by annoying college students. You had been like them once, after all, but that was a few years ago, and since then, the harsh reality has awoken you. What was the purpose of a degree you couldn’t do anything with? Yeah, you could’ve laughed at yourself, but then it would soon turn into hysterical crying and you weren’t strong enough to deal with such emotions. You’ve cried enough, it was time you took action now. You sighed as another rush of bodies crowded the bar, asking for shots and long cocktails. You weren’t a fancy place by any means, but you served the usual sweet cocktails that could be found in every other place. Your hands worked fast as you catered to everyone’s likes, your coworker, Hanni, was somewhere lost between the students as she had gone to clean up the tables. And even in your rush, it seemed like you couldn’t satisfy everyone. It shouldn’t have phased you, but you’ve had a rough day today.

“Hey, babe, think you could work those hands faster, maybe?” You ignored the question and smiled as a group of girls paid for their pink cocktails, leaving a bigger tip than most men would. You felt grateful and felt your smile turn genuine when the tallest in the group winked at you before they became part of the rowdy crowd again. Then, you could face your impatient customer. He didn’t look like a student, way too old to be in a crowd filled with students, but who were you to judge? Some people go to college at a later age, maybe he wanted to get the full student experience. Although, you doubted a thirty-year-old had anything in common with young adults on the brink of maturing, if they managed to mature during their upper-level study days.

“What can I get for you?” Your voice was raised since the music was booming, and unfortunately, you also had to lean over the counter to hear the man better. For some reason, that made the man smirk as he leaned forward as well, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat. You ignored it as your teeth ground together, you’ve seen men like him before, he wasn’t the first to act like this and you knew he wouldn’t be the last one either.

“How about…you, sugar?” Your expression didn’t budge as his smirk became shit eating as if he had accomplished anything by saying that. You waited, without blinking or reacting to what he’s said, hoping he’d catch on that he wasn’t hilarious nor flirty.

“Don’t we all wish to have a piece of the pretty barista?” That managed to throw you off as your head whipped to the side, eyebrows furrowing as you just now noticed the newcomer. He was…well, something else for sure. He wore no casual or ordinary clothes, nothing you could compare to the annoying frat boys or just the other dudes with a regular fashion sense. His hair was dark but it looked a little fried, as if it had been bleached already one too many times before. His white blouse was loose and tucked in at the waist, his black pants wide and reaching below his ankles. A thick belt was secured around the guy’s petit waist, and if you looked harder, you swore you could see a dark blue bow tied to it. His brown vest seemed to elevate the outfit even more, the pleated brown choker sitting at the base of his throat with a few other silver chains, a ruby pendant hitting his pecks as he was leaning against the counter lazily. His hip was jutted out and his painted nails tapped against the side of his head, cat-like eyes blinking slowly as he watched you. The hat he wore looked something like you’ve only seen in Peaky Blinders, and for a second, you almost chuckled. He looked peculiar but not in a negative sense, it’s just that you haven’t seen someone like him stumble inside the pub before. He didn’t seem to belong with the crowd and that would’ve been something you’d appreciate on any other day than today.

“I don’t think we were talking to you, no?” The cocky man in front of you raised a mocking eyebrow at the other guy, and you rolled your eyes for a second. But before you could answer, the other guy did for you.

“You threatened my game is better than yours?” The artsy-looking guy asked with a chuckle, his tone was more on the higher side, and you found yourself not irked by it too much. But you weren’t here to have men measure their cocks by who can get the barista’s phone number faster, so you interrupted them before they could piss you off even more.

“Listen, fellas, I don’t have all night. What do you want?” Your tone was sharp, straight to the point, and shut down all attempts at flirting as the man in front of you scoffed, shooting a dirty look at the peculiar-looking one. You tilted your head as the older man finally faced you, trying to downplay his irritation as he plastered on a charming smile again. It made your jaw tick again, but you said nothing more.

“Do you have whiskey?” You were already reaching for the bottle of Whiskey before the man was finished talking, your other hand grabbing a glass as Hanni finally returned to the bar, her tray filled with dirty glasses.

“I��ll just wash these and come help.” She said as she passed by you and you nodded, filling the man’s glass with ice and whiskey, not too much but not too little either. Who even drinks Whiskey in a place like this one? But you didn’t care as long as he’d be out of your hair, so you placed the glass on the counter, but before you could tell the guy how much it was, he had already slid a bill on the counter, sauntering away. You grabbed it and pushed it into your fanny pack, taking a step back to take a deep breath. You could do this, Hanni was back and maybe you could ask her to cover for you for five minutes. A bathroom break was allowed at any time, after all. Your small moment, however, was interrupted by a scoff. You blinked your eyes open and looked towards where the sound came from, eyes narrowing when you realised the other guy was still lingering around.

“What a pig, he didn’t even tip you.” You had to agree with his slurred words but instead walked over with an impassive expression. You weren’t here to be nice or to make friends, and you never failed to make it clear to your customers. These entitled dudes thought they could get your number and get in your pants with just a few—fake—nice words, you could confidently say you hated them all and that they made you wish you never again encountered their species. But alas, that wouldn’t happen tonight, so you headed over to the pompous guy, raising an eyebrow. He was intriguing, you couldn’t deny that, but you also knew not to mingle with guys who frequented the pub. So, even if one sparked your interest, at the end of the day, you’d still walk home alone and relish in the quiet of your room.

“What can I get for you?” You tried to keep your tone level as your hip pressed into the counter, feet aching now even more. You were ready to chuck your damn boots at the wall and call it a night, but as Hanni flashed you her typical sweet smile, you knew you couldn’t leave her alone in the wolf's den. She was too sweet and too naïve, smiling and laughing along to the shitty jokes of the frat boys who were eyeing her up with little regard for the fact that she was visibly uncomfortable.

“Something sweet like you.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, telling yourself to keep your cool. He wasn’t saying anything offensive, unlike many other men, he just kept calling you sweet and pretty. That could be considered even nice, but not tonight.

“The menu is literally behind me, you can choose anything from it.” You pointed a finger behind yourself, where you knew the menu was hung high on the wall so that everyone could see it. The peculiar guy just gave you a look of confusion before looking past you, blinking his eyes lazily once again. You tapped your fingers against the counter, waiting for his choice, glad that you could take a breather now that nobody was crowding to get their drinks refilled. Hanni whizzed past you when she noticed a smaller group of girls approaching, her smile reaching her ears and already talking to them, beckoning them closer. Hanni was an excellent barista, she kept her customers entertained and always engaged with them…unlike you, but that’s why your duo worked so well. You were the stoic one and she was the sunshine, but you were both quick on your feet so your boss couldn’t complain.

“Uh, I’ll take a Cosmopolitan.” The guy finally decided and you quirked an eyebrow, grabbing the shaker.

“That’s not sweet.” It was unlike you to make conversation, but the words were on the tip of your tongue so you couldn’t ignore them. The guy chuckled, letting his elbows rest on the counter as he placed his chin in his palms. Your eyes raised for a second to look at him, and you were taken aback by how cute he looked. But as he blinked slowly again, a small smile spreading onto his lips as he watched you, you quickly focused your attention on his Cosmo.

“I know, I was just trying to make you feel better.” He sighed, tracing a manicured finger against the dirty counter. You had to clean that too. As you grabbed some olive to stash on a toothpick, you followed his finger with your eyes and noticed the two silver and shiny rings on his finger, his nail done a neon yellow with a black smiley face painted on top of it.

“What do you even know…” You scoffed to yourself, placing the martini glass on the counter for the guy to take. He was still looking at you, his eyes hazy, and you allowed yourself to take in his features. He had a petite and sharp nose, pretty and well-fitting with his sharp jawline and otherwise intimidating eyes if it wasn’t for the smile in them. His lips were more plump than thin with a pretty Cupid’s bow, slightly pouty as he gave you a small frown.

“Well, I bet you don’t plan on wasting your life away here.” The way he spoke had an airy feel to it, as if he wasn’t really thinking before speaking, “And by the looks of it, it seems as if your degree didn’t take you too far as of now, which is not a big deal, people change their minds all the time.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as the guy reached for his Cosmo, your fingers brushing together since you hadn’t retracted your hand yet. You ignored how warm his fingers felt, the softness of them as they lightly brushed against yours, “It’s just sad to see talented people waste their lives away in places like this one, you know? I mean, we all go to college to make something of ourselves, but then we end up in a dimly lit and smelly bar, selling alcohol to entitled pricks, forced to listen to their attempts at flirting, or them berating us for ‘not’ doing our job. Sure, it’s honest work, but at the end of the day, when you walk home after an ungodly long shift, you still hate yourself, so…”

Something in you broke at his last sentence, making you gulp hard. You still hate yourself, the guy had said with the most easy-going expression on his face, a slight smile pulling at his lips as he continued to blink lazily at you. What did he even know when he was clearly wearing designer clothes to a pub where alcohol could be spilt on you, among many other things? Who was he to assume you couldn’t do anything with your degree, rubbing it in your face that he knew people ended up like this when he clearly came from a rich background with all those accessories on him, his tone airy and almost mocking. Your jaw clenched again as you realised you had tears in your eyes, and your hand came down harshly on the counter as the guy slipped a bill towards you, way over the price of his damn Cosmopolitan.

“Go fuck yourself.” You snapped as you threw the change back at him, watching his expression fall, his eyebrows raising comically high. You didn’t sit around to listen to him trying to get your attention again, you brushed past Hanni and leaned down to tell her that you needed five minutes. She gave you a worried look before nodding, letting you head to the bathroom as a few tears spilt down your cheeks. Today was complete shit, you couldn’t wait to get home and ignore all the responsibilities and problems you had. You were doing this for a better future, this was just a small fragment of your life, and it wouldn’t last forever. At least you really hoped so.

            You released a long sigh as the cool air hit your face, eyes stinging from the sudden coldness as the red backdoor slammed shut behind you. Hanni and you kept telling your boss to change the hinges, but he had more important things to take care of, of course. Stepping aside so that the door wouldn’t slam into your back if any staff member decided to come outside at this moment, you leaned against the cold wall, pushing your hands into your pockets. You didn’t bother grabbing your jacket, although you should have given the fact that your skin was now covered in goosebumps, teeth slightly chattering. It was always a whiplash coming outside from that parched pub, having to forcefully push through the bodies too busy to notice your approaching form. It was another busy night, the weekend was approaching so the students were coming in waves that the pub could barely house. You’ve been telling your boss that you should put a capacity limit, but he wouldn’t make as much money like that as he was making now, so of course, he said no. He was a greedy monster and he didn’t even try to hide it.

Just as you closed your eyes, you heard a loud tsk followed by a hiss, and your head jerked to the side, your eyes widening. You hadn’t realised there was someone else here with you, too taken by your own thoughts of wondering what you’d cook for dinner…if you make it home at a decent hour, which was looking less and less likely to be. With your eyes narrowed and head turned, you tried to find the source where the sound had come from, eyebrows furrowing when you noticed someone crouched down right by the door, their head lowered over their knees. It wasn’t your business what anyone was doing, really, but if a client was feeling unwell and would need assistance, you’d feel guilty if you just walked away without a word. So, sighing to yourself, you pushed off the wall and took a few steps to approach the person, eyes taking in the black messy curls on the top of his head. The person had a baby mullet growing out, framing his pale nape. You cleared your throat and reached down, gently poking at the guy’s shoulder.

“Hey, you good?” You asked unsure, eyebrows furrowing when the guy grunted only. Tilting your head, you realised he was shielding his left hand, his right thumb trying to roll the sparkwheel of his lighter, but to no avail.

“Yeah, this bloody thing won’t work.” The guy groaned, shaking his lighter as he tilted his head back, a hand-rolled cigarette hanging between his lips. Your eyes widened as you realised the face was familiar, having seen him just yesterday. The guy’s eyes looked innocent as they rounded, recognition flashing in his too. You gulped and straightened up, your expression slightly hardening as the guy’s harsh words from yesterday rang through your ears. He seemed pretty fine to you, but before you could step aside and go back inside, he spoke up.

“Hi there, pretty barista.” He then grinned, a lazy pull of his cherry-red lips, his tone easy. You didn’t expect him to be so easy-going after what you had said to him, but it almost looked like the guy wasn’t bothered by you cursing him out…maybe he really wasn’t, “You on a break?”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, watching as he struggled to get his lighter to work. You had one in your pocket, but you found a bit of satisfaction in watching him struggle. Maybe if he asked whether you had one, you’d let him use yours. But people who didn’t ask wouldn’t get help, that’s what your father taught you, at least.

“Obviously.” You muttered matter of fact as the guy hummed, grinning wickedly when the lighter finally sparked to life, allowing him to light his cigarette. You watched as the flame danced in front of his face, making his dark eyes appear amber-like, sharper from this angle. You realised, alarmed, that you were appreciating his looks so you quickly stopped, looking away as the guy puffed out a whiff of smoke.

“You want some?” The guy asked, reaching his hand toward you as you eyed the cigarette, its smell hitting you. It was too herbal to be a normal cigarette, you belatedly realised as you watched the guy take another hit of his joint.

“What’s in it?” You decided to ask, just to make sure. If you were wrong and it was a regular cigarette, maybe you’d accept a smoke. You didn’t usually smoke but you were still tired from yesterday’s shift, and something that could loosen your nerves would be highly appreciated.

“Good stuff.” The guy grinned, giggling even a little, and the sound almost put a smile on your lips, but you caught yourself in time and instead shook your head, pushing your hands into your pockets again.

“I’m working, so, no.” The guy just hummed as he looked up at you again, taking a drag of his joint as you gulped and everted your eyes. It felt like he was gazing right through you and into your soul as your eyes had met, and given the fact that you were still butt-hurt over what he had said to you yesterday, you refused to look at him too long…you’d only admire his beauty, either way. He wore a fuzzy yellow and pink sweater today, his brown dress pants looking way too thin for this weather, but the guy didn’t seem to mind. His nails stood out with their unique design, and he wore fewer rings today but more earrings than yesterday.

“Hey, yesterday…what I said at the bar, I didn’t mean to berate you.” The guy gulped, his eyebrows furrowing as you looked back at him, slightly taken aback to see such sincerity on his face. You’ve never met someone so easily readable before, “My intention wasn’t to hurt you, I was smoked out too so I was just running my mouth, I do that when I’m high, sorry…”

A beat of silence passed as the two of you shared an apprehensive look, making you bite your bottom lip. You cleared your throat and at last averted your eyes, kicking a few pebbles towards the guy without meaning to, “Right, I shouldn’t have cursed you out either…I’m sorry too, I guess.”

The guy hummed, a smile slowly appearing on his lips before he took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes boring into yours again, “I’m glad the pretty barista doesn’t hate my guts anymore.”

You have no idea what took over you, but your cheeks were suddenly flushing as if you had been noticed by your crush for the first time, your skin prickling. You weren’t one to care about the compliments your clients gave since most of them were only trying to get in your pants, but this guy seemed to be genuine. He didn’t try to hit on you, he was just calling you pretty, and it was getting to you. You hummed and turned towards the door, hand reaching out for the knob when suddenly the guy spoke again, “Humans are easily susceptible, you know? We judge without knowing first, and we rarely apologise and recognise our mistakes. I hate people like that, rude people for no reason too. I don’t stand for all that bullshit, so I’m glad you told me to fuck myself instead of smiling at me like you do with all the other assholes. I appreciate your hard work, we all have to make due somehow and you aren’t less for working in this pub, pretty barista.”

There he was again, making your chest feel heavy as you huffed, a sarcastic smile pulling at your lips. Once again, what did he know about you? Maybe you loved this damned job, maybe being a barista in a shitty pub has been your lifelong dream. You almost scoffed at yourself, eyes narrowing as the guy took more drags of his joint, seemingly waiting for an answer that you didn’t exactly want to give. But you didn’t want him to have the last word, much like yesterday, so you plastered on a sarcastic smirk, “There you go again, blabbering your mouth when you’re smoked out.”

You didn’t expect the guy to start laughing loudly, his head falling back as it landed against the wall, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You didn’t mean to gape, but he was beautiful and painfully honest, it was refreshing in a world full of fakeness. He was an intriguing person, and you would’ve allowed yourself to become interested in him if only you had met in a different setting. With a hum and lingering eyes, you pushed the door open as the guy nodded at you in goodbye once he realised you were leaving for good. And with a faster beating heart, you willed yourself to focus on the few hours that you still had of your shift.

            It’s been quite a while since you had the chance to wake up at the crack of dawn without feeling tired, or without having to rush in for an early shift. Through hard work, you had earned these two days of break, and while you wished you had been given a full week, you made sure to utilise these two days wisely. You had always been an early bird, wishing to wake with the sun, opening your windows to hear the song of the birds, but it was too cold for them to hunker down in front of your window today. You didn’t mind, you’d take a stroll after your breakfast and check out the new art store that’s opened not too far from your apartment. You’ve heard great things about it, the prices seemed to be reasonable, and it had an adjoint bookstore and a coffee shop as well. A quick check on the internet showed you just how cozy it was, so you thought you could buy a book from your to read list and settle down in the coffee shop. It sounded like a great plan to destress and forget for a bit about work and all the idiots that kept you up at night, quite literally.

Your scarf was thick as you buried your nose into it, trying to keep it warm from the cold chill of the early morning. The city was awake with you, orange sun rising on the horizon and blinding you as you were walking towards it, you couldn’t help but smile. It warmed your cheeks and body, feeling the sun on your skin during cold season always felt like a blessing, you would always relish in it as much as you could because you knew it wouldn’t last for long. You exhaled as your eyes remained squinted, watching the people around you as you walked towards your destination. Kids were rushing to school, parents by their sides guiding them, and traffic was as crazy as ever, impatient drivers honking and disturbing the little peace everyone had. You paid it no mind and felt thankful that you were able to wake up so early instead of just going to bed, all tired and wishing for your boss to fire you. But if he did fire you, you would be in trouble, so you didn’t actually wish for that to happen. And suddenly as you turned the corner, the guy’s words from the bar managed to ring through your ears once again. Working at the pub was just as much of an honest job as it would’ve been working anywhere else.

You sighed, realising you were thinking about him again. You’ve been doing this a lot lately, letting your mind wander to his peculiar fashion sense and even more peculiar way of thinking. He seemed almost raw with his words and thoughts, unafraid to say them to your face. It was refreshing and intriguing, but you couldn’t let yourself be sidetracked right now. You had a purpose, and that was working until you had enough money to move away. If somehow a guy came into the picture right now, you felt like that would mess up all your plans and vision of the future. Under no circumstance would you stay here, but you knew your heart would betray you and try to keep you here for longer, with your lover. You didn’t even want to think of the guy as a potential love interest, you didn’t even know each other, so you shoved these thoughts to the back of your mind as you reached the art store, eyes widening at its exterior.

You haven’t seen anything quite like it before, the windows reached from ceiling to floor, a clear view of what was going on inside. There was a spiral staircase that led to the higher level which was littered with bookcases and low hanging retro chandeliers, bean bags spaced out on the floor as people sat around with books in their hands. To the right was the coffee shop with a separate entrance if you were only here for coffee, but you could also enter through the art store. And the art store was gorgeous as you made your way inside, the double doors opening easily. A sweet scent hit your nostrils as you walked further inside, your eyes wide as you took in the whole place. Paintings were hung on the walls, blank canvas placed underneath as many shelves housed all kinds of art supplies. The clerks were all smiley and they welcomed you warmly once they noticed your arrival. Maybe you could find a nicer workplace, something like this one. The workload seemed less strenuous and the people that came here to shop were less rowdy and rude. As much as you loved admiring the fine arts, you didn’t have the talent for drawing or painting, you could mess up even something as simple as a cloud. It was embarrassing, but arts have never been your forte, so you headed for the staircase to look for the book you had on your mind.

Navigating around the many shelves seemed a bit intimidating at first, but then you noticed they were sectioned on different genres, the tags hanging low from the ceiling with an arrow pointing towards the section to help you out. You smiled to yourself as you unrolled your scarf from around your neck, the warmth of the store helping your frozen fingers as you turned down a corner, two tall bookshelves on your sides. At the end of the row sat a younger girl with a manga in her hand, another one pressed to her lips as she seemed to be giggling. You felt yourself smile as you came near her, looking at the titles of the books. Asking for a clerk to help you find the book you were looking for would’ve helped enormously, but you found yourself wanting to stroll around in the warmth, fingers grazing the spines of the books. The girl giggled just a bit louder and blushed when you glanced her way. This wasn’t a library, so she wasn’t disturbing anyone, but she was still mindful of those around her. You turned the corner once again, finding the High Fantasy section, having made your research beforehand, you knew you were in the right place. It took a bit more cruising down the row to finally find the book you were looking for, and you grinned when you found it, taking it off the shelf.

You thought about strolling around the store more just to discover it further, maybe they had cheap trinkets you could buy. You even thought about paying a visit the coffee shop as well, maybe they had one of your favourite patisserie delicacies. You wouldn’t turn down something sweet right now, you didn’t have a sweet tooth necessarily, but there were days when your cravings got the better of you. With that in mind, you headed back the way you had come, sneaking another glance at the younger girl as she gasped, manga now clutched tightly in both of her hands. You chuckled before you rounded the corner, now back on the main aisle that led to the spiral staircase. You noticed that most people who were inside the store looked to be college students, their outfits mismatched colours and patterns, hair coloured something vibrant as most of them had piercings you never even thought possible before. You really liked their style and found yourself staring at them, blushing when a girl caught you and raised an eyebrow before she smiled. You nodded your head and hurried down the stairs, flustered and a little embarrassed. They oddly reminded you of the guy from the bar, you thought he’d somehow fit right in with the people inside the store. It looked something he’d enjoy, not that you knew anything about him besides that he smoked weed, wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, and had a nice sense of fashion.

You were looking at the hard cover of your book as you got to the base of the staircase, taken by the pretty illustration and completely unaware that someone was headed straight towards you, just as taken by items in his hands as you were by your book. The collision could’ve been avoided if you both had been paying attention to where you were going, but alas, you gasped loudly as you felt a hard body collide into yours, items spilling loudly onto the floor. Your head shoot up, eyes wide as you looked at the equally startled man and—wait, it was the same guy from the bar! You gulped, suddenly feeling nervous as your cheeks burned, but the guy hadn’t noticed you yet as he had crouched down to collect his items off the floor. You felt bad and hoped the expensive palette on the ground hadn’t been broken, so you crouched down too and reached for it to inspect it. The guy still hadn’t quite noticed that it was you out of all people, but as you reached for the same brush, his head raised sharply. Your smile was apologetic as the guy’s eyes widened, recognition flashing on his face. This was the third time you met this week, the sheer coincidence of meeting outside the pub was a bit jarring…especially since you’ve been just thinking about him.

“Pretty barista from the pub!” He motioned towards you then chuckled, letting you pick up the brush. Your book was placed on the ground next to you so your hands were free to help.

“Hi,” Your voice came out a lot shier than you had intended it to be, and you chewed on your bottom lip awkwardly, “Sorry about this, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Don’t worry,” The guy chuckled, scooping up the small canvases, “I wasn’t either. If it makes you feel better, it was both of our faults.”

You hummed and grabbed the last item off the floor, standing at the same time as the guy. His arms were filled with his items, and you wondered if you handed over the four in your hands how he’d be able to carry everything. Despite the cold weather outside, he was underdressed. He wore a simple turtleneck with a brown knitted vest over it, long flowy plants and mismatched tennis shoes. As you both stepped aside from the staircase to make way for others, you cleared your throat and averted your eyes once you realised you were staring again. But you hadn’t seen him wearing glasses before, and with the curly strands falling over his forehead, he didn’t only look handsome but cute as well.

“What brings you here?” The guy made conversation as you tried to figure out how to hand him his items without making him drop them all again, “I say this without meaning to be rude, but you seem like the last person who’d be interested in art.”

You huffed, not bothered by his honesty, “While that statement is incorrect, I’m not here due to the art section of the store. I was looking for a book.”

“Right!” He exclaimed, glancing down at his own chest, “Oh, sorry, you can hand me those, I can carry them!”

“Are you sure?” You asked as he nodded enthusiastically, so you complied. You stepped closer to place the other four items in his arms, watching as he clinched the smaller canvas underneath his chin to keep it from falling. You would’ve laughed and offered to help until he got himself a bag or something, but the guy looked pretty content like this. Like it wasn’t his first time doing this…

“Are you collecting them?” The guy’s incomplete question left you raising a confused eyebrow at him, “Sorry, I saw you’re buying The Hobbit. It’s a pretty famous reprint, the covers are gorgeous, my best friend is collecting them so I assumed you are too.”

You glanced down at the book in your hand and bit your bottom lip, trying to brush off your embarrassment. Why were you feeling like this all of a sudden? It made no sense, but you didn’t want to leave a bad impression on the guy…even though his perception of you might already be fucked since this wasn’t your first time meeting.

“I’ve, uh, so, uhm, I have a to read list for books I’ve never read while growing up, so now I have a little tradition that I buy a book from the list each month and read it.” You spoke quickly, avoiding eye contact as the guy listened to your ramble. His intake of breath was sharp and you chanced a glance at his face, finding his eyes wide and his mouth rounded.

“Wait. Are you saying you haven’t read The Hobbit before?!” He sounded incredulous and alarmed, and your cheeks grew hot once again, actually managing to sour your mood a bit. Not having read the book didn’t make you less by any means, but you had a feeling this guy was well-versed in literature, so it felt like a jab and even a subtle scrutinising.

“Yeah, not everyone likes reading while growing up…” Your tone grew cold and voice snappish as you continued to avoid eye contact, looking towards the front desk so that maybe the guy would get the hint that you were done with this conversation. But it didn’t actually surprise you that he continued speaking without noticing you didn’t want to keep conversing anymore.

“That’s totally cool, my brother hated comic books growing up and now he’s obsessed with them.” The guy chuckled, expression innocent and tone genuinely excited, “I think you’ll love the book, it’s filled with adventure and otherworldly creatures. It’s a nice step back from our grim reality, I feel like you need that right now.”

Okay, there he was assuming again that he could just…psychoanalyse you or whatever, “Can you stop doing that? I’m not a painting you can interpret to your liking.”

The guy blinked, face going blank before his cheeks flushed, his gaze averted now from yours, “I…have I been doing it all this time?”

“Ever since we’ve met.” Your answer was sharp and quick and the guy blushed even more.

“Oh, sorry, I just…I’ll stop doing that,” Then he smiled awkwardly and held eye contact with you, “I’m Hongjoong, by the way, I don’t remember introducing myself.”

Because he hadn’t. You repeated his name in your head, finding yourself liking the sound of it, it seemed like a fitting name for him. You hummed, extending your hand.

“I’m Y/N.” But you and Hongjoong glanced down at your extended hand and then his occupied ones at the same time, chuckles leaving your mouths as he seemed flustered.

“I’m shake your hand the next time we see other.”

“If there will be a next time.”

“I quite like the pub you work at, pretty barista.” You cleared your throat and avoided looking at him because as corny as it was, it kind of made your heart flutter. What was happening? The chiming of the doorbell reminded you that it was time you left and took care of other errands you had in your schedule, but before you could say goodbye to Hongjoong, he asked a question that took you off guard, “Wanna grab a cup of coffee with me?”

Then he turned sideways, nodding towards the adjoined café, and you hesitated for a second. You could actually slip in a little time to have coffee with him, but you felt reluctant. You had met him at the pub, after all, and you still couldn’t decide what type of person he was. Of course, he was handsome, and so far, has showed a good character, but there were little moments when he somehow managed to ruin everything with his words. And he was still a complete stranger, so, listening to your rational mind, you slowly shook your head.

“I don’t like coffee, but thanks!” Your smile was easy, Hongjoong’s face morphed into something knowing as he hummed with a nod.

“Sure, I’m glad I caught you here.” Then, as you were about to take off, he added, “The pretty barista now has a name, I can say my morning was successful.”

You tried to huff and look irked, but the blush betrayed you. You just shook your head before heading for the front desk, “Goodbye, Hongjoong.”

“See ya!” His smile was radiant as he turned around and headed for the café instead, and you realised he was underdressed because he had come from the coffee shop, his things already there. And with Hongjoong on your mind, you followed his distinctive walk as he sauntered over to his table with an elegancy yet swagger you hadn’t seen before.

            Now, a week ago you probably would have said no to a preposition that involved you following home a complete stranger whose name you had known for a maximum of four days, but tonight had been literal shit and you were on the verge of tears when Hongjoong had sauntered over to the bar, his Chesire like smile blinding. You had one more hour left of your shift and you’d be clocking out, not even staying behind to help Hani clean up. Your cramps were terrible and a guy who hit on you for the whole night had spilt his drink on your favourite blouse, calling you a bitch as well for shunning him away, so, when you saw Hongjoong approach the bar with mischief in his eyes, you were ready to scream at him and tell him to get lost. Except that you didn’t do all that because his question completely threw you off guard.

“Y/N, do you like art?” He had a rolled-up joint resting at his ear, his hair pulled to the side and clipped back with colourful hair clips. Your laugh that bubbled past your lips sounded incredulous and tired, but you nodded.

“I do, do you want something to drink?” Hongjoong shook his head, leaning across the bar despite it being wet from spilt alcohol.

“When does your shift end?”

“In an hour.”

“Wanna see some of my art?” Then Hongjoong grinned, looking proud of himself, “I’m a painter.”

Something came over you and didn’t even let you ponder over your decision, “Do you have weed?”

The answer was obvious as you glanced at the joint and Hongjoong laughed, tilting his head in a way that sharpened his features under the neon lights of the pub.

“Obviously, got some on me right now. Want some?” Not while you were working, afterwards, however, you were free to do whatever.

“After my shift, yeah.”

“Cool, I’ll meet you in the back. See ya.”

And that’s how you ended up at Hongjoong’s apartment, not even ten minutes away from the pub. Your feet ached and your cramps were so bad you felt like doubling over and emptying your already empty stomach, but you tried to hold yourself together in front of Hongjoong. There was a nervous flutter in your chest as you had followed him up the steel staircase, the building old and dodgy. However, the second you walked inside his studio apartment, it felt like you had entered a different realm. He was the true definition of an artist, you came to realise, with canvas strewn around the apartment, most finished but some blank, oil paint tainting the wooden floor and even the walls. The colours were neutral, beige with a slip of sage green here and there, the curtains sheer and pulled to the side as Hongjoong hurried over to the windows to push them open. There was an earthy smell in the air mixed with something sweet like vanilla, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the cosiness of Hongjoong’s studio. You recognised a few prints on the walls, they were the paintings of well-known painters who no longer lived, and the décor Hongjoong had used was rather vintage than modern. His huge wardrobe was open, and he pushed the door closed with little care as he picked up a hoodie off the floor. You were surprised he even owned one of those.

You flinched when it collided against your head, confused as to why he had thrown it at you. Hongjoong chuckled as he shrugged his coat off, trying to tidy his messy bed but quickly giving up when he realised you didn’t look like you cared. Truthfully, your apartment wasn’t in a better shape, the dishes in the sink had been there for three days and your bathroom was in dire need of a deep clean.

“We can’t smoke weed with closed windows, so it’ll get colder.” Hongjoong suddenly explained, shrugging on a cardigan that looked very soft, “Wear my hoodie, it’ll keep you warm.”

You hummed, glancing down at it before you stepped out of your shoes, shrugging your jacket off and wearing the hoodie. Its scent was sweet but potent with something musky, and you blushed as your nose buried into its fabric, drinking in its soft material.

“Make yourself feel at home!” Hongjoong grinned, walking over to the small kitchen section to grab two cups, “Do you want tea?”

You shook your head as you walked towards the small bean bag, pushing it with your leg to try and get it more gathered together. And then, just as you were about to sink into the chair, you heard a faint sound come from the kitchen. You turned your head and were met with a small black creature blinking at you in wonder.

“You have a cat?” You asked in surprise, staring back at the little pet. Hongjoong chuckled, looking down at his pet as the electric kettle started whistling.

“Is it so surprising? I found him near a dumpster a few years ago, he’s been by my side ever since.” You couldn’t help but gaze at Hongjoong with admiration as he spoke, pouring hot water into his cup for the tea, “His name is Woo ‘cuz he reminds me of my friend. They are both rascals and really loud.”

As if on cue, the cat meowed loudly and you chuckled, finally easing yourself into the bean bag. Your lower back protested and your spine cracked as you allowed yourself to lean back, arching your back. You could’ve cried at the relief, thankful to finally be off your feet. You couldn’t wait for the weed, it would dull your cramps and help you ease up after the day you’ve had. You were probably in dire need of a shower since you smelled like alcohol, but you didn’t feel comfortable showering at a guy’s place you barely knew. Which, now that you thought more about it, realisation started setting in. You weren’t too smart for following Hongjoong home, but he had never creeped you out, so you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt tonight. You stared at the cat as Hongjoong mixed honey into his berry-flavoured tea, the warm mist hogging up his glasses. The cat, still at Hongjoong’s side, stared back at you and then slowly walked towards you, its head tilted in wonder. You smiled at it and let it smell your fingers, taking you off guard when it unceremoniously climbed into your lap, starting to make biscuits against your lower abdomen.

“Ah, of course, you’re already in the lap of the pretty barista.” Hongjoong mused with an amused smile on his lips, “You take after Wooyoung more than one would think.”

You had no idea who this Wooyoung guy was, but it sounded like he was a flirt if Hongjoong wasn’t bluffing.

“I like your apartment,” You blurted out as you started petting the cat, smiling down at it when it started purring, “It’s got character, much like you.”

“That’s the first time you said something completely honest to me.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at Hongjoong, the joint from his ear now gone as he grabbed some matches to light it up. You didn’t think that was true, but you didn’t say anything as Hongjoong came nearer, sitting down on the floor across from you. You looked at him as he took a long whiff of his joint, then extended his arm for you to take the weed. It’s been quite a while since you smoked any, you knew it would hit you faster, but you hoped it wasn’t too strong or you’d become sick. You took a careful drag of it as Woo settled into a slumber in your lap, and the earthy taste of it made you grimace. But you kept the smoke in your lungs for a bit before exhaling, taking another drag as Hongjoong watched you with a lazy smile. He looked so…handsome. You’ve had a few days to yourself to think about Hongjoong after your encounter in the art store, and you realised you were attracted to him. It was mostly physical since you liked his looks, but his brutally honest character also had you intrigued even if you’d get offended at times by what he was saying.

“I find it hilarious that you decided to come home with me after you declined to have coffee.” Your eyes met Hongjoong’s quickly just as you were about to hand over the joint, “Do you really don’t drink coffee? Or did you just want to get rid of me that day?”

“I…” You licked your lips as Hongjoong took the joint from you, grinning as he took a long drag once again, “Both, actually. I just…I don’t know you well enough and we’ve also met at the pub, I don’t like meddling with clients. Those frat boys are horny and only want to sleep with me.”

“Good thing I’m not a frat boy then, right, Woo?” Hongjoong grinned and ruffled the slumbering cat’s fur, looking back at you with an understanding look, “I’ll be done with my master’s degree in just a few months.”

You hummed, picking at the sleeve of Hongjoong’s hoodie before you saw the joint handed to you again, “And after that? What do you plan on doing?”

Suddenly, Hongjoong had a pensive look on his face as he leaned back on his arms, staring up at the ceiling. You took shorter drags of the joint now but kept the smoke in your lungs until it started burning.

“I want to travel the world, visit art galleries and drink a lot of expensive wine.” That didn’t sound bad at all, Hongjoong continued before you could tell him, “It’s hard breaking into the industry as a painter even though some realtors have already approached me to buy my paintings and put them on display.”

“And? What did you say to them?” You felt genuinely curious, the cat sighed loudly in your lap and Hongjoong looked at you two, reaching out for the joint. Your fingertips brushed together and Hongjoong’s hands felt too cold, but you didn’t comment on it.

“I turned them down,” Hongjoong smiled, but it looked almost sad before he shrugged, taking a drag, “I don’t want just anyone owning my creations. I want someone who understands what’s on that canvas to contact me, I want someone who genuinely loves art and isn’t just doing it for the money. It’s hard to find people like that nowadays, but I’m willing to wait as long as it takes…even if that makes me broke.”

Hongjoong scoffed out a chuckle, sounding bitter by the end of his sentence. For someone who was so good at reading others and commenting on their lives, Hongjoong seemed to be having his own demons he had to fight. You hummed, closing your eyes for a second as you felt your muscles ease up, your cramps less torturous. You were glad the weed was slowly kicking in, your cramps would’ve had you crying if not.

“So how do you plan on travelling if you have no money?” Maybe the question was insensitive, but you were curious. Hongjoong didn’t take offence as he smiled, looking at you with sparkling eyes.

“There are art courses all around the world, I might sign up for one and leave, never look back…”

“Do you hate it here?” The question tumbled past your lips before you could stop yourself, “Because I don’t.”

Hongjoong didn’t look surprised as he nodded, handing back the joint so you could finish it. Three drags and it would be gone, so you took your time savouring it.

“It’s not the worst, but I don’t see much of a future for myself here.” So, Hongjoong was just like you then, “When are you leaving?”

“How did you know?” You sounded shocked as Hongjoong shrugged, averting his eyes.

“You and I are rather similar, you just fail to see it, Y/N.” Well, maybe he was right, maybe he wasn’t. You couldn’t read Hongjoong as well as he could read you, you needed more time to feel out his character.

“Six months and I’m out of here, never to come back if life’s kind to me.” Your voice was quiet as you didn’t look at Hongjoong, smoke wafting through your lips as you finished the joint. Hongjoong hummed, a low and warm sound, as he reached for the stud to take it from you. Your fingers brushed together once again, and you looked at Hongjoong when he held your wrist.

“You’re stronger than you think, you’ll make it big out there, Y/N, have more faith in yourself.” You found yourself smiling now, head a little hazy as you nodded, finding it easier to believe whatever Hongjoong told you.

“You’re the artist between the two of us, you’re the one supposed to make it big.” Hongjoong chuckled and stood, headed for the kitchen.

“Can’t we both make it big?” He raised an eyebrow as he threw the stud away, turning around to face you. You hummed, not entirely agreeing with him, but you decided to nod. Then, Hongjoong turned towards where his bed was and grinned, “You’re here to see some art, no?”

“Right, I almost forgot about that.” Hongjoong chuckled, then beckoned you over. You grabbed the cat in your lap and pressed a kiss against its small head, placing it on the bean bag in your spot. Your feet felt light as you headed towards Hongjoong, who had sauntered over to the desk pressed up against the wall underneath the open windows. He turned the small lamp on, and suddenly you were looking at small canvases filled with colour and abstract shapes. Somehow they looked like an organised mess, even in the overflowing swirl of colours, you managed to find a pattern that seemed to never end like a loop. You turned your head to look at Hongjoong, and suddenly you realised his art was a perfect reflection of who he was.

“I can tell you made these.” Perhaps phrasing it like that was offensive, but Hongjoong only looked curious. He hummed, raising an eyebrow.

“How come?” His voice was quiet, curious.

“I can see you in these.” You pointed at the canvas with orange and yellow as the more prominent colours, circling a deep blue that looked almost black, “The blue is you at your core, dark and perhaps scared of the world. And then all that orange and yellow? I think that’s how you see the world, how you wish it treated you, hoping it would lighten all that darkness that looms over you all the time. And this one? I wonder if it was a coincidence you hid so many infinity symbols in the background, this burgundy is gorgeous, by the way. I think everyone is afraid of disappearing without leaving a trace of themselves in this fucked up world, and I actually…I admire you for being so honest and straightforward, very few people are like you.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrows were furrowed the longer you spoke, but he remained silent as you smiled, looking down at the white canvas, unfinished but with light blue swirls creating the illusion of a clear sky, “I wonder what this will turn into. So far, it reminds me of serenity, of the calm before a storm. Life’s like that too, don’t you think? It’s quiet and gentle, and then it turns into a scary thing that can destroy us if we let it.”

Hongjoong just gulped, his eyes clouded but his heart racing. He was positive no one had been able to interpret his art for what it was before, and he wondered how much of him you could see through his eyes if you could read so well what the trail of his brush had left on a blank canvas. It made him feel seen like never before, not even his biggest supporter, Wooyoung, could see beyond Hongjoong’s intentions when he sat down to paint, to tell the world his pain and rage, yearning for someone to just finally see him.

“You’re…” Hongjoong gulped, his throat feeling dry as you smiled at him, curious if you’d been right, “You are a person I should cherish more from now on.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, your heart skipping a beat once again. What did he mean by saying that? You wanted to ask, but Hongjoong stepped closer, his tone breathy as he spoke up again, “‘Whoever wants to know something about me – as an artist which alone is significant – they should look attentively at my pictures and there seek to recognize what I am and what I want’…that’s what Gustav Klimt once said. And so far, you are the only person who’s managed to do that.”

Your mouth gaped open, and you both heard Woo stretch and meow loudly, his soft footsteps loud as he walked towards Hongjoong’s bed, jumping up and finding a new spot to sleep. You didn’t know what to say back to that, but you felt your heart race as your cheeks flushed, shy all of a sudden. Hongjoong was looking at you with a softness no man has looked at you with, it was a bit hard to take it all in without freaking yourself out that this wasn’t real, that it was just the weed, or that maybe Hongjoong wasn’t as genuine as his expression showed.

“Y/N,” You didn’t flinch when his hand wrapped around your wrist, his tone still soft, “I think you already know that I find you pretty, and I…I might have gone to that dingy pub for so long just to see you, actually.”

Those words had your heart racing even wilder as you looked up, finding Hongjoong’s face closer to yours as his eyes now bore into yours, “I should’ve been more specific when I asked you to have coffee with me. I meant to ask you out on a date, but I panicked because I knew I had slightly upset you, but…”

He gulped nervously and you felt so curious to hear what more he had to say, perhaps a smile would encourage him, so that’s what you did, offered him a small friendly smile. He released a breath and cleared his throat, his hand slipping from your wrist to your hand, “Can I kiss you?”

If this was anyone else but Hongjoong, your answer would have been an instant no. But the longer you looked into his eyes, the more excited and giddy you felt, so you just nodded your head and licked your lips, trying to ignore the deep flush of your cheeks. Hongjoong chuckled, suddenly looking shy, but he started leaning in, his eyes fluttering closed just as your lips met. It was careful, it was sweet and it made your heart roar as you stepped just a bit closer, your noses brushing together as your lips moved slowly and carefully, mostly just testing out the waters. Hongjoong’s lips were soft and sweet, and surprisingly didn’t taste like weed but like peaches. You wondered if he used any sort of lip balm to have them taste like that. His hand settled on your cheek and he gently caressed your cheekbone with his thumb, making your heart roar once again. It’s been long since someone had treated you with such gentleness, and you told yourself to remain level-headed, but it would be just so easy to fall in love with Hongjoong. You couldn’t help but smile as you two pulled apart, Hongjoong tried to hide his own grin as he sucked his lips together, but his eyes gave him away. You chuckled and he giggled, and suddenly you felt the urge to pull him into a hug.

“So,” He cleared his throat as he let his arms rest around your torso loosely, “If you don’t like coffee, what do you like?”

“Delicious cakes.” You didn’t hesitate to answer and Hongjoong chuckled, patting your head.

“Well then, would you like to go on a delicious cake-hunting date with me?” You closed your eyes to contain your excitement, but the weed had not only eased your muscles but your always worrying mind as well.

“Yes!” You didn’t mean to squeal, but it was hard not to when Hongjoong startled giggling sweetly once again, nodding his head.

“Good, I’ll make sure we find the best spots in the city then.”

And perhaps not just in the city, but also in foreign countries while you attended Hongjoong’s art expositions, an expensive bottle of wine waiting for the two of you back at the hotel.

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[toraleistripe]

Had an interesting conversation with my VOA case worker today.

First, a little backstory. This is gonna be long, so brace yourselves if you actually bother to read this. And if you do, well, thanks. I just needed to vent about this and if you read this post, I appreciate you 💜

So I'm just putting it out there: I'm unemployed. I've never been employed, not ever in my whole life. Trying to find a job has been a real struggle for me for years now. I'm enrolled in Vocational Rehab, which is supposed to help me find employment, but they've honestly been no help at all. Not. At. ALL. I do everything I'm told to do, I go where I'm told to go, meet up with who I'm supposed to meet up with, I sign every document I'm told to sign, I jump through every single hoop they've ever placed in front of me and nothing ever gets done. I'm currently on my third job coach, who I haven't heard from since May, I emailed my VR (Vocational Rehab) case worker last week, still haven't heard back from her. Found out she's going to be out of the office until next Tuesday, so that's more waiting around before I can try to contact her AGAIN. I'm going to call her this time though, maybe I'll actually get to talk to her if I do that.

Anyway, I recently got accepted into Volunteers of America, who will also be able to hopefully help me find a job. I've met my VOA case worker, Leanne, a few times now and I really get along well with her, she's easy to talk to and seems to genuinely give a shit, y'know. So today we were talking about possible jobs I might be good for and I can't recall exactly what was said, but at some point, Leanne said, "Well I know what your dream job is-", and I cut her off real quick, saying that it's never going to happen and that I need to just give it up.

Keep in mind that my mom was also in the room with us at this time and my stomach dropped as soon as Leanne brought up my dream job. What is my dream job exactly? I want to be an actress. I want to be an actress more than anything else in this world. I've wanted to get into acting ever since I was a little kid, it's always been my #1 passion. I was part of an acting group when I was little, I absolutely LOVED it. Becoming an actress has always been something I've wanted very badly. And my mom's thoughts on the subject? She's not supportive of it at all, not one bit. Every time it's brought up, she just tells me I need to be "realistic" and once she literally said it would be "impossible" for me to become an actress. So yeah, it really crushes me that my own mother isn't supportive of my biggest dream, my #1 goal I've had for nearly my entire life.

So when the subject was brought up again today, I couldn't hold back and I burst into tears, I was practically sobbing in front of Leanne and my mom. My mom once again used her infamous "be realistic" quote, and I told her she's right, through heavy tears. And I could tell by her tone of voice that Leanne was bothered by my reaction, which really embarrassed me because I certainly didn't want her to feel bad, it's just a ME problem that I struggle to deal with and any time I'm heavily upset about something, I just cry, it's like an automatic response. I cry about shit all the time. Honestly, assume something's more wrong than usual if I'm NOT crying over something.

And here's where we get to the interesting thing she said. She said, "You know what I think is going on here. I think you're grieving. You're going through a sort of grieving process".

And that really struck a chord with me, I haven't stopped thinking about it since she said it. I asked my mom later if that made any sense to her and she said it did. And it makes sense to me too, I guess. I want to be an actress more than anything, I've never wanted anything more in my entire life. It's always been my #1 career goal. But it's not going to happen for me. It is NEVER going to happen for me, ever. It doesn't matter how much I want it, how much I yearn for it, I am never ever going to be an actress. And saying that hurts. It HURTS a LOT. Shit, I'm tearing up as I'm writing this, my throat feels tight, this really affects me deeply. And maybe Leanne's right, in a sort of way, I AM grieving. I'm mourning something I want so much, but will never have. And admitting that it's not going to happen really tears me up inside, it just really eats away at me. But at the same time, I have to get over it and move on.

I am never EVER going to be an actress. Never. And that's just something I have to live with and move on from, somehow.

[songmingisthighs]

MY BULLETS GO STRAIGHT THROUGH BITCH

i'll tell you who kyle is, kyle's an ass sucker. he needs to reveal himself right away so ik if to like him or not >:( but imagine if kyle was like.....irene from red velvet or just someone we'd never guess🧍‍♂️but thanks lovely💜

okay that's great then hun <33 i'm hoping with you <3

i always take notice, i just don't say because giving praise makes me feel weird, but i notice and appreciate all the effort you put into your series and how hard you try to give us a chapter each day. you're doing such a good job <3

YES IT IS THO?!?!?!?!? you're so cool😭

AND THEY ARE TITS OKAY😭😭 and you're lucky i don't want to hurt your feelings smt >:(

bruhh and you're cute too😭😭 tf. atp i don't think you're real🤨LIKE KYKE!!! IS KYLE A GHOST?!!?!?!?!??!

> 🥚

HA STRAIGHT WHERE

pffftttt kyle could literally be anyone but if you pay close attention, you can actually tell who it actually is 👀👀

THANK YOU !! 🥺🥺 i mean i'm currently unemployed by choice bc i'm waiting for my acceptance letter for my master's degree and while i'm stressing A LOT about income and whether or not i should reveal my ko-fi page, i'm very happy dedicating most of my time to being smt :") but no pls i'm not cool, my friends and sister calls me a nerd all the damn time 😭😭

AND NO PLS I REFUSE TO ACKNOWLEDGE COW UDDERS AS TITTIES BECAUSE TITS ARE ATTACHED TO THE CHEST AND NOT THE ABDOMEN

but pls mayhaps kyle and i are just a figment of people's imagination 👀👀👀👀

[weebsinstash]

Hey sorry to pester you and feel free to ignore this if it's annoying or 12 billion people have already asked but how far percentage-wise are you in writing the new chapter for BOAL? Sorry if this is annoying 😭

Gosh dude I keep trying to answer this ask without making it hella long by adding all these unnecessary details about "oh I feel bad I haven't written in ages blah blah blah, been prescribed new meds that might be helping, something something I just had my surgery for my other leg so hopefully I'll get something written while I'm being a sloth and recovering" so on so forth

Basically I've been real ass unproductive, I keep having these not-sure-if-it's-mania-but-could-be-mania emotional upswings and downswings where I'm either making so many WIPs I don't know what to work on to just. not doing shit, and obviously that's just in terms of writing. I've been having other personal issues that I've touched on before in probably a little too much detail 😅

Anyways, imma be honest and say The Storm is like, maybe slightly over halfway done, with the next chapter being, gosh, mostly unwritten. There have been some tweaks and shit done just off the cuff along the way which is another reason I haven't been super proactive in writing just because I kinda worry im going to dig myself a hole of inconsistent writing and odd choices and having to change things to be consistent because I didn't fully think an earlier decision through or--- basically im massively overthinking it and kneecapping my potential with anxiety

But I've actually been thinking about the series and just writing in general a lot lately so. No promises but I hope to get SOMETHING worked on soon because I do really like writing 🥺 also like im unemployed right now which isn't great obviously but for my mental health it's been pretty good so... yeah! Hopefully I get something out eventually. I'm in a leg cast for at least 4 weeks so that's at least 4 weeks of me being able to take it easy and hopefully get some shit done

So yeah! These upcoming chapters are going to have a lot of emotion and action in them and I have to kind of find the balance to strike with that, which has been, uh, intimidating for me. But yeah! I just need to tell myself I'm writing as a hobby and it's not like I'm writing a college paper or an academic essay lr something and that I gotta stop always trying to like. I dunno. Try and make my stuff as "perfect" as possible

Also like sometimes the performances of being a content creator gets exhausting so I kind of needed a break from that for a few months. Obviously I know I don't have to and I'm not required or obligated or being forced but I feel guilty when I "can't provide for my following" and then that can develop into like, weird habits and mindsets of putting the pleasure of internet strangers above myself when I'm literally writing for my own enjoyment and really the point of publishing it is just so I can be told "oh this was fun to read, good job!" to get extra enjoyment out of what I've written

But yeah dude you're not being annoying! I think I needed a break from writing and publishing for a while and im trying to ease back into it at a comfortable pace so I don't get overwhelmed so... I guess stay tuned and hopefully something will happen soon 😌

[somewhatstacey]

i'm 29 and i've never had a real full-time job--just a bunch of part-time ones. i quit the last one about a year ago and have been unemployed ever since. interviewing is The Worst and i feel like i'll never be hired anywhere, let alone someplace i actually like and can feel excited about. right now i'm feeling pretty hopeless and questioning all my life decisions. thanks for listening and giving me a place to vent; you're a mensch.

Interviewing IS the worst. My interview for the hat store was a literal trash fire, I honestly don’t know how they hired me.

I think interviewing is a skill like anything else. You have to practice and practice and practice to get it right. But it can be really hard to put yourself out there at first, KNOWING it’s going to be rough. 

I will say that finding a job you like is a game-changer. Landing the hat store job gave me structure I sorely needed. It also gets me out of the house and socialising which is another thing I didn’t realise I needed until I had it regularly.

What I’m trying to say (very badly) is: don’t give up. If you can only handle a part-time position (like I can) that doesn’t mean you’re any less of a contributing member of society. It just means you work slightly differently to most - and that’s fine. 

The interviewing will be a fuck, but you’ll own it over time. 

And hey, if regular work just isn’t for you, that isn’t the end of the world either. When I was sick I kept busy with gig and freelance work. Everyone has passions and skills, you just need to figure out what yours are and run with it.

If you need to talk further, hit up my inbox or my chat. I’m always good to field a vent sesh <3

[mmecolbert]

I always agree with nearly all your brilliant analysis, but to me Rory NEVER took much agency or blame. She'd tell herself she did, but really starting as early as S2 she mostly sat back and let others protect her, let Lorelai, Paris and others be the bad guy, passively ignored her real feelings and let them come out in other ways, enjoyed opportunities tumbling into her lap without working too hard for them etc. You're right that it's worse in S6 but it's always a reason many fans resent her.

I agree with you that Rory is a passive person. I’d say that this is probably her worst quality and it often works to her detriment. The way that I see it, nature and nurture both contributed to her becoming so frustratingly unable and/or unwilling to take charge of her own life. Yes, Rory tends to be passive even as early as S1. She defers to Lorelai. She’s naturally far more amiable and introverted than Lorelai–she doesn’t like conflict or taking charge. 

But I disagree with you that we don’t see her exercise her agency or accept blame. When she runs off to NY to see Jess and then misses Lorelai’s graduation, she goes on a whole rant about punishing herself for what she did—Rory made a (bad) choice and literally blamed herself. When she and Jess got into the car crash, Rory did everything short of pleading for Lorelai and the people of SH to see that she was partly to blame. When she stole a boat with Logan, she openly said that it had been her idea, not Logan’s. When Lorelai’s house had termites and when Rory needed money to pay for Yale, she went to Emily and Richard to ask for help behind Lorelai’s back….those are just the times that jump out at me when Rory takes action and is open to accepting the consequences/blame. 

The problem, I think, is the nurture element. Besides being naturally passive and being surrounded by more assertive people who tend to take charge, Rory was also coddled by everyone around her. Even when Rory tried to exercise her agency or take blame, Lorelai, her grandparents, or the people of SH told her over and over again that she was perfect and shouldn’t be blamed for anything. Rory feels that she’s partly to blame for the car accident? Well, Lorelai is yelling to anyone who’ll listen that it was all Jess and everyone in SH is telling Rory that Jess is a punk and she’s the victim. Rory steals a boat and drags Logan as her accomplice? Doesn’t matter, because literally everyone (including GG fans) say that Logan was the bad influence that got her to do it. Rory sleeps with married Dean and for one moment has to face the consequences as Lindsey’s mother shames her in public? Lorelai is right there telling the woman to lay off Rory. 

Add to that the fact that everyone throughout Rory’s formative years is overly accommodating, with Lorelai making every decision for Rory as her mother, Emily and Richard paying for anything Rory asks for, and SH residents treating her like a princess…Rory didn’t exactly ever have any reason to fight for anything. She was offered every opportunity on a platter, sheltered from pain, told over and over that any bad incident in her life was the fault of someone else, that by the time that she became a full fledged adult, any trace of Rory’s fight in the face of adversity was gone. I don’t think that Rory sat back and let people do this necessarily…she was just surrounded by stronger personalities and was generally outnumbered when it came to following her instincts. 

She also has some insane luck—as you noted, opportunities often fell into he lap without having to work for them. The VP position at Chilton, Mitchum’s internship, the DAR job, wealthy relatives throwing money at her from every corner..all these things I think worked to kill Rory’s drive. The drive was there. She didn’t finish Chilton on top, get into a bunch of Ivy League schools, throw killer DAR events, etc. because she had no agency, fight, or strength. But I think there were too many more assertive personalities, too much luck, too many perfect-moment opportunities, too many people saying that Rory wasn’t to blame that ultimately moulded Rory into an intensely passive and entitled person. She had every right to accept those opportunities, it’s just the consequences of the opportunities falling into her lap over and over resulted in Rory learning to expect them.

And isn’t that the tragedy that we see in AYITL? Lorelai had to fight for everything. She had to be tough and assertive and make difficult decisions. Rory didn’t. Sure, she’s naturally not nearly as assertive as Lorelai, but more importantly, every moment in Rory’s upbringing contributed to her becoming a passive person because no one ever gave her the opportunity to fight. So as an adult, she’s equipped to do nothing but accept her fate passively. If no one chooses to hire her just cause, she’ll remain unemployed because she’s not equipped to fight for a position. Regardless of what she wants, she’ll probably leave it to Logan to decide what the future for the two of them will be. She’s writing a book because her ex-boyfriend suggested she do this. Like…all of it is so sad. 

I feel like that’s one of the main arguments that ASP tried to make on the show—that no matter how smart, promising, or talented you are, at some point you have to be thrown into the deep end of the pool and learn to swim. But everyone always kept Rory afloat, whether she wanted this or not. She had no opportunity to learn to swim and when she tried, Lorelai or Emily or whoever shoved a life jacket on her because they were over-invested in her success. It made Rory weaker and more entitled and less ready to take action than you’d think she should given all her potential. But I mean, I’m a pretty firm believer than it’s not all on her to have become more assertive, because I think even when she tried, her environment and upbringing pushed back. 

[thedreadvampy]

oh I realised that this whole thing only made sense even vaguely if you also follow me on Twitter. basically ppl were dunking on Wizard TERF Lady by saying 'she says she wrote the books while she was HOMELESS and POOR but she's a middle class lady and she was staying with her sister plus she could afford to drink TEA in a CAFE so this whole myth is stupid she's always been Rich and Privileged.'

and I was having a Poor Impulse Control day partly bc I have been writing stuff about this exact issue all month for work, so I foolishly waded in like 'ok but you know that's still homelessness right? like even if you're middle class and university educated if you leave an abusive partner and are forced to rely on someone else's hospitality while you get back on your feet THAT IS HOMELESSNESS, of a very commonly experienced type. I'm not defending the idea that she's a Very Special Survivor but I am saying mind ya damn shrapnel and stop debating other people's lived experiences'

anyway it spiralled out from there, including such hot takes as:

that can't be homelessness bc if that's homelessness loads of people have been homeless! I've been homeless! (yeah maybe? and? that's a systemic problem! but also whether or not it's homelessness kind of depends on whether you're staying with someone out of convenience or necessity)

she wasn't poor she has a DEGREE and WAS MIDDLE CLASS before she was homeless and on the dole (yes friends. sometimes. and this may be radical new knowledge. people's situations change.)

poor people can't afford to sit in cafés writing (I have to ask what you think unemployed people with no space to call their own do all day? Cafes are second only to libraries as a cheap way to be off the street and out of your temporary accommodation. even at a fancy cafe like the Elephant House a cup of tea every hour is like what, £2? you can stay there all day from 10-5 sitting in the warm in control of your own time for under £15 and if you've been homeless and unemployed you know how few cheap or free options of Places To Go there actually are. it's basically libraries, galleries/museums (where there's nowhere to sit for a long time and you're expected to be doing a specific thing), or cafés. pretty much everything else is expensive, limited-time, requires you to be doing a Specific Thing, or all three)

she wasn't even going to a cafe bc she was freezing to death on the streets, she just kept squabbling with her sister who she was staying with (this is a very long way to say you have not considered how grinding and distressing it is to be staying in someone else's house on their mercy while both of you get increasingly up each others' noses and you're very conscious that you have nowhere to go with your anger bc you're fully reliant on their hospitality.)

no single parent on the dole has time to write. if you have time to write that's proof that you aren't really desperate for a job. (this is when I finally saw red enough to give up and mute everyone like. call yourself a leftist and then literally just throw out there that you think the only reason an able-bodied single parent might not get a job is that they don't want it enough.)

and like for real I am not defending this woman. I don't consider it a defence, because I think 'I experienced a struggle' is absolutely no excuse whatsoever for bigotry or harm. we can absolutely say 'this person experienced rape, domestic violence and homelessness' without it also meaning '...and therefore they are beyond criticism and it's fine that they're at the heart of a genocidal hate movement'

but like what I AM saying is. whether it's targeted at someone you like or someone who is just objectively monstrous doesn't matter, because how you choose to approach these issues says a lot about your underlying beliefs. and your belief that the validity of someone's poverty, trauma or homelessness is up for debate in these specific terms is hurting more than just the person you're pointing it at.

ESPECIALLY. because while you (and at least the main person I was having this argument with was a cishet man which is significant imo) are aiming to support trans ppl and people of colour, these types of hidden homelessness are disproportionately likely to affect trans people and people of colour.

ESPECIALLY trans young people, first bc conventional homelessness services (hostels etc) are just catastrophically poorly set up for trans people in most places, and also because a lot of the reasons thrown around as to why this woman's experiences Aren't Real Homelessness - she's middle class, she had a supportive family member to stay with, she was coming from a comfortably well off life - is true of many homeless trans youth, because domestic abuse, familial rejection and relationship breakdown, which make up 80%+ of the reasons for trans youth homelessness, aren't unique to a specific class.

and if you're a young or disabled person who isn't financially independent of your parents/partner and has no capacity to save, yeah, a lot of people DO drop abruptly from middle class backgrounds to destitution and homelessness bc of a withdrawal of support. which again is especially likely to happen to LGBTQ+ youth coming out to parents, as well as to people, esp women, leaving abusive partners. 'you were middle class once so you can't be poor' is a pretty massive fuck you to people experiencing total destitution NOW.

anyway yeah like. I certainly don't think that being a middle class educated cis white able-bodied person staying with a supportive family member in a flat they own is The Worst Things Can Possibly Be. nor is it representative of the vast majority of homelessness, which tends to occur among people raised financially and socially marginalised, often struggling with addiction in their community, and vastly disproportionately among care leavers and people with past prison sentences, people who don't have people to turn to who have the financial and logistical resources to offer them a place to stay. in many ways Wizard Terf Lady was insulated from some very common experiences associated with homelessness bc of her background and physical health.

but like. an experience doesn't have to be The Worst It Can Possibly Be to be a) real b) traumatic and c) cause to be offered support (that last one isn't super relevant but it's implied)

we're all just trying to survive it's a toxic as fuck idea embedded in our culture that if it could, in any way, be worse, then you should be grateful it's not and stop making a fuss and also never speak of it. like and that's the silencing effect I've felt throughout my life about my own trauma, every time I want to speak about it I get tangled up in 'but I was lucky that I had a loving supportive parent who helped me survive and I was lucky I had someone to stay with and At Least My Ex Never Hit Me He Just Shoved Me And Screamed At Me It Could Be Worse.'

and this is why even though I think Wizard Terf Lady is, in and of herself, a shitty person who deserves criticism and does not deserve a platform or the hero status she often has, I think any criticism of her that makes absolutist statements about Valid Trauma or that reinforces these ideas that unless you can provide a suitably unambiguous and tragic tale of trauma you should just shut up about it should and must be open to criticism.

anyway that's the backstory on that little meltdown for those of you wise enough to not follow me on Twitter

I've calmed down about the hidden homelessness thing through muting Twitter and having a nice cleansing breakdown, but like. It's genuinely exhausting how many people want to treat pain as a zero sum game, where if you weren't suffering The Worst it's up for argument whether you suffered at all.

Also the absolute double standard of people who are very defensive about not victim blaming, believing survivors etc, until the person claiming trauma is a shit person, and then not only are they Obviously Lying Or Exaggerating, but so is everyone whose experience looks like theirs. It really is a transparently hollow approach to trauma informed behaviour.

look. people contain multitudes. The Wizard Terf Lady can be rich and have been homeless. People can have experienced misogynistic violence and be deeply misogynistic. People do things and believe things partly because of traumatic experiences, and that doesn't make them inherently ok and fine things to do and believe. You do not actually have to disprove someone's trauma to hold them accountable for their actions. And when you do it hurts other people a lot more than it hurts them.