#got recommended a short that was political. i truly felt like the guy opening the dead dove bag. like I don’t know what I expected

[iiryebreadii]

*opens youtube short comment section*

*instant psychic damage*

[jae-daddy]

Duff (9)

im jaebum au series 

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven  masterlist

pairing: im jaebum x reader  genre: angst, smurt, cheating plot: you are the duff and guys use you to get close to your best friend, Heather, and turns out Jaebum is no exception, but as time does on the tension between you and your best friend’s unofficial boyfriend grows a/n: a short one, because I really truly hated where I had left the story last time. it was not it, but I like this. it’s better than the alternative I guess. also, I am writing all of it before publishing it so <3 hope yall like it <3 

You don’t know what came first; the guilt, embarrassment or hurt. 

But you knew yourself well, and you knew guilt didn’t touch your heart until later that night when you were lying in bed. As you stared up at the ceiling, thinking about that him, for the first time guilt laid its icy fingertips on you. 

The first thing you felt was hurt. Hurt that clawed at your heart, and made your soul whimper. Hurt that cut through you entirely as you remained in his arms, watching his face. 

“Yes,” he had said, his fingers digging into your hips. 

“Yes,” you replied, breathing him in as you leaned closer to him. 

You saw his lips draw into a straight line as he pulled away and said, “No.”

“Oh,” was all you said moving away from him. 

A simple sound, not even a word to express the pain that seared through you at his words. 

No.

He didn’t want you. 

Im Jaebum didn’t want you. 

You were in his arms, your skirt drawn up to your hips as you sat on his lap. In a single breath, he changed the moment completely, and you were no longer burning in passion, but in agony. Agony of not being desired by this man, not being wanted by him, when you yearned for him. When you were begging for his lips to touch any part of you, he had turned away. 

And then came the embarrassment blazing through the darkness of lust, and it hurt. It stabbed you everywhere till you were shivering in sudden coldness. You were so embarrassed, so ashamed. You had- you had done... all of that, and all he said was ‘no.’ 

It wasn’t the rejection that the embarrassment stemmed from. It was because you had tried, because you thought it would happen, because you thought he wanted you. Because you had offered yourself to him, and all he said to express his repugnance was a simple ‘no.’ 

You climbed off him and walked out the office. Your face was on fire from the shame as you straightened your skirt. You chuckled to yourself thinking a walk of shame was better then trying to hook up with your boss only to be rejected. 

You finished work that day, and the next, like nothing was amiss. As if that moment didn’t happen. As if every time you saw him, you weren’t reminded that he didn’t want you. 

Im Jaebum didn’t want you. 

It shouldn’t hurt that bad, especially since you almost swore you hated him with your heart. But it did, it hurt truly terribly badly, and there was nothing you could do about it. 

You couldn’t even feel sorry for yourself long enough too. Because as soon as the hurt and shame went away, and you looked up at your dark ceiling, you remembered her face. 

You remembered the way she had held your hand whenever you were scared. How she would give you that look every time she took your hand giving her courage. Her love, her kindness, her friendship, her. 

How for the first time since you’ve known her... for the first time, it seemed as if Heather truly liked someone and you... 

You didn’t feel sorry for yourself, or your heart that ached. You weren’t sure if the ache was because of the rejection or from the thought of loosing your best friend. But you didn’t feel sorry because what happened was your fault.

“Thanks for the files, y/n,” Jaebum looked up from his desk. For the first time, he was seated in the big boss seat without any reason. You smiled and nodded, before turning to leave, like nothing was amiss. As if that afternoon had never happened, as if you had never crossed that line.

You were almost out the door when he said, “Have a good weekend.”

Your fingers turned white on the handle, but you nevertheless you turned around and gave him a bright smile, “You too, Mr Im.” 

// 

Heather pouted as she sat next to you, before pulling you into a big bear hug. 

“It’s so nice to have my best friend back,” she sang, happily, hugging you tighter. 

You gave her small smile as you leaned into her, petting her arm, “It’s nice to be back.��

“Gosh, I’m so glad you’re done with that internship,” she huffed over the loud music of the club. 

You only nodded as you took a sip of your drink, “I still have three weeks left, Heather.” 

“Three weeks pass by like nothing,” she shook her head. She turned to you with a bright smile, “Remember Bali? Maybe now that you’re going to be more free, maybe we can...” 

She gave you a huge grin, quizzically raising her brows up and down to the music. Before she began bopping her head like a dork to the beat, “What do you say, y/n?” 

I’m sorry. 

“Whatever you want,” you smiled at her, and she exclaimed in joy. 

// 

“Mr Park Jinyoung is now officially the CEO of Spring Industries, and has sent forward a report and plan for their proposal,” You looked up to see Jaebum opening his mouth, but you cut him off knowing his question. “The file is already on your desks, and I have included a summary report from myself and Mr Paul.” 

You had a month and a bit to think about what had happened. In the beginning, you had blamed yourself. It was foolish of you to put yourself out there for him, but the more you thought about the angrier you got. 

It wasn’t all in your head. Im Jaebum did flirt with you. 

He gave you all the signals, all the green lights, and the arrows leading you to him. He basically had made a pathway for you to follow into his arms, and after all that he said no? 

No. 

No, it wasn’t your fault for putting yourself out there for him. You had done it because you thought... you felt that he too... but who knows, Im Jaebum was friendly with everyone. 

But he did tell others his wish was to kiss them?

Did he ever follow anyone to the rooftop of a club and call himself a fool for letting them go?

Did he talk to everyone about his mother?

Did he smile like that at everyone? Look at them like that? Touch them with the faintest touch of his fingertips?

But you should’ve known better. 

These rich guys never go for girls like you. 

You don’t have any money, any wealth, nothing to offer them to make their status go up. You weren’t even pretty enough to be a trophy wife. You were just a girl they could play with behind closed doors. 

But for Jaebum, you weren’t even worth that.

“Spring Industries is having a party on Thursday to announce Park Jinyoung as their new appointed CEO. They have requested your presence to show the companies are friendly--,” you once again looked up from your iPad, to find Jaebum staring at you intently. You ignored his gaze, and the rage that fumed inside you, “It’s most likely a political publicity stunt, but I would recommend you do go to the party, as it will be beneficial for you both-”

“What am I going to do about you?” 

“Excuse me?” You gasped, taken aback. 

Jaebum chuckled, humourlessly. His lips twisted into a smirk, and you realised you hadn’t seen him smile or laugh in a really long time. You tried to shove the pain shooting towards your heart away, but a pang still rang through you as you saw his sad smile. 

“How am I going to do this all without you?” He clarified himself. You stammered unable to think of something to say. Jaebum let out a sigh, “Come to the party with me.” 

“I’m afraid that’s-”

Jaebum interrupted you, making you frown. 

“Your last assignment as my secretary, Miss y/n,” Jaebum tilted his head to the side, smiling slightly as he said, “Come with me.” 

No. 

“What about Heather?” 

“I can’t go to formal gatherings with her without others assuming it's a political play,” Jaebum answered, before shrugging, “It’s too early for that step anyway.” 

Too early? They have been dating for months now, and Heather was head over heels for him, and he is saying it’s too early. 

“I-”

“Please, y/n,” Jaebum’s dark eyes bore into yours, and you held your breath. “One last time.” 

"Alright,” you sighed, defeated. 

“Thanks.” 

Thanks, love, the ghost of his past self whispered.

You swallowed the bitterness, before looking down at your iPad once again. 

“Mr Henry and Mark are...” you continued on as if nothing was wrong. 

Because nothing was wrong. 

Everything was right. 

You were about to end this dreadful internship, and come out debt free. 

Heather was in love with her boyfriend. 

Her boyfriend didn’t fuck her best friend. 

And your best friend was still your best friend. 

Everything was just right, but everything felt so wrong. 

// 

You were leaning against the rich white leather sofa and Heather’s shoulders. Your eyes were closed, as you tried not to break down in front of your best friend. 

You knew Jaebum wasn’t going to be here tonight. It was Friday night and he had a company dinner with the upper shareholders today. So, tonight you decided to sleep over at Heather’s house. 

Just like every moment you spent with her now, you wanted to burst out into tears and tell her everything. Tell her how you fell for him and his teasing words. How you didn’t mean to but you started to like him, how your heart ached every time you saw him. How terrible you felt every time you saw Heather smile at you like that, knowing that you were so close to ruining everything. 

“Hey, what’s wrong, babe?” Heather asked, her soft hands wiping the tears that fell onto your cheeks. 

You shook your head and moved away from her shoulder. You leaned into the corner of your sofa, and tried to hold in the tears. But you couldn’t. 

Your chin began to shake as more tears fell from your eyes. 

“Hey, hey, hey, y/n,” Heather moved towards you quickly. “What’s wrong, babe? You can tell me anything.” 

You shook your head, you couldn’t tell her this. You couldn’t tell her this. You couldn’t lose her. 

“I’m sorry, Heather,” you whispered into her tank top as she pulled your shaking body into her. 

“Shhh,” she hushed, brushing your hair, trying to calm your sobbing body, “It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s only to be okay. I’m here for you, I’m always going to be here for you. Okay?” 

You bit your lip as you cried harder. You managed a meek okay through your tears. 

After you had calmed down a bit, you leaned back and looked at your best friend. Her eyes were glistening with concern, and a few stray tears running down her face too from seeing you cry. 

You couldn't hide it from her, she was your other half. You had to tell her, but all you could manage was, “I love him, Heather.” 

I love Im Jaebum.

[ikleesfiction]

Will you follow through if I fall for you?

Fandom : One Chicago Word count : 2,276 words Author Notes : Rated M Disclaimer

Previously on this fic : Part 1 🞂 Part 2 🞂 Part 3 🞂 Part 4

Part 5

Jay didn’t text or call you further until the next day. You feel your phone vibrating on the desk as you are working with your headphones on. You see Jay’s name on the display before you pick it up, “Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N! I’m downstairs. Let's do the dinner date now. You haven’t had dinner yet, have you?” Jay spontaneously announces.

It was just past 7 PM. You have been working since 1 PM and didn’t notice the time goes. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Couldn’t you give me more time to prepare?”, you sound annoyed but he can hear the smile in your tone.

“Don't want you to accuse me of bailing again. So I have to be sure I can make it”, Jay says grinningly.

“Why don’t you come up and wait in my living room?”, you let Jay know your apartment number and buzz him up before you disconnect the call. Soon you hear knocks on your door.

“Hi, come on in”, you usher Jay into your place. “Sit wherever you like, make yourself at home. If you’d like to drink, feel free to take it from the fridge. I’m gonna go get ready”, you tell him.

As you turn your back to leave, Jay grabs your wrist gently and turns you around. His hand then cups your face tenderly and he leans to kiss your lips. You freeze up for a tick before melt into it. Your hand moves to his chest, palm over his denim jacket.

Jay pulls away after a while, “Hi. I miss you”, he murmurs. You just blink owlishly and stay speechless.

“Now you can go get ready”, he commands you with a smile. You voluntarily follow his order. Jay shakes his head, amused. He was being honest when he said he misses you. For the whole day, he was hoping the unit wouldn’t get any urgent cases. Once it’s time to clock out, Jay quickly moved out of the district. The kiss though been something that he wanted to do since he met you at Will’s place. When Jay saw you opened the door before, he thought you’re cute with faded pink shorts that were drowned by an oversized white t-shirt. He just felt like it was the right time to properly kiss you.

As he waits for you to get ready, Jay looks around at your place. It’s an open-plan apartment. He can see almost every corner of it from the living room. A flat tv was hanging on the wall, in front of a cozy couch and a simple coffee table. On one corner, there is a small desk table with a mismatched but comfy looking chair. A laptop, headphones, and a microphone are sitting on the table. Next to it, there are an electric keyboard and a guitar. Cables plug and scatter around messily. He figures that’s where you do your work.

Jay walks to the kitchen to take a bottle of water from the fridge. You don’t have a dining table. Only a kitchen island with chairs on its outer side. On the fridge door, he can see a training schedule and some recipe cards. There are no pictures or drawings. Actually, he cannot find any family photos or even band posters around the place. The place looks kind of bare without any personal decoration. Jay wonders how long you’ve been living in this place.

Fifteen minutes later, you come out of your room in a cream-colored blouse and skinny blue jeans. Because Chicago weather always feels chilly to you, you put on a black light-jacket that fell slightly above your wrists. “Okay, I’m ready”, you fluff your hair a bit. You don’t have time to style it the way you like. So brush and fingers should do.

“You clean up nice”, Jay compliments you. He offers his hand for you to take.

“Well, thanks for the heads-up”, you respond jokingly as both of you step out of your place after you lock it down.

You and Jay casually chat while he drives. “How was your day?”, you genuinely want to know.

“It’s good. Any day without getting shot at is actually good. The gang told me to say hi to you, by the way”, he informs you.

“Really? How many people are there in your team? I was lowballing for breakfast the other day. I hope it’s enough”, you tilt your head curiously.

“No, you were great. No one was left hungry. Let’s see, there is my partner, Hailey Upton. We got Ruzek, Olinsky, and Dawson. Hank Voight is our boss. Who else did I miss? Hmm…Oh, Burgess and Atwater! So there’s eight of us”, Jay counts.

“And Sergeant Platt at the desk”, you remind him.

Jay lets out a laugh, “Right, that’s sweet of you to remember her”

“Well, no one can go in 21st District without her permission. So I have to take good care of her”, you humorously explain your reason.

Soon Jay parks his car. “The restaurant is just around the corner”, he shows you as you step out of his car. You walk side by side to the restaurant.

“Dawson told me this place is good but I’ve never been here before���, Jay informs you when he opens the restaurant door for you.

“Great, I like unknown places”, you cheerfully comment.

There is a friendly-looking older guy greets them at the door. “Hola! Welcome! My name is Carlos. Are you looking for a table for two?”

Jay gives him an affirmative nod, “Yes, please”

Carlos then guides both of you to a table. He lets you settle down and gives menu cards to review. A few minutes later, he comes back, “Ready to order?”

Jay looks at you questioningly. “Ah, can you tell me more about this one?”, you ask Carlos, pointing out an appetizing picture of a dish on the menu. The discussion is certainly longer than normal, but Carlos happily explains it to you. Finally, you pick your choice and so does Jay.

“I’m sorry. It must’ve been annoying to listen to”, you apologize to Jay once Carlos left.

“Not at all", Jay brushes it off. "It is actually interesting to see. The guy was ready to narrate all the tales about each dish when you ask”

“Yeah, thankfully he’s patient about it. Other places might have kicked me out before I can decide”, you snort a laugh. “That happened before. We were in New York. My best friend, Alex is a DJ. He was scheduled to play a gig at a club there. We planned to have an early dinner before going to the club. It was a fairly fancy restaurant. I remembered asking at least three questions for each dish before the waitress lost her patience, accused me of pranking her, and kicked us out. We were too shocked to say anything”, you giggle through your story. “Whenever we try new places now, I’m not allowed to order anymore”

"You're not just being polite when you mentioned you like unknown places", Jay remarks after laughing at your story.

"No, I truly like it. When we travel for work, we like to try places recommended by locals. Sometimes they do well, sometimes they don't. That's the fun in that", you justify.

"Is that why your place is rather bare? Because you travel all the time?", he pries.

"Ah no, not really. I.. I haven't been staying there long. Two months now", you hesitantly unfold.

"Oh, where do you live before?", he continues to probe.

"Amsterdam", you quickly respond, wishing he doesn't ask more about it.

"That's far. What made you move here?", Jay intrigues, unaware of your discomfort.

Before you can reply, a waiter comes with an appetizer and wine. He pours the wine into both of yours and Jay's glass, then leaves the bottle on the table. You softly exhale your relief, grateful for the distraction.

“Hmm, this is good”, you say after sipping your wine and tasting the food. “This place is very nice", as you look around the restaurant. "A good recommendation you received here, Jay”

"Yeah, Antonio rarely stirs us wrong", Jay agrees with you.

"Antonio is Gabby's brother, right?", you ask him.

"Yeah, you know her?", Jay returns with a tad surprised.

"Uhuh, Met her at Molly's", you answer shortly. It is not exactly a lie, but it is not the whole truth either. You did come to Molly's the night before the incident where Firehouse 51 saved you.

"Seriously? I can't believe we never met before. Our unit is a regular there! Even Will also frequently goes there", Jay baffles. You just giggle in response.

Easy conversation flows during dinner. Both of you certainly enjoy it. Soon the meal is finished and dessert is polished. While Jay settles the bill, you compliment the staff for the nice meal. Carlos bids farewell at the door with a small package of dulce de leche cookies. "Hope you enjoy the rest of your night!", he wishes you and Jay goodbye.

“What if we take a walk for a while, sober up from the wine?”, Jay suggests to you after leaving the restaurant. “Okay”, you readily agree.

Jay holds your hand when you both stroll along the sidewalk. The sky is quite clear. Even though you cannot see a lot of stars, the moon shines prettily. Both of you glance at each other a few times. Until you lock eyes with him, Jay stops his walk and turns to look at you. “Gosh, you’re gorgeous”, he states before kissing you tenderly on your lips.

One kiss turns two and another and another. It got more intense for each kiss. You’re not sure how long until you have to take a breather.

“Might be better if we go back now?” you sigh to his lips. He steals another kiss before replying, “Okay, we’re going now.”

◢◤

Your hand is shaking when you try to open your apartment door with Jay’s hands wrap around your waist. His body presses on your back while his lips nibble on your neck. Once you get in, you lead him to your bedroom. Jay sheds his and your clothes one by one in between kisses along the way. Both of you are topless when you reach your bedroom. You push him lightly to your bed and straddle him on his lap. The make-out session keeps going for a while. His hands then move from your ass to take off your jeans. He rolls on top of you and starts to peel your jeans from your legs.

You suddenly realize that he’s going to see the scar on your left leg, a souvenir from the incident. Jay can feel you stiffen when his knuckles graze your scar. “You okay?”, he tentatively asks you.

“Ah, yeah. I don’t know how I could forget about it. I’m sorry. I could cover it so you...”, you falter.

“What? What are you talking about?”, Jay confusedly interrupts.

You sit up and pointedly look at your left leg. There’s a long jagged line that goes along your left hamstring. Jay delicately touches it, but you jerk your leg away in reflex, “Sorry! Am I hurting you?”, Jay sounds worried.

“No, you’re not”, you fall back to your pillow and avoid looking at Jay. He moves to your right side and leans on his left elbow, facing you as he waits for you to speak.

“There’s was an incident, a couple months ago”, you begin to fill him in. “Alex was playing a gig at a nightclub on Fulton River District. I assisted him behind the stage”, you shudder as you recount the nightmare.

“One moment everything went alright, but then I saw the stage started to wobble. It collapsed quickly. I pulled Alex out of the way but I moved too slow...” Jay stays silent but holds your right hand and kisses the back of it.

“I was trapped under the rubble. My leg got pinned. Until Firehouse 51 pulled me out of there”. Jay instinctively squeezes your hand. “Torn the ligaments, got some nerve damage too. Been working on it ever since”, you unreliably conclude your story.

Jay is quiet for a while, but his hand moves to caress your face. “I’m gonna buy drinks for the whole 51 next time I see them at Molly’s”, he declares and then closes the gap to your lips. “For them to save you, so I can have you here, with me, right now”

He continues to kiss your neck, down to your shoulder, on top of your breast, your ribs. His lips keep moving south until he gets to your thigh. You try to pull your left leg away, but he is just not having it. He peppers your thigh and knee with soft kisses. “You don’t have to do that”, you whisper. “I know it’s off-putting”

“That’s where you are wrong. I see this as a beautiful sign that you survive” Jay fiercely says. “I got scars too, Y/N. Some even invisible. Are you appalled about my scars?”, he questions you.

“Of course not!” you exclaim.

“So you understand that I am not revolted by it”, his eyes look at you sincerely, before he puts your left leg on his right shoulder to kiss your scar.

Soon, he takes off his trousers and underwear, follows by pulling yours off. When he crawls back on top of you, you circle your hands around his neck and pull him down to kiss his lips passionately.

"I'm so glad I got a chance to meet you", Jay says before continues the night to make love to you.

Next on this fic : Part 6

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@shipshipshipau @itsdesiree86 @thevelvetseries @annaallicce

[defensefilms]

Defense Films Names His Top 5 Favorite Rappers

In All It’s Infinite Glory And Magnanimity, Defense Gives You His Top 5 Favorite Rappers. 

5. 50 Cent 

To this day, when you need a playlist for a MMA class and the group is hella diverse, you’re not really sure which way to go with it, pop in that 50. Can’t go wrong with Get Rich Or Die Trying (the original), or even that G-Unit Beg For Mercy.

That run from late 2002-2005/06 was unlike anything you’ll ever see again. That was a perfect situation where there was organic support from fans and there were people at a business level, mainly 50, that knew how to turn it into the wave that it became and industry has been trying to replicate this ever since.

While most people remember is the numerous scandals, beefs and controversies of that time but it was the music that moved the audience. For all the ways 50 Cent’s success mirrors ruthless American capitalism, his debut album is low key one of the most inspiring albums you’ll ever listen to. 

It’s a foxhole mentality on wax. It’s me-versus-you type thinking. It’s someone has to lose and I’ll be damned. It’s who ever has to get hit, is gonna get hit. 

See the first time I listened to it, it was about “In Da Club”, “Wanksta”, you know the more palatable records that got on radio and all that but the more I listened the more I realized, it was actually built on the backs of songs like “Patiently Waiting”, “Many Men”, “Back Down”, “Don’t Push Me” and “Gotta Make It To Heaven”. On one side it’s as motivational as you can think of but it’s not the wacky kind of naivé motivational talk because it’s willing to get it’s hands dirty and go in to much grittier ideas. 

Like his predecessors, 50 pulls off the trick of balancing easy-to-listen-to records on a foundation of graphic and aggressive songs.  

Recommended Songs: Maybe We Crazy, When It Rains It Pours

4. Jedi Mind Tricks

I’ll give you props if you know who these man are but they are legends. Point blank. Violent By Design will forever rank as one of the great group albums in hip-hop history.  Vinny Paz, Jus Allah and producer/DJ Stoupe The Enemy of Mankind, gave hip-hop a shockwave they weren’t ready for, especially back in 1999.

Hip-hop as a business wasn’t ready to market a group, whose themes were rooted in topics like government control, military warfare, covert control tactics, religion and psychological warfare. To have all that in one bundle wasn’t something that big time A&R’s were ready for. 

Had they started this group in 2010, they would have walked in to a business landscape that was far more suitable to who they were as an act and as MC’s. 

Even with that JMT still enjoyed a lot of notoriety and they definitely succeeded in establishing their following, despite the odds. 

While Violent By Design may serve as the magnum opus of their body of work, their run really starts in 1997 with the Psycho-Social, Biological & Electro-Magnetic Manipulation Of Human Kind. 

Yes guy, that’s an album title. You gotta think now, I was in high school the first time I heard this and I was very into conspiracy theories and nonsense, so this album hit me right between the eyes. The idea that someone could use the medium of hip-hop in this way was crazy and the album would have been more than 10 years old when I first heard it.

No, the hip-hop historians among us will argue that Wu-Tang were a better and more influential group and I’d tend to agree, I can also bust back and say, “these dudes took Wu-Tang’s formula and gave it a whole different edge.”

 I’ll break it to you like this, Wu-Tang gave the world swordsmanship and the first projectile weapons like bow and arrows, spears and the likes. Jedi Mind Tricks gave the world gun powder, advanced modern explosives and semi-automatics. You see what I mean?

Recommended Songs: Untitled, Retaliation Remix

3. Jay-Z

No top rappers list is complete without my man. The only reason he ain’t higher is because, I rate a rapper more highly if they’re in the prime of their musical abilities. If this were an all-time list he’d be way way higher. 

Beginning with Reasonable Doubt is really the only place to start when it comes to Jay. The production, the skits, the way every sentence was so tightly wound together, the word selection and sentence construction. It’s remembered as an album of hits because of tracks like “Cant Knock The Hustle”, ”Feelin It” and “Brooklyn’s Finest” but Reasonable Doubt was really defined by “Dead Presidents”, “D’evils”, “Politics As Usual” and “Can I Live”. 

The first batch of songs gave the album some relatability, as far as depicting club vibes and nightlife glamour because that second batch of songs were all built on darker themes like betrayal, jealousy, greed, blind ambition and deception. That combination of themes as well as the production to match each one is why that album will always rank high among a certain listenership. 

With that being said, never make the mistake of thinking Jay or any man is perfect. There’s like a 3 album run where there’s moments of dope-ness but not a truly complete album. 

Still with that, songs like “Imaginary Player” and “Where I’m From” will rank among his best songs.

It’s only when you get to The Blueprint can you start to see Jay perfecting the art of crafting, whole, complete albums that bump from start to finish. The Blueprint was near perfection in this regard. “U Don’t Know”, “Heart Of The City” and “Momma Loves Me” will rank as his best efforts and yeah, I skipped a few.

The Black Album replicated the Blueprint’s listenability, while also dealing in topics that created an album that sounded very personal to Jay. 

All told, the best parts of his catalogue are so strong that there is no denying his place on my list.

Recommended Songs: Dead Presidents, I Love The Dough

2. Action Bronson

I cannot for the life of me fathom how this man doesn’t get the love but the real ones know. 

The mixtape download era (2010-2017 give or take), had many unlikely success stories. An overweight white guy, who grew up cooking in his parents deli/eatery, turned pro-chef then turned rapper, is beyond unlikely. Only the internet could allow this man to succeed and thank the hip-hop gods it did.

From 2012 to about 2018, Action was one of the only constants in my playlist. I still remember where I was the first time I heard “Brunch”. His catalogue starting with the Tommy Mas produced, Dr Lecter and boasting full collaborations albums along side Statik Selektah and the Alchemist, and of course the classic Blue Chips series. This man’s prime will be underrated. 

If you’re going to take one chapter of Bronson’s art and study it, it’s going to be Blue Chips 1 and 2. Both are thematically perfect without ever trying to be. Which is what allowed Party Supplies to make production choices that grabbed you from the jump. From the first time you hit play on the opening of Blue Chips 1, you’re hit with the sound of falling shards of glass and a violin sound that makes the opening song un-skippable. The songs themes are also a perfect introduction to the man himself. Debauchery, expensive taste, hedonism, revelry, unabashed pleasure-seeking, drug use and just enough self-depreciation that you felt you were along for the ride rather than just a fly on the wall, turning your nose in disgust. It was a perfect mixtape, at a time when mixtapes were at a crazy dumb high standard.

It’s not so much that a rapper made punchlines about food, that would be an over-simplification and really missing the trick. It’s that he made everything he said sound like the dopest thing ever and the most underrated trick about his music is that he made grown man rap without needing to be thuggin’. A rare feat. 

Bronson has since gone on to establish himself as a content creator/producer/food review guy but man, what he accomplished as a complete body of work is nothing short of astonishing.

Recommended Songs: Midget Cough, Bonzai

1. Headie One

So it’s late last year. I’m hanging with my boy Phil and Brown, we had just finished some content and Phil says “yo listen to this”. He proceeds to play Golden Boot and it hasn’t stopped bumping since. 

A UK rapper with a lyrical nous and wit that rivals even legends like Jay-Z, but rapping over trap and drill beats. What Headie One is doing is not the norm and I’m talking in terms of his lyrics, sentence construction, word selection, metaphors, he does it all and like all the greats, he makes it look easy. 

His collaboration with RV definitely helped mold him, with both the “Sticks and Stones” and “Drillers and Trappers” mixtapes giving you an idea of what Headie offers as a lyricist. He compliments RV’s brash, aggressive boasts with slightly less obvious but incredibly witty boasts of his own.

His discography though really starts to peak with 2018′s “The One”. That’s where Headie begins find a sweet spot between his lyrics, production and the themes of his songs. A mixtape like this can only exist via independent release because outside of the aforementioned “Golden Boot”, ain’t none of those songs getting any radio play especially in a country as “conservative” as England. Even in a genre saturated with gangsta/trap, “The One” stands out for what he accomplishes lyrically.

Headie would follow that by releasing “The One Two” in June of 2018 and he ascends even more in what he’s able to accomplish with the words.

 The track “Banter On Me” should be in an all-time list somewhere for being the wittiest track of all time. The song is literally just Headie finding new and innovative ways to boast, call out and bait his foes. Hip-hop/Rap has plenty of beef songs that weren’t really direct call outs to any known public figure but were still definitely taking shots at someone. 50 cent’s “Wanksta” and “Officer Down” are some examples of such songs I can think of. Those did not really have the kind of wit Headie displays here. The constant streams of alliterations, double meanings, puns, metaphors, inferences and innuendos is just astonishing. There’s a real mastery of language at play here. The song is a lesson in language, no textbooks. 

Headie has since released his debut album along with additional tracks for the delux version of the album. His debut studio release “Edna” does what studio releases are supposed to do. “Parle-Vouz Anglais” and “Aint It Different” will standout and are difinitely the most palatable songs as far as radio play. Those are the 2 songs I’d play for first time listeners. 

Recommended Songs: Hard To Believe, Dues, Zodiac

[seiin-translations]

2.43 S1 Chapter 1.4 - Young Yunichika

4. MISCONDUCT

Translation Notes

1. Bon refers to a young man from a well-to-do family

2. These are lyrics from the opening theme for the famous volleyball anime, Attack No.1

3. I know nothing about Attack No.1 so I have no idea what this is referring to. The original line is “ヒロイン訛ってるって”. If you know anything about this, let me know

4. The kanji for Meisei is 銘誠.   銘 from 座右の銘 (means favorite motto) and 誠 is pronounced makoto by itself

5. Meisei-chuu as in Meisei Middle School

Previous || Index || Next

Haijima Kimichika was an idiot. No, his grades overall weren’t that bad. He was slightly above middling for his third semester finals. However, Kuroba was dumbfounded when he saw the breakdown of that “slightly above middling.”

In regards to math and social studies, he was well above the average, and in fact, he was at the top of the class in his grade. Math, ninety-five. Social studies, ninety-nine—that was the first time he ever saw ninety-nine on an exam paper. He was taken aback by the brilliance of the two 9’s next to each other.

But, things didn’t look good from there. Science, seventy-three. English, sixty. His marks around here were so normal that it made you wonder what his high marks in math and social studies were. Apparently, his strong areas were unusually inclined towards calculation and memorization.  

Japanese,

Thirty points.

…They really were unusually inclined.

“Ooh, there’s a whole row of x’s here. What a nice view.”

It was a question about close reading a novel. The answers to “What are the emotional states of the characters”-type questions were continuously absurd, and the way the x’s were written was becoming increasingly desperate, as if to represent his Japanese teacher’s emotional state.

“For the question ‘Please answer in eighty words or less why you think the king forgives Melos,’ you answered, ‘Melos was naked      the cow,’. I can see the signs of suffering from trying to write a little more, but not being able to write a sentence and getting frustrated. …Cow?”

“Shut up. You’re always joking about people’s exam answers.”

“Ow ow ow!”

Kuroba groaned as he fell prostrate on the exam papers spread out between his legs with a weight pressed tightly against his back. The other club members laughed at the two stretching as a pair.

“You shouldn’t laugh at other people, Yuni. You got forty-two in math and fifty-five in social studies.”

“Hey, don’t read it aloud. This is an invasion of privacy.”

“Japanese…oh? Eighty-seven. Not bad.”

“For real?”

His back lightened with Haijima’s upset-sounding voice. He lifted his body with a self-satisfied look that said “Fufufu. Japanese is the only thing this guy’s good at,” but Haijima, who snatched and returned Kuroba’s Japanese exam paper, once again pressed down on his back tightly with his entire upper body while staring at his answers with a slightly displeased look on his face. Kuroba grumbled “Ow ow ow” while facing the floor in an open-legged forward bending position.

“Why did you answer the cow question like this? I don’t get it at all.”

“First, let go of the cow…I think the first issue is that no cows appear in the story. I’m getting worried about whether or not you can get into high school.”

He briefly wondered if one could get into school through a volleyball recommendation, but even if one could, it didn’t matter because there was no chance of their weak club reaching the point where they could get noticed in a big tournament. If Haijima was in his previous middle school, recommendations might come, however—he hadn’t asked Haijima himself, but there was no doubt that he had been in a fairly strong volleyball club with a decent coach. He had no idea what a full-scale stretching regimen was until he started practicing with Haijima. Next, Kuroba laid on his back as Haijima took his legs and thoroughly stretched them.

I thought that since Haijima would have nothing left if you took volleyball away from him, it would be his greatest desire to go to a strong volleyball school, but…

Haijima Kimichika was a volleyball fanatic.

The ban on club activities, which had been suspended a week before finals, had been lifted, and they held a practice day at once. With people turning up once they knew it was active, the boys’ volleyball team, which used to be as good as non-existent, had more or less taken on the appearance of club activities recently. With just barely six people, they still haven’t been in a match yet.

It was when they stood up and stretched their backs after finishing their brief stretching session.

“Kuroba, how tall are you now?”

Haijima said while looking up at his hair whorl.

“Hmm? Didn’t I say I was one-seventy-three?”

“When did you measure that?”

“Um…in fall, I think…November?”

He tamped down his hair whorl, but his bed hair bobbed back up. He felt depressed when he wondered if he had been exposing this hair to people all day since morning.

There was a scale on the door frame of the gym equipment room that could be used to measure height, and was used to compare heights for fun during club activities and gym class. It was probably the work of students from decades ago. It was the culmination of very precise work, with each millimeter being carved out from one-fifty to one-eighty centimeters with a utility knife.

“One-seventy-five-point-zero.”

Putting an empty powdered drink box to the top of Kuroba’s head, Haijima read the scale out loud.

“Ooh, I grew two centimeters?”

“My turn.”

They exchanged places and now it was Haijima with his back to the scale.

“Don’t raise your heels. Um, one-seventy-two-point…seven.”

“Ah. I grew too.”

But, Haijima didn’t seem too happy about it. With a sullen face, he left the scale and grumbled “Two centimeters off.”

“Two-point-three centimeters off. Don’t round it down. You’re a setter, so you don’t have to be so worried about your height, right?”

“I have a favorite player. It’s Abe, who was selected for the national team. He’s a setter, but he’s one-ninety-one. Even for setters, the bigger you are, the better you block and the faster you set. And, Abe’s ambidextrous, and he has a good left dump.”

“Huh? That reminds me, do you also…”

Haijima served with his left hand. But which hand did he hit with outside of those times...he didn’t have a clear impression. He felt like he recalled him hitting with his left and with his right.

“Use both hands?”

“I do,” He said carelessly, but was that something so easy to do? “There’s still an eighteen-centimeter difference, huh… But Abe can’t hit jump serves, so once my height catches up, I’ll be better.”

When it came to the subject of volleyball, Haijima became more talkative than usual. The way he spoke was basically like cutting short the front part of the context and throwing away the back end, but he came to be able to speak fairly long lines in a polite manner. He must love it a lot, he thought in half amazement and half admiration.

“I’m not sure if you have way too much confidence in yourself or is just an idiot…but I never thought you’d compare yourself to a member of the national team.”

He forced a smile, and got glared at with resentful eyes. He got scared, wondering if he said something that made him angry. He still wasn’t very good at knowing what set Haijima off.

“Kuroba, at the practice game, you see blocks and differentiate between hitting the ball cross and straight, right?”

“Cross-court and straight…oh, straight is where you hit the ball right down the middle, and cross is where you twist a little and hit it outside.”

“It’s the other way around, dumbass.”

He had answered with hand gestures while tilting his head to the side in confusion, but was completely denied with an insult.

“A cross is a spike that passes through the court at an angle. A straight is a spike that goes straight and parallel to the sidelines. When you’re hitting on the front row, you tend to step towards the center in front of the net a lot, so if you hit it straight on, it becomes a cross, and if you hit it with the intention to twist it outside, it will be straight.”

“So complicated…”

“It’s not that complicated, but…oh well. I’ll teach you step by step.”

He thought “Teach me?” every time, but why was he naturally acting like he was above him?

“Even if you don’t understand it with your head, you have good eyes, so you can deal with blocks. Being able to naturally rotate your trunk midair, the length of your time in the air, the suppleness of your shoulders…those are qualities you’ve probably always had. You will get good. It’ll be in no time if you do it properly. You’ll be taller, too.”

“…? Do you have a fever?”

He stared at Haijima’s face suspiciously and got a suspicious look in return.

“What. Did I say something weird?”

“No, it’s just that you’re always so self-important, so I thought you were someone who wouldn’t praise or acknowledge people in that way.”

“If there’s something to acknowledge, then of course I’m gonna acknowledge it. But, there’s no way to acknowledge what’s not there.”

Haijima stated, pouting and seeming truly upset.

Haijima never flattered. He wasn’t humble. He couldn’t hold himself back. Indeed, he might be sincere and straightforward in a sense. …But, he thought it was probably a tough way to live. Most people didn’t want to be told the truth right to their faces.

“You will get good.”

Afterwards, slowly but steadily, a ticklish feeling welled up in the depths of his body. It was uncool to take someone at their word, so he purposely looked indifferent and said,

“I have a talent for volleyball, huh. It won’t make me all that popular though.”

He feigned ignorance and talked big. Unlike Haijima, he felt like he had been drifting through life frivolously, with a bunch of façades lined up in front of him, obscuring reality.

***

The days have become longer, and the chill had subsided considerably. It was now often possible to sneak peeks at patches of blue in the sky which had been covered by depressing snow-laden clouds in midwinter. The sun had completely set when he nearly ran over Haijima in front of that karaoke box in February, but by mid-March, there was still some faint light left in the sky at that same time of day. A rusty copper sunset fringed the ridgelines of Mount Nokude in the distance.

Since their houses were in the same direction, he ended up going home with Haijima on days they had club activities. Their enamel bags, slung over their shoulders, rattled, and they tread on the rugged road in their snow boots. Although the snow on the road melted during the day and was close to becoming sherbet, it had begun to freeze again in the shape of punched-through car ruts and footprints. During the snowfall season from December to March, elementary and middle school students were prohibited from cycling to school, so it took forty minutes to get there on foot. There was no doubt that they would starve before they reached home, so the two stuffed their cheeks with sweet bread as they walked. Incidentally, he stuffed himself with two pieces of bread before club and of course he was going to eat dinner when he got home. At any rate, he was hungry. And at any rate, he was sleepy.

Until one or two months ago, he would have wanted to skip over middle school and become a high school student as soon as possible, but come to think of it, he had stopped thinking about that recently. He had no time to think about superfluous things because after he finished club activities, went home, ate, and took a bath, he immediately went to bed. He fell asleep feeling like he was sinking into the floor with his futon, and then when he woke up, it was next morning.

Finals were over, and now it was time to neglect everything and go into spring break. And whether he left it alone or made a fuss, once the break ended, he would become a third-year. The word examinee still didn’t really strike home for him.

“Haijima, what are you gonna do for high school? Are you taking it here?”

He finally broached the subject that actually wanted to ask him about during club, but hesitated over.

“Well, I was thinking of taking it here, but…”

He got stuck on how Haijima trailed off at the end of his sentence, which was unusual for him.

“But? Is there a condition or something?”

He once again asked Haijima’s profile, which was bulged out with the bread he stuffed in his mouth. He wasn’t wearing his glasses right now. Haijima always followed the procedure of putting in contact lenses and taping his hands before club started. If he taped first, he wouldn’t be able to handle his contacts. When club activities were finished, he followed that procedure in reverse, but there were days when he went home as he was, perhaps because he couldn’t be bothered. From the point of view of Kuroba, whose vision had never fell below 20/20 and whose fingernails and bones seemed healthy and strong, he had a difficult constitution.

“More importantly, new first-years will come in April.”

“Hmm? Oh yeah. Skilled guys would get picked up by the other clubs, so it’s better not to get your hopes up, but maybe we can get one or two people.” More importantly? He had a feeling he was changing the subject, but the timing to repeat the question escaped him.

“If we get more members, I wanna go to a tournament. I don’t know the tournament schedule here, but there should be a prefectural tournament before the summer inter-school.”

“Tournament, huh. But even if we can be in it, I don’t think we can win at our level…”

“It’s no fun if you don’t play a game. I wanna be in a match. I’m gonna train you all to be presentable enough by summer. I’ll take care of the rest.” Once again, he said that he was gonna train us without hesitation. Is he treating us like performing monkeys or something?

Ah, there it was. The sparkle in his eyes like that of a dinosaur-loving elementary schooler. Though he was just being arrogant and saying something self-centered, when he had that look in his eyes, he couldn’t help but feel that it was as though it was being secretly switched with something of pure purpose. Kuroba realized that he couldn’t oppose those eyes at all.

“Ooookay, got it. We need an advisor to be in a tournament or it’s no good, right? Let’s ask tomorrow.”

When he said that with a sigh, a crude voice called out to them from the side of the road.

“Hey, isn’t that the head house’s bon walking there?” (1)

It came from in front of the signboard of the aforementioned “Karaoke Box Monshiro”. Was this the only place to hang out? Well, it probably was. There were three men. Two 125cc motorbikes and one moped. Each of them was sitting astride their seats and hanging their butts on their tandem grips, smoking cigarettes as they tucked their chins inside their collars of their jackets, looking cold. They had the appearances of what countryside delinquents should be.

“Oh, Yori-chan!”

Kuroba called out to him with a smile, but Yorimichi only took a glance at his appearance and looked away.

The other two were Yorimichi’s senpais, both from the neighborhood. When someone other than his relatives called him the “head house’s bon”, it was probably filled with ridicule, but since he was used to it, he didn’t react to it every single time, and Kuroba greeted them in a friendly manner as well.

“’Sup. It’s been a while. I didn’t know you guys are back.”

“It’s spring break in uni too. Bon, how much you got today?”

“Oh…I only have some coins. I’ve been doing club activities lately so there’s a lot of times when I’d be leaving my bag alone.”

“’Club activities’?”

The two repeated it with a rising inflection that contained laughter.

“Oh, is that what Yorimichi was talking about?”

Smirking, they eyed Kuroba from the top of his head to his feet. He uncomfortably let his gaze escape to Haijima, who was waiting next to him. When he looked at Haijima, he could see his own appearance like he was looking into a mirror, or rather, he was just copying Haijima, but—he was wearing a knee-length padded coat over his jersey with his rectangular enamel sports bag slung over his shoulder, and he really did look like he was coming back from a sports club. In regards to the padded coat, Kuroba saw Haijima’s and also bought one recently.

“You do receives or something, how did that go again? We didn’t do it in gym in high school, so I completely forgot.”

The two had mean smiles on their faces, pointing their chins. Either the smoke of their cigarettes or the whiteness of their breath from the cold made their stubbled mouths misty.

“Um, it’s like this, I guess…?”

Kuroba had no choice but to drop his hips on the spot and did the posture for an underhand pass, and the two cackled and applauded.

“Wow, looking pretty good, aren’t you? I know, it’s that thing, Attack No.1, right?”

“That old manga? It’s that ‘I won’t cry, I’m just a girl’ thing, right?” (2)

“The heroine spoke in dialect. Gyahahaha!” (3)

“Haha…”

When Kuroba forced a smile while feeling his face turning hot, his bag was suddenly pulled on. The strap was biting into the pit of his stomach. “Gueh,” he groaned as he turned around.

“Haijima?”

“You’re just getting looked down on. We’re not playing around.  Don’t keep them company.”

Like he was pulling on the leash of a not particularly disciplined dog, Haijima primly started walking while gripping the strap. “Okay, okay, don’t pull me. It’s dan…” Right when he twisted his body around and rushed to follow him,

“You’re hanging out with us, right, Yuni?”

Yorimichi called out to his back.

Haijima turned around, not even trying to hide his annoyance. Kuroba also followed his gaze while feeling lost. Turning away and smoking his cigarette, Yorimichi snorted sarcastically.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting’ influenced by Fighting Spirit Chika-chan, are ya? You’re the one who’s gonna be embarrassed later.”

“Hey…oh, hey Yori-chan, are you mad at me? Sorry for not hanging out with you lately. We’ll do stuff together during spring break.”

“Kuroba, we’re practicing during spring break too.”

Haijima’s dissatisfied sounding voice pierced the back of his ear. “We can’t practice everyday, right?” When he turned around with a half-smile, his face seemed to say, As a matter of fact, of course we are. “If we’re going to the summer tournament, we’ll still never make it in time even with that.” “Are you serious…” He was of course ready to have fun and relax during spring break, so when he was told to be prepared to completely spend that time on club activities… I underestimated this guy’s volleyball obsession.

“Yuuuuni. You understand, right? It’s no good for you. It’d be less embarrassing if you stop playing around. I ain’t patient either, so I can’t wait too long for you.”

“Hey, even Yori-chan’s being mean? You’re not serious, right?”

He looked at Yorimichi again with a twitching smile. “Oh, you’re pretty popular, Bon. If you pick one, you have to cut off the other. This is a real mess.” The two university students irresponsibly jeered and aggravated the situation.

“You, you get it, right? I have the same blood in my veins as you, so we get fired up and cooled off easily.  I’ll probably get bored halfway, right?”

He ended up prioritizing putting Yorimichi in a good mood with a joking tone. A cold sweat ran down the nape of his neck as he felt Haijima’s burning gaze scorching it.

He knew that he was playing it safe. He was still afraid now that Yorimichi would throw him away. He wanted to secure the warm place he could always return to if things got tough. Don’t put me together with you, he grumbled in his mind. Haijima, who didn’t have an ounce of doubt about himself doing volleyball, probably wouldn’t understand, but for us until just now, guys who went hardcore for club activities were just something to be watched from a distance and gawked at.

Yorimichi bared his teeth and grinned.

“Haha, that’s right. You’re the same as me.”

Relieved, Kuroba also slackened his cheeks.

And, the heat wave of Haijima’s gaze that was burning the back of his neck also abruptly disappeared. The strap was released to send him flying.

“Then quit now.”

Haijima said it bluntly in a cold voice, a complete reversal from the heat of earlier.

“Hey, no need to go that far…”

“I don’t want to the tournament to get messed up.”

“Messed up…”

He immediately guessed that he was talking about scandals that would result in a suspension. Kuroba himself didn’t smoke or drink, but he overlooked Yorimichi doing it. It wasn’t illegal to ride double on a bike, but having only one helmet was probably not allowed. It wasn’t a good look to sneak into karaoke bars either. He didn’t really care about it until now, but it was somewhat understandable that school sports were sensitive to those kinds of issues.

Haijima’s concern was reasonable, and perhaps this was where he should be sorry. But on the contrary, antagonism reared its head. So, from the beginning, he wasn’t worried about whether or not Kuroba would continue to do volleyball or not, but about that?

“You showed your true colors, eh!”

Yorimichi’s loud voice suddenly rang out. Haijima glared suspiciously at him and Kuroba was also confused. Peeling his lips back in a vicious grin that made him draw back a little, Yorimichi continued to speak in a theatrical way.

“The infamous ‘Genius Setter’ of Meisei Middle School only thinks about satisfying his own desires, right?”

“Yori-chan? What are you talking about?”

“You were the one who wanted to know, Yuni. You asked why he came back here. That’s why I investigated.”

Haijima’s sharp gaze immediately moved to Kuroba. He did voice his doubts, but he thought the conversation ended there, so to think that Yorimichi would investigate it…

“Oops, you’re barking up the wrong tree if you’re blaming Yuni. It’s that ‘you reap what you sow’ kind of thing, right?”

Yorimichi came down from his bike and stepped on his cigarette to put it out. He thrust his hands into the pockets of his down jacket and approached him with bowlegs and swinging shoulders, looking particularly vulgar. “Move, Yuni,” he said, pushing Kuroba aside and standing before Haijima.

“I could have easily gotten the name of your school from your grandpa through mine. Well, I used Itoko though, since I’ve been given up on by Gramps. So when I quickly searched the net…oh look, there’s slander of the ‘Genius Setter’ who reigned over Meisei Middle until last year. The net sure is terrifyin’. Everything’s on there. Well, I guess it means you’re not liked very much.”

The more Yorimichi talked, the stiffer Haijima’s expression became. The color disappeared from Haijima’s face that seemed to embody the world’s arrogance and fearlessness, and his gaze dropped downwards. The shadow of Yorimichi, who was a size bigger in height and width, hung over the head of Haijima, who was looking down and biting his lower lip. “Oi oi, look at the poor guy, Yorimichi. Don’t bully middle schoolers. You’ll make him cry.” The two university students saying insincere things were completely taking the role of spectators.

“Yuni.”

“Huh? Y-yeah.”

Kuroba reflexively responded, unable to catch up with the conversation very well. Yorimichi’s face changed from that of someone tormenting a dying animal, and when he turned around, he was no longer smiling. It was an extremely serious expression.

“I don’t have anything against Chika, but I don’t really care. I think it’s petty to talk about other people behind their backs online. It’s all for you. Don’t get too absorbed in it. After all there was apparently someone who attempted suicide because of this guy——”

An instant later, Haijima barked something that couldn’t be expressed in words and grabbed Yorimichi. “Oh?” Although Yorimichi staggered a little, their physiques and amount of fight experiences were different. He grabbed Haijima’s face and thrust it aside, just like he was grabbing a ball—a dodgeball instead of a volleyball—with one hand and throwing it violently. Haijima was lightly blown off two or three meters away, the side of his face crashing into the muddy snow-covered road.

Because it was the first time he heard Haijima’s enraged voice, Kuroba was temporarily distracted by that. He hurriedly broke into Yorimichi’s path.

“Yo-Yori-chan, stop! Violence is no good!”

“He was the one who charged at me. Ah, it’d be no good for a sports boy to be violent, right? Didn’t you say that yourself? I’m being kind by ending it with just knocking him down.”

Yorimichi threw mocking jeers at Haijima over Kuroba’s shoulder. Kuroba turned around and ran up to Haijima, who was crouching and holding his hand to his face. “Oi, you’re alive…” he knelt down and was about to touch his shoulder, but what Yorimichi said flashed across his mind and he stopped his hand.

…Attempted suicide…?

“Let’s go back. My ass is frozen.”

Urging the two university students, Yorimichi returned to his bike.

“Yuni, get over here.”

Summoned, Kuroba looked up at the chin of Yorimichi, who was sitting astride his bike, but hesitated and returned his gaze to Haijima. His earlobe, which was poking out from the gaps between his hair, were terrifyingly white. No way, is he actually dead? He thought, but he saw a fist clenching the snow underneath his face pressed against the ground. Mud soaked into his white taping and stained it brown.

He couldn’t leave him here and go home.

“Even if you say go home, you won’t let me ride double anyways. I’ll send him home, okay?”

“Well, whatever.”

Yorimichi backed down easily with just a shrug of his shoulders. The sneering had already disappeared and he returned to his normal self.

“Don’t forget. Wash your hands of him as soon as possible. From his reaction, it doesn’t seem like those are groundless rumors. Be careful on your way home. I’m talking about the snowy roads and your teammate next to you.”

Perhaps Yorimichi also felt that he went a bit too far. He awkwardly turned his face away, made his engine roar its usual crude and vulgar sounds, and departed on the Komashi-gou.

***

“Mei from zayuu no mei and makoto, Meisei. (4) It’s called Meisei Private Academy Middle School. It’s a middle and high school in one, and their sports clubs are pretty strong. Apparently the distribution map of famous private schools is common knowledge among Kanto kids. You can’t really experience it here, can you? There aren’t enough schools to choose from. Hey, everyone’s gonna hang out in the city after the end-of term ceremony, so do you wanna come with us? I wonder if Haijima would come if we invited him. You guys have been getting along well lately.”

“Um, oh, yeah. If that’s all I can ask then I’m good for now. Thanks.”

He hung up first because it seemed like the conversation would never end if he left it alone.

Itoko said “Everyone”, so the group probably included girls. To tell the truth, he was really jealous of this merry spring break-like event. Normally he wouldn’t be able to refuse. But, it was only today that he couldn’t get into the mood at all. He was willing to bet that Haijima would never come either.

He put the phone handset next to the desk and turned towards the computer again. Since he had an agreement to not own a cell phone until high school, the only place he could access the Internet at home was the laptop in his dad’s study. When he tried to convert Meisei-chuu (5), he realized he didn’t know the kanji for it, and since Yorimichi said he learned it by way of Itoko, he called to ask her directly. Based on the current feeling, Yorimichi had really only gotten the school name, and it seemed he didn’t tell Itoko more than that. He felt relieved about that.

A school with a strong athletic department. If this school was that famous, then it might not be strange for there to be a rumor or two to float around the Internet. After all, there was even a message board titled “[Monshiro Town] Old Man Kuroba [Yokai]”—Yorimichi thought it was hilarious and told him about it, but Kuroba never searched for it because he was scared of learning the contents.

“Tokyo meisei academy middle school boys volleyball club attempted suicide”

He entered the search words, and just when he was about to click the search button, his finger stopped. He couldn’t easily press the key. Of course he was unbearably curious. But, he was afraid to find out the contents for that more than Grandpa’s message board.

“Yuni? Where are you?”

His mother’s voice came from somewhere on the other side of the sliding screen door. He twisted himself around on the tatami chair and raised his voice.

“In here! The study!”

“Why are you there? Aren’t you going to take a bath?”

“Okay!”

After thinking about it a little bit, he ended up pressing the backspace key to delete everything he typed in. Once he did so, he completely gave up, closed the computer and stood up.

Previous || Index || Next

[cordonian-literature]

The Aftermath - Ch. 5

Test Day

Summary: Bastien tells Liam about Gabriel

A/N: did my best to do as much research as possible. also im not sure if the tags are working or not? 

Word Count: ~3.0k

Warning: Mention of character death

*All characters belong to Pixelberry, except those that are unique to my story (I’ve also used some characters and fictional instances from Donna Tartt’s “The Goldfinch”)*

Catch up here!

Tags: @captain-kingliamsqueen @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @gkittylove99 @lovablegranny @loudbluebirdlover @mom2000aggie @kingliam2019 @queenrileyrose @shanzay44 @cordonianroyalty @hopefulmoonobject @hopelessromanticmonie @cinnamonspongecake @queenjilian @kuladekiwi @twinkle-320 @iaminlovewithtrr @charlotteg234

I hope I got everyone tagged! If I missed someone, or if anyone wants to be added/removed, let me know! 

- Liam -

On Friday evening, no one was given a chance to see Riley. Different specialists checked her routinely, discussing their findings with one another. Liam asked politely at different times in the day if he would be allowed to speak to her for a few moments. They didn’t let him go in, claiming that the doctors needed their time to properly assess Riley’s condition.

A little before sunset, a sleep deprived, starving, agitated Liam marched up to Riley’s doctor and demanded they be given information about her health. 

The doctor leads him away from Riley’s door. Drake, Maxwell, and Bertrand follow. 

“I don’t know how much Riley Brooks’ mother has told you about her daughter’s condition,” the doctor states. “But rest assured that we are doing everything we can to help her recover.” 

“Really?” Drake spit. “All you’ve done is push different doctors into her room all day. From where we’re standing, none of them did anything—.”

“Please,” the doctor interrupts, holding up a hand. “Riley’s condition is very serious. She’s suffered a head injury. The procedure on Sunday morning was to repair a part of her skull and to stop internal bleeding. Since she’s woken up on Wednesday, we believe that she has something called post-traumatic amnesia.” 

“Which is?” Bertrand pesters.

“Short-term memory loss from the moment of her injury and for sometime afterwards. It can last from hours, to days, to weeks,” the doctor explains. 

“Short-term?” Liam forces out the words. “I’ve known that woman for the past eleven years. When I walked in she didn’t recognize me. I don’t believe that is what you call short-term.”

“Well... because you all came in and asked questions, whose answers you say that she should know, we believe that she may also be suffering from retrograde amnesia. She won’t be able to recall a significant number of events and persons from her past, even though all such events occurred before the incident and the development of the amnesia.”

“How long will that last?” Maxwell asks. 

“That part, we are unsure about,” the doctor states. “But, we’ve done some assessments and the post-traumatic amnesia seems to be wearing off. We think that the worst of it ended yesterday.” She pauses and looks at the men around her, analyzing their expressions. “We asked her about you folks—,” she gestures at the four men around her, “—her kids, her mother, and the detectives who came in to ask her questions yesterday, she said she didn’t remember a thing. We believe that’s the end to the PTA,  but we’re going to run a couple more tests to make sure.” 

Liam’s heart drops to the pit of his stomach. When he moves back towards the chairs in front of Riley’s hospital room, he goes involuntarily: his shoulders slump and his head hangs low as he throws himself onto a seat. He buries his face in his hands, desperate for this feeling — this keen, despicable sense of despair, one he thought he had forgotten long ago — to end, once and for all.

“So we are nothing to her once more?” Bertrand breathes, the corners of his mouth pulled downwards.

The doctor sighs. “Unfortunately, yes, but again, we believe that’s the last of her short-term memory issues. On the case of retrograde amnesia, patients who have suffered a Traumatic Brain Injury don’t suffer from long-term memory loss for a great amount of time. If I were you, I would still have hope.” She pats Bertrand’s arm. 

A nurse sitting at the reception desk calls to the doctor: “Doc? You’re needed in the ICU.”

“I’ll be back,” she says, and then turns to leave.

Drake, Maxwell, and Bertrand join Liam and take a seat. Each of them has to force themselves to not look through Riley’s room window. If they looked, the pain would multiply. The bandages on her head and the empty, lost look on her face reminded them how she had slipped from their grasp again, even though she was right in front of them. 

After a few moments of watching doctors and nurses walking in and out of Riley’s room, Drake suggests to Liam, “Why don’t we go to the hotel tonight? Get some food in you. Rest for a bit. We’ll be back in the morning, soon as visiting hours start up again.”

“Your Majesty, I think that would be for the best,” Bertrand adds. “It isn’t healthy for you to be going on without sleep and food for so long.” 

“C’mon, Liam,” Maxwell joins in. “Bertrand and I will go with you guys.”

Liam rubs his hand over his face. The rest of them notice his red eyes, unshaven face, and how pink the edges of his mouth are. Silently nodding, he stands, and his friends follow him out of the hospital.

...

As soon as he got inside his hotel room, Liam collapsed on the bed, physically and emotionally exhausted. He didn’t dream; instead he dove into a blank abyss from which he returned from in what felt like no more than eight minutes.

When he woke up, it was already nine thirty. His mind urged him to get up and go back to Riley’s hospital bed, but his feet felt sore and his eyes burned when he opened them. He managed to kick off his shoes and shrug off his clothes on his way to the bathroom. He almost fell asleep in the shower, but the warm beating of water on his face gave him the energy he needed to get back to Riley. 

While he puts on some new clothes, there’s a heavy knock on the door. When he goes to open it, Drake holds up two large paper bags and two cups of coffee in a drink carrier. “New York bagels,” he says, handing Liam a bag. 

“Thank you, Drake.” Liam sits on the edge of his bed and dives into the large bagel, his stomach desperate for some food after having starved himself the past three days. Drake puts his friend’s coffee on the bedside table and opens up his own bag.

“I’d say I didn’t know you were that hungry,” Drake chuckles, shaking his head, “but looking at you now, I can tell you haven’t eaten in days.”

Liam’s already done with more than half his bagel. “Truly, I didn’t realize, either.” He takes a long sip of his coffee. “I’ve been so focused on Riley, making sure she’s been getting proper attention... and what I would say to her, given the chance.” Liam stares down at the floor with his meal in his hands while Drake continues eating.

Noticing Liam from the corner of his eye, Drake tells Liam, “Riley wouldn’t want you doing this to yourself.” 

Liam scoffs. 

“I’m serious. Just because something happened to her doesn’t mean she’d want you to hurt yourself, too.” 

They sit in quiet for a few more moments while they finish their meal.

Drake sends a text over to Maxwell, letting the Beaumonts know that him and Liam were on their way back to the hospital, when someone else knocks on the door. “Your Majesty?”

“Come in, Bastien,” Liam allows while he puts his shoes back on. 

Bastien walks in and regards Drake and Liam for a moment. “Your Majesty.” Bastien clears his throat. “Riley’s mother, Charlotte, will be at the hospital today with her grandchildren.” 

Liam stiffens for a moment. Her grandchildren. Riley’s children with Theodore Blaise. He must have been a worthy man to have deserved her.

“Great.” Drake sighs. “I don’t know if anyone else has noticed, but she doesn’t seem to be a big fan of our’s.”

“Will she be visiting Riley?” Liam questions. 

“That is... part of the reason they are going,” Bastien continues.

“Ah, she also works there, doesn’t she?”

“Yes, Your Majesty, but she doesn’t work today.”

“Then... what is she going for?” Liam notices the look of reserve on Bastien’s face. “Is everything alright? Did something happen to the children?”

“Not exactly,” Bastien begins. “To be frank, the boy, Gabriel, will be of our concern today.”

“What does that mean?” Drake walks closer to Bastien.

Bastien sighs. “On Thursday evening, the Duke of Ramsford alerted me that he believes Gabriel Blaise is actually your son.”

Liam stands. “What?” he spits. 

“He is ten years of age and his birthday was recently. It aligns with the time that you and Lady Riley were having an... intimate relationship.”

Liam blinks. “She... she....” He looks around the room in a daze, his mind blurred with memories of Riley during the Engagement Tour. Could she really have been pregnant? How did I not notice? Why didn’t she tell me? 

She wouldn’t have done that. She knows how much I’ve wanted a family. He breathes in heavy air, his eyes burning. She wouldn’t have done that to me, she wouldn’t have taken that from me.

Did I break her so badly that she wanted to keep my own son away from me?

“Your Majesty?”

Taking a moment to calm himself, Liam states, “Bastien, that is absurd.”

But is it? If she got pregnant around the end of the social season, or even some time during the Engagement Tour, she would have had the child around this time of year.... 

“Your Majesty, the only way to be certain is to take a paternity test. Charlotte Brooks agreed to bring the child to have it done today.”

“The hospital does paternity tests?” Drake asks. 

“I contacted them, and they said they only did genetic testing, but they recommended me to a lab center in Brooklyn.” Bastien holds out a piece of paper with the lab’s name on it. “I’ve alerted Mrs. Brooks, and have sent a car for her and the children so they would arrive safely.”

Brooklyn. Where we saw Riley for the first time all those years ago.

Liam nods, his head and heart still shaking with the thought that him and Riley had a son. Cordonia had an heir. For the past eleven years he believed that he would never become a father, but all this time, he already was one....

While they walk downstairs, Bastien explains that Charlotte Brooks gave permission on Riley’s behalf to have the paternity test done due to her condition, and went to get a DNA sample of her daughter this morning to increases the validity of the test and to make sure Gabriel will be tested accurately. 

Liam sits quietly, simply nodding at everything Bastien said. No matter how much he wanted to believe that there was a chance Riley’s son was his, he didn’t want to think about all the complications that would come about from the test being positive.

And how she never told him. He believed he deserved a life without Riley after all he had done to her, but had the bombing never happened, had Riley never gotten hurt — had her damned husband never died — would she have ever come back to tell him that he was a father? Would she have let him continue to live a life in ignorance?

The boy is ten years old. He experienced ten years of life without me. I experienced ten years of life without him. Did she think I couldn’t handle fatherhood? Did she think I wouldn’t take on the responsibility? What did I do so wrong? Why did she marry Theodore? I ended my engagement because of her, and she married another man to act as the father of my child?

Liam’s frustration and despair were increasing exponentially, and they were nearing the lab. he decided that whether the test came out positive or negative, he wouldn’t allow Gabriel to see his frustration. There must have been a reason Riley did such a thing. He would continue to hope that she would get a chance to explain. In the meantime, that child was was still Riley’s; the mere fact that there was another being on this planet who held even the slightest amount of Riley’s personality or looks made Liam’s heart swell. His son or not, he would protect both of Riley’s children in every way he didn’t protect Riley.

- Gabriel -

Grandma scheduled Ella to have a private ballet lesson on Saturday morning. I thought she was gonna let me take a private soccer lesson, but instead she brings me to Brooklyn in a car that wasn’t her’s or Dad’s. When we get to a small building, Liam and Drake were inside waiting with another man I didn’t recognize. I wondered why they were here, since Mom was back in the hospital. Liam smiled at me and I smiled back, deciding that I would just ask Grandma about it later. 

Drake stayed behind while the rest of us were led into a room that looked like the inside of a doctor’s office: there was an examination table that Grandma told me to sit on, and another longer table were there was a jar of pens.

Two men came in: one wore a professional suit with a bunch of papers that Grandma and Liam started signing on the flat table, while the second one had a lab coat on who took out a very long Q-Tip and walked towards me. I give Grandma a questioning look, but she pats my arm and tells the man, “Go ahead.” 

He dragged the stick against the inside of my cheek. Then he put the Q-Tip in a little tube and then takes out another Q-Tip and repeats the whole process with Liam. I wonder if he’s about to do the same thing with Grandma, but instead she pulls out a tube from her purse and the man takes his three tubes and leaves.

The second man with all the papers is still here, looking over his bushy eyebrows at everything Liam and Grandma just signed. Liam and his friend look over expectantly at Grandma, who pulls out a piece of paper. 

“The birth certificate?” says Liam’s friend. 

Wait, is that mine? Or his? Or Grandma’s?

“Yes.” She hands him the paper and he begins to look over it. 

Both men furrow their brows. Liam’s head jumps back in confusion. 

"Full name,” begins Liam’s friend. “Gabriel Liam Blaise. Mother, Riley Brooks Blaise.... Why is the spot of father empty?”

“It’s allowed in the U.S.,” says Bushy Eyebrows. “If the mother is married to someone who is not the father, or if the father was not at the birth and did not sign and send in an Acknowledgement of Paternity form, then the name of the father is left blank on the certificate.” 

“Riley was already married to Theodore by the time Gabriel was born,” Grandma explains, “which is why the last name is Blaise. She thought that it wouldn’t be appropriate to have his last name be Rys since she planned to pass Gabe off to the public as Theodore’s. But she still put your first name as his middle name. It was her way of connecting you both, since neither of you knew of the other’s existence.”

Grandma takes a moment and scans the men’s shaken faces — even Bushy Eyebrows glances between everyone with wide eyes. Liam looks like he’s mixed between anger and sadness. His friend continues to examine the paper.

“As far as I know,” Grandma states, “Gabriel is your son.”

At this point, I have absolutely no idea what was going on. Grandma never explained anything to me before we got here, and now I was too scared to speak up and ask questions. 

A part of me thought that she was giving me away since Dad had died. But she had told Liam that I was her son? Did that mean he was my father? But I didn’t even know who he was? And what about Ella? Was Grandma going to give me away and then keep my sister? Would I never see her again? Could Grandma not take care of us by herself since Mom was in the hospital? 

“Do you know why Riley never told me?” Liam asks Grandma, his voice breaking.

“Oh, she tried to,” Grandma reveals. “But only once, I believe. Riley didn’t tell me anything about it, but as far as I know, it didn’t go down well.”

Liam looks down at the floor, then pushes his shoulders back and looks at Grandma. “If the test comes back positive, then I will have to present him as my heir to the people of Cordonia.”

Grandma frowns, and she looks offended. I half expect her and Liam to start arguing, but Liam’s friend says, “Perhaps it will be best to discuss the specifics when the results come back. They told me it usually takes three to five business days, but I have made sure that this will be their top priority, and we could possibly get the results back before Monday or Tuesday.” 

Bushy Eyebrows stands, shaking everyone’s hands but mine, and then leaves. We all walk out of the building together. Liam and Grandma nod at one another, and Liam gives me a pat on the back before getting in the car with Drake and his other friend.

Grandma and I get into our car and drive away, on our way to pick up Ella from her class. 

“Grandma?” I begin. I wanted to know what happened in there. I wanted to know if my family was really getting rid of me. “What was all that for?” 

She sighs. “Nothing for you to worry about right now, baby. I promise in a couple of days I’ll explain everything to you and Ella, but right now there’s nothing to worry about.”

“But Grandma, I... I... why did you tell the man that I was his son? Did you say that because Dad died? I thought I was Dad’s son. Grandma please, I’m so confused.” A couple tears fall from my eyes as my chest tightens. If those guys take me away while Mom is in the hospital, will I ever see her again? Will I ever see Ella or Grandma again? I didn’t want to go anywhere with those men. I didn’t even know them until Wednesday, and I still don’t technically know them.

“Gabriel—!” The sting of her tone shuts me up, and I lean back into my seat, doing my best not to cry. 

When Ella gets in the car, she asks me what’s wrong. I shake my head and continue silently crying to myself the rest of the ride home, wishing that Mom and Dad were with us again. 

[pandastern]

Gravity (Bakugou x OC)

Part 2: New Girl In Town (past)

Bakugou x Vigilante!OC

Warnings: angst, explicit language, violence

Word count: 2005

Genre: enemies to lovers ; angst ; romance

When a new student makes an entrance, Bakugou has a real bad feeling. There is something about this girl that just doesnt feel right. From the flaming hair to the calculating glint in her green eyes, everything about her just pisses him off.

Little does he know that his fate is intertwined with the person he despises so much, defining his future path in a way he would have never expected.

part1

“According to the papers the principal gave me, you got in here based on recommendation from... Europe?”

“Yes, sir,” Artemis answered as she followed her new home room teacher.

Shouta Aizawa was indeed a very successful pro hero, but despite his reputation as Eraser Head, he sure was one weird fellow.

If she hadn't known better, she would have taken him for some homeless person. The yellow atrocity he called a sleeping bag wasn't really working in his favour here though, she thought to herself.

Not that it really mattered, she supposed. After all, appearance wasn't always important. Unless, of course, you knew how to use it in your favour.

“Interesting. The semester has already started, though. Why do you think you can show up later in the course than anyone else? Just because you're an exchange student doesn't mean you get special treatment.” Aizawa's voice cut through her train of thought.

The slight edge to his tone didn't go unnoticed to Artemis.

“The transfer process took a little longer than it should have done. I also had an injury that needed to heal first,” she replied with a shrug. “I was told by the head office it wouldn't be a problem. I don't expect special treatment, sir. I'm more than capable of pulling my weight in class.”

Artemis understood that in this school, teachers made the rules. This kind of tyranny prepared each student differently for their eventual goal: to become a pro hero. Not that she was interested in that. Being a hero nowadays was nothing more than a job. Congrats, you could use your quirk, but at what cost? She wondered how many students were aware of all the restrictions that had been put in place for people like them.

“Do you, now? Your confidence is admirable, but let's see if your actions actually match your words,” the teacher scoffed.

Narrowing her eyes, Artemis studied the man in front of her. Hobo aesthetic or not, there was a danger that lurked beneath the surface, and she'd be a fool to underestimate him.

“All right, class, get in your seats and shut your traps. We've got a new student here with us today,” Aizawa said, kicking open the ridiculously large classroom door. “Ms Moon, introduce yourself quickly and take a seat. I've got a lesson to teach.”

The entire class of 1A perked up. A new student? That was something almost unheard of. Katsuki Bakugou let out a scoff. Another extra in this class. Great. He tore his crimson eyes from the window and looked towards the front of the class.

A girl stepped in. She was rather short for his taste (not that he had a particular taste in women – that was a fucking waste of time). Her long hair was tied up in a ponytail and was coloured... several shades of red. He had to admit he'd never seen such a strange colour combination. Red, auburn, ginger and bright orange ran through her hair, making it look as though her head were literally on fire. Was that a hairdressers' appointment gone wrong? Or had she really been born with hair like that?

Not that he cared, obviously.

Turning towards the class, the girl bowed politely and surveyed the room. Big, luminous, emerald eyes fell on Katsuki, sending a chill down his spine.

What the fuck?

“Hello,” she said. The accent in her Japanese was prominent, though not in a way that made him cringe as it did with so many foreigners, he had to admit.

“My name is Artemis Moon and I've transferred here from a school in Europe. I look forward to working with you all.”

It took just those few words to make the hair on the back of Katsuki's head stand. Something about this girl was... wrong. Again, those creepy catlike eyes met his, and the corners of her lips curved slightly upwards. Katsuki was quick to decide – he already hated her. From the way her posture was as straight as a goddamn soldier's to the calculating glint in her freaky eyes, everything about her just flat-out pissed him off.

He could hear Kaminari and Mineta high fiving each other in the back as the girl, Artemis, moved through the rows and took a seat between Uraraka and the pink girl whose name he'd already forgotten again. She smiled as she made exchanged a few words with them. This seemed normal enough, even though Katsuki could clearly see that the beaming smile this Artemis gave her classmates never truly reached her creepy eyes. How did no-one else notice that?

Morning classes were surprisingly unspectacular for Artemis' taste. Stuff like English wasn't too hard for her, but maths in Japanese was just murder. She'd already figured that as a foreigner, she'd have some sort of problem in that department.

At lunchtime, a very cute, bubbly girl named Ochako Uraraka took Artemis by the sleeve and practically dragged her to the cafeteria. Not that she particularly minded. Artemis was grateful at being introduced to her classmates in this friendly manner. It was a nice group, she found, easy to talk to and get along with.

“Say, Artemis,” a rather outgoing girl with pink skin named Mina (if she remembered correctly) asked. "How do you like UA so far? Is it better than your old school in Europe?”

“Well,” Artemis said, taking a bite from her tempura shrimp, “It's... different. UA High really does have a different standard. The students are nicer, too!”

She gave her new friends a wink.

“In my old class, everyone was constantly at each other's throats. That was because you got kicked from the course if you don't produce the right results.”

“What?!” Izuku Midoriya gasped. “That sounds horrible! What if you were having a bad day?”

“It wasn't as bad as that. But if you failed several times in a row, well, you were fucked.” Artemis shrugged.

The conversation moved along to where she was from exactly and what her family was doing. She made sure her answers were satisfactory but still vague. Neither topic was something she particularly liked to talk about. She hadn't made her way all the way to Japan to be reminded of the shithole she had come from, that was for sure.

As the conversation shifted back to the upcoming classes, Artemis suddenly felt someone's eyes burning into the back of her head. She turned and noticed the same boy from today's class sitting behind her. He'd been staring at her before, when she had introduced herself. If she didn't know better, she'd think he was plotting her death.

“Uhm...” She tapped Uraraka's shoulder. “What's his problem?”

Ochako followed her gesture to the ash blond boy sending a murder stare in her direction.

“Oh. That's Katsuki Bakugou.” She looked a little worried. “He's... something else.”

Raising a brow, Artemis turned to look at Mr Grumpy Pants again. She had the urge to go over and tell him that a picture of her might have lasted longer, but starting an unnecessary fight on her first day seemed like a stupid thing to do.

Suddenly, Bakugou shot up and stomped over to her. Did he have a mind reading quirk or something?

He stopped in front of her and glared down, lips pulling into a snarl. “I don't know who you are, but don't you dare get any fucking stupid ideas. You ain't special just cause you're from Europe or an exchange student. I'm the best person here and I'll stomp your ass into the fucking ground, so don't even try! Fucking loser!” Every word that came from his mouth dripped with arrogance and venom.

Wow, Artemis thought. What an absolute ass. Was he trying to intimidate her? She felt Midoriya shrink some sizes next to her and that told her everything she needed to know about this dick.

She put on her sweetest smile and beamed at Bakugou. “Hello, Artemis! Nice to meet you. My name is Grumpy McTwatface,” she purred in a sickly sweet tone. “Hello, Grumpy McTwatface! How can I help you?” She held out a hand and shook it with her other in a mocking handshake.

Across the table, Kaminari and Mina snorted into their soda glasses. A vein popped up in Bakugou's temple, throbbing dangerously.

“What the fuck did you just say? I'm gonna fucking kill you!” he roared.

Was he being serious? Right here in the cafeteria? Artemis couldn't help but let out a laugh. "Oh, boy. You have a pretty temper there, my man.”

The vein on his temple grew. This shouldn't be as fun as it was. She really shouldn't provoke an obviously short-tempered twat on her first day, but she'd never been good at resisting temptation. Especially if Bakugou's reaction was so damn rewarding.

Artemis turned towards her new friend and sighed deeply. “You know, I spent a summer in France once. My Brother and I still had some firecrackers left over from New Year. He dared me to stick them into those portable potties they have on construction sites, and since both of us were particularly bored, I lit them and did just that.” She gave Bakugou a side glance and continued nonchalantly, “The end product of that little joke reminds me particularly of you... Katsuki Bakugou, was it? A flaming pile of shit.”

He was fuming. Artemis could practically feel the rage radiating off him. The scent of nitroglycerin hung in the air.

Bakugou's hand shot forward, grabbing a fistful of her blouse and ripping her out of her seat onto her feet.

“I'm gonna blow you to bits,” he hissed.

She really shouldn't have risen to it. Artemis knew she should do her best to diffuse the situation. She knew that provoking this guy and making an enemy was a very stupid move. But something about him just asked for it.

“I highly doubt that,” she purred with a smirk. “Barking dogs don't bite.”

Artemis could see her own death in his eyes. Maybe it should have scared her, but the kind of life she'd lived up to this point had made her too destructive to fear for her own safety. His rage pushed her further. There was a thrill in this back and forth that she couldn't explain.

Before Bakugou could respond, the sound of a loud bell cut through the loud noise of chattering students in the cafeteria. Using this distraction, Artemis tore herself from his hands and grabbed her bag off her seat.

“Well, this was nice!” she chirped. “Shall we go?” She turned towards her new friends, who'd been watching the altercation with a mixture of astonishment and worry. Izuku, especially, looked afraid for her life.

“Don't think I'll let you off easy. I'll kick your ass in combat training!” Bakugou snarled at her before turning and stomping off.

“Good lord, that man needs a chill pill,” Mina sighed. “You should be careful, Artemis. If you provoke him too much, he'll go off on you.”

“Oh, I'm counting on it,” Artemis chuckled.

“All right, kids! Time for combat training.” Aizawa's somewhat bored voice echoed through the training grounds.

Artemis stood with her classmates in a little group as the teacher explained the rules of today's activity. His eyes remained glued to her. Something in Artemis' gut told her Aizawa was planning something she wouldn't appreciate. Maybe that was revenge for giving him lip earlier. She sighed and tugged on the jacket of her sports uniform. For a tracksuit, it was rather constricting. She preferred to have her arms bare. Oh well...

Feeling the burn of two crimson eyes on her, she shifted her attention towards Bakugou. He was staring again, shooting daggers at her. Guess she really had pissed him off big time.

“Artemis Moon!!

“Huh?” Artemis hadn't even noticed Aizawa had addressed her. “Yes?”

“I would appreciate it if you paid attention in my class.” The teacher raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “You and Bakugou, into the ring, now.”

Well, damn.

[psychovigilantewrites]

Jason, Not Him

Pairing: Jason Todd/Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 5758

Ao3

Summary:  Jason feels like his older brother Dick wants his girlfriend. Too bad. Dick can't have you. You're Jason's and he's going to make sure Dick understands that.

A/N: Hey guys! Taking a break from Red Who and decided to write this short smut up instead. This has tags for voyeurism, semi public sex and Jason being all possessive. 

Masterlist

Dick got everything he wanted.

He was the golden boy, the first Robin, the responsible one, the leader.

Jason? Jason was the Universe’s bitch.

It wasn't hard to love dick. Dick had girls swooning over him ever since he was a kid. Now that he's all grown up, of course even more women would flock to him.

Dick also had a face that you knew you could trust. He was sensitive, friendly, warm, and open with his feelings.

Jason was the complete opposite. It wasn't that he wasn't a looker, but you'd need to have a specific type to like someone like Jason. People would fall in love with Dick the minute they saw him, but for Jason’s case, they'd need to see him every day to really appreciate his subtle good looks.

Jason wasn't as friendly and warm as Dick, too. Neither was he open with his feelings like Dick was.

But did Jason hate Dick? No. On the contrary, Jason loved him. He was Jason’s older brother after all, and Jason respected him. He was skilled, he worked hard. Jason had no problem admitting all of that.

And you know what? Jason never tried to overshadow his older brother. Jason never tried to get Bruce to love him more, to get people to tell him he was the better Robin, to steal his girlfriends, to snatch his best friends.

Was there a sense of jealousy that he felt? Yes, from time to time. Who wouldn’t be occasionally jealous of their perfect older brother?

But Jason would never act out on it. If Dick wanted something, he wouldn't fight him on it.

But you? Jason would fight Dick to the death if it meant that he got to keep you.

You were the only thing that Jason truly wanted, loved, appreciated. You were what pulled him from whatever dark place he was in and guided him to be the happy and content man he was today.

Dick couldn't have you.

But oh, did he want to.

Jason knew that Dick was the flirtatious type- even with men. Dick never realised how much he had an effect on people. But the way Dick tries so hard to make you laugh, to comfort you, to be kind to you. Jason didn't like it.

He knew that the way Dick looked at you was not the way he looked at anyone else.

Dick looked at you with a sense of intense longing, an emotion that Jason knew all too well.

He looked at you the way a pained ex-boyfriend would look at their loved one with somebody else. The sad smile, the big round eyes, the slump of his back that said he was emotionally exhausted from loving you too much.

Jason didn't get it.

Dick could have anyone else, and he had everything going for him. Why does he need to want you?

Jason was the one who grew up with you, not him. Jason was the one who accompanied you when both his and your parents were high as kites, not him. Jason was the one that continued to be your best friend after Bruce took you in, not him. Jason was the one that convinced Bruce to train you as well, not him. Jason was the one who seeked you out and comforted you after he came back from the dead, not him. Jason was the one who fell in love with you from way back then, when you were both in Crime Alley, not him.

You starved together, picked pockets together, survived together.

Dick didn't understand what the two of you have been through. It was the only thing about his brother that he hated. If it was anyone else but you, he wouldn't have felt the need to spite Dick so much.

But it was you, after all, so Jason needed to make sure Dick knew that he wasn't about to let you go so easily.

*** Ding dong.

Jason made eye contact with Dick, who looked up at him over the kitchen counter, wide eyed.

“I’ll get it,” he said.

“No, I’ll get it,” Jason replied.

Jason narrowed his eyes at Dick, as Dick’s own became increasingly wider. They stared at each other for a moment, like a cowboy stand off, waiting for the other to make the first move.

Dick suddenly scrambled over in the direction of the main door, and Jason hurried after him.

“I said I don’t mind getting it, Jason!” Dick yelled over his shoulder, running through the dining room.

“No, please, let me!” Jason chased after him.

Both of them zoomed past Alfred, who was setting the dining table, shouting, “Really!”

The two of them approached the large, wooden, grand door of the manor, reaching out for the handle at the same time, and pulled it open to reveal you, slightly shocked and staring weirdly at the two panting men in front of you.

“Hey, babe,” Jason breathed, and swooped in for a peck on your lips.

“Hey, Jay,” you greeted back, “Hi, Dick.”

Dick just winked at you, leaning against the door frame, making you giggle slightly.

“Come in,” Jason suddenly scowled, moving out of the doorway for you.

Jason noticed that you had raised an eyebrow at his sudden shift in attitude, and he immediately gave you back an apologetic smile.

He saw you take a deep breath and smiled, “Dinner smells amazing. Where’s everyone?”

“They’re all helping out in the kitchen, but I think you can go straight to the dining room. Everything’s just about done,” Dick answered before Jason could open his mouth.

He gave Dick a glare.

“Okay, then,” you beamed at Dick, heading straight towards the dining room.

Jason didn’t have to show you around, because the manor was almost as much your home as it was his. You have been coming over ever since he was adopted. You trained alongside him under Batman after a year he was Robin, since he told you and you wanted to be included too.

But mostly because Jason felt bad if he were to abandon you to live on the streets, unprotected, when he was eating three hot meals a day served by a butler. Jason always felt like he needed to take care of you. But he wouldn’t be able to protect you from the people on the streets if he was busy with Batman. So he talked to Bruce and demanded that he trained you as well.

You proved to Bruce that you had what it takes. You were very smart, and strategic, and Bruce saw that you had a lot of potential. Although, it took longer for Bruce to train you, since you didn’t have basic fighting skills like Jason did.

That’s because it was always Jason that protected you in the streets.

When Jason had died, you were still under training.

When he returned, you were a well trained, extremely skilled, and brutal vigilante.

The manor was your second home. Jason made sure of that.

So why were you beaming at Dick like he was the one who was with you all those years?

“Hey,” you suddenly appeared close to Jason, making him jump at your sudden touch, knocking him back to reality. “You okay?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” he forced a smile, “You hungry?”

“Starving,” you groaned, “I love it when you all get together and cook.”

“I know, princess, that’s why I invited you over,” he grinned.

“That’s bullshit, Todd,” Damian entered the dining room from behind you, “Father said that she’s part of the family, so she has to be here for anything and everything anyway. It’s got nothing to do with you.”

“Why hello to you too, Dames,” you smiled at the youngest Wayne. Jason knew you were extremely touched by what he had said, but knowing you, you didn’t show it. You were similar to Jason in that aspect. “Want to give me a hug?”

“I’m fourteen, not five,” he huffed, pulling out a chair from the long and polished mahogany dining table that was set with fine china and silver cutlery. Jason saw Damian blush slightly.

And apparently, so did you, because you whispered to Jason, “I think he has a crush on me.”

“Yeah, him and the whole damn world apparently,” he grumbled to himself.

“What?”

“Nothing. Here-” Jason pulled out a chair for you.

Before you could sit down, Bruce walked in. You politely greeted him and gave him a kiss on the cheek, like you would your father.

If Jason was being completely honest with himself, he couldn’t blame Dick or Damian, or anyone really, for falling in love with you. Jason knew you best after all, and he knew you were irresistible.

He loved your smile, your pretty face, your sexy body. He loved the way you laughed out loud at a lame pun or cried over sappy chick flicks. He loved that although you were kind, you were still suspicious of others until they proved themselves to you. Growing up on the streets did that to a person.

And he knew that everyone else saw you as this brutal, tough vigilante who doesn’t hesitate to fuck shit up- but Jason? Jason couldn’t help but remember you as this skinny, hungry girl with the red nose who would come running to his apartment window from the fire escape stairs whenever your parents fought.

He knew you best, and because of that, he felt like no one else deserved to be with you.

Least of all Dick Grayson- who never knew what it was like to hate the world.

Dinner was casual, as usual. Having you around made it feel like it was complete.

But Jason noticed that Dick kept on giving you glances from across the table, offering you gravy, passing you the butter, trying hard to make you laugh with his stupid fucking puns.

The stupid puns you found so funny.

Now you were talking to Dick, about some show. So Jason put his hand on your thigh. You jumped slightly, cutting off what you were going to say.

Dick narrowed his eyes at Jason.

“-uhm, yeah, I think you’d like it,” you continued, face suddenly going red.

“Well, I always watch whatever you recommend, you know that,” Dick smoothly flattered you.

“Speaking of shows, I brought some DVDs for us to watch later if you guys want to..?” you glanced at everyone.

“Ah, sorry. I have to finish up some blueprints,” Tim apologized, “I really would have loved to, though.”

“That’s okay,” you waved a hand in dismissal. You understood very well how Tim was occupied with work.

“I have a history paper to finish,” Damian groaned, “Unless-”

“No,” Bruce scolded his son, “Unless you want to sacrifice patrol night.”

“No,” Damian slumped in his seat.

“And you, Bruce? Or do you have Batman stuff?” you asked.

“Unfortunately, yes,” he said, “Sorry.”

“Well, I know Jay has nothing to do. How about you, Dick?” you looked at him hopefully.

Jason made a point to stare at Dick, giving him an intense “Don’t you dare” look.

Dick blinked once at Jason, and then turned to you and said, “I’d love to!”

“Yay!” you clapped your hands, “Just the three of us then. You guys would love it, it recently just won-”

Jason didn’t hear what awards your movie won, or how many times it was nominated- he was too busy stopping himself from punching his older brother in the face.

So there Jason was on one end of the sofa, and Dick on the opposite end. You were sandwiched in between them.

The movie was on, the room was dark, and you were concentrating intently despite it not being the first time you were watching it.

But you were the only one watching the movie, because Dick was stealing glances at you, and Jason was just glaring at him, practically daring him to make a move on you.

Jason did feel bad for not paying attention, though, since you were so excited. He made a mental note to watch it later.

Jason just couldn’t take it. Dick wasn’t even hiding the fact that he liked you. He needed to do something about his brother’s intentions.

“Hey, princess, you cold?” Jason whispered in your ear, stretching his arm behind your head to rest on the back of the sofa.

“A little, but it’s okay,” you whispered back, not taking your eyes off the screen.

“Then come closer,” he replied, pulling your waist with his other arm, to bring you closer to him. He saw you blushing slightly, letting out a small giggle.

He pulled the blanket that was hanging folded on the sofa arm and threw it over the two of you. He felt you cuddle up to him, more comfortable now there was a barrier to block Dick’s view of the two of you.

Jason waited patiently for about five minutes before he proceeded with his plan.

He leaned over to you and started nibbling on your earlobe, kissing your neck, sucking, licking, pulling, biting. All the while letting his hand on your waist rub up and down underneath the blanket.

“Jason!” you hissed at him, “We have company.”

“It’s just Dick,” he whined, “Dick doesn’t mind. Do you, Dick?”

Jason looked up at him. Dick stared, his jaw clenched.

“Whatever,” he managed to grit and then turned back to the screen.

“See, babe? It’s all good,” Jason continued his oral assault on your neck.

“I don’t know. Maybe we should go- oh,” you were suddenly cut off by the surprise you felt when Jason slipped his hand from your waist to underneath your skirt, brushing on your panty covered clit.

Jason didn’t hesitate to start rubbing, feeling your panties getting wetter and wetter by the second. He himself was getting hard.

Jason knew you had a little kink for voyeurism that you didn’t want to admit. He knew your search history, and he knew that you loved it when he watched you touch yourself.

He went a step further and pulled aside your panties, rubbing his finger up and down your wet folds. He smirked when he felt you part your legs.

Jason rested his chin on top of your head so he could look at his older brother, who obviously knew what was going on.

Dick was looking straight at the screen, but his hands were in fists on his lap, and his jaw clenching and unclenching. Jason slipped a finger inside your dripping, tight, and warm hole, eliciting a small moan from you.

Dick’s head snapped to the two of you with that sound.

Jason continued to pump his finger in and out of you, curling up at your sweet spot. Fuck, he was hard. And it wasn’t only because he had his fingers inside of you.

It was that he was finger fucking you in front of Dick, claiming you, making him watch him do things to you that Dick never would be able to.

He loved seeing his brother livid as he fucked your pussy with his now two fingers.

You were oblivious to the exchange. You were still pretending to watch the movie, even though your pants were loud and your moans were hardly subtle. Even though the sound of your wet pussy could be heard.

Jason felt your walls grow tighter and tighter, knowing you were about to cum, so he sped up, not giving a fuck that the violent movement of his arm was slowly slipping the blanket off.

You gasped, and then clamped your mouth with your hand, your eyes tight shut.

He watched Dick watch you cum, smirking to himself.

And then Dick left.

Jason was slowly pumping you, bringing you down. Once you were grounded, Jason took out his fingers, and then licked them, savouring your sweet taste.

“Oh my god,” you whispered frantically, “Oh my god, do you think he noticed?”

“No, you were good at hiding,” Jason lied, winking at you, “He just forgot he promised to help Bruce with something.”

“Did he actually say that?” you looked at him, worry in your eyes.

“Yeah, didn’t you hear?” Jason cocked an eyebrow.

He felt bad lying to you. But he had to. He had to man up and show Dick who you belonged to.

“No, I didn’t,” you realised, “Wow. That was- wow.”

Jason kissed you on the temple, “You enjoyed that, babe?”

“Yeah,” you giggled, “I didn’t think having someone there that might catch you would make it so exciting.”

“Knew you were a voyeur,” he pinched your cheeks.

“Shut up!” you groaned, embarrassed, “Hey! Were you even watching the movie?”

“No,” Jason admitted guiltily, “But I promise you that I’m going to watch it soon, okay?”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“I promise!” Jason insisted, “I couldn’t help it. I missed you.”

“We just saw each other last night during patrol,” you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, but I didn’t get to touch you, baby girl,” he told you, “I’ve been thinking about you a lot these past few days. I miss making you scream my name.”

You blushed.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Jason started.

“What?”

“What do you think of Dick?” he cringed internally, mentally slapping himself for sounding so desperately insecure.

“Dick?” you repeated in surprise, “He’s great. I mean, he was there for me when you weren’t… alive. Tim, too.”

“Yeah, no, I meant like,” Jason hesitated, “Looks wise?”

“Jason, are you asking me if I find your brother hot?” you started to break into a cheeky grin.

“So what if I am?” Jason huffed defensively.

“I think he’s a good looking guy,” you said truthfully, entertained by your boyfriend’s sudden question, “But so is Tim. And Damian. And you. It’s like Bruce adopted all of you solely based on looks. Except Damian, of course. Bruce has himself to be proud of.”

“So you think Dick’s good looking, then?” Jason grumbled, ignoring everything else you just said, “Of course you do.”

“Jason,” you sighed, “Yes, I think Dick’s good looking, but only a blind person wouldn’t think that. Look. I didn’t fall in love with you because of your looks- although that played a major factor too. You wanna know how I fell in love with you?”

Jason just pouted at you.

“Because of this,” you poked a finger at Jason’s forehead, near his temple and slightly into his hairline, “It’s not there anymore because of the Pit, but you used to have a small scar there. You got it because some asshole in the alley cut you with a blade. You were defending me. He was going to hurt me.”

Jason now looked at you, softening his expression. Yes, he remembered that. If he hadn’t jumped in front of you in time and blocked the strike, the man would have slashed your neck.

“And this,” you bunched up his shirt, revealing his chest.

“You like my bod a lot, huh, princess?” he smirked.

“Yes, but that’s not the point,” you rolled your eyes, “Here, here, and here.”

You poked three of his ribs.

“You cracked your ribs in three places because you got beaten up trying to pickpocket some brute. We weren’t starving that night, but I told you that I wanted to have a milkshake,” you softly smiled at the memory, “So you went and tried to get some money for me.”

Jason remembered that all too well. The two of you couldn’t have been older than ten. You had a sad look in your eyes when you said that you never tried the famous strawberry milkshake at Jackie’s diner. Jason never tried it too, but his heart broke when he saw you look like that.

Jason never told you, but after he came back from the hospital, his dad had beat him again while he was still injured because he got into trouble.

“That’s my point, Jason,” you explained, “I didn’t fall in love over some shallow thing like your good looks or sexy body. That’s not love. I fell in love with you every single time you had a new scar or cast on you- any stupid injury you got because you were trying to look out for me.”

Jason looked at you and took everything in. Your eyes were wide and watery, conveying every single emotion that he needed to hear from you.

“So get over Dick, okay?” you comforted him.

“Yeah, okay,” he nodded and gave you a warm kiss.

He never doubted your love for him. Nor your attraction. Even if he did, it was all gone now. But the problem still remained. Dick was still looking at you, Dick was still wanting you. And Jason still needed to show Dick who you belonged to.

***

Jason fucking hated Gotham.

The high crime rates only showed how many scum of the Earth lived there- and the stats were definitely lower than reality.

Reality is that the big crime bosses were wealthy families with old inheritance, passed down from generation to generation. Their families were the ones who built Gotham up- not unlike the Waynes themselves.

The stats never mentioned the rich. They were safe in their own mansions and yachts. No, it was people like Jason that received the bad end of their organized crime. They were the ones who hired the petty criminals to do their dirty work. And violence just bred more violence.

And what happened to the ones who couldn’t defend themselves in midst of all that chaos?

Jason happened. You happened. Two starving children with shitbag parents trying to make it day by day, exchanging what little they could afford with each other in dark alleys similar to the one Jason was overlooking from the roof then.

Jason glared down at the empty alleyway, and then turned to grapple to another, higher rooftop.

There, he strutted to the edge of the roof, leaning on a raised cement ledge that was as tall as his hips, overlooking the zooming traffic on the street below.

It was sort of peaceful, Gotham at night. Despite the increase in criminal activity, he hated to admit that he thought the city was almost beautiful when the sun goes down.

He glanced at the building on the other side of the street. He saw a movement there. Through his helmet, he zoomed in his lenses like a pair of binoculars, and saw Nightwing.

“Hey,” a voice came from behind him all of a sudden which made him jump slightly.

He turned and saw you strutting towards him in your tight, black vigilante suit, wearing a black domino mask with white lenses to protect your identity. The suit stuck to your skin at your arms, legs, and ass. Your abdomen was protected by kevlar that was sewed fashionably well onto your suit, still accentuating your breasts and the curve of your waist.

Jason loved your suit.

He glanced back at the building across the street, and seeing Nightwing was still there, cocking his head to one side and looking at the both of you curiously.

An idea popped into Jason’s head.

He rushed to you, taking off his helmet in the process. He still wore a domino mask similar to yours underneath, with special white lenses as well.

“What are you up t- mmpf,” you couldn’t finish your sentence because Jason had grabbed your face with both his hands and attacked your lips with his.

While he was prodding his tongue at your mouth, he swiftly pressed a button on the earpiece in his ear, tuning him into Nightwing’s frequency, so he could hear everything that was happening.

“Woah, Jay,” you flushed, “What’s gotten into you? Not that I’m complaining.”

“Take off your mask, I want to see your eyes,” he panted at you, ripping off the mask from your face. The real reason was that he didn’t want you to see Dick from across the street. Dick was invisible to the naked eye from that distance and dim lighting.

“Babe,” he groaned, and kissed you again, pulling your hips into his own and grinding his now half hard cock on your stomach. “Baby girl, I need you.”

“Now?” your voice rose a pitch , “Here?”

“Why not?” he grinned, “It’s not like anyone’s here. Besides, you like it a little bit public, don’t you?”

You turned a shade red when he mentioned that.

“So you up for it?” he asked you.

You looked him in the eyes for a few moments, and then gave him a tiny, shy nod.

The moment you agreed, he lifted you up in a fireman’s carry, and walked over to the edge of the roof, facing Dick, who was still watching the two of you from that distance.

Before setting you down on the ledge, he gave your latex covered ass a slap, drawing out a moan from you.

“This ass is mine,” he spoke out loud, giving you another spank. He was addressing Dick, who was now standing up erect, hands curled into fists.

“Jason,” he heard Dick’s voice in his earpiece, “Stop.”

He ignored Dick and set you to sit down on the ledge, facing him. He gave you another searing kiss, relishing the taste of you while looking for the hidden zipper at the front of your suit. He zipped your front down and down, all the way to your belly button.

“Fuck,” he gasped, “Don’t you wear a bra out on patrols?”

He grabbed a fist full of your right breast and squeezed.

“The kevlar breastplate is enough support,” you explained, “I don’t need to wear a- ah!”

Jason had attacked your nipple with his mouth, sucking and nibbling on it while his hand massaged your other breast.

“Your tits are so fucking amazing,” he choked, “I always can’t get enough of them.”

He then licked your skin from the valley of your breasts all the way up to your neck.

“And the taste of your sweat is intoxicating,” he exhales.

“You’re being descriptive tonight,” you giggled.

Jason stood up straight and said with a sudden serious expression on his face, “I just want you to know everything I see, smell, taste, feel, and hear. I want you to know what you fucking do to me. I want you to know how I fucking worship you.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” your breath hitched at his words, and you pulled him in for another kiss, “Fuck me, Jason. Please.”

“Fuck,” he growled, “Get out of that suit and bend over. Put your hands on the ledge. I want Gotham to see your tits.”

“What the fuck, Jason,” Dick’s voice appeared in his ear again.

While you were busy taking off your suit, Jason glanced again at the building and zoomed in to Dick’s face. Jason could see his jaw clenching and unclenching, the fury in his scowl.

Yet, Dick still didn’t look away.

You were naked now, and you bent over, showing your ass to Jason, and unknowingly revealing your tits to Dick. Jason unzipped his pants and took his hard, leaking cock out, already extremely sensitive to the touch.

He lined the tip to your entrance, teasing you a bit and rubbing your leaking juices all over his cock. You moaned again softly.

Jason looked at Dick, and gave him a shit eating grin, and then plunged himself into your wet tight hole. The both of you groaned at the feeling.

“Fuck,” you bit your lips.

“Don’t hold back, princess,” Jason breathed, “I want you to be as loud as you can. I want to hear you scream my name.”

“Fuck!” you moaned louder when Jason slipped his cock out and then thrusted in again, bottoming out.

“That’s a good girl,” he praised you, “That’s my good girl.”

You whimpered.

“Are you ready, baby?” Jason asked you, not needing to clarify. You knew how he fucked. And you were always ready for it.

“Yes, Jason, please!” you cried.

Jason put both his hands on your hips, and then started pummeling into you like a fuck machine.

You gripped the ledge tight, and started screaming in pleasure.

“Fuck, your pussy always feels so good,” he panted while drilling into you.

Jason could imagine Dick’s view. He’s fucked you doggystyle in front of the mirror before. He knew how your tits would look like as he fucked you from behind- and it was a damn amazing view.

The adrenaline and ecstasy that Jason felt made him almost forget about everything.

“She’s fucking mine,” he accidentally roared before realising his mistake.

“I’m yours, Jason,” he heard you sob, apparently oblivious to his slip.

It made Jason bolder.

He stopped fucking you and you took out his cock from your pussy with a pop, making you whine in protest.

“Put your feet on the ledge, baby,” he ordered, “Squat on the ledge. I want to show off your cunt.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall,” he added when you looked back at him in worry.

He lifted you on the raised ledge, and snaked his arms around your waist, balancing you while you spread your legs in a squat.

Jason silently thanked his genes for making him tall enough to be able to fuck you in that position. He pushed in his cock and groaned into the crook of your neck, and then started to thrust up into you.

He let one hand down to your pussy and started circling your swollen nub with his finger while he continued to drill you.

“Fuck!” you screamed, “Jason! Fuck that feels amazing, don’t stop!”

“Whose pussy is this, baby?” he gave you a light slap on your clitoris, making you automatically clench on his cock even tighter, feeling the waves of electrical pleasure spark through his body.

“Yours, Jason, this pussy is yours,” you sobbed, completely giving into him.

“That’s right. This. Pussy. Is. Mine,” he slapped your cunt with every word.

“You’ve made your point, Jason,” he heard Dick grit in his ear. He chuckled into your neck at his victory. Jason knew that voice. It was the sound of his older brother breaking.

“Jason, please,” you begged, “I need to cum, please.”

“Okay, sweetheart, cum with me,” Jason started to thrust faster into you and rubbing your clitoris faster and faster. He felt you tighten around him, eliciting a long groan from him. The walls of your cunt was massaging and squeezing his shaft, his head was pushing against that spot he knew you made you go wild.

“Jason! Fuck, Jason! Jay! Fuck!” your screams and cries and sobs turned silent, and he felt your pussy flutter on his cock.

At the same time, Jason felt his peak approaching, heat spreading from his toes and black spots started to cloud his vision when he finally regained the sense to take his cock out and spill his cum all over your back in pulses.

You immediately fell back onto him from the ledge, legs weak. He caught you in his arms and chuckled into the hair on the top of you head, giving you a kiss there.

He pushed the button in his ear to disconnect the frequency with Dick. He made his point already.

Feeling suddenly exposed, you hurriedly put your suit back on and leaned into Jason’s chest in an embrace.

“That was amazing, baby girl,” Jason sighed, “Thank you.”

“Yeah, that was pretty awesome,” you grinned, “So where is he?”

Jason froze.

“What?”

“Dick, where’s Dick? Wasn’t this all for him?” you raised an eyebrow.

“You knew?” Jason gaped.

“Of course I knew, I’m not stupid,” you rolled your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Jason sputtered, “I shouldn’t have- I just wanted to- fuck, baby, I’m so-”

“Shh,” you held a finger to his lips, “I know you. You couldn’t just ask me to do this, what with your emotional constipation. I’m the same, remember?”

“Still,” he let out a breath, “I should have asked.”

“It’s okay,” you smiled sweetly at him, “You didn’t want to seem insecure. I get that. That’s why we’re together.”

Jason pursed his lips in worry, thinking how on Earth did he deserve such an amazing human being like you.

“Now where is he-” you put on your mask and started looking around, “Ah, there he- oh.”

You suddenly turned your head back, blushing furiously.

“Wha?” Jason looked over and zoomed to the building where he saw Dick leaning on the roof door to the stairwell of the building, his cock in his fists, furiously jerking himself off in obvious anger.

“I can’t blame him,” Jason chuckled, “We gave him quite a show.”

He saw that you were still blushing, your eyes wide.

“Babe,” he started slowly, tilting your chin up to look him in the eye, “Do you like the fact that my brother is jerking off to us fucking?”

“What? No- no, of course- no, he’s your-” you stuttered.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Jason coaxed you, “Come on, I know you like it when I watch you. I know you just like being watched. That’s okay.”

“Really?” you anxiously asked.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s Dick. As much as I hate him for wanting you, I trust him not to do anything. That’s why I was fine with showing you off to him. I just needed to claim my territory,” he gave you a wicked grin.

“I guess,” you said, unsure.

“You’re okay with me doing that just now? You’re not mad?” Jason asked again.

“No, I’m not. Like I said, I enjoyed it. I just- I just feel bad for enjoying it, you know?” you bit your lip.

Jason pulled you into another embrace, breathing in your scent.

“Don’t be. It’s who you are. And you know what? I like showing you off. You’re someone everyone wants but can’t have, because you’re mine,” Jason told you, “But only to Dick, though. I’m not sure if I want a stranger seeing you naked.”

“I wouldn’t want that too,” you agreed, “It’s fine because it’s Dick. I feel bad for him, though.”

“He deserves it,” Jason grit.

“He can’t help his feelings, Jason,” you frowned at him.

“I know, I know,” Jason sighed, “But I couldn’t help but claim you, as well.”

You smiled at him endearingly, the smile Jason loved so much.

“Don’t worry about it, Jay,” you pecked him on the lips, “It’s us against the world, remember? You and me. Always have been, always will.”

“Yeah,” Jason kissed you back, “Just you and me.”

[fablesrose]

Of Kings and Shadows XI

Chapter XI

Description: Y/n, a girl who seems to have found her calling. Being a SHIELD agent is like a dream come true. With a friendship starting to form with the Avengers, she’s the Queen of the world! What could go wrong?

Pairings: Avengers x reader, Loki x reader (eventually)

Notes: On Wattpad –> Here

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Clint walked in a little while later. "Oh hey, Y/n, I see you're awake. Sorry for not taking you home, do you want me to drive you now?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but Nat cut in.

"She's gonna stay here tonight," she smiled innocently, but her eyes said otherwise. I felt bad for Clint.

He halted, surprised, but he didn't challenge her. "Okay," he faked a laugh, "I didn't take you as a mother hen, Tasha."

She didn't look up as she picked up a file and worked on her nails, "Well the rest of you are stupid."

He leaned over the back of the couch she was sitting in, smiling cheekily, "All the more reason to take care of us!"

She pushed his face away causing him to stumble to not fall. I smiled at their friendship, I've always wanted to have a friend that I could do stuff like that with. That's what I wished the friendship with the Avengers would turn into, but I didn't dare wish for. I'm sorry to say nothing else has worked out before.

I reached for the bag Natasha packed for me, "Would you guys mind if I caught a shower and changed into my pj's?" I sat on the edge of the couch ready to stand, but not going to until they said yes.

"Oh, trust me, we're all going to be in our own pajamas sooner rather than later, so go for it."

"Do as you wish," I had almost forgotten he was in the room with him not saying much, only reading his book.

Nat stood, "You can use the shower in my room."

Clint gasped, "You never let me into your room! I'm being replaced! Y/n! I trusted you!" His look of utter betrayal made me feel bad for wanting to laugh.

Nat just rolled her eyes, "Cuz you have your own room, Clint. And honestly, like that's stopped you before."

"What do you mean, you would kill me if I went into your room."

She smirked wickedly, "Exactly, that's what's stopping you."

She led me down the hall to her room and pointed me to where the bathroom was. She left me be to have some me-time.

I yelped at the hot water hitting my legs. I quickly turned it down for the time being. The shower at my apartment was warm, but I haven't had a truly hot shower there. I used Nat's shampoo and massaged it slowly into my scalp. I took my time on everything. The steam opened my sinuses and pores as well as loosening the muscles in my whole body. I scrubbed every inch of my skin getting all of the dead cells off. I made sure I didn't miss a single hair on my legs, rubbing my calves together to make sure they felt smooth. Throughout my spiritual experience, I increased the temperature one little bit at a time. I was nearly beet red by the time I shut the water off. I hadn't felt that refreshed in days.

I changed into my soft pajamas and set off back to the common room. On the way there I heard sad music and soft sobbing coming from one of the rooms. I slowed my pace and stood in front of the door for a moment before knocking softly. There was no answer, so I started to turn the knob.

My gut twisted for a moment alerting me someone was there.

"I wouldn't recommend going in there, Lady Y/n." I looked at Loki who rolled his eyes, "He's a mess, honestly."

I smiled with raised eyebrows and stuck my head in anyway.

Thor was sitting on a couch surrounded by popcorn and chocolate wrappers. There were tears rolling down his face, and grossly sniffing snot back up into his nose. My eyes were drawn to the bag of individually wrapped chocolates lying on the couch next to him.  The light from the hallway behind me was shadowed.

"Oh dear, he's even worse."

I didn't respond, only opened the door a little bit wider and took a step in.

Loki groaned, "Oh, are you going to go in there and comfort him? You're worse than I thought."

I snapped around and held a finger to my lips to shush him. I must have looked angry enough because he raised his hands in surrender. I shrunk down to my knees to crawl towards the couch. I looked up to see what was playing on the TV only to find Liam Hemsworth in a towel. My head snapped down to the floor again.

I hate romcoms.

I could feel the second-hand embarrassment creeping up my neck and I wasn't even watching the movie. I quickened my pace while still being as quiet as possible. I peeked my head above the arm of the couch seeing if Thor would notice me. Fortunately, he was too engrossed in the movie and stuffing his face with popcorn to catch me. I looked back to the door to see Loki raise an eyebrow at me.

I shrugged at him before carefully reaching over the couch to the bag of chocolates. The hole was big enough for Thor to easily stick his hand in, so I didn't even touch the edges of the bag when I stuck my hand in. I grabbed a handful and began to pull back. The sudden movement of Thor sneezing caused me to jump. I froze. He stuffed another handful of popcorn in his face and sobbed once more. He let out a wet laugh when I assumed a joke was made, but my heart was thumping so hard in my ears that I couldn't hear what it was.

I finished pulling my hand from the bag and sat with my back to the couch, catching my breath. Loki was trembling in the doorway in what I assumed was laughter. Seeing him laugh almost made me laugh and I struggled to keep quiet.

I made sure Thor wasn't looking my way before preparing myself. This was probably not a good idea.

I'm gonna do it anyway.

I tucked my hand with the chocolates into my chest and rocked back and forth a couple of times before performing (what I think was) a perfect somersault.  I was only a couple of steps from the door so I waddled towards it without standing up. Loki moved out of the way as I dove through it and then Loki closed the door behind me.

I clutched the treasure to my chest as I lied on the hallway floor. I was breathing heavily when I burst out laughing.

Loki joined me, chuckling, "I was not expecting that."

I mockingly gasped, "What?" I rolled onto my knees and bowed before him, "The mightly deity that is always five steps ahead didn't plan for this?!" I held a hand to my heart, "Whatever shall you do, Your Highness?!"

He blinked slowly at me, not amused.

"Hehehe..." I stood up a little sheepishly, this bug was messing with my head more than I thought. I grabbed one of the chocolates from my hand and held it out to him, "One for not blowing my cover, Your Highness."

He took it, "Only one?"

"With that attitude, sir," I looked at him pointedly, "you're not getting any." I went to snatch it back but he lifted his hand out of reach.

"No, no, thank you, Y/n." He started to unwrap it slowly, "You know, no one talks this casually to me while still addressing me with a high title."

Uh oh, I miss stepped. I went past my bounds, and now he's politely asking me to be more respectful before he scares me into it.

I let my smile fall to a neutral expression. I straightened my spine and grabbed my bag of clothes. We walked down the hall side by side, "My apologies, Your Highness."

He sighed and gently touched my elbow signaling me to stop. I turned ninety degrees on my heal to face him. "Don't do all that on me now." He paused, scrunching his lips to the side like he was trying to decide if he really wanted to say something. "You..." He took a deep breath, "you don't have to call me that anymore." He looked me in the eye and flashed me a blinding smile, "Call me Loki."

I slowly smiled at him, "Okay." I handed him one more chocolate, almost like a bribe, "One more for you, Loki."

His eyes lit up as he took the foil off the small treat and popped it into his mouth. We continued down the hallway, not conversing much. I had my face stuffed with chocolate when we arrived in the common room. It seemed that everyone had arrived when I was either in the shower or on my impromptu mission.

"Uh hey, Y/n, what's all the chocolate for? Where'd you get it?" Nat tilted her head with a slight smirk that told me she probably knew exactly where it came from but decided to tease me anyway.

I could imagine myself looking like a deer in headlights, "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh, that's so complicated, Jarvis play Bad Medicine."

Your love is like bad medicine Bad medicine is what I need, whoa Shake it up just like bad medicine There ain't no doctor that can cure my disease

Bad medicine

Tony laughed before singing along. Clint and Natasha also joined in with me once I tossed my bag onto my tangled couch. Steve and Loki didn't know the song but smiled watching the rest of us make fools out of ourselves. Bruce, I saw muttering the words but sat at the island in the kitchen with a glass of water.

We all know where Thor was.

My fun was cut short when the steam of the shower wore off and my nose stuffed up so I couldn't breathe anymore. I tried for the life of me to continue singing with them, but I ran out of breath too quickly. By the time I got back from blowing my nose, the song was over and I finally had the chance to notice that everyone was in their pajamas.

I nestled into my couch admiring them all in sweatpants and either t-shirts or tank tops. We went through all the formalities: how are you feeling, how did the mission do, anything exciting happen, etc, etc.

After all of that was out of the way I couldn't help it any longer, "So, what's up with Thor?"

Tony spoke up first, "Oh nothing that I know about. He just gets like that when he watches romcoms." He paused thinking it over, "That was what he was doing right?"

I nodded and everyone else voiced their affirmative to what Tony said.

My energy drained faster than I had hoped. I found myself yawning more and more.

"Oh, it looks like the sicko's gettin' tired."

It didn't register who was talking, but I sloppily nodded.

"Uh, is anyone open to just laying on top of me?" I stretched.

They all looked at me puzzled, "What?"

"I need some pressure on my body, or if you have like three weighted blankets to lay on top of me." I pressed a hand hard against my chest for emphasis, "Not necessary, but it does help me fall asleep." After a pause, I regretted my question, "Nevermind, I'm probably tired enough to just crash when I get on this couch." I started to stand when my hand was grabbed by Tony.

"Nah, we'll make a big pile together like cats." He began pointing at people as he talked, "Steve, Loki, and Natasha can be closer to your face cuz they won't get sick. Don't look at me like that Romanoff, we all know you aren't 100% biologically normal. Anyway, the rest of us will be tangled up somewhere in a giant pile to sleep. Bruce," Tony looked up at Bruce in a chair while he was on the floor, "you want to tap out?"

Bruce nodded thankfully, "Yeah, I'm gonna go hit the hay."

Tony's plan was put into action, with some protests from Steve and Loki, but eventually, everyone was tangled together, their weight making it a little difficult to breathe in the best way. Nat took it upon herself to be closest to my breathing to make the guys more comfortable. I wasn't quite sure how everyone was situated other than I was laying on someone's legs,  arms were everywhere, and I couldn't find anyone's heads.

Needless to say, I woke up a bit sore in the morning, but I hadn't slept better for a long time.

Tag List: OPEN

@nightrose64

[lindoig3]

The Weekend - 2&3 February

Saturday 2 February

After breakfast, I went down to collect our tyre, only to find that they don’t open at weekends. I had a few other things I needed to do around town so did them and decided to fuel the car. I used my PetrolSpy app and found that there was almost 25 cents a litre difference in the price of fuel by going to an independent place quite close to the racecourse - naturally, I took advantage of this surprising windfall. How can they do it - and how can the big guys get away with charging so much more?

I had been hassling our Melbourne caravan expert (ADP Caravans where we have all our work done) about a solution to our jammed toilet - and he rang to say that he had found a maintenance manual for our brand of toilet on a website in the Netherlands so he emailed it to me: fortunately an English language version. It was a horrific document and not for our model but we eventually found our way through enough of it to guess at part of the process and between us and an hour or two’s creative ingenuity, we actually got it fixed. We had to pull it all apart and reconstruct it by guess, but it worked. It seems that the rough roads simply rattled some components out of place, thereby locking up the whole mechanism - and we couldn’t ‘rattle’ them back in place without reconstructing the whole cannister. A horrible job in very hot conditions but we felt quite proud of ourselves for fixing it and it will be a godsend as we travel into less sophisticated places or free camps where toilets simply don’t exist.

We spent most of the afternoon hiding out in the van with the air conditioner going full bore - and it was still hot.

Sunday, 3 February

Gallery Day today! There are 30-odd art galleries in Broken Hill, although most of them close between November and March and many of the rest close on Sunday. Nonetheless, we visited three, all very different. The first was Len Vodic and I think we got him out of bed to let us in. A very small gallery but truly iconic outback work that I loved. He was a great talker and we swapped lots of stories before letting him retire to his breakfast.

Then it was up the hill to Pro Hart’s gallery. Much bigger and a bit commercial, but also interesting, albeit stiflingly hot, particularly on the upper floors - I did a quick jog around and scurried back to the ground floor where a cooler was struggling with the conditions. Lots of very different work there in several styles with strong political (politically correct?) themes running through much of it. There was a long video running, but it consisted of numerous short pieces and we watched several of them before braving the heat again. Finally we found another tiny one across town (Bush ‘n’ Beyond) where two artists, Wendy Martin and Ian Lewis, combined to display their work. This was again very different to either of the other galleries and included items that almost constituted a mini-museum. I really liked Wendy’s work but was less impressed with Ian’s.

We continued our tourist activities by visiting the disappointing Miners’ Memorial (see below) and associated ‘attractions’ atop the giant mullock heaps overlooking the town. Scorchingly hot up there and decidedly less than impressive except for a short interesting historic video doco about the mining and treatment processes. 

Down to the town again and we relocated Bell’s old-fashioned milkshake shop where we enjoyed a big icy chocolate malted in an old-fashioned milkshake container with waxed paper straws. It has been retained/restored as it was 70+ years ago and is now one of the great landmarks of Broken Hill, sadly a little corrupted by more modern tastes.

Len Vodic had recommended a drive further out beyond the Desert Sculpture Reserve where he often goes for inspiration so we went as far as the road allowed, unfortunately without being particularly inspired. I tried to find some birds, but the heat was overwhelming so I retired to the car and we headed for the caravan and more cold drinks. I explored the hill across from the racecourse and found myself on the golf course as twilight fell, surrounded by hundreds of kangaroos and quite a few birds, including a few we don’t often see.

It was an interesting day, particularly visiting the galleries and we enjoyed a slightly cooler night that aided a more restful sleep for both of us.

[bunnyravit]

Red Silhouette

Who: Ravi & AU

What: You're an art student in Seoul with a femdom streak, and you turn his world upside down when you show him what it's like to be dominated. Despite the BDSM nature, this actually ended up being quite fluffy. Warnings: NSFW, foul language, graphic smut, awkward flirting, oral sex (reader receiving), sub Ravi, light bondage. 

You met so innocently. You were sitting on the grass in the park, a sketchbook in your lap, trying to come up with something for your final. The sun setting behind city buildings flooded the park with a hazy orange glow. Tapping the page with the wrong end of you 2H pencil, you sipped your now lukewarm mocha and set it back down on the patch of dirt beside you. A chilly autumn breeze swept through, and with one hand holding down the page you were working on, you tried to pull your dark denim jacket tighter around you. Balmy, bright summer had left so suddenly, but you liked it better this way. The cold reminded you of home. And you looked damn fine in your black fall boots.

You heard a husky voice calling out, somewhere far away, over your right shoulder, but didn’t think anything of it, until a little French bulldog pattered up next to you. Heavy short breaths and a scrunched up nose, black leash trailing behind --he was so cute. Then he started pawing at your messenger bag. "You looking for something, little guy?" He pulled down at the corner and your open pencil case tumbled out. You groaned. But then he sneezed and shivered so pathetically, that you couldn't help but close your sketchbook and pull him into your arms. "Poor baby, are you cold?"

"Ongdongie!" A man stopped suddenly at your side, bent over, catching his breath. "I'm sorry," he huffed. "He...slipped...out of my hands." Out of the corner of your eye, you see him pantomime how the leash flew from his grasp between labored breaths. 

"That's all right," you laughed, smiling down at the little squirming mass, now burying his face in the crook of your arm.

"Oh!" the man got on his knees and started to collect the spilled pencils and erasers from the grass beside you. "Did anything break, or...?" 

"No, no," you said, and then you finally saw his face. He had sharp, sad eyes, softly pouting lips offset by a masculine jaw, and smooth, tan skin so flawless it was almost glowing.

His eyes met yours with such concern as he said, "If anything was damaged, I promise I’ll replace it."

You remembered to breath, and started to help him pick everything up. “Really, thank you, but I think everything is fine—” at that, Ongdongie squirmed out of your lap, darting behind you, and knocked over your coffee. You gasped, saving your sketchbook as you jumped to your feet. “Ongdongie!” the man cried again, and grabbed the dog’s leash. Ongdongie just looked up at him and whined. He knew he was in trouble. “Miss, I am so sorry. Did you get wet?" He looked close, examining your skirt. You felt your heart suddenly pound at the close attention.

The breeze picked up again, and you put extra effort into smoothing the fabric against your leggings. "No, I'm fine. And really, it's all right. I have a three-year-old terrier back home, so I know what it's like. In fact, that's probably what your little guy was smelling. Were you looking for a friend?" You asked the puppy in a cute voice. 

"Please, let me at least buy you another coffee.”

“Uh,” you hesitated. You weren’t one to go out with a stranger, but aside from being so handsome, he seemed genuinely frazzled. “Sure, why not. I wasn’t getting any work done anyway.” While you packed up your sketchbook and the rest of your things, he ran your empty coffee cup to the trashcan, and then returned to walk you to a coffee shop he knew nearby. You recognized the name—it was a cool, upmarket place with fancy drinks, but you were always too afraid to go in. It was so full of Seoulites, you worried a waygook would stand out too much.

Unfortunately, just as you suspected, you were the only non-Korean in the shop, and people kept glancing your way as he walked you to a table on the patio. He ordered two mochas at the counter while you played with Ongdongie, thankful for the heat lamps that made the outdoor space almost cozy. There was a soft thud against the table, and you realized he’d returned and set your cup in front of you. Despite how clumsy he seemed when you met, there was something quiet and graceful in the way he moved. “I realized when I was ordering,” he said, “that I still don’t know your name.” You picked up the cup, and realized it had Miss Pretty written down the side.

You laughed, and he seemed relieved. “It’s _____.”

“It’s nice to meet you, _____. I’m Kim Wonsik, but people know me better as Ravi.”

“Know you better…?” Then you recognized that handsome face, and realized the real reason people were staring. “Oh!” You said too loudly, and then looked around apologetically. “I…I can’t believe this. I actually know your music. It’s beautiful. It’s truly so different from anything else you hear.”

He looked down at his coffee, a faint blush in his cheeks and a slight smile—but not a genuine smile. More like a polite one. “Thank you. But what about you? What were you working on in the park?”

You sighed, the frustration you’d momentarily forgotten returning. “My final project for a painting class. I’m an MFA student at K-Arts. The whole semester I’ve been working with the theme of duality, mostly power and fragility, but…I’m burnt out, to be honest.”

He tilted his head thoughtfully. “That’s an interesting concept though. How did you come up with that?” 

You slowly sipped your mocha, trying to think of a lie. You knew his music could be kinky —in fact, you only discovered him because a fellow student recommended “Secret Night” and “Chained Up” to you— but you didn’t know this man. And Korea was much more sexually conservative than home. You couldn’t just start talking about your BDSM awakening at a coffee shop on a weekday evening. “Um, it’s just…I…it’s based on a personal experience I had," was apparently the best you could come up with.

“Oh…ok,” he answered softly, clearly embarrassed by your embarrassment. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“No! No, it’s me. I’m not good at talking about my work. Especially when it’s been giving me trouble.”

“I understand that. Really well, actually. Let’s not talk about work then…” he went on to ask what made you want to get your masters in Korea, and you told him Korean art had inspired you so much in undergrad that you ended up minoring in the language just to feel closer to the artists. And you’d always loved traveling, ever since you did a year abroad in Paris. “You speak French?” he asked with genuine enthusiasm.

“Bien sûr je parle français. Si vous étudiez l’art coréen et l’art français ensemble, alors qu’ils ont tous les deux des traits uniques, vous voyez vraiment comment nous partageons tous une seule expérience humaine.”

His mouth gently fell open as you spoke, a blush spreading all the way to his ears. A strong emotion swelled in your chest. Oh god, you thought. He was so cute. How dare he suddenly be so cute? He cleared his throat, and then sipped his coffee, Adam’s apple glistening in the lamp light as he swallowed. “That’s…that’s really cool. I'd like to learn French. I speak some English, but I don’t really have enough time to study and become fluent.”  

A few years ago, you would have salaciously offered your services as a live-in tutor, but you’d attracted enough of the scum of mankind to know to keep your walls up a little longer. You both heard a little snore, and realized Ongdongie had curled up at Wonsik’s feet to sleep. 

You asked him what else he studied, and he talked about his composing classes—everything he studied past high school was while he was working full time as an idol, and it had messed up his sleep schedule eternally. You had terrible sleep habits too, but it was all your own fault, staying up late working after partying too hard. You mentioned one time in Paris when you and your classmates tried to paint together outside of class, but ended up drinking the entire Saturday before the assignment was due, and then drinking the entire Sunday to avoid a hangover while you hastily finished your projects.

“Did that really work?”

You sipped your mocha. “No.” You laughed together. “We were miserable! Do you ever look back at the things you did just a few years ago and think ‘WOW, that was so dumb. Why did I do that?’”

He covered his eyes, laughing and grimacing in embarrassment. “Next time we see each other, maybe I’ll show you some pictures from my early days as an idol. You’ll feel better about your mistakes.”  

You felt a grin pulling at the corners of your lip, and raised your cup to hide it. “Next time we see each other?”  

His fingers twitched against the table. “Yeah. I’d, well, I-I’d like there to be a next time. I-If you would.”

His stutter stirred something in you. You just wanted hold him to your chest and take care of him. “Yeah, I’d like that too.” 

You gave him your number, and you parted ways. You half-expected to never hear from him again. It wouldn’t be the first time, and it wouldn’t have been his fault. He was busy, and so were you. Just two busy ships passing in the night. Besides, as an idol he was already surrounded by beautiful women all the time. He probably even had a girlfriend. You forced yourself to keep your expectations low. But then late that night, you got a text.

Hi, _____. It’s Wonsik :)

You smiled so hard it hurt your cheeks, and you thanked God your roommate didn’t notice. You weren’t ready to tell anyone about him.

It was all so innocent.

You streamed his mixtape on your way to class the next day. His music could be so strong and angry, and yet so soft and sad and warm. You listened to more as you worked in studio, and felt like you were developing a fetish for his voice. Gruff and powerful, but cozy and sweet. This was the sound you needed in your life.

You waited to answer his text until this morning. You didn't want to seem like you’d been waiting up for his message. "Play it cool," and "low expectations," you told yourself. But then that afternoon he texted you, How is your work coming today?, and you couldn't stop the glee brightening your cheeks.  

A little better. I've been working on some of my other pieces, but I had a little inspiration. Oh God. You couldn't believe you just said that. How is your work going? You texted quickly, hoping he wouldn't ask you what you meant. It would be so corny and embarrassing if you admitted you were listening to his music.

Tiring. We've been rehearsing all day. I love the choreo, but I'm a little jealous you get to work on your own stuff right now.

I'm a little jealous you're in a room with six beautiful sweaty men, you thought. Haha, don't be, you texted instead. Everything is on me. I'm jealous you have a studio and five other members who care about your success.

It's true, and I'm very grateful. But you have so much freedom! You can do any concept you want. When will I get to see your work?

You left the last message on read and went back to your mostly finished painting. You didn't know the answer. You didn't know if you ever wanted him to see it. But you kept glancing at your phone, vacantly hoping the right answer would just come to you, and soon your roommate came over from her desk and laid her head on your shoulder. "Who are you texting that made you show the full range of human emotion in three minutes?" Maya whispered. "And I can tell it's a boy, so don't lie to me."

"Fine," you sighed, and explained everything that happened last night.

"Get it!" she whispered at a harsh speaking volume, beaming and slapping your arm for not telling her.

"But now he wants to see my work...."

"Ooooh, he doesn't know about your dirty, perverted soul."

"Maya."

"Look, if you like him at all, which I can tell you do, he's gonna find out sooner or later. You might as well let him find out sooner. Otherwise, if you wait until you catch real feelings, he could still leave you over it, and it'll hurt you more."

You groaned. She was right. After half an hour of trying to find the right words, you told him about the university's show in two weeks, and that if he was free that night, he could come with you.

That'd be really cool! He answered, and then after a minute texted, But I'll get to see you sooner than that, right?

You went to dinner together a few nights later, a cozy table in the back of an upscale French restaurant. It was different than the French food back home, or in France, but so delicious. You shared a bottle of rich red wine that went right to your head. As he told the story of how he adopted Ongdongie, his deep, gruff voice became so cute that you had to reach across the table and squeeze his hand. His eyes lit up at the contact, and he interlaced his fingers in yours as he went on, staring at the table with a sweet smile. His hand was big and warm, and there was so much electricity in his touch it made you giddy.

It was hard to resist kissing him in the cab ride home, legs touching, hand in hand, speaking softly in the dark. But you managed to stop yourself. What if he was the kind of guy who needed to be the instigator? He was ok when you touched his hand, but kisses were different. Then he whispered something in your ear in that beautiful voice, and you melted into the backseat upholstery. You wondered if he knew what his voice was doing to you. You didn't think you were hiding it all that well. 

He walked you to your door, and you felt your knees slightly shaking, unsure if it was the wine or him. He held your hand firmly, stroking your thumb with his so sweetly. You wanted to pull him down by the collar and kiss him and invite him up, but Maya was home tonight. It was a conscious plan you two had made, to stop you from moving too quickly. But you didn't account for just how well you and Wonsik would get along. 

You slowly approached your front door, and turned to face each other, him still holding on to your hand. "I had a really great time tonight," you said.  

Grinning, he met your eyes, and there was a spark of heat in them that threatened to make your knees buckle completely. "I had a really great time too. I don't think I've ever met someone with a life as interesting as yours. And I can't wait to see your work."  

You giggled and glanced at the ground as you stepped closer. "I'd love to give you preview...but it's getting pretty late."

"Oh, I wasn't trying to—that's not what I meant—"

"I know. It wasn't you, I was the one..." you chuckled awkwardly, and then licked your lips as you waited for his reaction.

He covered a surprised laugh with the back of his hand, and looked around embarrassed. "Oh," he said softly. "You're right, though. I work early in the morning, and I know you have projects to work on..." you nodded and felt yourself moving closer. He started to lean in too, swallowing as he met your eyes. "You look…really pretty tonight. I guess I said that already."

"A few times, but it doesn't get old," you grinned. He glanced from your lips to your eyes a few times, and you knew it was coming, but it was coming too slowly. You slid your free hand up to his neck, and cradled his jaw—suddenly his lips met yours, like a magnet. He started gently, but then he was ravenous. He held your waist, but then you pushed your body against his, and his hands raked up the back of your coat to hold you there, taut against him. You ran your hands up through his thick black hair, and then your fingertips slid down the nape of his neck. He sighed lowly, and then he pulled away. 

He gazed at you silently, lust-darkened eyes, but then he cleared his throat and looked away. "Um, we should...we should stop."

"Yeah, ok," you barely managed to whisper.

"I-I'll text you."

"Yeah," you grinned.

"And then, I'll see you soon," he said, smiling back.

"Right," you laughed, hesitantly pulling away from him to put your hand on the keypad. "Good night."

"Good night," he echoed, and slowly backing away as you got inside.

A few hours later, after you'd told Maya everything that happened and you were getting ready for bed, you got a message. It was a picture of a curled-up Ondgongie, with Ongdongie hopes you sleep well written across it.

You laughed, and texted back, Lol, cute. Aren't you going to sleep?

I had a little inspiration. Besides, you can’t expect me to sleep after a date like that.

You texted every break either of you had, sharing workplace selcas and funny things your classmates said. Your conversations often climaxed late in the night, when you were lying in bed. It started with you checking up on his sleep, and he yours. Then you shared your fears about whether or not your art was really worth it, whether or not your ideas were actually original, or really worth sharing. He told you every artist feels that way at some point, like you're just another voice in the crowd. But you're not, he wrote. I haven't seen your work yet, but you're unlike anyone I've met. Your voice is different. Your art matters. 

Warmth spread through your chest, and you felt yourself blushing to the roots of your hair. 

Was that too cheesy? He asked, when you didn't answer right away.

I want to see you, you texted back. Send me a selca?

Lol, why? My hair is all messy, and I'm in my pjs.

I'll send you one, if you send me one, you answered. A half a minute later, you got a picture. Black hair hung in his face, with one eye closed and a small smile on his pouty lips, and the hint of a collar bone peaking out from his low neckline. He was so cute, but you were never good at that. Instead, you smoothed out your hair, and laid on your stomach so you could get a little bit of cleavage in the shot.

Ahh, you're so sexy. How am I supposed to go to sleep now?

Payback for those sweaty rehearsal pics you sent me earlier.

Hahaha, you liked that?

Of course I liked it! You're a very sexy man.

He sent back a smiley emoji with closed eyes. I can't wait to see your artwork.

I just hope you're ready for it, you answered. Truly, you did. You hoped it wouldn't scare him away.

The night of the show, he picked you up in a sleek black car. Maya was already at the gallery setting up, so you didn't have to feel weird about not sharing the ride. He held the door for you, and helped you in, eyeing the way your dark red velvet dress clung to your curves. "You look perfect," he said as he slid in beside you. The chauffeur pulled away from the curb, and your body swayed into Wonsik's. You steadied yourself by placing a hand on his knee, and looked up at him—then he was kissing you, soft and sweet, and almost innocent. 

"Thank you," you said, smoothing out the collar of his crisp white shirt and then the lapel of his black suit jacket. His hair was slicked back, and he wore a subtle hint of eyeliner, simple silver studs and a few thin rings. You grinned. He looked so elegant and tame, so unlike the impression he usually made on stage, but so true to the man you knew. You grinned. "You look absolutely irresistible." He smiled shyly, whispering more compliments into your ear as he held your hand.  

As you walked into the gallery, your hands kept ending up together, even while you were checking your coats. You saw Maya there with her girlfriend, and she flashed a thumbs up in approval. You turned him away so he wouldn't see and mouthed stop. "Hey, let me get us some drinks," he said, touching the small of your back. You nodded, and he left for the bar. As soon as you turned around, Maya was there.  

"Oh my God, nice work, babe," She said, watching him leave.

"Do you know where my stuff is hanging?"

"In the next room over."

"Think he would notice if I didn't let him leave this room?"

"Don't chicken out now," Maya urged, poking you in the ribs. Wonsik came back and you introduced them. Then the two of you walked around the gallery, hand in hand, your palm getting sweatier the closer you got to yours.

"Don't be so nervous," he whispered. "Everything in here is amazing, but I'm sure yours will still stand out."

"Yes. Yes they will." Then you saw them, in the back, with the rest of the more adult-themed works: a series of paintings of strong male bodies in submission. The light and colors were high contrast, and every expression, for the ones with faces, was one of willingness and ecstasy.

You watched his face as you approached them, and it terrified you when he let go of your hand. Was this the end? He got even closer to your work and studied them. You stood behind him and waited for his reaction, tapping the side of your glass furiously with dark-lacquered nails. "These are yours," he stated as fact.

"Yes."

He glanced back at you, rubbing his lower lip with his thumb. "The posture, this emotion...what you capture in their expressions is really strong."

"…Thank you?"

He looked back at you, questioningly, but you still couldn't read his face. "These are really fantastic. Why are you so shy?" he said with a chuckle of disbelief.

You sighed nervously and took a deep drink of wine. "It's just...most guys don't really like this kind of thing."

"You've been dating the wrong men," he said definitively. 

"You think so?" you asked quietly, venturing a step closer. "You don't have to say you like it if you don't. I understand."

He turned around, smirking at you darkly, and sipped his drink. "Tell me," he whispered, leaning close and pointing effortlessly to the one at the end. "What exactly did you do to inspire that reaction?"

You rushed back to your apartment, making out the whole ride home, his hands sliding up your velvet bust as you whispered his name. You briefly discussed safe words, but it was difficult to speak. When you finally got home, you shoved him back against the closed door. He grunted in response, and smiled when you pulled his face down to yours. You kissed him roughly this time, your tongue pushing past lips and teeth, and he moaned as you bit his lip, pulling away. His eyes were glassy, and you could already feel how hard he was growing against your thigh. You left him there, slowly walking to your bedroom, and stopped in the doorway. "Come on," you said, and nodded inside. He quickly followed you. 

Softly shutting the door behind him, you turned and cupped his cheek. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

He took your hand from his face and pressed a hot kiss into you palm. "Oh yes," he said roughly. The sound of that deep, needy agreement resonated in you and you became extremely aware of how wet you were. You needed him now.  

You sat on the edge of your bed, just in front of him, tossing your hair over your shoulder and crossing your legs. “Strip for me.” He instantly shed his jacket and threw it across your office hair, and then started hastily undoing the buttons of his shirt. You dragged the pointed toe of your shoe along his inner thigh. “Take your time. Maya isn’t staying here tonight.”

“We have the whole place to ourselves?”

“I didn’t say you could speak,” you sighed, in mock disappointment. He nodded, lips sealed with that shy smile of his and you felt a shock of electricity travel up your spine. “Good boy.” He undressed all the way to his boxers before you told him to stop. You slowly took in all of him, chiseled abdomen, tan skin smooth as butter, clavicle and shoulders like cut marble, until you met his expectant gaze. You stood and walked around him, grazing your fingers along his perfectly muscular body, and then briefly into the waistband of his boxers before heading to your nightstand.  

“On your knees,” you said. He obeyed, his eyes growing darker when he saw the black handcuffs. “Hands behind your back.” He breathed heavily as you cuffed him and he audibly gulped when you whispered “good boy” into his ear. Grabbing the hair at the back of his head, you pulled him back to kiss him, and he submitted to your violent kiss with a deep groan. 

You stripped yourself slowly, holding his gaze as you dropped the red velvet dress to the floor, and your bra and panties after it until you were only wearing your heels. You pulled him close to the bed and sat on the very edge. He swallowed roughly as you parted your knees, eyes fixed on your glistening core. With one hand on his shoulder, you ran a few fingers once over your slit and held them out for him. He sucked the tips of your fingers clean, his eyes so clouded with desire. “Are you going to do everything I ask of you?”

“Yes, mistress,” he whispered.  

You softly ran your hand back through his hair and gripped the back of his head. Then you parted yourself for him and pushed his face into you. He obeyed readily, first swiping his tongue up your slit to collect all that built up arousal. Then he circled your clit rapidly, before sucking on it. “You’re so hungry for it,” you said barely suppressing a moan, and lifted one leg over his shoulder to dig the stiletto heel into his back. He sucked harder. It was so good. He started roughly flicking your clit, bringing you so close. You pulled his hair and he moaned into you, the vibration bringing you dangerously to the edge. “Enough.” You pulled him off of you and he gasped, licking the moisture still on his lips. You stood, trying to hide how much your legs were quivering. You didn’t think he’d take you that far that fast. 

Slipping a pointed toe between his legs, you grazed his neck with your fingernails. He grimaced, as you pressed your foot firmly against his rock hard cock, and rocked back and forth. He whined as you pressed into him more, looking up at you so desperately, but he said nothing. 

“You’re being so good,” you whispered. You unlocked his cuffs and ordered him to his feet. He rose unsteadily, but then he held your waist and leaned down—you slapped him across the cheek. “I know you did not just try to kiss me.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, still grimacing from the sting. “Please, mistress, forgive me.”

You dug your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, pulling the most delicious sigh from him as you took off his last bit of clothing. “Get on your back,” you waved toward the bed. He shot to the bed and laid back. You straddled him, high on his hips, and felt the leaking tip of his cock against your skin as you cuffed him to the bed frame. You slid yourself back, and after grinding against his cock, you grasped it in your hand, to his needy cries, and slipped the head inside of your saturated core.  

“Ah-aaaaah!” he cried, hips bucking up, but you sharply slapped his hip bone. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“You’ll take what I give you and be happy for it.”

“Yes, oh God, thank you. Thank you, mistress.” At that, you slowly sank down, taking in all of him. You waited there to see if he would try to thrust again. He didn’t. But his breath was rapid as he intently watched where your bodies joined, his wrists straining against the cuffs.

You smiled. “Good boy.” Not wanting to hold back any longer, you pounded down on him. He cried out with almost every breath, his head pressed back into the pillows. It wasn't long before you could feel your orgasm mounting, and with the way he squirmed beneath you, you knew he was close as well. With one hand circling your clit, you slid the other up his chest, and then with most of your body weight, you pushed down on his heart. He gasped first, and then groaned. He looked you in the eye, nodding so desperately. 

You rolled your hips quickly, your heart pounding in your ears. “Are you going to come for me?”

“Yes…yes, mistress…oh God,” he choked before his body went stiff, and as your own climax burst suddenly and intensely, you felt him jet inside you. You stopped pressing on his chest, but rode him a little longer, until the last waves of ecstasy had subsided and he started to spasm with oversensitivity. Then you carefully climbed off of him and undid the cuffs. 

You laid beside him, examining him in worry. He hadn’t use his safe word. Was it ok, or was he about to bolt? Thankfully, he showed no sign of running. He was limp in the sheets, looking thoroughly fucked up. “That was…” trying to catch his breath, he gazed at you with a sincere, unguarded smile. “That was amazing.” You sighed in relief and looked at the ceiling. But then his brow furrowed at your silence. "W...was I...?"

"You were wonderful," you said softly, and rolled onto your side to kiss his forehead. You brushed a few strands of silken black hair out of his face, and then laid your hand on his chest. "Are you sure it wasn't too much?"

“Oh god, it was perfect. Honestly, I’ve…” he bit his lip and glanced away, “I’ve always wanted to try that. But there aren’t a lot of women who are into it, you know? And you were...” he widened his eyes and exhaled meaningfully. "Thank you." Hand still quivering, he caressed your arm, and you caught sight of his reddening wrist.  

You interlaced your fingers in his and kissed the thin red line. "Does it hurt?"

"Not much. It was worth it."

You smiled down at him. He was holding your gaze so intently. So real, so sweet.

You showered together, carefully caressing his chest and arms, and then his legs that must have been aching from kneeling so long. Then he gently grabbed your wrists and pulled your arms around him. You laughed, and called him, "my sweet boy."

His eyes suddenly grew fervent, and you thought you felt him stirring to life again against your thigh. "Say that again," he said. 

Your cheeks flushed. "You're my sweet boy."

As he stroked your back, he whispered into your ear, "you are my goddess. I'm so lucky I found you." You buried your face in his chest. He laughed. "How can you suddenly be so shy?"

"I, um..." you started uncertainly. "I'm not used to men sticking around."

His serious eyes swept your face, and he tucked a wet strand of hair behind your ear. "Like I said before, you've been dating the wrong men. This isn't just a fling for me. You are the sexiest, most interesting, cutest girl I've ever met—"

"I'm not cute—"

"Yes, you are. Normally, you're this beautiful, charismatic queen, so it always takes me by surprise, but sometimes the way you laugh or the way you look at me is so cute I can't think." He lightly pinched your cheek, and you frowned playfully, turning away. "I'm not going to walk out on you. I want to be yours." He leaned close, but didn't kiss you. "Will you take care of me?"

You slid your hands up into his hair and pulled his face to yours. This wasn't like your other kisses. It wasn't innocent or rough, but passionate, and firm, and real. You were pretty sure you could love him, but you weren’t ready. Not yet. At this moment, you were happy to have him in your arms, holding you like he would never let you go.

[jeremystrele]

Artist Dawn Tan On Her Scary Start To Motherhood + Keeping Calm In The Time Of Corona

Artist Dawn Tan On Her Scary Start To Motherhood + Keeping Calm In The Time Of Corona

Family

Ashe Davenport

Photo – Sarah Collins.

Photo – Sarah Collins.

Photo – Sarah Collins.

Photo – Sarah Collins.

Photo – Sarah Collins.

Photo – Sarah Collins.

Photo – Sarah Collins.

Photo – Sarah Collins.

Photo – Sarah Collins.

Photo – Sarah Collins.

Photo – Sarah Collins.

Photo – Sarah Collins.

Photo – Sarah Collins.

Dawn Tan is sunshine in human form. One only needs to glance at her watercolours of Care Bears, croissants and Iced VoVos to figure that out. She makes things that make people happy. And very, very hungry.

Anything’s possible in Dawn’s world. Take for example, her yurt out the back of her Yarraville home, where she teaches art classes. It had been a dream of hers to build one, so that’s exactly what she did. She’s a dreamer and pragmatist, which, objectively speaking, is an unstoppable combination of things. When self-isolation became a reality only a few days ago, Dawn pivoted straight away to offering art resources and classes online to help cooped up kids and parents.

We spoke on the phone on a rainy weekday. Dawn was in her car outside a cafe, inside of which Darren and baby Louie were kindly buying us time. I was struck by her honesty, generosity and strength, both in general and regarding a truly messed up situation. 

Dawn Tan for PM.

How are you guys coping with this whole Corona business?

We’re trying to keep calm and carry on! I guess we’re just going with it day by day because who knows what’ll happen tomorrow? A lockdown for a month? You never know!

Despite the uncertainty, we’ve chosen not to panic buy, as we figured we won’t be building any toilet paper + tinned food forts for protection. Instead, we’re choosing to try and keep things as normal as possible for Louie. I believe kids pick up on their parents’ anxiety, so we’re trying our best not to get too carried away with all the inaccurate social media reporting and political arguments. We’re upping our game with our sanitising regime and I’ve been wiping every surface down. I feel like I’m 38 weeks pregnant again, when my one sole mission was to clean down the entire house Hazmat-suit style! Call me crazy, but I actually do love cleaning.

What’s your parenting mantra?

Go with it. That’s our take. Darren and I made a conscious decision not to read any parenting books or download any of the (parenting) apps. All babies and kids are so different. There’s no ‘one size fits all.’ We figured we’d just wing it, and deal with the poop when the poop hits the fan.

Has it hit the fan? 

Oh yeah. Several times. It’s been a pooplosion. Late last year in particular. There was a lot of crying from all involved. A huge amount of stress. Basically I was sent to a psych unit. It’s a long story.

We have time, if you feel like sharing it.

Well, Louie had severe eczema. He still does. It’s been tricky to manage. In spring last year, it was the worst it had ever been, because it was his first exposure to hay fever season. I couldn’t handle it. He was five months old and just always crying, always screaming, all day and night from all the pain. His onesies and sheets were often stained with blood from scratching. Darren and I slept on either side of him so that we could pin one of his hands each, to try and stop more irritation. We finally took him to emergency one night after his entire torso turned bright red. We were provided with a treatment plan, but it stopped working after two weeks. So we went back. And that’s when it all turned upside down.

How so?

I broke down in emergency and cried my eyeballs out. In addition to seeing Louie in so much pain, an immediate family member had just been diagnosed with cancer and another faced a job loss. Being so far from family, it was hard. Long story short, a social worker told me I had severe postnatal depression and anxiety. I was told it was okay that I couldn’t cope, but that it was normal for babies to scream and cry a lot. I was confused because I knew my normally happy baby was screaming because he was in pain, and yet I was told to accept it.

I was then recommended a night at the psychiatric ward, but I refused to be away from Louie, so we ended up staying with him while he was seen for his eczema. An MRI and scans were ordered, but I wasn’t sure why. We were stuck at the hospital for a week. Turns out, Louie’s MRI was to rule out head trauma. Child protection services even got involved!

HUH?! On what grounds?

I was asked if I’d hurt Louie by a social worker, who thought I’d said, ‘Yes.’ That was it. I had to be placed under supervision and could not be alone with Louie. I couldn’t even feed him in peace. All throughout the week, I was made to believe I had completely lost it. I kept questioning myself and wondering how I ever let it get that bad. There was so much self-blame. It broke me. I was ‘strongly encouraged’ to check into a mother and baby unit. We were told it would be nice and gentle, “like a sleep school.” So we went.

We were promised a calm and nurturing environment, a space where I could chat through my ‘problems’. But it was far from what was promised! Turns out, the unit was for mothers who had been deemed a danger to themselves or their babies. There were no locks on doors. You could tell, everything was ‘suicide-proof.’ We were checked on every hour during the day and even at night, a flashlight came poking in through the door hourly!

I was told admission was voluntary, but it felt like all my rights got taken away the moment I entered. There were words like “applying for leave” and warnings of what would happen if I didn’t return. Sleeping pills were prescribed to “calm my anxiety.”  So yeah, the poop hit the fan, and by that stage, it was flinging everywhere.

How did you get out?

Eventually Darren got quite firm and insisted we speak with the head psychiatrist sooner rather than later. I also spoke to the admissions doctor prior to that, which was when we discovered the grossly inaccurate report. It was stated on my file that I’d hurt Louie, despite all the scans and checks coming back clear. Of course I didn’t hurt him!

Miraculously, I was fast-tracked to see the psychiatrist. And after all of five minutes she could see there had been a huge error. I’d been misdiagnosed. Any new mum would have had a total meltdown given the situation I was in… Simply put, I was under a tremendous amount of pressure, stress and coupled with the lack of sleep, I turned into an emotional wreck at Emergency. We were told to go home right away as being at the unit would do more harm for me mentally. Soon after, Child Protection Services came visiting and ended up apologising for all that had happened. They explained this was the first time in over 20 years that a case had escalated as quickly as mine! Lucky me!

What was the aftermath like?

We’re in the process of making a formal complaint now. It’s a tonne of paperwork, but we have a letter of support from the head psychiatrist, which should be helpful. It’s not a nice thing to have on my file, especially given that I’m a teacher. We’re just trying to stay positive. It happened, and we can’t change it. It can only make us stronger. We’re just so grateful for the two nurses at the crisis unit who could tell something was amiss with my report and advocated to have me discharged. And for all the nurses and pediatricians who took such great care of Louie and supported us.

Has the experience changed the way you seek support now?

Going to or even driving by the hospital can be quite triggering, but we tell ourselves if we are there, that we are there for Louie. So he can seek the best medical help possible. Fear aside, I still believe in speaking up. I always have. That’s why I spoke up in the first place. I think it’s really important to acknowledge and share what you’re going through. Especially if you need help. Mental health is so important and I believe the first step to helping ourselves is to speak up. Darren and I have an open and honest relationship. We share when we’re frustrated or pissed off about something. We have conversations all day long.

‘This too shall pass’ is a thing parents say when things are hard. What are your thoughts on that?

I don’t like it. I know it ‘shall pass.’ Louie has lots of allergic reactions, some that have required ambulance rides to the hospital, and he still has severe eczema. He has flare ups almost every other week. Even a play with some tan bark or a walk on a mildly windy day can trigger an entire week’s worth of flare up. He’s never slept all that much from day dot. He’s a piglet who prefers cat naps and breastfeeds every few hours, 24/7. Needless to say, he’s never slept through the night. The one time he did, we thought Christmas had arrived! 

We count our blessings as we know we have it so good. We are so grateful that Louie is overall a healthy, happy and thriving baby. That said, some days are so hard. I cry my eyeballs out. Sometimes I even regret and question if I’ve ruined my life by becoming a Mum. Then I feel guilty that I’m not appreciating him more, and because I know not everyone is fortunate enough to be able to have kids.

Darren and I went through our own fertility journey with Endometriosis and tricky Fibroids. Louie’s our little miracle. So surely we should never ever feel frustrated about our new life as parents! But some days, it’s just so hard! People often tell me ‘This too shall pass’ but I see it as closing the door on what I’m feeling, and I don’t like that. Whether I’m having a good day or a bad day, I want to acknowledge it. I feel, to become better parents, I need to let my emotions out, accept them, then move on. There’s the good days and the bad. The ups and downs – It’s all part of parenting!

Family Favourites

Favourite at home family activity?

Snuggling in bed solving a Rubik’s cube – Louie’s favourite toy. Hah!

Sunday morning breakfast?

Pancakes with lots of berries and honey!

Go-to album?

We’re classical music nerds. We like old school jazz classics too, Etta James or Frank Sinatra.

From today, every Friday, Dawn will be releasing a FRIDAY FREEBIE FUN Art Lesson on her Instagram TV / Facebook page. Simple, easy to follow along videos for all ages. More great stuff will be released next week, and you can purchase art supplies from Dawn’s online store!

[nickfanemusic]

Ranking the Rush Albums Pt. 3 (#10-#6)

10. Snakes and Arrows (2007)

This was the first album (of 2) that Rush put out that I purchased when it actually came out instead of years, usually decades, after the fact. My first reactions to it were fairly lukewarm, and that I felt it had some good songs while others were real sleepers. Upon revisiting it recently, though, my attitude has warmed up to it significantly. The band is balancing their heavier, more modern sound with more dynamic arrangements, featuring a lot of acoustic guitar and spacey synth sounds to create some interesting textures. Lyrically, Peart is exploring current events in a direct way, as there are many references throughout the album to the chaotic state of the world that the Bush years had helped instigate. In fact, one of the compelling elements of this album to me upon re-listening is how the lyrics help the listener track Peart’s ideology over time. A self described “bleeding heart Libertarian”, may of Rush’s early songs are inspired by his reading of Ayn Rand, such as Fly By Night’s “Anthem” and one of Rush’s most well-regarded works, “2112″, which is actually dedicated to “The Genius of Ayn Rand” as I was boldly reminded of upon receiving the album on vinyl as a gift recently.  I have my problems with this because I think Ayn Rand was misguided at best and a malicious agent of chaos at worst, but that’s beside the point. Snakes and Arrows shows Peart reflecting on some of these notions in his lyrics, such as the prechorus of “Far Cry”: “It’s a far cry from the world we thought we’d inherit; it’s a far cry from the way we thought we’d share it” seems to be an acknowledgement of the unfairness of our current situation. “A Larger Bowl” is another example. Written as a Pantoum, a style of verse that originates in Malaysia, the lyric begins with the potent question, “If we’re so much the same like I always hear, why such different fortunes and fate?” This isn’t me saying that this is evidence that Peart has changed his ideology or anything, but much like how Kurt Vonnegut poses ideological questions in his works but also has viable counter-arguments represented by other characters, Peart has never been one to propagandize in his lyrics. Overall, this one is a fun listen from start to finish mainly due to the variety of sonic avenues they travel down throughout its runtime; from the hard edge of “Far Cry” and “Armor and Sword” to the softer tracks like “Hope”, it’s a roller coaster and a damn good one.

9. Grace Under Pressure (1984)

Grace Under Pressure is sort of a curious exhibit  in the band’s catalogue, and contains what I would describe as “growing pains” in their expansion to a more synth-based and textured sound. Alex Lifeson often sounds like he doesn’t know what to do, and the synth textures aren’t as mature as on later albums. When it comes to their 80’s releases, though, I regard Grace Under Pressure very highly. There are some real burners on this album, from the opening cut “Distant Early Warning” to the driving “Afterimage” and the dark and industrial sounding “Red Sector A”. “The Enemy Within” actually has one of my favorite verse riffs in the Rush catalogue, and the album does a compelling job meshing darker themes with a new found funkiness. The B side isn’t as strong (the aforementioned songs make up the entire A side) but I would say there’s no sore thumbs across the album’s runtime. This is Rush’s first album in years without Terry Brown as producer, and as such I would say this is the album that marks the end of their classic period. Nonetheless, this one still makes for a great listen now.

8. Signals (1982)

The last album with Terry Brown as producer and the last in Rush’s classic era of releases, Signals is a fan favorite. Most known for the opening song (always with the opening songs being top tier!) “Subdivisions”, which is a bonafide classic and stands among Rush’s best songs, the album has plenty of synth to go around without drowning out the guitar or bass too much, as happens on some later albums. The song “New World Man” is also Rush’s highest-charting song in their career, peaking at #21 on the Billboard Hot 100. That song never really did it for me, but other songs on the album certainly do! “The Analog Kid” is an excellent song throughout, and the guitar solo is particularly excellent. “Digital Man” is among my favorites by the band as well. A slightly weaker B-side is at play here, but this one is definitely worth your time.

7. Vapor Trails (2003)

Vapor Trails has a bumpy history. The original release of the album was a notable casualty in the “loudness wars”, which saw mixing and mastering practices sacrificing overall sound quality in favor of pure volume. This meant that the album actually had digital distortion in its final mix, which is an inexcusable situation for an album of this caliber. The poster child for this practice is Metallica’s Death Magnetic (produced by Rick Rubin, who one might call the Charlemagne of the Loudness War), which was especially notable for one reviewer who recommended illegally downloading the Rock Band versions of the tracks since they were more deftly mixed. Fortunately, Vapor Trails got a much deserved remaster in recent years which helps to showcase to the world what I’ve felt for years: Vapor Trails is a top-tier Rush album. The first album since Caress of Steel to not feature any synthesizer, the power trio rages through the 67-minute run time with a ferocity that the band hadn’t displayed quite so well in years. Recorded after a long hiatus due to personal tragedies in Neil Peart’s life, the renewed band comes out swinging with maybe their heaviest track ever, “One Little Victory”, and doesn’t let up from there. Plenty of head bangers are present, with songs like “Nocturne” and "Vapor Trail” providing a more dynamic arrangement. Both of those are highly recommended, as are “Earthshine, “Sweet Miracle”, “Secret Touch” and “Ceiling Unlimited”. I honestly recommend the whole album, best listened in the car on a road trip, which I have a hunch is how Peart, and avid motorcyclist and author (as detailed in another great cut from the album, “Ghost Rider”) likely came up with many of the lyrics for the album, or at least the seeds for them. Peart spent years in a perpetual road trip after the death of his daughter and wife. I’m very thankful for him being able to recover from those tragedies to go on to make more music, as it has been among the most impactful for me. Vapor Trails is a big part of that. Not the biggest though.

6. 2112 (1976)

I know, I know. This one is probably unexpectedly low on the list. This is the album that began Rush’s classic period of releases, and it’s quite excellent. The A-side is the now-iconic title track, a 22-minute opus about an individual in a future dystopia where the arts are banned or at least heavily centrally regulated by some sort of political/religious organization. Person finds a guitar, shows it to the people at the top, they lose their shit and destroy it, guy dies from crippling depression, nebulous voice declares to all planets of the Solar Federation that they’ve assumed control. As previously mentioned, the lyric is basically a Libertarian fever dream, but that’s not the reason why I rank this album lower than one might expect. Politics of the title cut aside, it is without question the highlight of the album. Listening to Caress of Steel’s misguided “Fountain of Lamneth”, which was on the album that they just recorded, followed immediately by the more coherent, more refined and ultimately outstanding “2112″ suite shows just what sort of creative leap they made in that short time. In fact, the album never should have existed: Rush’s international label at the time, Mercury, had stated that if Rush didn’t produce a more radio-friendly album, they would be dropped. In the face of that, they decided to stick with their guns and made something truly brilliant, solidifying their entire decades-long career in the process. That artistic confidence is on full display on the title track. The album ranks a bit lower because of its B-side. While the songs are pretty good overall, they simply don’t match the brilliance of the A-side, and while they’re not necessarily forgettable, their other albums have better songs to match their headier, longer works. “A Passage to Bangkok” and “Something For Nothing” are my favorites of the short songs.

Next up, we dig into the Top 5!

[scrambledgegs]

Our Reason for Being

     We were asked to ponder on the reason for our existence and the nature of man without resorting to academic or philosophical explanations. I simply wrote down organically what came to mind. In the last ten years of my life, I would say that the most pivotal encounters I have gone through were the products of three simple things, namely: kindness, profound literary pieces, and faith in a Higher Being. There have been many life lessons I’ve learned, but I distinctly remember the following events that had the power to change the way I viewed people and the purpose of our existence.

         My first story is about an act of kindness by a total stranger that convinced me that the innate nature of people is goodness. There are many people I hold dear whose kindness has made all the difference, but when a random stranger is genuinely nice to you, it is an experience to treasure. This happened when I was still living in New York City in 2008, and I had just graduated from college. To make the long story short, I found myself in the middle of nowhere – somewhere between the outskirts of New York and New Jersey because I had missed my stop on this interstate bus. I had no mobile phone, and to my horror, had only $5 in my wallet. There were no cars or taxicabs in sight. To make matters worse, night was setting in, and it started to snow heavily. I walked over to this elementary school nearby, hoping to use their phone to call my aunt to come pick me up. Sadly, the school was closed already for the day. I looked around and saw there was a town across some streets away which I walked over to. I was getting quite scared, but I was hoping a kind soul from one of the houses would let me use their phone. The first home that I knocked on, an elderly woman opened the door. I politely tried to explain my situation. She simply looked at me from head to toe, gave a quick sorry and closed the door shut. I knocked or rang the doorbell at three more houses, but the doors were not even opened. I knew there must be people inside because the lights indoors were turned on. At that point, I started to feel panicky. I started thinking that “okay, I will have to spend the night outside in the snow.” As I walked on, thinking about my battle plan, a white minivan drove by and suddenly stopped. My instinct was to run, but the driver’s window rolled down, and a very kind looking woman called out to me. She asked me if I was okay and what was the matter. I peered into the van through the opened window and saw there were two young children inside. I quickly concluded in my head that she was some suburban mother and most probably not someone who had plans of hurting me. I took a leap of faith. I told her what happened and just started crying. I’ll never forget what happened next. She told me to come inside the van, and she brought me back to New York City. When I got out of her van, I thanked her profusely. I wanted to get her name and address so I can send her a thank you gift, but I thought she might find it inappropriate to give such details to a stranger. What a wonderful Good Samaritan woman. Without any agenda, perhaps a little fear especially since her children were present, but mostly compassion, she reached out to me, a total stranger in need. Ever since that kind act, I told myself that I would do the same when the time came, like the movie, Pay It Forward. With regards to the people who mistrusted or did not help me, I think it is just a testament that we don’t live in a utopian society. The survival instinct of the human being is evolutionary, one of self-preservation. We can’t fault their actions because we live in a world full of crime. If I were in their situation, I am unsure if I would have helped out myself. However, I realized that sometimes you have to have faith in people, and they can surprise you in positive ways. At the same time, we must never lose our sensitivity chip and discern when people truly need our help. I believe that for every bunch of people that are not kind or indifferent, there will always be one person who will help you. Despite the evils in the world, people are born naturally good. However they change along the way is a product of nurture, surroundings and experiences. I am forever grateful for that mystery American mother and always wonder what would have happened to me if she had not been driving by at that very moment.

    Fast forward to 2011, and I was back in Manila working as a banker. I was going through a tough phase in my life then and felt like a failure. A coworker of mine recommended the book “The Purpose Driven Life.” I am a not religious, but I love to read so I gave it a go. I would read one out of the forty chapters a day. To my surprise, my faith and hope gradually grew with each passing chapter. I was feeling at the end of my rope, but after reading the book, I was enlightened. I realized that I just had to hold onto my faith no matter what troubles came my way and to never stop believing that God has a plan for each of us. The key take home message for me was that our lives are meant to serve the Lord. When we learn to become selfless and put God at the center of our lives, there we find the real purpose of our existence, and everything else becomes trivial. I believe the best way we can serve God is by helping uplift the lives of others in our own way, in our everyday lives even during the most mundane of situations. It is not easy, but I tried my best to really be there for my family and friends, to be kind to the household help, my coworkers, strangers, and most importantly I willed myself to forgive enemies. I never re-read the book, but as time went on, I would revert to the book in my mind during struggles and big decisions and remember that despite whatever consequences, we should continue living out our purpose. A purpose driven life is a life lived for God and others. A hedonistic, self-serving life is no life at all.

    My third story had truly changed my life and its result has given me an even deeper purpose. As I mentioned previously, I am not a religious person, but though the years, I’d like to think my spirituality has strengthened. By the time 2015 rolled in, more than half of my barkada was already married, and most had kids. I was 29 years old, single, angry, betrayed and extremely distrustful of the opposite sex, although in my heart I still always wanted a family. I had lost my way, but I continued to fervently pray each day for guidance and healing, even doing novenas. Once again I thought of the book, The Purpose Driven Life,and it inspired me to recalibrate the energy I was devoting to useless things to the Man Upstairs. I also learned to let go and shut away my demons. The culminating point of my journey to self-discovery was when a friend told me about the miracles of Quiapo Church, and so we went together. My prayer that day was that I asked God, if it was His Will, for me to meet a man of His choice. I knew that I could not go wrong if it was He who chose. Three days later, I was out with friends, and there was another group in the same place. One of the guys there was a long-time acquaintance of mine and a good friend of my older brother. We reconnected, and I can happily say, the rest is history. We got married in 2017 and now have a daughter.  I truly believe that my Faith had saved me, not only because I met the right person, but I had become molded into a better person by the time I met him. Despite its occasional hardships, motherhood has been the greatest gift and has truly deepened my sense of purpose. Today, everything I do is for my husband and daughter’s well-being, happiness and future. I hope to have more children and shower them with all the love I can give. I cannot think of a more meaningful and purposeful life.

[explorerpri]

I recently spent a month in India with my loving little 5 year old. It was wonderful to be amongst friends and family, not to mention have 30 fabulous sunny days with that perfect 75F temperature. The city I grew up in is now overpopulated with a lot of people moving in from other states, so the summers are a humid, hot mess for months, and the monsoon still wreaks havocs on the city due to floods and the resulting damage.

December, however, and even January, is just perfect. My son and I had a fabulous time jogging at the parks and having coconuts every morning. Mind you, if you have tried the Thai coconut and think Indian coconuts are the same, you couldn’t be more wrong! Indian coconuts have thin cream inside, which melts in the mouth (better than jello :)). My son has absolutely loved coconuts since he was less than 2 years old. And admittedly I beam with pride and joy that we share this love of coconuts. One time, we even chased a coconut cart in a rickshaw and pulled him to the side and bought a coconut. There are some things you can only do in India 🙂

While in India, we decided to embark on a 4-5 day trip to Rajasthan with my mom and my little guy. Jodhpur has a direct flight from where I live, so that seemed like a viable option. My favorite place in Rajasthan is most certainly Jaisalmer, also a World Heritage Site. To me, it is the most authentic city that bears the soul of Rajasthan – a majestic fort in the middle of the desert, rising from sand stone like a phoenix from the ashes, an astute reminder of a bygone era. Men with the longest mustaches you’ve ever seen, and one of the biggest deserts of the world, the Thar Dessert. Not to mention the food so delicious you will literally lick your fingers (or order more ;)).  I had visited as a teenager with my family many years ago, and I remember Jaisalmer so vividly I could sketch a picture of it with my mind’s eye. Here are some photos of Jaisalmer, just so you can visualize what I am talking about (these two are not taken by me, the rest on this site/page are my own photos):

Jaisalmer, being a good 5+ hour drive from Jodhpur though, with a heavy heart we skipped it this time and went to Khimsar instead, which is a small town that offers an authentic desert experience but happens to be much closer to Jodhpur (less than 2 hours by car). I figured since it was my first time traveling within India with my son, might be wise to keep things less tiring so we could spend more time relaxing and taking it all in. Khimsar was just perfect for a short trip, and did not disappoint at the many wonders it offers inspite of being such a small town. More about Khimsar below.

Jodhpur – Day 1: We took a morning flight from Jodhpur, which got us there about 11 am. Here we are at the airport, passing the time listening to music and taking selfies:

We reached Jodhpur about 11 am and started to make our way out of the airport. As we were walking past, a security guard/military officer asked me to stop. My brother had warned me to not take photos at Jodhpur airport since it is an active military base and photos are strictly prohibited. I had been careful though and not exhibited my usual enthusiasm at photography. I turned back to my officer and asked if everything was ok, to which he replied “Itne sare balloon hai. Bacche ko nahi denge to kya fayada” (“There are so many balloons here, what’s the point if we can’t give one to the child”).

It was just a few days after New Years Eve, so the airport was decorated with yellow and pink balloons. And before I could say another word, the officer removed two balloons from the wall and handed them to my son, who was absolutely delighted. I felt so welcome, and thankful to get this opportunity to show Neil “my India”. I wanted him to see the beautiful landscapes, animals and natural beauty of India, but most importantly the warmth and hospitality of the people. I wanted him to love India, the way I love India, and see it with my eyes, rather than the eyes of a foreign tourist, which he will inevitably do when he’s all grown up.

Our taxi driver was old and reliable – my brother had shared his number from a previous trip and I was thankful to not have to go with a random one. Our first stop in Jodhpur was Umed Bhavan Palace. It is atop a hill which means it can be seen from almost anywhere in the city. My son is hiding under his hat since it started to get so hot and the sun was in his face :)!

We went in and looked at the palace turned museum, marveling at the beautiful, precious artifacts used by kings and queens in the years past. “Wow, look at that beautiful blue decanter”, I would say to my son. “Oh, that means you think all the king’s things here are so beautiful, but not me. You don’t think I’m beautiful anymore”. Oh, my, my. I had to constantly reassure him that he was way more beautiful than all the artifacts in that entire museum. This is what I love about writing – I didn’t realize I remembered this wonderful memory about my son saying this until I started to write this! Here are some photos – a model of the palace, a conch shell with carvings, and the colorful decanters 🙂

One of the palace rooms had an outstanding collection of clocks, my favorite ones – the ‘windmill clock’ and the ‘renaissance chariot’ clock are below:

After the palace it was time to see the King’s collection of classic cars, which was breathtaking, given how shiny and impeccable these very old cars had been maintained. There was a Rolls Royce, a Jaguar, a Bentley, a Mercedes and practically every luxury car brand you can imagine. I have photos of these beautiful cars in my SLR camera which I will add here later.

After Umed Bhavan Palace, we headed over for lunch in a “Rajasthani Thali” place. It was a large meal ending with paan 🙂

After lunch, we headed to Mehranger Fort. This is the same fort where Christopher Nolan filmed the opening scene (and I believe some more) of the last movie of the Batman trilogy, “The Dark Knight Rises”.  Bruce Wayne climbing up the tunnel of the fort and escaping out while the prisoner’s cheer on – well, that’s shot at the fort, and you can watch that scene here to jog your memory 🙂

Mom was a bit tired of the heat so she stayed downstairs, while my son and I got tickets and headed up to the upper floor of the fort on an elevator – and my I’m so glad we did!

Below you can find a pigeon flying off a tower of the majestic fort, and onto the beautiful “blue city” below. Note that the main city of Jodhpur lies on the other side of the fort, and this is perhaps the best spot in the city to get a bird’s eye view of the “old blue city”. If we had more time I would have definitely loved to explore the streets and get some more shots of the bright blue homes, but at least we got an amazing aerial view:

It was so sunny up there that my son was struggling to see, so I handed him my sunglasses which he carried quite well I must say! And then he was so interested in my SLR and begged me to let him take some shots, so here he is my little photographer:

I know blogs are supposed to be more about describing the place in words, but on this particular post I am including a lot of photos because words truly fall short of the beauty and scale of this place. If you imagine yourself standing atop this fort and close your eyes and imagine what it must have been like when the King had to decide to fight an enemy approaching this fort. Watch the movie Padmaavat if you want to really experience the grandeur and challenges of the olden days; ignore the political correctness and controversy, I am simply recommending the movie here so you can see what it was like to wage war from a fort, some 100 years ago :).

And of course, we couldn’t leave without seeing the guns and swords of the kings and queens (imagine the excitement of a 5 year old who is into power rangers and Ninja Turtles):

And last but not the least, notice the detailed carving work in each of the “jharokhas” of the fort in the back of our photo below. This one is my favorite because my little guy climbed on my back and it was just a playful, natural moment:

When we tried to take the elevator back down from the top of the fort, they asked us for tickets yet again. We realized we had forgotten to buy tickets to get back down. On a normal day, and if I was travelling alone, I would have walked down. But my son was tired so we hitched a ride on the elevator; only to be asked again by the security guys at the bottom if we had the ticket, or money to pay for it.

I fetched in my pocket and found nothing. Suddenly, my son handed me a note from his pocket. My mom had given him some money to keep just for fun, and who knew it would come in so handy! I told him he had “saved my life” but in reality saved me from a ton of hassle and embarrassment, but oh, well. He remembers this moment even now – “remember mom that time when I saved you by giving you money for the ticket?” 🙂

Finally we arrived at our hotel. It was a beautiful Haveli in the old city. It was amongst the hustle and bustle and yet once we reached our room it was so, so tranquil.

Our room was on the 3rd floor; luckily we had help with our bags. We had a beautiful room with a large window overlooking the fort and and old temple. It was twilight, the fort lit up, and the sky got darker. I could feel the happiness in my heart, it felt the universe had somehow fell into place; being there, in that moment. I longed to come back there alone sometime and write at the desk by the window. Perhaps I could write a whole small book in that one night, that’s how thought provoking and emotional that place was.

It was like sitting by a faraway lake alone, where you are still inside the forest but somehow far removed from the noises of the jungle. Where if you throw a pebble in the lake you will hear that as the only sound, and you will see the ripples in every widening circles. It is as if you have a piece of that tranquility all to yourself, to hold in the palms of your hands, yours to keep, forever. The photos I have below are not from my SLR and don’t quite do justice to the scene. That was the view from our window (below), notice the Mehrangar fort in the background and the old temple in the foreground:

Of course, my son found the real lock and key endlessly fascinating to play with:

Finally, before it got too dark, we headed up to the terrace which boasted among the best views of the Fort from the entire city; not to mention a small, cozy rooftop restaurant:

We ended the day as the smoke from ritual fires started coming in and the air didn’t seem as clean to be outside anymore; plus it got colder as this was the desert climate after all.

We retired to our beautiful room and the tranquil window, and had the most wonderful sleep in this jewel of a Haveli.

In the next post, let’s discover day 2 of the Rajasthan trip, where we head out from Jodhpur and onto Khimsar to another large, sprawling, majestic fort. And there, we will meet the beautiful Indian green parrots.

Until next time,

Pri.

Writing after a long time...getting my Rajasthan diaries going finally :0 I recently spent a month in India with my loving little 5 year old. It was wonderful to be amongst friends and family, not to mention have 30 fabulous sunny days with that perfect 75F temperature.

[joshuazev]

On Sundance: Part One

My dad and I used to always go out to the movies when I was growing up.  It was our own little weekly ritual.  My mom and I had Fridays reserved for watching rentals at home, but Dad and I basically lived at the movie theaters on Saturday Nights and sometimes Sunday afternoons for an early matinee.  The majority of the time we would go to the Landmark Theaters; Metro Cinemas, Guild 45th, Seven Gables, Varsity, Uptown, Eqyptian, Crest and other times we might venture off to Oak Tree on Aurora or the downtown theaters like Meridian 16 and Pacific Place.  The ones off of or on 45th always felt so easy, almost a straight shot from Fremont.  I can recall several random moviegoing experiences during that time:  “Waking Ned Devine” at the Uptown, “Legend of Suriyothai” at the Seven Gables, “Four Feathers” at Guild 45th and almost all of the Harry Potter movies at Metro Cinemas because the lines were never too long.  Out of all those theaters the Metro was the one we frequented the most.  The setup used be a little different than what it is now, though.  They used to have the box office outside and on certain nights for well reviewed movies you might see the line stretching to the beginning of the adjacent parking lot on the east side of 9th Ave NE.  Years later Metro Cinemas was no more.  It became Sundance Cinemas, a newer, revamped theatre with one very specific alteration; it was 21+ and they served alcohol there.  

The summer of 2015 I was looking for a job.  I had just gotten out of a short term relationship with another restaurant and was needed some income and quickly.  My brother Alex told me that he was going to apply to Sundance.  I don’t think I really heavily considered it as a potential option until I realized that the restaurant scene mine as well have been defunct for me, so when he told me that he got hired I immediately came in to request an application.  I don’t remember with 100 percent clarity, but when I got there to fill it out I was either greeted by Brandon or Galen.  (I’m pretty sure it was Brandon and I’m pretty sure he was wearing one of his famous colorful, multi-designed button down shirts.  He had a knack for bringing flair to the button downs).  I wish my memory wasn’t so spotty because now I can’t remember if I had a follow up interview with the manager Nick.  For the sake of this post, let’s say one of those three was involved for both an initial and follow-up interview.  Due to my reputation for not having jobs for very long I was a little worried about whether or not I would get hired.  

Luckily I did.

In September of that year I started my 7-8 months at Sundance and I have to say, it was way better than I could have imagined.  I started off as an usher, a pretty straightforward position.  My responsibilities included keeping the counter to my left and the stand that had the movie schedule clean, closing the doors of the theaters, communicating via walkie-talkie, changing the movie posters, and cleaning the theaters when they were done, which usually were filled with the spare bottles, food holders, and spilled bag of popcorn.  I liked being an usher.  On a solid day the time would blow by, the waves of people would keep coming in, and before I knew it the shift would be over.  

“Black Mass will be in theater one, first on the left, enjoy your show!”

“Meet the Patels will be in theater six, all the way down the hall on your left hand side”

“Joy will be in theater seven, all the way down the hall on your right hand side.”

During slow season, the usher stand was a tough place to be.  There wasn’t a whole lot of action there and at times you’d have to count on one of my managers, Galen, to have a box of peanut butter cups or some recent political analysis to make the time go a little quicker.  If Galen wasn’t there Brandon usually was and we’d probably have a conversation on why Leonardo DiCaprio was or wasn’t a good actor (I thought he was and Brandon wasn’t a fan).  

Over the months I began to befriend what has to be the best staff I’ve ever worked with and I’m gonna try to remember as many of their names as possible.  If I’m at the usher stand and I’m looking to my right I’d see a box office row filled with the likes of David, Amanda, Valerie, Alex or James.  They were an awesome bunch that had a knack for handling crowded Friday nights with ease.  David was a soccer guy who was going to UW for grad school (I think) and every once in a while would drop a line about some part of the body he was studying.  Amanda was awesome, but was famous and infamous for never ever ever watching any of the movie recommendations I gave her.  Valerie was the artist.  By the time I was done at Sundance she had sketched almost everyone working at Sundance and that was in addition to the other drawings she had worked on.  Alex was a movie aficionado.  She had the coolest glasses out of any other employee and also had aspirations to work on movies, even mentioning a desire to maybe go to New York, too.  (I’m waiting Alex!).  James was classic.  It always felt like I worked with him in some capacity and always opened with him in the mornings.  He’d come in with his headphones on, in the zone, and would usually sit in the corner seat closest to the wall.  There was many a education I received about Star Wars during out conversations.

After ushering, I moved on to concessions.  I had a love/hate relationship with the concession stand.  For one, I probably made the most mistakes at that position than anywhere else.  The list of duties included: making the popcorn, making latte’s, “making coffee”, changing out the popcorn bags, heating hot dogs, keeping the fridge stocked, and keeping the candies stocked, as well.  Within the first month attempting to concession I had burned several batches of popcorn, created some truly awful coffee, and succeeded in making the worst latte’s known to man.  None of this hard by the way, but for me it took some really concentrated thought to fill the gaping holes in my brain during these shifts.  I’m happy to say with some focus I was able to complete my mission of being a serviceable concessionaire.  During my last months I could make a mean latte, serve a well balanced buttered popcorn, and offer a well warmed cup of coffee.  My partners in petty crime behind the concession counter were Erin, Samantha, Philip, Kristen, and Josh.  Erin was my buddy from Ballard, who helped me whoop Christmas’ ass during the most crowded day that Sundance had previously had on record.  She also shocked me on the daily by being the most chill person I know to consume a full energy drink.  Samantha was one of my favorite people to talk to because she was a true movie head.  I could always talk about stuff I had seen or stuff she had seen and I can’t tell you how many movies she had mentioned and recommended that I had never heard of.  Philip was a savage.  And it just so happens is name was Philip Savage.  Philip was a grown up.  I think he was married.  It felt like he had a PHD.  I don’t think there is anyone I enjoy following on Facebook more because Philip’s political commentary is superb.  I’m sad to say I never heard him and Galen chatting about our current state of affairs.  That should have been on NPR.  Kristen was my Harry Potter associate.  She had one of the best attitudes I’ve ever been around and by memory recounted every single first year that was sorted in Harry Potter #1.  It was incredible.  Josh was an awesome dude.  On a couple of occasions he and I went to change the marquee and he almost made me crap my pants watching him stand on the most flimsy ladder known to man and balance himself while changing letters that, to me, were completely out of reach.  He was a musician, too.  I’d often think that he and Jack McKool were twins.  All of the above was carefully monitored by the one and only, JGP.  JGP ran the concession ship.  At the beginning she was incredibly intimidating and I blame my first mistakes on the pressure and emotional duress I was under when she was watching me closely.  All jokes aside though.  If JGP was behind concessions there would be no problems.  Sometimes from the usher stand I’d watch her handle a line like it was a irritable toddler wanting ice cream.  Within moments, the line would be gone, the people would be served and that was that.  She also taught me some tricks of the trade and educated me on many different aspects of the theater.  Currently, her reward points for free movie tickets is in the ten thousands.

To be continued…