#and we might go and get coffee/tea on Thursday

[charonean]

.

[georgeclarkewifey]

Inconvenience | g.clarke

Chapter 4: Tough Day

Summary: The boys try and help Noa with a new project

Word Count: 1.2k+

Warnings: swearing, George being a dick (again)

Roughly a week or so had passed since Noa moved into her new apartment, and her hopes that George would warm up to her hadn’t been achieved yet.

Even though she spent most evenings with the boys, he would still only talk to her if the others were there, and whenever he could he avoided her at all costs.

It was beginning to bother Noa. She couldn’t understand why he was acting this way towards her, and after thorough discussions with his other roommates, they confirmed that she hadn’t done or said anything to cause this behaviour.

Luckily, Arthur Hill and her got on like a house on fire, and being one of the better housemates at DIY, he aided in building most of her new furniture whenever he wasn’t recording a video or working on his new song.

“So when’s it coming out? I feel as if I can only listen to the same sound bite before I go crazy.” Noa said, glancing up from her laptop to look at Arthur, who was sitting on her kitchen counter.

“Should be done in a couple of weeks, just trying to iron out the wrinkles and sort the bridge out.” He replied, taking a long swig of tea out of the mug that she had leant him. “What are you working on? I feel as I can hear your brain whirring.”

Noa grumbled and massaged her temples. It was moments like these that she wished she had an influencer job, with complete creative freedom and a flexible schedule, instead of her gruelling 9-6. “Trying to find as many different types of ancient column design as possible. Well, not too ancient because the clients want their building to look modern enough.”

Arthur gave her a sympathetic look. “You really are bottom of the food chain in your firm aren’t you?”

“Yep. That’s what you get when you’re the new kid, all the tasks that no one else wants.”

“But at least you’re not having to make coffee and do paperwork right?” He asked hopefully.

Noa raised her eyebrows at him. “Why do you think I’m having to do this at home, and not in the office.”

“Ah.”

“Ah indeed.” She muttered, scrolling through another page of Grecian inspired pillars. “Honestly, sometimes rich people have too much money to spend. I mean, who needs a foyer with the three types of alternating pillars, that match the fountains? Do you know how expensive that is Arthur?”

He winced. “I’m guessing a lot.”

“Correct.”

“Noa!” Chris yelled, swinging the door open. “You, me, George and the two Arthurs and the club. Yes?”

“Chris, it’s a Thursday night.”

“Exactly! Thursday night, do you have anything better to do?”

Noa blinked at him. “Be up in the morning with ample amount of sleep ready for work?”

“God I forget you have a boring actual job.”

“Someone has to remind you guys there’s an actual world out there.” She muttered, typing quickly on her computer, eyes widening as her stomach let out a low growl.

Chris and Arthur slowly turned their heads to look at her. “Okay, new plan. Order takeout and watch a movie?”

“I could be up for that.” She said quietly, absentmindedly chewing on the end of her pen, before going to jot down some notes. “Just need to finish working.”

Chris’ eyebrows raised. “And when will that be?”

“Before the end of time.” Noa said. “Or at least I hope so. I’ve gotta figure out the best combination of these pillars and then I’ll be done.”

“And how many combinations are there?”

“Well there’s eight main types, but then there’s different patterns within those. I might have actually lost count.”

Chris moved so that he could peer over Noa’s shoulder, and winced at the number of tabs open she had on her computer, as well as the scribbles that adorned her notebook.

“Gonna be honest. I’ve got no clue at what looks good. But I believe in you Noa, if anyone could figure it out it’s you.” He said reassuringly, patting her head. “Right, Hill let’s order food, at this point in time Noa will probably eat whatever we put in front of her, so what are we feeling up for?”

arthurhill

liked by arthurtv, maxbalegde and 28,039 others

arthurhill everyone drop your favourite pillars and columns to help with Noa’s latest design

Comments open

fan1 everyone knows the correct answer is doric

⮑ fan2 booo temple of winds supremacy

maxbalegde scared and confused at this comment section

⮑ noamurphy they’re all just architecture nerds like me

arthurtv correct answer is ionic

⮑ noamurphy no it isn’t I promise

⮑ arthurtv one day you’ll see

⮑ noamurphy sure. also we’re getting take out if you wanna join

⮑ arthurtv I am running to the elevator

fan3 noa in the ikea vlog is everything 😫🤌🤌🤌

⮑ fan4 she is a divine queen

⮑ fan3 her and George in the bed 🤌🤌

⮑ fan4 nooo that was the most forced and uncomfortable thing I couldn’t with it-

gkbarry_ we stan a hardworking queen

⮑ noamurphy love you boo

⮑ gkbarry_ okay now girlie take a break

“Okay Noa, maybe take Grace’s advice and stop? Surely it would be better to rest up and then be able to finish it when you’re not exhausted?” Chris asked gently, reaching to slide the laptop away from her grip.

Noa glared at him and swatted his hands away. “No Christopher. No.”

Chris gave her a stern look, only looking away when the door slammed open again, revealing Arthur Television in his pyjama trousers and hoodie. “Food, when?”

“The one with the law degree decides to speak like a caveman.” Chris muttered, shaking his head, as a much calmer George walked through the door.

Walking into her apartment, George was hit with the realisation that he’d never been in Noa’s apartment before - she’d always been at theirs, or if Chris and Arthur where heading down he’d give the excuse that he was busy planning videos.

He was pleasantly surprised. Well, he didn’t exactly know what to expect, but it definitely wasn’t a light and airy apartment. Maybe he thought there would be neon lights everywhere, like the ones that adorned Chris’ room or stacks of books like Arthur.

The living room was cosy, and he recognised the two sofas that they had picked out in Ikea, as well as a plush rug, with a coffee table that matched the dining table and chairs. A couple of pictures adorned the walls, a simple beach watercolour as well as some cinematic shots of her playing football with Arthur and Chris.

His brow furrowed. Neither of them mentioned that she played, and since she’d arrived they had filmed a football video for Chris’ channel, but she didn’t take part. Surely if Noa was good enough to warrant her to have photos of her playing, then surely Chris would want that talent in his videos?

George cast his eyes to Noa, who was hunched over her laptop, still trying to finish the designs. Arthur TV sat next to her, and the pair were discussing which column designs worked the best together.

“Maybe that person was onto something bringing temple of winds into the conversation…what if you put them with some Doric pillars, then…” Arthur trailed off, stumped.

“You see? Finding two designs that go together is easy, but a third? A fucking third?” Noa sighed, resting her head on the keyboard.

“How rich are the clients, ie, what’s the budget?”

“Yeah, are they Ronaldo rich, or so rich that you’ve probably never heard of them?” Arthur Hill asked.

“The second one.” She muttered. “Which is why it has to be perfect, because they are paying us a lot.”

Noa sighed and pulled up the designs of the fountains that had been chosen. She studied them meticulously, trying to find a hint that could help her. Even though it was strenuous work, this was one of the reasons that loved designing buildings, once you found all the right pieces, it perfectly fell into place like a puzzle. It was incredibly satisfying, and seeing the final projects always made her heart swell with pride.

But this was really trying her patience. Why couldn’t she figure it out? It didn’t also help that she had a live audience watching her stress over it. “Do you know when the food’s getting here?”

“Should be about five minutes.”

“Thank god.”

“Oh never mind, the guys here.” Chris said, slipping his shoes on, that had been previously abandoned by the door. “Arthur can you help carry it?”

“Sure.” Both of them replied, following Chris out of the door, leaving George alone with Noa.

She was silently cursing the three that had just left, physically wishing all the curses and ailments upon them for leaving her with George. Who, was silently leaning against her kitchen counter.

George didn’t know what to do. Ever since the trip to Ikea he hadn’t been close to Noa again, not that he wanted to, but he wasn’t sure if he should mention it. Why should he? If she hadn’t mentioned it then surely she was fine, right?

Not that he even wanted to talk to her.

George couldn’t fully see into Noa’s room, most is it being blocked by the angle at which he was looking in, and from what he could tell, it was just like the rest of the apartment, except with more decorations. He wasn’t sure why, but he was curious about what was inside, how Noa had organised her bookcase, what perfumes she used, how she kept her jewellery, the way her plans laid out on her sketching desk.

And he didn’t know why.

As far as he was concerned he actively disliked Noa, and so he couldn’t fathom why a part of him was so interested in her, why he wanted to know the little details of her life.

Noa closed her eyes. She was genuinely considering giving up, but she knew she couldn’t. This had to be finished that evening so that it could be sent to her supervisor ready for the next morning. Pushing her chair back, she stood up and paced into her bedroom, unknown to her that George’s eyes followed her every step, hoping that one of her books would provide her with some inspiration.

But it wasn’t any of her architecture books that caught her eye. It was the battered copy of the third Percy Jackson book - it was her favourite of the series, and would read it religiously as a child. Partially, as a child it was her dream to become a Hunter of Artemis, and so she could read the book over and over again without tiring of it.

Somehow, this was the prompt she needed to let the puzzle pieces fall into place. “OH MY GOD!” She exclaimed, sprinting out of her room and skidding on the wooden floor to the table. Noa grinned whilst nearly destroying her keyboard at how quickly she was typing.

“FOOOOD!” Chris called, carrying the plastic bags and setting them down in front of Noa.

“Dude give me two minutes I’ve figured it out.”

“Really?” Arthur TV asked excitedly, pulling the chair next to her out, so he could see what she was working on. “Caryatids? Noa that’s genius! They match the f-“

“Fountains yeah, because they’ve got marble women carved into them, and so they’d match perfectly.”

“Have we ever said you’re a genius?” Chris asked, smiling proudly at her.

“Only when I do genius shit.”

[dragonnarrative-writes]

GhostGaz Week - friendly competition // an honest mistake

@ghostgazweek

Simon’s lips are firm, but startlingly gentle. The hand he has on Kyle’s jaw tips his head just so, and he barely stifles a groan as Simon’s tongue teases against his bottom lip. The rumble of contentment he lets out shakes Kyle down to his bones. Whatever sound pushes past his lips at that must be what Simon’s looking for, though, because he deepens the kiss to something filthy. It’s everything Kyle’s ever imagined and more.

He just wishes he knew why they were kissing.

“Wait, wait,” Kyle says, when Simon’s other hand drifts down. He chokes as Simon’s thumb swipes over the fly of his jeans. “Wait, Simon, what’s going on?”

“Kissin’ m’ boyfriend.” The words, between pecks against the edge of Kyle’s jaw, set off alarm bells.

“Your what?”

That makes Simon lean back to meet his eyes. He looks hungry. “Whatever you like, love.”

Kyle rewinds the evening in his head. Unfortunately, he’s lost. “Huh?”

“You don’t like the word, we can use another one,” Simon says, patiently. He tips Kyle’s face up some more. “Mm. Y’re pretty, you know that?”

“Since when are you interested in dating me?”

Kyle’s never seen genuine confusion on Simon’s face before. It’s fascinating. After a beat, Simon says, “Since… you keep touching me? And holding my hand? And stealing my drinks? And we went on a date?”

On a what? “I don’t follow.”

“Which part?”

“All of it. Start from the beginning.”

“You touch me, all the time. Hold my hand at the bar and color in my tattoos,” Simon breathes, with a kiss to his eyebrow. “Tickled at first, but it’s nice, now. You wasn’t letting me finish a drink without drinkin’ half of it. And then we went on a date last Thursday.”

A bolt of realization makes Kyle’s jaw drop. “The new Thai spot? That was a date?”

Something about that makes Simon untangle them and take two steps back before Kyle can even register there’s something wrong. And there is something wrong. The man’s shoulders jump up to his ears as his hands dive into the pockets of his jacket. He hasn’t looked so fucking uncomfortable around Kyle since they met at the shop, years ago.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He avoids Kyle’s eyes as he talks. “I just… I guess I read the signs wrong.”

“Hey, no.” It’s a relief when Simon let’s himself be reeled a step closer, but he still avoids looking at Kyle directly. “’M sorry, that’s my bad. Soap and I were betting on who could get away with annoying you longest.”

“Right,” Simon says, and it should be impossible for such a large man to look so small. “Not flirting. Sorry.”

Feeling like a complete heel, Kyle reaches into Simon’s pocket to wrap his fingers around his wrist. “No, hey, Simon, don’t run away from me. ‘M always flirting with you.”

“It’s fine. It’s friend flirting. I get it.”

“Stealing your beer might have been friend flirting,” Kyle admits. He takes deep breath and lets it out before adding, “But bringing you pasties in the morning is just regular flirting.”

Simon’s lips press together, and he looks at Kyle from the corner of his eye. “You bring everyone something.”

“I bring you and Cap tea since Johnny and I stop for coffee in the mornings,” Kyle corrects with a smirk, reeling Simon a half-step closer. “But you’re the only one who gets food. Don’t I get your favorite?”

Cautiously, Simon settles one shoulder on the wall next to Kyle. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t think you were interested in me.” Kyle shrugs, gestures vaguely at the space between them. “I just thought you liked people touching you, just as friends. You hug Cap and wrestle with Johnny all the time.”

“I don’t mind Cap and Johnny,” Simon confesses with a soft smile. His shoulders relax a bit, and he looks less like he’ll punch through the bottoms of his pockets. “But I like when you touch me. You have nice hands. And you smell nice.”

“You notice my cologne?” Kyle wraps his fingers in the strings of Simon’s hoodie and reels him back into his space. He smirks as he tips his face up again. “I was trying to find one you’d like.”

He watches Simon’s pupils dilate, just a little. “I always notice. You wore a new one to the Thai place. Liked it.”

Kyle presses a quick kiss to the divot in Simon’s chin. “I had a really nice time on Thursday.” He catches the corner of Simon’s lips with his own. “And I like holding your hand and drinking your beer.”

“You could drink less of my beer.”

Kyle grins. “Can I kiss my boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” Simon breathes. He sighs, slotting his lips against Kyle’s. “You could do that.”

[writeforfandoms]

Fall Into Me 11

Find the series masterlist

Rose has more support now than she knows what to do with. Rudy surprises her, in a very good way.

Warnings: Swearing, the guys do hover a bit, plotting and planning (the good kind), Gaz is a menace (affectionate).

Word count: 1.4k

Eventual Rose x 141 x Rodolfo x Alejandro poly

Rose wasn’t sure exactly why things had changed, but that Incident was the real start of the change. That entire week, either Gaz or Soap showed up in the morning and insisted on staying to help. Somehow, all of their numbers ended up in her phone. (She knew it was Gaz, even though she hadn’t seen him do it.) On Wednesday, Soap manned the front while Rose had an impromptu interview with a young man who’d walked in asking after the “help wanted” sign. 

Thursday had an entirely different kind of surprise. 

“You should have told me you were finally starting an Instagram for this place!” Kelly, one of her regulars who worked upstairs, gushed. “I’ve got some cute pics, I’ll tag the shop in them!”

“Uh.” Rose blinked at her, completely thrown. “Thanks?” 

Kelly just beamed at her, taking her coffee and leaving. 

Instagram page?

Rose turned slowly to look at Gaz, who was just coming out of the back. He didn’t even look abashed, just shrugging when she met his gaze. 

“Did you do this?”

“It’ll help business,” Gaz said with an easy shrug. “Besides, you’ve got such a cozy place here, it’s very photogenic.” 

Rose huffed. “Fine, do whatever you want, but don’t expect me to help. I’m terrible at social media.”

“I’ve got it handled.” Gaz grinned, dropping an easy arm over her shoulders. “Don’t you even wanna see the page, love?”

“Oh, alright. Go on, show off.” But Rose still smiled indulgently, leaning a little into his side. He was warm and she felt all too comfortable with him. 

Gaz squeezed her shoulders a little and used his free hand to show her the page for the coffee shop. It was very nice, she had to admit. He’d gotten some great pictures, including one of the empty store (and she wasn’t entirely sure how he’d managed that). 

“Wow. These are really good. Think you might’ve missed your calling as a photographer.” Rose flipped back to her favorite picture - a mug of tea next to a vase of flowers, warm morning sunshine spilling across the table. 

“Gonna make me blush, love.” But Gaz grinned at her, giving her another little squeeze. “I can send you this one if you want?” 

“Sure.” Rose hesitated then, licking her lips, glancing up at him. “Actually…”

“Yeah?” His gaze flitted to her before he navigated to his texts, already loading the picture to send to her. 

“Do you have a picture of all of you? All of your office, I mean.” Rose felt herself warm and hoped she wasn’t blushing much. “I’d love a group picture of you all.”

“I can get you one.” Gaz gave her one last squeeze before he let his arm drop. “You got any plans this weekend?”

Rose sighed, shrugging a little. “Thinking I might do half-days,” she admitted. “At least until I can hire a couple people and get them trained.” 

“A couple people?” Gaz looked interested. 

“Yeah. Be a good idea to have backup, and that will make it easier if I need to take an actual day off and not just weekends.” Rose shrugged again. It made sense to her. 

Gaz nodded. “Good thinking,” he agreed. “You want help?”

“You have managed to be down here every day,” Rose scolded. “I appreciate the thought, very much so, but you need downtime too.”

“Love, this is nothing.” He grinned, amused. “We all used to be in much more stressful situations.” 

“Don’t care,” Rose grumbled. “The answer is still no.” 

Gaz huffed and shook his head. But he didn’t argue further - whether because he was giving in or just reevaluating his plan, Rose wasn’t sure. 

He didn’t bring up the topic again, and they worked easily through the lunch rush. Gaz ushered her off to eat after that, holding down the fort. 

“I need to run upstairs,” he said once she was back. 

“Of course. Go. Shoo. You could have said so sooner.” Rose frowned at him.

“It’s nothing serious,” Gaz assured her, unable to resist pulling her in for a quick hug. “I’ll be back.” 

Rose watched him go, shaking her head. He had way too much energy. And was too cavalier about his own time. A side effect of his career prior to this, maybe. 

Either way. She’d keep an eye on him, make sure he didn’t overwork himself. (Well, she’d do the same thing for all of them, actually.) 

The afternoon was quiet, giving her time to do some inventory and ordering. She also got caught up on some of the family news, smiling when she saw a cousin had gotten a sort-of promotion and a special assignment. Actually, that seemed like something she should mention to Rodolfo and Alejandro - they might be able to help her cousin, and the other way around. Hm. Now that was something to consider. 

Her musing was interrupted by a text from Gaz. A picture of the group of them, all squished together in the office. Soap was grinning broadly at the camera, as was Gaz. Rodolfo and Alejandro looked amused more than anything. Ghost just stared straight into the camera, and Price looked exasperated but amused. 

She immediately saved the photo and tucked her phone away again. 

Gaz didn’t come back down, which was fine. He didn’t actually work at the coffee shop, after all. 

But Rodolfo did come down, smiling at her. 

“Hi, Rodolfo.” She leaned one hip against the counter. “What can I get for you?”

“Actually, I have a question for you, bonita.” He stopped opposite her, holding her gaze. 

“Yeah?” Rose blinked at him, curious. 

“Do you have any plans Saturday evening?” He swallowed, a little nervous, but didn’t back down. “Alejo and I would love to have you for dinner.” 

Rose blinked, lips parting in surprise. “I’m free,” she agreed, trying not to answer too quickly. “That sounds wonderful.”

“I can meet you here?” He offered her a hopeful smile. “I could show you a few recipes, if you like.”

Her answering smile was bright and she nodded eagerly. “Absolutely,” she agreed. “But let me take care of dessert, please?”

“Won’t say no to that.” His smile widened. “What time should I be here?”

Rose tapped her fingers against the counter. “I’m planning to close at 2, so any time around then.” 

He nodded, leaning forward a little. “Got it,” he murmured. He paused then, looking at her more closely, and his shoulders relaxed a little before he smiled. “You look happier.”

“Do I?” Rose could feel herself blushing, tempted to duck her head. But she didn’t. 

“You do. Is a good look on you, bonita.” His smile widened, one hand lifting to brush a finger over the apple of her cheek. 

Rose did duck her head then, unable to hold his gaze. Rodolfo hummed softly, letting his hand fall, apparently unwilling to push. 

“Alejo and I will be off-site tomorrow,” he told her, gently steering her back to steadier topics, giving her time to compose herself again. “But I will be here Saturday by 2.”

“Okay.” Rose took a deep breath and then smiled, a little shy and a lot pleased. “I hope it all goes well tomorrow for you two.”

“We’ll tell you all about it on Saturday.” He paused. “Well. What we can tell you.”

Rose nodded her understanding. “So long as you don’t get in trouble.”

“With Price?” He outright snorted. “Would take a lot more than telling you too much.”

Curiosity made her lean forward a bit, but good sense held her back from asking. “Even so.”

He nodded, just once, gaze intent on hers. “Even so,” he agreed softly. “I should go. Have a good rest of your day.”

“You too.” Rose couldn’t help but smile as he left, excitement rising in her chest. 

Saturday could not come fast enough for her. 

Fortunately, Friday went quickly and easily, with another person coming in for an interview. That one went well, and Rose made a mental note to call them back next week. Soap spent a good portion of the day in the shop, warm and easy.

Really, Rose had no idea how she’d gotten so lucky with these guys, but she had. She made another mental note to find a way to show them how much she appreciated them. 

A look at the calendar gave her an idea, and she hummed to herself. That might just work.

She just needed a big enough kitchen.

But that could be figured out later. For now, she had to finish out the day. And the next. 

No problem.

[sunboki]

-> IT'S NOONA TO YOU

han jisung x implied fem! reader

warnings — alcohol usage, cursing, reader is almost harassed, protectiveness, fluff, comfort, drunkenness, reader is stressed, making out, somewhat suggestive content, mean bosses :(

w.c — 1.1k

summary — the drinking party your colleagues invited you to sounded like a great way to spend this long-awaited friday night, one of those colleagues being han jisung. he’d always been a sweetie to you, but when a drunk friend gets a little too comfortable you discover a side to han you’ve never seen before.

This week had been shit. The people you worked with were great, yeah, but your boss? He could choke for all you care.

You see, this lunatic had the nerve to place even more work on your shoulders on a Wednesday. Literally two days before a glorious Friday and two days before your colleagues wanted to meet up for drinks.

You pushed through, but not without a few mental break-downs and never-ending cups of coffee along the way.

Thursday evening was your breaking point, one day before a relaxing outing and you were convinced you’re losing it. Head shoveled into your hands with frustrated tears leaking between your fingers.

However the internal panic attack was disrupted by Han Jisung, by far one of the sweetest guys in the office who apparently was working late as well. He peeked his head over at you, round eyes filled with concern.

“Don’t look at me right now, I look horrible.” You groan, eyes screwed shut.

“I don’t care, I just want to make you feel better,” that sheepish smile returned to his face, guiding you out of your seat, “How about we go for chicken and beer?” The dark-brown haired boy suggested, eyebrows lifted expectantly.

“We’re having beer tomorrow with everyone else at the meet-up.” You groaned, beginning to edge back to where your desk was.

Yes, beer did sound great, but drinking with Jisung would have to wait until tomorrow. For now there was work to do, work that your asshole of a boss wanted finished.

“Then at least some coffee? You might need some more caffeine before getting back to work.” He sighed, giving the scattered mugs surrounding your space a dirty look.

And I mean, the sweetheart was trying his hardest to pull you from your stress, you might as well give in. Especially when he was offering you free coffee. How could you say no?

The iced beverage tasted better when you were sitting with Han, sipping away your misery for a short moment.

“Looking forward to tomorrow?” He glanced up, the wafting scent of his drink floating over to you. That’s when you realized the traitor wasn’t even drinking coffee at a coffee place, but tea instead. What a grandpa. But it was nice how he was doing this for your sake.

As you said, a sweetheart.

Maybe this was the support you needed to make it to the next day.

Wrong.

The remainder of the night was hell, but sending your boss a not-so-friendly message along with the finished documents sailed you to Friday.

Lucky for you, the few hours before your outing you’d spent getting ready for the drinking party—not typing away on your keyboard like a possessed spirit. Something comfortable but almost rewarding, like your good job badge of making it to the end of the week.

“Jeon and Makgeolli are better!”

“You dumbass it’s beer and chicken!”

Your colleagues playfully argued, laughing and clinking glasses around you. The atmosphere was lively. Actually, almost relieving.

Apart from Yuna, a friend of yours, trying to persuade you to mix Soju with beer, everything was going fantastic. That was.. apart from when a drunk Hojeong stumbled towards you.

“Oh.. Y/n’s so pretty. Don’t you think so?” He seemed to speak to Yuna who’d moved across the room long ago to talk to Jeongin, apparently hammered.

Unbeknownst to you, Han Jisung, the traitorous tea-drinker was staring at Hojeong with a not-so-friendly glare from across the table.

Not knowing how to react, you nervously laughed, discomfort written all over you. And when Hojeong slipped beside you on the long booth, you slid further away.

“Y/n~ don’t be getting all shy on me! I can’t help but want to be close to pretty girls.” But as his hand inched to grab your shoulder, an opposing force gripped Hojeong’s wrist, stopping his movements.

“First off it’s not Y/n, it’s Noona to you, can’t you see she’s uncomfortable? It’s disrespectful to touch a person without their permission.” This tone of voice was unlike you’d ever heard, especially not from the man with such a happy façade like last night. Upon realizing it was Jisung your jaw went slack.

Holy shit.

In all your years of working with Han Jisung, he’d never sounded so incredibly sexy and scary at the same time. Perhaps it was the few shots you’d had earlier or the way the veins in his forearms flexed unconsciously that had you melting in your seat.

“Ugh. Fun sucker.” Hojeong groaned, slumping like a dejected dog. Nonetheless he pulled away, leaving you to yourself—better yet, leaving you with the struggle of not being able to think of Jisung the same ever again.

Ironically, that happy façade appeared just as fast.

“Are you okay Noona? He didn’t touch you did he?” The worried man scanned you, brows knitted together anxiously.

“Can I kiss you, Jisung?” The words didn’t even appear to be a question, dazed as you glanced at his plush lips that looked far too lonely for your liking.

What was in those shots?

Han gulped, using his first name like that with that face was dangerous, especially coming from you. Not here. Not in this busy restaurant.

“We have to take this outside.” He led you to the side of the building, pout adorning his face, “Why would you ask that then.. I wouldn’t have been able to control myself.”

“Then lose control here, it’s just us.” You’re drunk. Because no way the Jisung you knew was picking you up by the thighs to practically eat your face in the hottest make-out you’d ever experienced.

First come first serve huh.

“Noona.. I want you.” Han hummed, soft pink lips swollen and hair tousled from your tugging—his eyes glazed over with lust.

“What happened to you? The soft-spoken Hannie.” You giggled, looking down at him whilst his arms securely held your legs around his waist, responding with a childish whine. His chubby cheeks dusting a rosy hue, you and your nicknames would be the death of him.

“C’mon, I’m walking you home.”

The stars looked exceptional, twinkling brightly overhead as the two of you trodded along the sidewalk towards your apartment. Yet the thought plaguing your head managed to slip out and likely threaten to ruin the atmosphere.

“You’re hot when you’re mad.” You mumbled, going point blank at the realization of what you just said. Out loud. Not a quiet, internal monologue. Out. Loud.

“What was that?”

“Huh? Nothing.. nothing at all. The wind.” You waved aimlessly, face burning.

He heard every word.

all rights for this work are owned by @sunboki

[n0vadroid]

From Strangers to Soulmates

“So, you had a good time then?” Miranda asked.

Gogo nodded. “I did. Really. He’s just…pretty fun to be around.”

Natalie brought her cup of tea to her lips. “Well, then you should ask him out.”

The three girls were having lunch at Meg’s, the cafe Gogo goes to every morning.

Gogo blushed. “A-ask him out? I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Natalie asked. “He asked you out twice now.”

“H-hold on, now, he didn’t ask me out. He just wanted to thank me for helping him out,” Gogo corrected.

Miranda started to laugh. “Sure, Gogo. A man asks you to go somewhere with him, pays for everything, and makes sure you have fun. That definitely isn’t a date.”

Gogo thinked about what Miranda said. And she was right, Gogo did always have fun and she didn’t have to pay a dime on their- “Oh my gosh. I was on a date.”

“You were on a date,” Miranda teased, leaning on the table towards Gogo.

“I’m surprised you didn’t realize sooner, to be honest. He didn’t tell you that it was a date?” Natalie asked.

“He said that it wasn’t a date the first time he took me out because he was still heartbroken about his ex,” Gogo explained. “Although, I’m not too sure anymore.”

Just then, David walked over to them. “Hi, Gogo.”

“David, hi. It’s nice seeing you. What brings you here?” Gogo asked.

“Not much.” David shrugged. “Ken said that I could take a fifteen minute break, so I decided to come here for coffee. It’s a mad house over there right now.”

“It is Thursday, after all,” Gogo said.

David laughed. “That’s true.” He stared at Gogo for a second with lovestruck eyes before looking at Miranda. “Hey, Miranda. How are you?”

“I’m doing good. Have you met my fiancé?” Miranda asked.

“Actually, no I haven’t. It’s nice to meet you,” David said while holding out his hand for Natalie to shake.

“Likewise,” Natalie said, shaking his hand.

“So, I’ll get out of you guys’ way. I only came over to say hi and I only have,” David looked down at his watch, “seven minutes left before my time’s up. I gotta go, I’ll see you ladies later.”

“Bye, David. Don’t work too hard,” Miranda said.

David waved at them as he left the cafe.

“Hm, I think he might have a crush on you,” Natalie said to Gogo.

“What?” Gogo turned around. “He’s just a good friend, why would he like me?”

“Well, you’re you. I’d be surprised if he didn’t,” Natalie replied.

“Well, he doesn’t. He’s just a good friend that I hang out with once in a while. We’ve known each other for almost three years now,” Gogo said. 

“Now that she mentioned it, David does talk about you a lot whenever I go to The Brew Club and talk to him,” Miranda mentioned. “Maybe he does like you.”

“That’s silly, of course he doesn’t. He’s just….really nice to me,” Gogo said before taking a sip of her coffee.

“Right. Sure,” Natalie replied. “If you think he doesn’t then I’m sure it’s true.”

Gogo nodded, but she was starting to question herself about David. Maybe they were right. 

“Anyway, Gogo, we decided to have the wedding on June 15th. We want the wedding to be before your birthday so that we won’t take the day away from you,” Miranda said.

“Huh?” Gogo snapped out of it. “Oh, yeah, that’s fine. Thanks for doing that for me. When are you giving out invitations?”

“Sometime before June 8th. We’re inviting a lot of people, so the invitations are gonna take a while to make and deliver. We’re actually working on them right now,” Miranda explained.

“That’s great, you two. I can’t wait for the wedding.”

Part 31

[applescabs]

tagged by @phoenixfangs yayyaa get ready for paragraph assault. it's vacation so I'm watching lots of shit.

reading: oof. lots and lots of things. plenty of ongoing mangas (i mostly follow by the volume) most notably I'm almost done w Homunculus (2 vol left) and King in Limbo's last omnibus is dropping on tuesday (i preordered it) so im excited for that! ig I'm also playing through slow damage rn, which is mostly a visual novel, but it has more gameplay than the usual nc visnov. its a mystery, which im always a fan of.

currently watching: 4 things w my brother; -boku no hero season 7. yes, season 7. yes, I still like this series, in fact I think it's really good and it's kinda funny to me how there's so many joke posts going around (made by people who havent even seen it) about it being shit. it airs on saturdays but we usually watch it on sundays (because that was more convenient last season and it sorta stuck) -isekai suicide squad. its entertaining/interesting enough and has some good animation sometimes. it airs on thursdays so we literally just watched the newest one. i like clayface n deadshot in this one. -blue lock. i went to the Nagi movie w another friend and then managed to convince Finn to watch the show with me. he's not a sports anime guy (this is his first) so we'll see how it goes, lmao. we're trying to watch s1 before s2 drops in october, but we're keeping it a weekly thing, watching it alongside new releases. -jojo part 3 ova. we watch this one sporadically since the episodes are longer than the standard nowadays, so he's not always in the mood. the music in this one was made by one guy with his midi soundboard, but I love the vibe of the whole thing, very different from david prod p3. I'm also watching 4 things myself; -Cowboy Bebop. constantly in awe of how good it looks. the fine details on the ships and weapons... augh. its making me want to check out more 90s animes. i'm also a big fan of how it does its storytelling, its got good visual language and utilises "show dont tell" well. i exclusively watch this one on the tv instead of my laptop, its too good for the laptop. -Shuumatsu Train. one that i didnt finish last season that i decided to pick back up, since its strange and interesting enough that it seems like a waste to leave unfinished. -Boueibu s1. im rewatching s1 so that i can immediately watch s2 afterwards (havent seen it yet) -Tasogare Outfocus. what can i say. i always watch anything gay that comes out (not that i always finish them...) i do also like movies and moviemaking so the backdrop interests me as well.

currently craving: im actually like. full af i just had icecream for desert plus an iced coffee afterwards. ig im craving brushing my teeth.

coffee or tea: see thats the thing. cant choose. im choosing both. i like to have both coffee and tea at night, coffee as a nice after dinner treat (mostly iced coffee, if it's hot i usually drink it in the afternoon) and tea late at night when I'm chilling. might make some tea after i stop being so full. also zach i might just have to take you to court over the sweet tea thing. better find a good lawyer.

tagginggg @kuwupikaa @sunflowermews @isleofair @drakefisher @xrd n anyone who feels compelled to do thisss

[makemeanangelpure]

🩵May 30, 2024 - 113.0

🪽Day 1 of the 442 hour liquid fast

🤍I’m 13.5 hours in, 428 hours to go

☕️Today’s Cal limit: 140

I slept roughly 2 hours. Trouble falling asleep, waking up to pee every hour or thirty minutes and needing a minuscule sip of water. A little tired now but I’ll have my 5 hour energy and finish my 50 cal of coffee and go into a 7.5 hour shift. Truck day, so essentially 3 hours of cardio/weight lifting for me and 5 hours of on my feet slight lifting and reviving material. I’ll burn a good amount of extra calories today and tomorrow though, no truck then just the repackaging, maybe a few heavier things to haul around. I’m going to have one stall of celery when I get home. I’ll wait to have it at 7:42 pm where my partner can witness, alongside 2 baby carrots. That’ll put me at 75 cal for the day, and I get home around 1:30, so ill have a cup of tea while I wait for time to go, run the dishwasher and restock that, bath and shower, maybe wait to shave Thursday. Yesterday I drank a hard mike and a hard peach tea, ate a few things, threw up beforehand. Ended at 775. After I drank I didn’t have an urge to eat which is unusual but I’m assuming because I took medicine. It’s for adhd, not mine but I took it because I’d been thinking about it, thinking I might take one once a week and they’d never notice, just so I won’t get hungry. They’ve been taking it a few days and have been barely eating, I ate more than then the past two days and wanted to wring my own neck. They keep telling me about items of clothing getting looser, about our friends telling them they look like they lost weight, and they have, they do look different than a few months back. They’re taller than me and we’re in the 200-210 range and are now 189-199 and when you’re bigger, it comes off faster, it’s more noticeable. Really said something that messed with me yesterday.. and it was ignorance.. that if 10 pounds on me wasn’t that much different to them why would 10 more pounds be.. which they’ve seen pictures of me when I was 15-20 pounds lighter, they just haven’t been around me like that. I was heavier.. 10 pounds heavier than I am now when I started living here last year and if they don’t notice how I’ve dropped weight and my fucking face isn’t so round after just 10 pounds, I’ll just have to make them see and if anything they’ll feel a difference when they lift me up. Always picking me up around the house and carrying me places, jostling me but I want it to be easier. I want to hear them say that I feel lighter in some kind of form or fashion. The goal is to be 20 pounds lighter by June 28 so I’d be 93 which would break my old low weight:94, from 3 fucking years ago now. A baby shower on the 22 to go to so by then I’m going to try to be 97 for. The mother is someone who always copied me in highschool, and afterward and I just want her to really see how different we are. I also want to be the thinnest at a friend group gathering and I want her nosey mother to gossip to the others about how “ sick” I look. I want to eat a piece of cake with them and have it look seamless for me, because I’ll have worked hard to not worry about 350 cal of sugar for a day or whatever. To eat a little of what is made, not finish my food or my cake, and throw a tiny bit away.. like a quarter I guess. On Friday I’ll weigh and measure my waist, on the 22 I’m measure everything and then again on the 28. I last weighed last Friday so I’m going off that. My period seemed to skip a month but it’s irregular anyhow. My partner said it’s cause I’m not eating enough but I beg to differ. A lot of my days have been 1000-2000 days the past few weeks. I think it’s stress related. By the 28th, I’m going to drink again. Get blush wine and have two cups to celebrate things being better and I’ll be smaller and feel more put together, feel prettier when we get kissy buzzy and cuddle up close. Saturday I’m making a favorite dinner for them… I’m going to pick the smallest chicken for myself, cut it in half and then cut it into ( I’ll figure out how many pieces) 7 pieces of course 44 for a bite, 313 roughly for the whole chicken. One bite cause it’s a 75 cal day. I know he’ll cut it for me and be sweet.

[someoneinjersey]

made it through the weekend and even was able to go get some things done before we went and picked Bizzy up from her babysitter. i got my oil changed and i wanted to throw a fit because it cost $68. Ten years ago I could go right down the road and get an oil change for less than $25. what the actual fuck. so goddamn aggravating. told my mom about it and how as usual i'm not even a week into the month and basically all my disability money is gone. all she said was "welcome to adulthood. sad." and i swear i wanted to reach through the phone and shake the shit outta her. last week or the week before, kate and i had a big not-fight and during our talk afterwards we discussed how since my mom is my single biggest trigger and/or the source of seemingly unrelated triggers, i need to go back and make more boundaries or reinforce the ones i tried to put in place a while ago. and i was like hm, okay, i'll have to think about how i can broach the subject of say, being in contact like once a week unless something comes up maybe. then the very next day mom hit me with "you know i think if you didn't come to see me in october i wouldn't have survived" and i just threw my fucking hands in the air and gave up. idk what to fucking do and i don't have a therapist anymore and i'm extra moody about it all right now because i started my period four days late.

in any case regarding money, i was able to not mooch off kate all weekend since we went away so early in the month, and so the only things i "treated" myself to (besides food which is 50/50 on whether or not it's a treat or making life easier or whatever) was a denim boiler suit from walmart, potting soil, four pots, and a grow lamp so i can repot and move the four plants that live on the kitchen windowsill. i've never kept plants alive this long so i don't intend on letting them die yet, so they're getting bigger pots and new soil and i'll likely move them into my bedroom. probably switch night stands and stick them on the one in the far corner with the grow lamp. i wish we had places to put them out in the house but A we get zero sun B the aloe plant and chrysanthemum aren't good for the cats and C i'm the only one that takes care of them anyway so they might as well just stay in my space. and it's also like, is it "treating" myself to something if it's keeping a living thing alive? idk. and the denim boilersuit looks so fucking cute i have no regrets spending $28 on it.

it's still incredibly weird drinking coffee every day but it has been helping my moods, surprisingly. i also make myself have a cup of tea (usually decaffeinated green tea) before bed. i'm still keeping up with my planner, though i'm letting myself slide when it comes to my little goal of reading every day. if i blow through too many stories too fast i burn out, so i'm taking my current book slowly and giving myself some grace to take days off. i've eaten like shit since thursday what with being away from home (and today being busy and too tired to cook) so i've noticed i feel not as good in that respect but i can get back on track maybe by tomorrow. maybe. still being exhausted and also being in my period doesn't really bode well for having the energy to make healthy meals or being able to deny my period mood cravings. i have a very unhealthy relationship with food. my feelings inside turn foul and evil if i can't have exactly what i want to eat when i want it if i have a craving. it might actually be psychotic.

i have some things i've been wanting to write, little fanfic ideas. or maybe not so little. but i can't activate that switch in my brain to actually do it. i have hang ups. a lot of them. bah

oh and i left my apple watch on the other side of the state like a fuckin champ. night yall

[shadowsong26fic]

Papa and J---- Update!

Author: shadowsong26

Rating: PG/PG-13

Fandom: Les Misérables

Characters: Technically all on-page characters are OCs; Valjean, Cosette, Marius, and Javert are discussed as historical personalities. Backstory Cosette/Marius and heavily implied Valjean/Javert.

Warnings: Nothing specific, I don’t think?

Summary: Euphrasie Pontmercy–known in the art world as La Jardinière–isn’t exactly a household name. Still, the sheer length of her active career (her work was first displayed and sold in 1839, and she left one last work unfinished at her death in 1910) makes her interesting to people who actually study that century in art. But as far as the historical record is concerned, Jardinière seems to have sprung semi-fully-formed from the streets of Paris somewhere in the mid-to-late 1820s. Other than the fact that she was educated in a convent, essentially nothing is known about her parents or her childhood.

Until now.

Or:

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a PhD student with no thesis topic must be in want of an undiscovered painting to go absolutely feral over.

Disclaimer: All characters are the property of their respective creators.

Notes: Here we are with Chapter 3! Where Ari talks to Phil’s mom and gets a little more background/family lore. Which is...fairly accurate, even after nearly two centuries of generational telephone, lol. also I am. Tempted. to find someone to commission to actually make a version of the painting are any of y’all who might be artists interested/does anyone have any recommendations of artists who are open for commissions who do that kind of style

Updates will be posted here on Thursdays and crossposted to AO3 on Fridays.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Wednesday afternoon, as soon as the last class I was TAing let out, I headed back to Phil’s house. I’d spoken with his mother on the phone the night before, and she’d agreed to meet me at four. Foot in the door, at least. First hurdle cleared.

Traffic was shit, because of course it was on a day I needed things to run smoothly, and I got there about five minutes late.

The woman who answered the door when I knocked was a little bit shorter than me, with the same bright blue eyes Phil had. Too old to be his sister, so this must be his mom.

“Hi, I’m sorry I’m late,” I said. “I’m Ari Wright, we talked on the phone?”

“Of course,” she said, and smiled, stepping aside. “Please, come in, ah…?”

“Ari is fine,” I said, and followed her inside. “Thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me, Mrs. Riley.”

“Oh, please, Louise is fine,” she said. “Would you like some water, tea?”

“Uh, water would be great, thanks,” I said.

She left me in the living room, excusing herself to go into the kitchen to get it, which gave me another minute alone with the painting.

Which was just as ordinary-extraordinary as it had been on Friday night. Exactly like I remembered it.

To be fair, I’d spent probably way too many hours the past few days studying my shitty phone pictures of it, so.

“I have to admit,” Mrs. Riley--Louise--said, rejoining me and setting a pitcher of water and a couple of glasses on the table. “I was a little surprised when Phil told me one of his friends was interested in Mémé Cosette’s painting.”

I stepped away from the wall and sat in one of the armchairs--not the couch; that would have been Awkward at least in the back of my brain. “I saw it when I was over here with Phil the other day, and…well, it jumped out at me.”

“Right,” she said. “So, what exactly are you looking for here?”

“Well, I was hoping to get your permission to do a more thorough study of the piece,” I said, then hesitated. “…if I can start by asking you some questions? About the painting and its history, whatever you know about it. And recording, if that’s okay. Easier than taking notes.”

“That’s fine,” she said, picking up her glass and settling into one of the other chairs.

I took a sip from the other glass, then set my phone to record audio and put it on the middle of the coffee table. “I suppose I should start with...well, I’m not sure how much you’re aware of your ancestor’s career--Phil wasn’t, at least?”

Louise smiled. “I know who Mémé Cosette was, or at least what I was told about her,” she said. “Euphrasie Pontmercy, also known as La Jardinère. I always liked listening to the family stories.”

“What can you tell me about the painting?” I asked. Obviously, if I went forward, anything she told me would have to be backed up by other sources. Anecdotal family history had a funny way of getting tweaked or embellished over the years, especially when the relative in question was someone even moderately famous. “Phil told me it’s always been in your family, and she’s your…”

“Great-great…great grandmother, I think,” Louise said, taking a moment to count. “My grandmother’s grandfather was her son René.”

The youngest of the five children. Right.

“I’m not sure how exactly the painting ended up in my great-grandmother’s possession, as opposed to any of the other children or grandchildren, but I know she was the one who brought it with her to the States, when she emigrated from France in 1912.” She smiled wryly. “According to the story, they almost boarded Titanic at Cherbourg, but one or more of the children had the measles. Or possibly diphtheria, I’ve heard different things at different times.”

“Not something you’d normally think of as lucky,” I said.

“No, not really,” she agreed. “Like I said, that’s the story, and who knows if it’s true. But I do know that the painting came to my great-grandmother somehow, and she passed it on to my grandmother Marie-Celeste, who left it to me. Since I was the only one of her grandchildren who liked to listen to her stories.”

“Had she actually met La Jardinière?” I asked. It was possible--if they’d been planning to sail in 1912, and Jardinière had died in 1910…

“A few times,” Louise confirmed. “She was about six when Mémé Cosette died, but she remembered visiting her.”

Well, that was a pretty damn solid foundation for the painting’s provenance. Again, I’d have to back up the authentication in other ways, but this was looking more and more promising.

“What about the subjects?” I asked. “The men in the painting, I mean. It’s labeled as Papa and J. Do you know anything about them?”

“Only the stories,” she said. “She was adopted, did you know that? Mémé Cosette, I mean.”

That was interesting; adoption wasn’t a very common practice in the early nineteenth century, at least not in the United States or Great Britain, and most of what did happen was very much behind closed doors. I made a mental note to add the history of French adoption law to my research list. It was unlikely, but maybe I’d get lucky, and there would be some kind of record of the adoption somewhere. If I could track down exactly when and where it happened.

“No, I didn’t,” I said. “Unless there’s something in an obscure French biography I haven’t been able to find and muddle through, I don’t think anyone knows much of anything about her childhood. Which is one of the reasons this painting is so interesting. When did this happen? And where?”

“I don’t know where, exactly,” Louise said. “Some little town in Normandy, maybe? Somewhere in the north of France, I’m pretty sure. Again, according to the family stories. It was when she was around seven or eight, I think? Before that…I don’t know. My grandmother didn’t know, or if she did she never told me, but I think she had the impression that it wasn’t a very good situation. And then Mémé Cosette was adopted, so that’s where Papa came into her life.”

“Do you have a name for him?” I asked. “Her marriage license listed her maiden name as Fauchelevent, but was that his name, or from her birth parents…?”

“That I don’t know,” she said. “All I know is that she was adopted, and that she named her eldest son for her adoptive father.”

And Jardinière’s eldest son’s name was Jean, which was. Extremely, unhelpfully common.

“Do you know which of the men he is?” I asked. “In the painting, I mean.”

Louise got up and went to the wall to examine it. “I…think the bearded man. My grandmother obviously never met him, and I think her grandfather--René, I mean--was very young when he died, but that matches up with what she heard from her aunts and uncles, as she passed it on to me. He was a very private person, and supposedly very strong. One story--and I can’t say I believe it’s true--involved him physically carrying another man to safety for something like twelve hours after some kind of disaster.”

Which…well, Louise was right, that story didn’t seem all that credible. But the more general description, and the kind of man who would give rise to that sort of story, did match up with the impression the painting gave.

I stood up as well, leaving my glass on the coffee table, and joined her at the painting. “What about the other man? The mysterious J?”

“We’re back to a game of generational telephone on this one,” Louise said. “I know even less about him. But my grandmother said he was a close friend of the family, according to what Mémé Cosette told her when she asked once. That he and her--that is, Mémé Cosette’s--father lived together for the last decade or so of his life. Not sure which him she meant.”

…well, all right then.

My eye was, once again, drawn to J’s hand, resting on the back of the chair. And they lived together, maybe, for a decade or so.

Of course, that could mean a lot of different things. And, you know, it’s easy to see what you want to see, especially when there’s so little information to go on. Whatever their relationship was, though, I’d been right in my initial impression of intimacy. Whatever kind of intimacy it was.

“Right,” I said. “I think that’s a good baseline, at least for now, but I might have more questions later. And I…not that I’m saying I doubt your version of the story, or anything, but…”

“But if you want to actually research the painting, you need more proof than half-remembered family stories after two centuries of generational telephone,” Louise said, and smiled again. “It’s fine, I know how research works. I remember when my husband got his Master’s degree.”

“Yeah, exactly,” I said. “Thank you, for your understanding. Um, so, with your permission, I would like to borrow the painting for a few weeks. To authenticate it, and do a more detailed analysis of the technique and construction and so on, see what else I can learn from the actual physical piece.”

“Right,” Louise said, turning back to the painting again, thinking. “Just to study it, you said? And, obviously, write about your findings if you find anything worth writing about. But you won’t put the painting on display in a museum or anything?”

I shook my head. “Not unless you agree to it, no. I’d take photographs, to include with the paper, but the painting itself won’t go on display unless you allow it.”

“And when you cite it…I don’t know how it works, exactly, but you wouldn’t have to specifically name me?”

“No, I can just list it as being in a private collection.”

“Right,” she said. “…I have to admit, now that you’re here asking questions…I didn’t really think about it before. How many gaps there are in the story.”

“It’s funny how memory works sometimes,” I said. “Especially…well, like you said, when generational telephone gets involved.”

And it was…a weirdly appropriate question in context, since that was something Jardinière had come back to time and time again in her work. This idea of memory, and how it lines up with reality. How it changes. Those repeat paintings she’d made of the same locations in Paris over the years. The series of paintings of her own memories.

And, of course, her last painting. Souvenir--inachevé. Memory--unfinished.

Definitely need to get to Chicago to see it in person.

“True,” she said. “All right. Under those conditions--that the painting won’t be displayed, and that you’ll leave my name out of it, you have my permission to borrow it and do whatever tests or study you need for your research.”

“Thank you!” I said. “Thank you so much, this…I really appreciate all your help, Mrs.--Louise.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. “And I hope you’ll share whatever you find with me, before publishing?”

“Of course,” I said. “It’s your painting, your family history.”

“Good,” she said, and smiled again. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“Me, too,” I said. “Me, too.”

[charlesandmartine]

Thursday 9th February 2023

The big event today was the impromptu appointment at the Sydney Opera House (SOH) for the performance of Mozart's Don Giovanni. All in all things didn't go too smoothly on the run up to the concert. We went into the City early to get a prepaid SIM card in the knowledge that we needed our passport to do this. The Vodafone girl therefore was not impressed when it was clear we had forgotten it. So having to make a special journey tomorrow to get one. Then having arrived at the SOH in our finery, we ordered the interval Sauv. and a couple of flat whites to go and sat down on one of the leather cushioned benches in the bar area. I momentarily put the coffee cup down next to me when an American lady with a huge bum heavily placed it 2 feet away, sending my cup into orbit, seesaw fashion. It was perfectly fine on the way up, but on its descent became more fluid especially on the seat and subsequently my trouser department. There's a certain irritation and embarrassment involved regarding wet trousers in a public place such as the SOH just prior to what was to be a pleasant evening. The other theatre guests were gathering; ladies in evening attire, men with big floppy artistic hats, luvvies, actor types, cream jackets that might have been considered trendy 20 years ago but now looking a bit worn, good accents, bad accents and right in the middle was me with a big damp patch doing my best to make a fashion statement. We stood in the weak evening sunshine on the terrace hoping the suns rays might help.

All that is an extended overture to the main business of the evening. Giovanni is a brutal opera about a very topical and modern subject, Don Giovanni who is a misogynistic, sexist, serial rapist murderer who should not be allowed out. It really is somewhat shocking especially after revelations about Harvey Weinstein. In the first act, DG is trying it on with Donna Anna and when her father, the Commodore intervenes, DG kills him. DG is wearing a tiny little mask at the time which apparently rendered him completely unrecognisable! After much argy bargy it becomes known that it is indeed DG that killed the Commodore and the community seeks to hunt him down to kill him. The other shocking aspect to the story is the way the women are portrayed. Donna Elvira despite knowing DG killed the Commodore, is still saying she loves him! So is Zerlina. It all ends well in the end. The Commodore comes in for dinner as a stone statue and has DG dragged off to hell and we see no more of him till the encore.

Shocking plot, great singing, great production, great theatre, great location great big damp patch. What an occasion! The SOH is the place to go!

We then marched across empty streets to Wynyard to catch the 173x home. The bus drops us within half a mile of home, but this seems a long way at 11.30pm and so reminded me of when as a child, dad had taken us all out for a long day, and to save a couple of bob we alighted at the fare stage before our stop and walked the rest, dark, normally bright red London buses turned grey in the light of the yellow sodium street lighting. It seemed so far to go. Cup of tea and a white Tim Tam soon bucked the spirits.

Last day here before collecting a car from the airport and traveling north towards Brisbane.

ps This opera was first performed in Prague in 1787 which was pretty much when the first fleet was mooring up in Sydney Harbour. Incredible to think of the differing circumstances.

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Thursday 10 March 1836

8 ½

11 20

no kiss fine but dull morning F38° at 9 ½ and breakfast in an hour - out at 10 ½ having been ¾ hour looking over Journal - with Mark Hepworth with carts and men + 2 fillers (Robert Mann’s men) as yesterday - then with Robert Mann + 4 at the hollow till Mr. Freeman came to me bringing his nephew from Kent with him - came to look at the new road as I had told him at the rent day I should like him to see the road and give me his advice - took him along the road to the Lodge - he was against lagging and advised cutting up the thorns and branches and laying them (on new cart stuff) as a foundation for the rubble - mentioned the Landymere stone - thought perhaps it was fast in water - the stone of Mrs. Lancashire and Brooke sold - did not know at what price - but some stone near sold at 3/6 per yard - wages and rents must alter or stone could not be sold at the present prices - the best customers in the country - In London the stone most sold at any price - for it cannot lie in the vessels and some are obliged to pay 6d. per ton per day for ground for the stone to lie upon and stone has been hawked about in carts in London streets and in the country 10 miles from London - took Mr. F- to the rock-work - explained - he said it would be rather inconvenient to let me have men and tackling, but he would do it for me - I said then I was equally obliged as if he let me have the men, but that I could manage another way on this he said oh! no! he could manage for me - and it was agreed (he said he would do it for me as cheap as anyone) that he should come next Monday week he finding men and tackling for getting and loadening the stone at the quarry and Nelson to let me have Hinton and men to manage at the rock-man - Mr. F- to speak to and arrange with N- told F- I had had an application for the stone in Joseph Hall’s land, and asked him (F-) to value it for me - had F- and his nephew in the north parlour till near 2 - before going away F- said he had a favour to beg of me to change the stone-road in yew trees wood or have more time - to get the stone the stone in - in fact, this was the real reason of his coming however little he might think I should find this out - said I had often congratulated myself on having Mr. F- to deal with instead of anybody else - that I grieved over the spoiling of the wood and would rather change the road than give more time but that I would do the best I could but could never give more time -A - had Parkinson in the hall - brought him into the North parlour - he wished to have a new public house built in the tan-house garden - 4 rooms on a floor - 5 yards x 5 yards and 1ft. and the back rooms would do 5 yards x 4 yards with 4 good chambers and brewhouse and stable - less would not do - could not afford to pay more than £30 per annum pays £20 a year at present - the building he has would make 5 cottages - thought a new Inn would be built for £300 then when I said no! said well for £400 but could not pay than £30 per annum - A- to consider of it, and give him an answer in a few days - he said he should not stay where he was - then A- had luncheon downstairs - sat with her there and then upstairs till she went to Cliff hill and I to the workmen (Robert + 4, and Frank and my own cart) plant at the meer-head - keep Wood and Samuel Booth planting till 6 when rain came on and from 4 to then sent Robert + 2 to the stubbing at the hollow open drain - came in at 6 ¼ - wrote about a French or German lady’s maid ‘speaking English not essentially necessary’ and sent my letter this evening to ‘Madame Lecomte 11 Bryanston street Portland Square London post paid’ - dinner at 6 ¾ - coffee - A-‘s French as usual - we dined on Pork - too rich for us - it disagreed with both of us so bilious we could not see a letter of A-‘s French book - A- 10 minutes and A- ½ hour with my aunt poorly tonight - came upstairs at 8 55 - tea - rather better for it - but very bilious - wrote all the above of today till 10 10 at which hour F40° fine day but dull till rain at 6 and afterwards for some time - Mr. F- told me the union cross would be sold on young Mr. Thompson’s (of chapel of Briers) coming of age in a year from this time - Messrs. Rainer and Beaumont, brother-in-law to Mr. Jonathan Akroyd, bidding against one another for it - they had already got it up beyond Mr. Mitchell’s valuation - asked F- to get to know for me what it was valued at - F- said the buildings were very bad repair - all the roof would want taking off and the timbers renewing - I said all that would not be done for nothing - F- said it was an excellent situation of which I agreed but made no further remark thinking to myself I see whence the opposition to Northgate will come - F- had said Carr was the fittest man for it - I merely said I thought he had neither capital nor character but, in fact, he had never named Northgate to me - But thought I, I must mind what I am about there will be opposition anyway with Carr or without him  - I had best have a man who would be more difficult to oppose than Carr - A- would not take luncheon till I got her persuaded at last told me she had been unhappy the last two or three weeks had not pleasure in anything never felt as if doing right would not take wine was getting too fond of it afraid she should drink was getting as she was before afraid people would find it out and began to look disconsolate oh oh thought I I see how it is cheered her up said we would get off in May would go to Paris first this made me stay with her so inconveniently long  on leaving her thanked god as I walked along for all blessings to myself and fervently begged his help and felt comforted and my spirits good and my head clear

[ireceived-p8250000]

January 13-19, 2013

School officially started this week. I’m not classmates with Hollmae, which might be for the best, but we are in PE3 and NSTP2 together. Mansoor and I share most of our major classes and Social Orientation. He already took Anatomy and Physiology, so he’s not in that class with me.

We didn't sit together; I ended up at the back with Abel, Joan, Nicole, Reg, and the other freshmen. During introductions, when asked why I chose Psychology, I shared about my dad who used to be a cop handling sensitive cases involving children and women. He often complained that victims got stuck in an unending cycle of abuse because they didn't get proper mental health support. I explained how mental health is underappreciated in our country, with no comprehensive laws addressing it. I believe mental health is just as important as physical health.

Professor Awing kept asking questions, but I didn’t reveal much more. I mentioned wanting to work for the bigger picture in the future, like advocating for mental health laws, rather than becoming a doctor. They seemed impressed, which made me a bit embarrassed, so I didn’t say anything further.

I also started working at Mount Cloud at night, and it’s fun despite Beth and Lloyd being very serious. I had to learn their system, which was challenging. Getting home is a bit of a problem since I have to spend 30 pesos for the taxi pool.

Balancing everything will be tough. I still take care of my skin when I get home and drink tea before sleeping. When I’m not busy at work, I do my homework there, which they said is okay. For extra readings, I stay up until 1 a.m. Mama isn’t thrilled about it because I sleep late and wake up early. I jog at 7 a.m. on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. I asked for money for a lamp, and she bought one for me, so I study quietly at night.

Classes are interesting, especially Anatomy and Physiology. I expected Psych Stats to be difficult, and it is. The mornings are very cold these days, making it harder to get out of bed.

NSTP2 was moved to Sunday mornings, which means no extra sleep. They said we wouldn’t have to meet every Sunday, though, which is a relief.

The week flew by with so much happening. Between classes, work, and maintaining some semblance of a social life, time feels like my biggest enemy. Mansoor and I keep in touch, and he’s been a great support. We often study together, and his company makes the workload feel lighter.

On Wednesday, I ran into Sir Apollo at the library. He asked how my classes were going and seemed genuinely interested. I mentioned my new job, and he looked concerned about me working late. He advised me to take care of my health and not overwork myself. His concern was touching but also confusing, given his previous behavior.

By Friday, I was exhausted. After classes, Mansoor and I decided to grab coffee. We ended up talking for hours about our dreams and aspirations. He’s planning to become a psychologist and open his own practice one day. I shared my goals about mental health advocacy. It was a deep and meaningful conversation that made me feel even closer to him.

Saturday was mostly spent catching up on assignments and preparing for the coming week. I had to buy a few more school supplies, so I went shopping with mom. I also squeezed in a quick chat with Rona and Jess, who were curious about my new job and classes.

I’m trying to stay on top of everything, but it’s a lot to juggle. I’m determined to manage my time better, even though it’s tough. This week has been a whirlwind, and I can only imagine how much busier it’s going to get.

[magnetarmadda]

WIP Wednesday Thursday because time is fake lol, thanks @blasphemous-lies-and-deceit for tagging me! I’m not tagging anyone since it’s not Wednesday anymore, but for all my writer friends, if you’ve got a wip you wanna share, consider yourself tagged

I’ve been finding writing very hard lately (anything, not just fic, which is rough because my job right now is all about writing research proposals and reports and articles), so this is a piece of what I’ve got for the next chapter of Love Like Gravity, which I will finish someday

The kitchenette is quiet at half seven, just Jon and the sound of the kettle to fill the small space. He's only half paying attention to the motions of his hands as they prepare his mug, a worn blue one Gerry gave him years ago when Jon started grad school. It lived on his student desk and has followed him ever since.

He's probably mostly awake by now, but it's hard to be sure. As the newest junior faculty member, Jon, of course, is teaching an 8 AM, and he's considering switching to coffee to get him through. This level of exhaustion on the everyday? It might kill him.

The click of the kettle draws his focus from daydreaming about his soft bed, and he pours hot water over the tea bag. He stirs in sugar and then pulls the mug close, the scent of the steeping tea a poor substitute for the caffeine, but he knows he'll be grumpy for hours if he drinks weak tea.

Jon turns to head back to his office and is startled by a colleague opening the door. He hasn't yet learned everyone's names, but he does recognize the man who gives a quick wave hello—Jon saw him speak at a conference a few years ago about developments in dark energy research.

"Jon, right?" he asks, his hand pausing between them as he spots Jon's mug.

Jon feels himself flush a bit. "Ah, y-yes," he says, half-grimacing. "Jon Sims. You're Oliver Banks, right? I saw your talk on—"

"—dark energy and the modifications of gravity. Yeah, one of my more popular ones," Oliver says, grinning. "Big mistake, giving the plenary at an international conference. People keep recognizing me."

"O-oh," Jon replies, his stomach sinking at his accidental faux-pas. "I'm s—"

Oliver raises his hands and makes quick calming motions. "Sorry, sorry," he says gently, like Jon's a spooked cat. "I forget most people aren't aware of my sense of humor. No, it's nice to meet you, and I'm glad you remember my talk."

Jon offers his best attempt at a polite smile, his tired brain struggling to figure out what to say next. "What brings you in so early?" he finally lands on, shifting his mug to one hand.

"Conference call with a couple of colleagues in other timezones," Oliver shrugs. "India, Japan, Germany—getting us all for an hour each week meant some sacrifices."

Jon snorts, thinking of a colleague he's trying to finish a paper with who moved home to Russia a few months ago. "I can sympathize," he says.

"Meetings for you as well?" Oliver asks, now moving to the kettle to refill it. Jon shift his body, following Oliver as they talk.

Jon laughs now. "I wish," he admits, shrugging. "I was assigned the 8 AM first year astronomy course."

"Ouch," Oliver replies, also laughing. "I wish I understood why someone decided astronomy should be taught in the morning. I spent years pushing to move it to the evening."

Jon nods, thinking of the conversation he had last week with Elias asking for the same thing.

"Maybe we should start a petition," Oliver adds. "Get enough faculty on it, maybe we can convince someone."

Before he can answer, Jon's phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out and sees his calendar reminder. He grimaces as he dismisses it. "Speaking of," he says, waving his phone half-heartedly as Oliver looks over at him. "I have to go unlock the door."

With a matching grimace, Oliver wishes him luck, and Jon hurries to his office for his bag and the file folder of freshly printed problem sets.

[fenimores-book-nook]

Day 3 ~ self care writing

November 16th, 2023 ~ Thursday

I just got done making 11+ drinks for a bus load of college students that came into the shop. I remember the dread I felt when I saw the bus pull up. A tiny sliver of hope I had that they would just walk past the shop got squashed as they started heading my way. I knew what I had to do. RACE TO THE DOOR BEFORE THEY WALKED IN AND SAY, "SORRY, WE'RE CLOSING EARLY!"

Nah, I didn't do that. I wanted to, though. I stuck it out. I took all those orders, watching the drink line on the coffee bar get longer and longer and longer and longer. I don't even think everyone ordered something and it was that many. But THANKFULLY, when I had about seven drinks left, my wonderful boss came in and started helping me immediately. And when we had five left, one of my awesome managers came in and helped as well. Which I am SO grateful for. If they didn't start helping I probably would've been stuck making those drinks for at least seven extra minutes. (five minutes seems too short and ten minutes seems too long)

Thankfully, I think almost all of them just walked out. Okay, I know I shouldn't be saying that because I do work here and I should be glad for customers--which I am!!--but that was A LOT. And for a little anti-social birdie like me...yeah. But lookie! I survived!

Here's my congratulatory iced tea latte for myself along with the "Monster of the Month" book club book I just started reading! :) The iced tea latte, I rewarded with the name: Crisp Apple Morning. It's an English Breakfast tea with caramel apple butter syrup and vanilla syrup. Then I added soy milk! It's very good. I very well might also reward myself with buying lunch from somewhere because I have barely gotten a break to sit down since those college students came in. But, I finally do now! Even though I only have like 10 minutes of my shift left, it's okay.

~

Flash forward in my day- it's 9:52 pm currently. So far, the rest of my day after the college-student-bombardment has been:

1 pm ~ got off work, grabbed some lunch (I was right about the reward lunch), and headed home to relax and continue watching Wizards of Waverly Place.

5:35 pm ~ left home again for an event with a friend that happens downtown (same area as my work): Third Thursday. It's a fun little event that happens every third Thursday of the month. There are usually vendors along the street and most of the businesses stay open later than usual. We got some free hot chocolate, dinner, and I got a $3 book from a second-hand book store that I LOVE and I prove that love by being an incredibly faithful customer to them. ;) The book I got was an Ivy and Bean one, it's a part of a collection of several other books that I used to love so much when I was younger. So since I have a need to leave that store with a book in my hand and because it was that cheap, I thought: why the heck not?

8:20-30 pm ~ came home from downtown and sat and read for a while! I finally am getting more into Iron Flame, mostly because my sister is pressuring me to keep reading it because it's so good and she wants to talk to someone about it. (she's almost finished with it) And I know it is and will be super good, there's just so many other books that are just as good- AH!

~

Okay, nighttime self-care things now. :)

Things I did today that I felt helped my progress in self-care:

I sent a close friend a text explaining that I wanted to talk about some struggles I've been going through, which is a step for me given I'm not the greatest at talking about my feelings.

I was kind of inspired by this quote I saw today: "Sometimes peace requires you to be quiet, even if you're right." I had been debating doing this one thing that would not be classified as me being quiet, but I just felt like it wasn't going to be a smoothing-over type of thing, so I was unsure I wanted to deal with the response right now. But then I saw this quote that struck a chord with me. Even though, that part inside of me is longing to take that unquiet step, is it worth my peace at this moment in time? So, I took the step to be peacefully quiet. And I'm okay with that for this moment.

When I came home from work, I let myself just relax and do the things that felt good for me in the moment instead of pressuring myself to do other things that seemed more productive.

(pinterest) Sometimes the best thing you can do for yourself is sit quietly and do nothing. :)

So, that's one more day of self-care writings- yay! Day three, going strong!

Until the next one,

Thalia <3

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary42

10/19-20/2023

thursday - friday

i saw my friends today, it was nice.

but now it's late and i'm tired again, i went into 2 songs today and i think i made them a lot better though. i should stop saying fixed, cuz i am in a different stage now. there's less wrong, it's more about getting the sounds precisely "there" i guess.

anyways tonight was fun. i saw my friend's band at the same pizza place we ended up at the other night, and i got more free pizza, which makes me feel yucky but whatever, i got to eat enough. this new band i saw tonight was like, they really wanted to be nirvana, pretty funny i guess, hope they do something more interesting in the future they're all obviously capable musicians and stuff. my friend's band played a new song of theirs he was talking about a lot, i really liked it, i think it's one of their best for sure at this point. trying to think, a lot of the time we spent at the pizza place was just kind of standing around and bullshitting. i thought watching my friend about how much i would like to do anything live, i feel like there's some sense i have of time running out in that way, i wonder if everything i want will just fail to materialize, and i'll be a huge failure creatively.

hopefully not.

at my friend's place i messed w/ vcv rack and made horrible noises, and watched him fuck with it, and he made slightly more musical sounds, it's hard to make it really musical, i feel like, so i like just making it do fucked up textural stuff.

maybe tomorrow i should try to just transpose stuff from my note's app into my story, and work on writing more than music, which is proceeding at a fine pace, i can take a break i think, i should do that, and try to figure out what i need to do there to get closer to a draft, i really want that to be finished. i want to finish something. or get to the first finishing of something that will go on for a while. every project goes on so long, my perfectionism maybe leads to more wasted time. it sucks but i can't help it.

i also think i'm psychosomatically making myself feel itchy because i'm paranoid the hotel room had bed bugs even though i sat there and checked and flipped the bed up and everything, and i'm scared my gf's mom's dog gave me fleas too or something. i'm just so scared and uncomfortable, and tomorrow i have to cook and stuff because we got home so late.

and now it's 3 am which is like my bed time now and i should just sleep now so i don't have to struggle or something through all of tomorrow. it will be good to sleep. i also get to work on another collaborative poem tomorrow too. that might be a good warmup for writing. i am going to sit down and really write i think, before i shower, i'll sit there and do it. i might need coffee or something. maybe just tea. i just have to focus. transposing notes out is a good start, and getting things to slot in. ughhgh.

i make everything sound like busywork, it's all just about realizing everything is manageable, nothing is too much trouble, it's not overwhelming, i can do it.

anyways i need to sleep, today was a good day but i'm sitting here thinking myself into being depressed about something and letting all my paranoia make myself feel worse than i really should i think. i don't think i'm allergic to anything in pizza. idk what it could be, what if i have some kind of disease and it kills me. that would be really sad. i will have done nothing with my life.

so like, byebye!!!