#bloominq

[00fishbish]

[phantombs]

This isn't his scene. He's bruises enough, battered to mosiac beneath the swallow of his tee. Yet, drunk men, riled ruthless beneath the prodding of his words, wouldn't ever mind that, would they? Never. Goodness, dreamer-boy, your face... What? Does it catch your eye? his gaze answers. Limply, the idiot looks to her as he's backed to a wall, alley dark. Well, you're right, if you're wondering. His lips bleeds. This isn't much my scene.

@bloominq, ♡.

[paramcur-archive]

@bloominq​:  past    a    certain    point,    you    stop    being    able    to    go    home.    /    shiwoo    to    teddy.  ( source. )

 teddy  thinks  they’ve  had  a  talk  like  this  before,  though  it’s  been  ages  since  they’ve  been  this  vulnerable  with  one  another.  he  wonders  when  and  why  that  became  the  case,  when  it  was  supposed  to  be  universally  understood  that  it  wasn’t  alright  to  come  home  and  relay  the  terrible  details  of  his  day  to  his  parents  because  well,  their  day  was  terrible  in  a  more  complicated  adult  way,  and  wouldn’t  it  be  nice  if  he’d  stop  piling  on?  teddy  is  successful  now,  they’re  successful,  but  it  hadn’t  always  been  that  way  and  there’d  been  times  when  he’d  had  to  couch  surf  and  reach  out  to  his  parents  for  help  while  knowing  acutely  that  when  they  spoke  of  him,  it  was  the  same  intonation  of  disdain  they  used  for  his  other  relatives  that  only  reached  out  to  borrow  money.  during  that  time,  shiwoo  had  been  his  rock. 

 the  thought  of  himself  creating  a  similar  situation,  where  it  seemed  more  damning  to  ask  for  help,  to  admit  that  you  were  confused  and  didn’t  have  it  all  figured  out,  was  enough  to  make  his  stomach  flip  with  guilt.  he  traces  an  index  finger  through  the  ring  of  condensation  left  by  his  glass  on  the  table,  gazing  shiwoo  with  sad  puppy-dog  eyes  the  whole  while.  “is  that  how  i  made  you  feel?”  he’s  prepared  to  be  snapped  at,  to  be  told  to  not  look  at  shiwoo  with  perceived  pity,  but  he  can’t  help  it.  “i  think  i’ve  lost  the  plot,  really.  i’ve  become  a  complacent,  self-absorbed  asshole  and...  exactly  the  type  of  guy  we  used  to  make  fun  of.”  he  doesn’t  have  a  home  or  family  anymore  that’s  more  important  than  what  his  bandmates  are  to  him,  and  maybe  some  people  would  think  that’s  sad,  perceive  it  as  a  business  relationship  that  he’s  clinging  to  with  all  his  life  --  but  this  is  teddy’s  reality.  his  family.  he  only  gets  one.  “shiwoo-yah,  you  can  always  come  home.”

[thirstdriven]

❛  i bought you a small gift . no occasion really , i just wanted to make you smile .  ❜ ji-ah to madison or haneul? for the handmaiden verse uwu @bloominq​

haneul's  expression  brightens  when  jiah  places  the  music  box  in  her  hand,  ears  immediately  tuning  in  to  the  pretty  notes  beginning  to  play  when  she  opens  the  top,  watching  as  the  ballerina  rotates  in  place  while  she  continues  to  wind  it  up.  after  a  moment,  her  fingers  still  on  the  key  and  she  looks  at  jiah  with  a  soft  smile.  "it's  beautiful.  and  timeless."  like  you.  she  nibbles  on  her  bottom  lip,  thinking  back  to  all  those  years  ago  when  she  was  first  put  in  jiah's  service  --  she'd  been  such  a  rebellious  thing,  who  knew  next  to  nothing  about  caring  for  herself  or  others.  the  etiquette  of  being  a  handmaid,  a  servant  to  someone  from  high  society  --  all  of  that  was  lost  on  her.  but  it  turned  out  to  be  a  blessing  in  disguise,  and  while  she'd  initially  set  out  only  to  escape  poverty  and  gradually  work  her  way  up  to  a  higher  station,  somewhere  along  the  way  haneul  had  stopped  caring  about  the  motheaten  holes  in  her  undergarments  as  long  as  she  could  make  sure  jiah's  stayed  bright  and  clean  whenever  she  set  them  out  for  princess.

she'd  been  longing  to  stay  in  jiah's  service  for  as  long  as  possible  --  but  neither  one  of  them  could  have  predicted  that  it  would  end  up  being  eternity.  "there's  so  much  of  life  i  would  have  never  experienced,  if  not  for  you,"  she  whispers  quietly,  like  a  confession.  haneul  pulls  herself  out  of  her  nostalgic  reverie,  gently  placing  the  antique  music  box  in  her  bag  before  beaming  another  soft  smile  the  other  girl's  way.  "thank  you,  gongju-nim.  but  i  have  plenty  of  nice  things  already."  again,  all  thanks  to  jiah.

[hcneyboy]

@bloominq​ : “   i’ll  try  to  find  us  somewhere  to  spend  the  night .   ”

hands fidget with the hem of his sweater, quick nod given back to tiffany before any words manage to protest. elijah doubts either of them would have expected to end up in the other’s company, not for anything longer than a few moments anyway. it had worked, for him at least. she had certainly gotten his mind off what he’d hoped to forget, fussing over ex - partner now now pushed to the very back of his mind, tiffany holding his attention in full and all he can do is wander after her. it remains unclear just what he’s gotten himself into now, only evident that the usual charm and sweet - talking could only get him so far, and certainly not far enough. “ can’t we just go back ? how are they gonna know you’re with me anyway ? ”

[phantombs]

“   tell  me  that  story  again .   ” from astoria? maybe she's a frequent visitor of his shop ;_;

❥ 𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐀𝐑𝐓  𝐎𝐅  𝐃𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘: No longer accepting.

Huh. "You must like those pretty things, don't you?" Of course.

Cường, a chronic poem-weaver, should’ve expected this. After all, cradled delicately in that mouth sung words so wonderfully and dazzlingly sweet. Seriously: Rembrandts would pale to the host of them, wouldn’t they? what with all the cherry-red, rosy blushing they’d caused! See? Exactly. And so what if she’s found herself intrigued, hooked and haunted by this gardener's stories? He looks to her curious as he peels his lychee. He pops it in his mouth, and the sweet of it clings. 

How very apt. Sugar slick about those gums of his... Yes, because succoring is his every word.

She knows that. He bears upon her his gaze a bit too keen, and she knows that, too. She comes in often enough that one’s left to wonder, what with that stripping gaze he boasts, what left of her will remain ten visits down the line. Or even five. Maybe one more. Huh. Nothing, maybe. Cường rounds the table, and he sees her for the thousandth time, this writer of a woman with a love so deep for.... What?

Beauty. Escapism. A fairy-like ‘spin me something worth dreaming to’ tale.

Right. “Isn’t it pretty enough, everything around you?” he wonders.

It! Gosh. No. She’s had a rough go at things, but what can he know when her hands soft as rose water suggest otherwise? God, his eyes. Cường mouths his thumb a little, syrup down his nail, and he eyes Astoria by his beds of petunias. Pretty. Color and life everywhere. Look closely: “Do you keep visiting me to lose yourself a little?” Roost there in all my little heart-warming, sweet-sleeping tales? He's teasing, and she’s enraptured, summer-haired and posy-young. Come on. “Writers. I always wonder why you want to be somewhere else.”

[thirstdriven]

"you’re  the  first  person  who  broke  my  heart."  natefia  for  @bloominq​​

that  raises  nate’s  hackles  immediately,  his  brows  furrowing  as  something  protective  and  possessive  flares  up  in  his  gut.  “what?  whose  the  second?”  he  blinks,  almost  immediately  realizing  he  had  his  priorities  all  wrong  here.  the  fact  that  he  thought  she  might  still  be  hung  up  on  him  is  arrogant,  but  it  surfaces  from  the  murky  depths  of  his  mind.  sofia  had  needed  him  then,  and  he  hadn’t  been  there  for  her.  he  knows  their  breakup  must’ve  come  as  a  shock  because  they  were  beginning  to  get  serious,  and  everything  had  been  going  fine  until  he’d  met  her  parents.  his  parents  were  deeply  catholic  --  and  not  believing  in  contraceptives  had  lead  to  him  having  four  siblings  hanging  off  of  him  throughout  his  childhood.  

he’s  been  burdened  with  the  knowledge  that  his  parents  have  been  raw-dogging  it  all  the  time,  so  he  should’ve  been  used  to  a  certain  level  of  religious  extremism.  should’ve.  clearing  the  air  with  a  cough,  he  lowers  his  head  and  lets  his  shoulders  droop.  “i  was  scared.”  there  it  is.  the  crack  in  his  chassis.  he  won’t  make  excuses  for  himself,  only  try  to  sum  up  his  feelings  as  succinctly  as  he  can.  nate  has  never  been  great  at  arguing,  or  communicating  in  general.  his  gaze  focuses  on  the  hard  lines  of  sofia’s  mouth,  overcome  with  the  urge  to  soften  them.  he  can’t.  “i  don’t  know,  don’t  you  think  i  was  a  pretty  good  placeholder  boyfriend?”  nate  flashes  her  a  wide  grin.

[thirstdriven]

“   i  don’t  bruise  easily .   ” tedfia bye @bloominq​

maybe  this  whole  thing  was  asinine,  since  it  could  easily  be  a  reward  instead  of  a  punishment.  but  teddy  wanted  a  way  to  end  the  negative  self-talk,  see  if  he  could  condition  her  to  think  more  positively  through  pleasure.  she  was  a  sight  to  behold  spread  out  on  knees  like  this,  her  plaid-patterned  skirt  flipped  up  to  expose  her  ass  and  panties  to  the  room’s  cold  air  conditioning.  “sofia,  you  understand  how  this  is  going  to  work,  right?  if  you’re  a  brat,  if  you  backtalk  me,  or  if  you  fail  to  say  the  phrases  i  want  you  to  say,  you  get  spanked,”  he  tells  her  softly,  a  gloved  hand  caressing  the  globe  of  her  ass  to  get  her  used  to  the  touch.  she’s  going  to  be  embarrassed  throughout  a  lot  of  this,  teddy  is  almost  certain.  “i  want  you  to  say,  “i  am  worthy  of  being  loved.”  his  gaze  turns  more  intense  then,  waiting  with  baited  breath  to  see  what  kind  of  reaction  sofia  would  give.