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stormoflina · 1 year ago

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Domi interview, part 4

(just to give a heads up, at the end he talks about his dad, it's kinda heavy!)

About Darwin and other strikers

Interviewer brings up Darwin, his ability to score so many difficult goals, yet missing tap-ins. Asks Dominik if he thinks Darwin transforms Liverpool into a whole other team, or does he rather prefer when it's either Gakpo or Jota in front of him, when he can do shorter passes to them. (Darwin is basically chaos ball himself)

D: "It depends who is in front of me. If it's Darwin, then I will try to provide him him with those deeper balls, if it's Cody or Jota, then I do the shorter, smaller passes. It does depend on the opposition as well, if we are behind goals or not. For example, against Newcastle, (...) Darwin came on, they serviced him with those balls and he scored two. For me, it doesn't matter who plays in front of me."

About the comparision with Gerrard

The interviewer thinks it's a bit too early to draw such comparisions between the two of them, after all, Gerrard was world class, a scouser, who played for LFC for a decade, he was the captain. Asks Dominik if it bothers him, puts extra pressure of him, or rather motivates him, what is his opinion about it.

D: "I don't mind it. There are a very few things people can bother me with, this is definietly not one. I just want to do it on my own way. (mentions another interview, the one he did with Nike and with little kids, where he was asked about the same thing). It feels very good that I'm being compared to him, but I want to make my own journey. If someone would say, here, this is Gerrard's whole career, you can have and achieve the same thing, I would be more than glad to do so. But I want to make my own journey.

I: "You want to be the first Szoboszlai Dominik, not the next Steven Gerrard."

D: "Yes."

About his relationship with his dad

D: "It wouldn't work with anyone else [the stricktness his father raised him with]."

I: "Was it that bad?"

D: "Very."

I: "Then how did it work out for you? You say, only your own expectations motivate you."

D: "Yes, but when you are 12, you can't go by your own expectations. You have to do what your dad tells you to do."

I: "How were you able to change your mindset from that? What was the moment, when you said, I no longer want to live up to the expectations my father has for me, but for my own?"

D: "I don't know. I don't want to say that when I first moved out, because I was only 15... let's say, when I was 18. When I was already playing for the first team of Saltzburg, playing in the CL, when I was already a grown up. I had to grow up very quickly."

Question about his other teammates in his dad's football club, if they would have able to handle the extra pressure his dad put on him.

D: "No. Not just physically, but mentally. We did the same trainings. Maybe, they didn't have that extra minutes [his dad used to train him individually too], but we all had dad for our coach, we did the same exercises in training, and he cared for their trainings all the same, but he was much stricter with me. If I messed up even just a tiny bit, he would scold me, but for the same thing, he wouldn't the others."

I: "And didn't that feel unfair to you?"

D: " Of course it did! To my 12-13 years old self, of course it did. Now, I understand it why he did it, but back then? Sometimes I used to hate him."

I: " Do you have any...?"

D: *interrupts* "No!"

I: " Do you ever feel like you missed out on some things in your youth?"

D: " No. We had a goal. He put me on the top, and so did I, because I believed him. This is how I grew up, how we grew up. This is the reason why I'm here, where I am now. This was the mindset. I put my everything into football, and ignored everything else. It was all about and only about football. I didn't have a comparison, I didn't know anything else, just football, football."

I: "Complete isolation?"

D: "Yes. Just like the horses [only seeing strictly forward]. A day consists of 24 hours. You sleep 8 hours, work 8 hours. 1 hour each for breakfast, lunch, dinner. We are at 19 hours gone already. An hour to get ready for the day, to go to bed. You have only 4 hours to do what you want. Somebody uses that 4 hours to go out, drink, maybe party. Or study for 4 hours. Or play football. Next day, the same thing."

I: "When was the moment, as you have said, that it was decided, that you belong on the top, and you will get there?"

D: "For my dad? Probably the moment I was born." [laughs]

I: "For others?"

D: " There wasn't a specific time. I became good, because I had the ball by my feet all the time. If i didn't have that much of training, I would have been never this technical. (...) I trained a lot. Up until I was 14, technique is all we cared about. Only technique. This was our goal, that's why I developed my tecnique in such a manner. My goal wasn't to be the best amongst the boys of Székesfehérvár (his home town). That was not what I wanted. What I wanted is that when I play at Liverpool, then I will be able to hold my ground."

I: "Your father said this already a lot of times, that he never praised you. I'm interested, in this case, where does the motivation come from? You look up to your father, he is the one, who makes you achieve things, but he hardly ever praises you. I know, some say working under pressure can produce great results. But does it work, when it's constant? He was joking around about this, when you won the German Cup, he finally said congratulation. I guess it's not that bad, but do tell me, if that's the case."

D: "It's very bad."

I: Is he old-fashioned/ does he rule with an iron fist? (something about this kind of lines, basically asking if he is really that strict)

D: "No,no, well, he is very hard [strict]. He didn't praise me, because he didn't want me to be satisfied with myself."

I: "Were there truly 'danger' in being satisfied with yourself?"

D: "Well, I never tried it." [lauhs]. It was very, very, very rare that he would say 'congrats', like he did when we won the German Cup. Not like he would send me a long text, saying how proud he was, not like that, never."

I: "Don't you miss that? Like, let's say you win the Champions League..."

D: " If he won't say congrats then, I will sit him down and speak to him about it. But no, I don't know what it feels like. I know players, and this is not a bad thing at all, who probably had parents, who I don't know, used to congratulate to their kid if he brought the dirty plate to sink. Maybe he would do that to me too, because I never do it actually. [laughs] But we took a direction, where hardly anything was enough, so he only congratulated me with real, big achivements, like German Cup, signing for Liverpool."

I: "The current mindset in our world is that you have to praise your child, when they do something good. But for you, it was the not like that."

D: "To be honest, we did everything differently [than normal people do], everything was the opposite."

I: "For the both of you, for you to put up with that and for him, to be consistent with it, it would have broke other people."

D: " It was not easy, putting up with it. It was very hard."

I: " Did it change, when you signed for Liverpool? After all, there is enough of a pressure with that, did he stop putting his [pressure] on you?"

D: " There was a turning point. He used to call me, after every match, telling me what I did wrong, what I did right. Now, I knew when I played shit. You don't have to tell me that, I know it, what mistake I did, when I should have shot, what I did wrong. Then, he would call me, when I was 18-19 years old, already knowing that, well, then I would found that big, red button on my phone and press it. By that, he would know, stop. In time, he realised he shouldn't do that, I mean, he doesn't know what the coach is telling me to do.

Yeah, in time, he realised it not to call me after every match. I will call him.

I: " And are you a good boy, do you call him?"

D: " I do, after every match."

...

Well, the dad part was kinda heavy :D

#dominik szoboszlai #dominterview

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slowlydeepestninja · 9 months ago

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ngl as a person who wants to learn as many skills as possible I wish that there more communities that are accepting and having a shit tonne of free information on what to do as drawing.

maybe it may be because I have been interested in drawing from the age of 12 and I am familiar with the ins and outs of the drawing community but there is literally many chanels on YouTube that have the basics of drawing and how to improve your art.

I know how to find discord servers based on drawing alone despite being traumatised by my old omegle experiences so rarely making friends online so I don't really have a discord.

yet for stuff like crocheting patterns that are free usually seem bland and the good ones are expensive it is hard to find a good free pattern that works for your yarn and for some reason there gate keepers who are against anyone who doesn't use wool yarn and shames them for destruction of the planet despite that being the cheaper option for most

then coding... maybe I am just brand new to this but why oh why is it hard to find free options that don't require previous knowledge on how to code and yes youtube does exist but most channels that I have found tend to skip over some theory that yes most people do like to ignore but I find usually important so I can understand what I am doing yk

and ofcourse language learning. ngl I kind of gave up on this but I might pick it back up soon but dear god ... this one is a mess depending on which language you want to learn. cuz yes people tend to go for duolingo to learn but let me be honest. duolingo is shit. it is good to study a language but is shit. for reference I am bilingual cause I come from Kenya and most people speak at least two languages some more or less depending on how privileged they are and where they live. and once for shits and giggles I decided to learn Swahili on dou because I was failing my classes and honestly I just ended up reading the text books cause duolingo was confusing. so where else may I learn learning apps tend to be bad and again Youtube just expects more from the learner which means paying for classes.

I just wish that learn new skills could be easier bro. I wish I knew the area around these communities like I know drawing if maybe all this is just what it feels like for someone who doesn't know shit

#rant #idk man #long post #art #coding #language #crocheting

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whisperthatruns · 6 months ago

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Jail Poems

I am sitting in a cell with a view of evil parallels, Waiting thunder to splinter me into a thousand me's. It is not enough to be in one cage with one self; I want to sit opposite every prisoner in every hole. Doors roll and bang, every slam a finality, bang! The junkie disappeared into a red noise, stoning out his hell. The odored wino congratulates himself on not smoking, Fingerprints left lying on black inky gravestones, Noises of pain seeping through steel walls crashing Reach my own hurt. I become part of someone forever. Wild accents of criminals are sweeter to me than hum of cops, Busy battening down hatches of human souls; cargo Destined for ports of accusations, harbors of guilt. What do policemen eat, Socrates, still prisoner, old one?

Painter, paint me a crazy jail, mad water-color cells. Poet, how old is suffering? Write it in yellow lead. God, make me a sky on my glass ceiling. I need stars now, To lead through this atmosphere of shrieks and private hells, Entrances and exits, in . . . out . . . up . . . down, the civic seesaw. Here — me — now — always here somehow.

In a universe of cells—who is not in jail? Jailers. In a world of hospitals—who is not sick? Doctors. A golden sardine is swimming in my head. Oh we know some things, man, about some things Like jazz and jails and God. Saturday is a good day to go to jail.

Now they give a new form, quivering jelly-like, That proves any boy can be president of Muscatel. They are mad at him because he's one of Them. Gray-speckled unplanned nakedness; stinking Fingers grasping toilet bowl. Mr. America wants to bathe. Look! On the floor, lying across America's face— A real movie star featured in a million newsreels. What am I doing—feeling compassion? When he comes out of it, he will help kill me. He probably hates living.

Nuts, skin bolts, clanking in his stomach, scrambled. His society's gone to pieces in his belly, bloated. See the great American windmill, tilting at itself, Good solid stock, the kind that made America drunk. Success written all over his street-streaked ass. Successful-type success, forty home runs in one inning. Stop suffering, Jack, you can't fool us. We know. This is the greatest country in the world, ain't it? He didn't make it. Wino in Cell 3.

There have been too many years in this short span of mine. My soul demands a cave of its own, like the Jain god; Yet I must make it go on, hard like jazz, glowing In this dark plastic jungle, land of long night, chilled. My navel is a button to push when I want inside out. Am I not more than a mass of entrails and rough tissue? Must I break my bones? Drink my wine-diluted blood? Should I dredge old sadness from my chest? Not again, All those ancient balls of fire, hotly swallowed, let them lie. Let me spit breath mists of introspection, bits of me, So that when I am gone, I shall be in the air.

Someone whom I am is no one. Something I have done is nothing. Someplace I have been is nowhere. I am not me. What of the answers I must find questions for? All these strange streets I must find cities for, Thank God for beatniks.

All night the stink of rotting people, Fumes rising from pyres of live men, Fill my nose with gassy disgust, Drown my exposed eyes in tears.

Traveling God salesmen, bursting my ear drum With the dullest part of a good sexy book, Impatient for Monday and adding machines.

Yellow-eyed dogs whistling in evening.

The baby came to jail today.

One more day to hell, filled with floating glands.

The jail, a huge hollow metal cube Hanging from the moon by a silver chain. Someday Johnny Appleseed is going to chop it down.

Three long strings of light Braided into a ray.

I am apprehensive about my future; My past has turned its back on me.

Shadows I see, forming on the wall, Pictures of desires protected from my own eyes.

After spending all night constructing a dream, Morning came and blinded me with light. Now I seek among mountains of crushed eggshells For the God damned dream I never wanted.

Sitting here writing things on paper, Instead of sticking the pencil into the air.

The Battle of Monumental Failures raging, Both hoping for a good clean loss.

Now I see the night, silently overwhelming day.

Caught in imaginary webs of conscience, I weep over my acts, yet believe.

Cities should be built on one side of the street.

People who can't cast shadows Never die of freckles.

The end always comes last.

We sat at a corner table, Devouring each other word by word, Until nothing was left, repulsive skeletons.

I sit here writing, not daring to stop, For fear of seeing what's outside my head.

There, Jesus, didn't hurt a bit, did it?

I am afraid to follow my flesh over those narrow Wide hard soft female beds, but I do.

Link by link, we forged the chain. Then, discovering the end around our necks, We bugged out.

I have never seen a wild poetic loaf of bread, But if I did, I would eat it, crust and all.

From how many years away does a baby come?

Universality, duality, totality . . . .one.

The defective on the floor, mumbling, Was once a man who shouted across tables.

Come, help flatten a raindrop.

Written in San Francisco City Prison Cell 3, 1959

Bob Kaufman (1925--1986), Collected Poems of Bob Kaufman (City Lights Books, 2019)

#bob kaufman #jail poems #collected poems of bob kaufman #poetry #incarceration for ts

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manwalksintobar · 3 months ago

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Jail Poems // Bob Kaufman

All night the stink of rotting people, Fumes rising from pyres of live men, Fill my nose with gassy disgust, Drown my exposed eyes in tears.

Traveling God salesmen, bursting my ear drum With the dullest part of a good sexy book, Impatient for Monday and adding machines.

Yellow-eyed dogs whistling in evening.

The baby came to jail today.

One more day to hell, filled with floating glands.

The jail, a huge hollow metal cube Hanging from the moon by a silver chain. Someday Johnny Appleseed is going to chop it down.

Three long strings of light Braided into a ray.

I am apprehensive about my future; My past has turned its back on me.

Shadows I see, forming on the wall, Pictures of desires protected from my own eyes.

After spending all night constructing a dream, Morning came and blinded me with light. Now I seek among mountains of crushed eggshells For the God damned dream I never wanted.

Sitting here writing things on paper, Instead of sticking the pencil into the air.

The Battle of Monumental Failures raging, Both hoping for a good clean loss.

Now I see the night, silently overwhelming day.

Caught in imaginary webs of conscience, I weep over my acts, yet believe.

Cities should be built on one side of the street.

People who can't cast shadows Never die of freckles.

The end always comes last.

We sat at a corner table, Devouring each other word by word, Until nothing was left, repulsive skeletons.

I sit here writing, not daring to stop, For fear of seeing what's outside my head.

There, Jesus, didn't hurt a bit, did it?

I am afraid to follow my flesh over those narrow Wide hard soft female beds, but I do.

Link by link, we forged the chain. Then, discovering the end around our necks, We bugged out.

I have never seen a wild poetic loaf of bread, But if I did, I would eat it, crust and all.

From how many years away does a baby come?

Universality, duality, totality . . . .one.

The defective on the floor, mumbling, Was once a man who shouted across tables.

Come, help flatten a raindrop.

Written in San Francisco City Prison Cell 3, 1959

#poetry #Bob Kaufman

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ireceived-p8250000 · 5 months ago

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November 10-16, 2013

Sunday, November 10

The news was devastating. The death toll from Typhoon Haiyan, which had ravaged Tacloban, continued to climb, reaching staggering numbers. The images and stories coming out of the affected areas were heart-wrenching—families torn apart, homes obliterated, and entire communities left in ruins. It felt as though the world had shifted on its axis, leaving a deep sense of sorrow in its wake.

Determined to help, we decided to donate comforters and other essentials. I took the initiative to organize a donation drive through the Psych Soc. We focused on collecting necessities like blankets, tents, sanitary pads, and diapers—items that would provide immediate relief to those who had lost everything.

Tuesday, November 12

Exams were fast approaching, so I needed to buckle down, especially for Abnormal Psychology. Mansoor was absent, busy with his own donation drive efforts. Despite my best efforts to focus, the news of the typhoon's aftermath kept infiltrating our conversations and lectures.

In the afternoon, I attended classes, but it seemed impossible to escape the constant updates about the devastation. During History, Sir Apollo assigned me another activity to make up for what I missed last week, particularly due to my travel.

"Uh, Sir, can I submit this Saturday?" I asked tentatively.

"Bakit na naman?" he asked, a mix of curiosity and irritation in his voice.

"Sasamahan ko po kasi parents ko sa Camp Aguinaldo in Quezon. My dad is really old, so he can't navigate bureaucracy processes anymore."

He asked more about my family, and I answered briefly.

"Ang bait mo namang anak," he said, a hint of admiration in his voice.

On top of everything, my fake tooth was falling off. I told my mom immediately, and she said we could visit the dentist tomorrow after my classes.

Wednesday

I attended my morning classes, trying to stay focused despite the overwhelming news about Typhoon Haiyan. I had to skip the first hour of Experimental Psychology for my dentist appointment. My dentist reattached the crown using dental cement, carefully securing it back in place. The procedure was quick, but I still felt anxious about missing class.

I made it back in time for the rest of my classes. Mansoor was extremely busy with the donation drive, but he still managed to send me sweet messages. His "good morning" texts and lunchtime check-ins were small comforts in a stressful week.

After classes, I started preparing for our trip to Manila. I packed my bags, making sure I had everything we needed. My parents and I decided to rest for a bit before our late-night departure.

At 11 PM, we left for the bus station. The city was quiet, and the night air was cool as we waited for the bus. Once we boarded, exhaustion took over, and we slept through the journey, grateful for a moment of peace amidst the chaos.

Thursday

We arrived in Manila at 5 AM. Ran was with us, making the trip a bit more lively. The last time I was here, I was 13 and had begged my parents to bring me because I had never been to Manila. Now, I was here to help my parents navigate some bureaucratic processes.

It was incredibly hot, humid, and not exactly pleasant. We finished our business, but I wanted to stay and explore the city. I pleaded with my mom, explaining that I could manage on my own for a day. But they were adamant about heading back. Despite my recent international travel, they wouldn't let me have a day to myself in Manila.

In hindsight, it was probably a good decision. I was sticky, dirty, and desperately in need of a shower. We arrived back in Baguio at 9 PM. I took a long shower, reviewed my notes, and went to bed. Robbie had collected new handouts for me and mentioned we had homework in both subjects.

I slept soundly, exhausted from the day. I couldn’t believe exams were next week. I hadn't participated much this Midterm.

Friday

I went to class and focused. Also my work I don't want to lose it so i have to spend time on that.

Saturday

I submitted my homework, feeling a sense of relief. Our group met to finalize our project, and we drew Dissociative Identity Disorder as our topic. Divina, Belle, and I volunteered to work on the script. I had already researched several case studies. We created a group chat to keep everyone in the loop.

It was Intramurals basketball day, and Sir Apollo gave us permission to watch. I opted to stay back and work on the documentary script. My laptop and iPad were open in front of me when Sir Apollo struck up a conversation.

"May boyfriend ka na ba?" he asked.

I looked at him, wide-eyed and speechless.

Before I could respond, Myla came to my rescue. "Halika na, ang sipag sipag mo mag-aral," she said, starting to pack my gadgets into my bag.

"Saglit," I hesitated, but she was insistent.

"Doon mo na gawin yan," she said, pulling me out of the classroom and away from the awkward flirtation with Sir Apollo.

CAS vs. CBA was the game, my department against Myla's. After Ecology, Mansoor was waiting for me. We walked together, but I couldn't shake the memory of my earlier interaction with Sir Apollo.

As we walked past the faculty, Sir Apollo exited. We locked eyes for a moment. Mansoor greeted him politely, and he smiled back.

"Prof ko yun," I told Mansoor.

"Ako din nakakasama ko din sya sa mga outreach," he replied.

I nodded, feeling a mix of emotions. Whenever memories of Sir Apollo surfaced, I tried to be more affectionate with Mansoor. I held his hand, kissed him, rested my head on his chest or shoulder. I became extra sweet, trying to suppress my confusing feelings for Sir Apollo.

Back home, I used my toy again, but Sir Apollo's image kept intruding on my thoughts.

#Spotify

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the-tattooed-librarian · 5 months ago

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Heroine by Mindy McGinnis (print book)

TW talk of drug use and addiction

This book is comforting to me in many ways. It feels like a return to an old familiar land, where once I was comfortable and at home. I've walked these streets. I treaded these neuropathways again and again, once upon a time. Though I've never been an opioid user, I know this story like the back of my hand. There are some things that are true for every addiction story. Every addiction story is about losing control.

Mickey's story is incredibly believable, and that's not always an easy thing for a writer to accomplish when a character self-destructs. It feels so normal. It's not scandalous and sensational. It's real. We live in a country where this story plays out every day, where we give oxy to children, where surviving an accident can be the death of you.

I thought reading this book would hurt, or bring my own addiction back to the surface, but if anything, it assures my hard-won sanity; the peace I made with the drug use of my past still holds. This is not my story anymore, and for that I am immensely grateful.

The two things in the story that stand out to me the most is Mickey asking Devra when she would stop wanting it and Devra telling her “never.” That, and the deaths. Because it really happens just that easy. I've been to the funerals. I look over at the picture of my friend on the wall above my night stand and wonder, like Mickey and Carolina... why him and not me?

Mindy McGinnis told a story that's hard to tell, and she did it well. I didn't cry, but that doesn't mean I won't yet. It's hard to believe that was 12 years of my life. I was in recovery almost twice as long as I used. Like Mickey, I didn't start of my own volition. Some of us are screwed from the very first time we're intoxicated. The first time I got drunk, it was game over for me. I never got into opiates, though. I managed to pull myself out of my tail spin before it got that far. Sometimes there's no answer to the “why”. Sometimes all there is is the silence of your own heartbeat.

I finished this book 4 days after the 2 year anniversary of my friend's OD. After reading about the ins and outs of opiate use, I want to ask him so many questions. I want to compare his story to Mickey's in the book. I want to make it make sense. I still remember the light in his eyes. I want to know how it started and why and mostly... if there's anything I could have done to stop it. I wonder how he fell off, how it progressed, what he lost, who he hurt, how he was hurting. And I wonder what might happen to Mickey if there was a book two. I wonder if she cleaned her life up. I wonder if she made it to her dream school. I wonder if she landed her dream job teaching little girls how to plant their back foot and swing a bat. I wonder if she ever relapsed. And I wonder how she ever let Carolina walk away and if that was the end of them.

I spent 12 years sitting in a circle drinking bad coffee with them all telling us that we're all the same, taking our names, our stories, our identities, all in the name of unity. But all addicts are not the same. We're as individual as our stories, though there are commonalities. Like I said, addiction is about losing control. Patrick said it, though, in the book. “You're still alive.” I'm still alive. I may not have done opiates, but plenty of other things could have killed me along the way. My friend didn't get an obituary, but I have others hanging up. Just like Mickey, I was the one who survived.

The most powerful thing about this book is the human-ness of the story. Mickey Catalan is a character we can sympathize with and identify with. It's easy to read this book and think, “But for the grace of God, that could have been me.” I think that's the point. She's not just another number, one more lost junkie falling victim to the chase. She's a girl with hopes and dreams and fears and friends and family and excuses and struggles just like the rest of us. We all have a story. I have a story. My friend has a story. Stories hold power. This one made me feel a little less alone, more understood than I have felt since my last cup of shitty black coffee – mostly because Mickey made it out. This is the story of someone who made it out. Addiction can be survived. It can be beat. It can be won. I am living proof.

My biggest take-away is the necessity to be willing to be in pain. I have bipolar and cPTSD as well as fibromyalgia and other physical and mental disorders. I know pain. I know what it's like to be locked inside the inescapable hell of a body and mind on fire. I chose to walk through that fire over and over and over and over again. Maybe that's “why”.

Thank you to Mindy McGinnis for having the courage to tell this story for the rest of us.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

#book reflections #book reviews #booklr #book blog #bookish #book reccs #bookworm #book review #bookblr #english literature #literature #ya fiction #YA books #ya literature #addiction #opiate addiction #overdose awareness

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casspurrjoybell-22 · 7 months ago

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Dream Eater - Chapter 12 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

[Three months pass.]

Damien buys another apartment with another name and we move across the city.

It's close to Dante's in the Riverfront District and as soon as we're settled, I invite Dante over and tell them everything that's happened to me since the night I walked out of their apartment.

It's obvious they're caught somewhere between dismay at my penchant for poor choices and joy at the fact that I finally seem... happy.

It's a strange thing but I realize that the last few months have been the happiest of my life... demon or mortal.

Damien's dreams don't trouble him any more but rather than take up my old habits of soliciting strangers for their bad dreams, he suggests I try something new.

I volunteer at a home for seniors and no one's surprised when a guy reading a novel aloud to a ninety-six-year-old falls asleep somewhere along the way.

It takes a bit of trial and error but eventually I find the ones who need me.

It still hurts and more than once I wake up crying but at least I know I'm bringing some peace to what might be someone's final sleep.

And when I go home, Damien's waiting.

Or at least, he is when he isn't working.

He's more than happy to take up the mantle of Damien Knight, architect extraordinaire and soon finds himself busy with more than one high-profile project.

His style is modern, minimalist and all about light and air.

It's happy and free and seems to strikes a deep chord in a world overburdened with too much of just about everything.

He's in high demand.

Then again, so am I... at least from him.

It seems like I spend about as much time in bed as out of it.

He lays his claim as often as possible, sometimes at the most inopportune times.

Once, when I was on my back and he was deep inside me, lost in the slow push and pull of lazy pleasure, his cell-phone rang.

It was his top client and to my horror, he answered it.

Then he continued to fuck me with a casual smugness while discussing the ins and outs of the latest adjustments to the project.

It turned me on so much I had to bite my own fist as I came so I didn't make a sound.

Later I got him back, sucking him off while he was in the middle of a teleconference with a bunch of Chinese investors.

I had to admire his stoicism and in the end let him take me against the wall.

But it's more than sex.

I love the way he tries to cook me breakfast and then takes me out for pancakes when he fails.

I love his smile and the strange miracle that I could be its cause.

And I love him.

And we're happy.

But fate has a way of finding you and all good things must come to an end.

And so it is that one night, after a perfect dinner and a passable movie, fate catches up with us.

Like a lot of things, it starts with a stupid mistake.

I insist on seeing the comedy instead of the war drama and Damien humors me.

I've seen enough of war... even if it was just through the dreams of the men and women who actually lived it... and I'd rather laugh than cry any day.

The movie ends and we're on our way home when I realize I left my cell-phone... which he only bought me the day before... in the theater.

We turn back and half a block later find ourselves face to face with a bunch of assholes too young to know any better.

They're just kids but their youth doesn't stop them from being dangerous monsters.

They see Damien's expensive clothes and mine as well 'I've let him buy me more things than I should' and the fact that we're holding hands and before I know it, things go to shit.

Insults are issued and returned, there's a flash of metal as a gun is drawn.

I see the dark circle of its barrel pointed my way and then the world erupts in blue fire.

The painfully young criminals flee in terror and a moment later, other fires light the night.

And I recognize Yakketh and Maliel as they step from the flaming rift, fiery blades in hand.

"Dantalian," Yakketh drawls, mouth twisted in a sneer. "We knew you'd fuck up eventually. Although I don't think anyone thought it would be so soon," she laughs.

Maliel casts me a look.

"Is this really it?" she scoffs. "The informant made him sound so impressive. He looks like something from a depressed angel's wet dream."

Yakketh coughs a laugh.

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen, eh Sakariel? Though Dantalian always did enjoy the thrill of slumming it."

"Shut your mouth, bitch," Damien snarls and I see the blade of blue fire form in his hand as he shoves me behind him.

"Is that any way to talk to a lady?" Yakketh says, head tilted to the side and mouth pursed in a mocking frown. "Well, we'll just have to teach you some manners."

She attacks in a flash of red fire and I can't even follow exactly what happens blow for blow.

Maliel stands back and watches with a look of mild interest as the blue and red blades clash and slash with rapid fury.

Damien gains the upper hand and beats Yakketh back with a series of swift slashes that leave her gasping and barely managing to block his assault.

Then Maliel shrugs and joins the fray.

I feel helpless.

Damien's blue blade flashes with increasing rapidity as he blocks the dual assault but it seems like he's losing ground.

They beat him back until he has nowhere else to go.

The river is behind him and I know he won't yield while I'm in danger.

He looks towards me and meets my eyes and I see his lips form words. 'Alex. Close your eyes.'

I obey and see a flash of blue behind my eyelids.

When I open them, I see something both disturbing and wonderful.

Damien has wings.

They're leathery and black and enormous.

They stretch to either side of him like great shadows.

From his head sprout dark, spiral horns.

But when he looks at me, dark eyes tinged with pain and fear, I only see the man I love.

I give him a smile and nod and his expression transforms with surprise.

Then he smiles back and I know that Maliel and Yakketh are in for a shock.

He turns his gaze on them and they scream.

His blade flashes blue fire and they fall back under an onslaught of blows that my eyes aren't quick enough to follow.

They leap beyond his reach, gasping.

"You... may have won this time... traitor..." Yakketh gasps. "But make no mistake. Azael is coming and now he knows exactly how to find you."

Damien charges towards them, but even as his blade slashes the air where they stood, they are gone.

He stands for a moment, chest heaving, before turning towards me.

I can't help stepping back as he draws near and he stops, a look of pain on his face.

I draw a breath.

I love him, no matter what he is.

Walking towards him, I wrap my arms around him and lay my head against his chest.

When I look up, his wings and horns are gone and his eyes are dark with an emotion I've only seen in his dreams.

It's a terrible mix of love and despair.

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rennyji · 8 months ago

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is this the end...hold your breath and count to 10...

Some random whispering/low tone conversations between 10:29 AM - 10:33 AM in kitchen between mom and dad. In 18 yr delusional situation snowballing, it’s hard not to wonder if it’s about you. Both of the them & false gods they worship deserve slap their parents should’ve given.

I am an Indian Hindu. I “want” my marriage 2B arranged 2DecentGirls like princesses from good family’s. After this, I’d never touch 1 of your blacks, whites, browns, or yellows. stick2urOwn, u devils. I am the embodiment of BJP itya hasa & Congress’s acceptanceOfAll. Jai Mahadev.

- enjoy jerking off 2 me & my ummm gentle gentle gentle touch…have some pride & look to ur own rather than stealing the embodiment of Indian culture so that u can prostitute him 4 fake USA Christian values in a land of agnostics & atheists and those using f*word w/their Christ.

Conversation between mom and me, while in my bedroom, somewhere between 12:55 PM and 1:01 PM. A conversation lacking in foundation, where - I hate to use this word-premise or basis, for the discussion makes no sense. Phones on us, eyes/ears on us.

Look at this from my Apple Card transactions. Nothing extravagant. Worst of it “looks like” repeat Amazon charges. But 3rd pictures shows Amazon purchases which could be bathroom essentials or groceries-Instacart is groceries from ShopRite/Costco w/up to $7 tip. Like $650 total.

https://x.com/RennyJi/status/1777383732141326461

So a doctors office just acted rather rigidly/stubbornly w/me. They’d prefer no weight loss assistance w/o assessing risk/harm, than straying from an injectable that causes reduction of gastric motility or amidst absence of injectable.-

- Point is, while I’m addressing ins/outs w/terms, I’m depicted as know it all looking 2 go on pills…paradox in it?! I hope u get…how much longer do I have to bow my head 2 these interactions I’m averse to.-

- Part of it has 2 do w/every1 thinking I’m their friend and they know everything to me. Not ur lovable brother/friend. I don’t know you. Probably wouldn’t. All effects of libel and slander amidst idiots thinking it’s the effect of churning sh*t from a head-world’s biggest fools.

-Paradoxes?-Im writing on social media AsWarning-theySedateMe fearingAggression, but b/c orchestrators/whoreKids=sex obsessed&continue making things cute/cuddly amidstPropaganda ImStern, druggedOrNot, urCreatingSituation w/potential4violence irrespective of tranquilized muscles.-

-nonsense said: guilt him 2 this/that, pressure him 2 this/that, blackmail him in2 this/that-overall?take advantage while we sedate him & paint him according 2 our will. I’m my parents, my family, my country. Sh*t on my life in USA all U want, don’t come2me w/expectations after.

Ur f*g old men in police/army/schools like 2 use their Being John Malkovich, get in head powers, 2 fondle my balls, whore females from school make fun of my Indian background & want me 2 set them up w/myself or other Indian men,-

- all while ur elite condition me in2 blondes over my own. In my life, for the brain mappers, I have never once fantasized myself with an American, blonde or whatever. I think that can be verified with their tech, or injectable truth serum, lie detectors.-

- Why ur people, whites/blacks, have such a hard time, w/my Indian family/me just going 2 work, & back 2 each other & our food/our tv everyday…Is it our responsibility 2 forgo wat we want 2 give a leg up 2 an American randomly hoping 2 marry rich in situation unacknowledged2me?-

- Y are ur people so h*ll bent on praising me in random, even sexual ways when 18 years of our lives have been stolen from my family/me? When ur people treat us as something 2 use & abuse at end of this, wat is it with u not letting us just crawl back in2 the holes of our homes?

If ur seeing me write tweet from my iPhones twitter app, w/front camera facing, my face, b4/after mean nothing, esp. when something can twitch muscles2disguise asSpeakingOutOfAnger, 2fuel libel of troubled kids 2not take me seriously. Watching my culture, just had an epiphany.-

- people whose interest PeakedBy, my recent tweets…after 18 years, wat the h*ll u expecting me2do? Strip naked&break in2 a dance giving meaninglessPhilosophy? Those my age R married w/kids. Ive been trying 2get h*ll away from u, while libel cr*p again goes in2 noAge4some things.

A clip from 2023 Hulu movie, “Assassin.” Gets into perils of brain mapping: that is, This is someone brain mapping their mind to, perhaps, yours, and as a result, control you, with or without a lapse in your memory.-could’ve already happened. #mindcontrol #mind #Awareness

https://x.com/RennyJi/status/1748532128898285642

-so retards from Albany do this being in head/eyes, being like John malkovich type movie thing. Then next layer amidst multi layer, of USA stupidity is mapping some1 they C as nasty 2my brain. Some kind of irony&discrimination 4 saying kids stalk,school hacks,govmt does nothing.-

- apparently when going to fbi offices, school vps, the suny system, telling my phone im going to talk. Ow, talking and writing where mics social media available, my point wasn’t getting across.-

-Somehow after believing a gang of whites and blacks for 18yrs w/no direct contact w/me, I’m the racist. I definitely hate this country, I expected nothing of it and it makes ridiculous demands of me. -

What is it that I want at this stage and since then beginning? The money for the harassment done to me against my wishes (harassment by nature and duration), cancelling of my citizenship,-

-and while I’m here, don’t interact with me unless I ask you a question. Don’t nod, don’t friend, don’t wave, don’t purposely smile at me, don’t try to date me. In life I never sought a cup of coffee from a stranger. Return the sentiment.-

- if last tweet gets under ur f*in skin, take it up w/me in person. We’ll have a Nice heart 2 heart. It may not be nice. It’s been 1 hr since last tweet, where I watch some tv in between, and it’s 2 am. I think, it can be interpreted at least now, I’m saying this w/a level head.-

whatever special gifts/augments, aside from money, that get bestowed on me-in whatever form-from this situation, take it, turn it around, and shove it up ur a*s, and never come near me. if you don't, ill sell it to the highest bidder.

- if Ive made any juicy point in person or in writing or in f*thought, it’s ultimately 2 get rid of all of u w/a nice ending. I mean it in most polite please/thank u American way.-

- My life/day won’t stop cuz u hate me. Ur part of nice/ugly scenery in a blink or head turn. Move on. End this Jerry springer sh*t making U feel better about ur day & makes u think ur better off than me.Thanks/take care.That’s what I want. I hope no loose ends 4 the demented.

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illicitlimerence-writes · 3 years ago

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prada | m. schumacher

pairing: mick schumacher x stylist!reader word count: 3.7k words. request: yes/no by an anon: "hi! i really love your work, can i ask for a mick fluff with prompt 12 from the prompt list?" & by @kati-1997 (tumblr won't let me tag you:c) "i would love a mick schumacher imagine, where the reader is responsible for his outfits in interviews etc. and he likes her, maybe with smut"prompt: secret admirer/admitting a crush from this prompt list. & fluff #12 "could you say that again?" "were you not listening?" "no, i was, i just like hearing you voice." from this prompt list warnings: language, pining, touching?? i guess it gets pretty steamy and suggestive (no smut) but i really don't know, i had half of this finished, so i only wrote the last bit in like an hour so i don't even know what day i'm living in. a/n: happy valentine's day! we've reached the end! i honestly don't know why i struggled so much writing this prompt, like i'd already written stuff like it before, but... whatever. i don't like how this turned out either. also! this was inspired by tom holland's prada shoot. you can check the tag illicitvalentine's for the rest of the fics.

my masterlist / valentine's day masterlist

(i am looking respectfully, i swear)

"there's my favorite stylist," a cheery voice brought the girl out of her thoughts. she turned her head, smiling.

"there's my favorite client," she raised an eyebrow as mick leaned in and kissed her cheek. "you look sleepy," she tapped his chest.

"yeah, i just got back from hair and make-up, you know how i get when people play with my hair, i almost fell asleep," he smiled, sitting on a chair.

"i didn't know, but thanks for the info," she giggled, turning back to the clothes she was preparing for him. "are you nervous?" she asked, looking at him through the mirror.

"a little," he raised his arms, stretching as he yawned. "i feel better knowing you're here with me," he smiled, and she moved her head, hiding her warm face between all the delicate materials and fabrics.

“well i’m happy i can be of some assistance,” she said.

“are you kidding?” mick got up from his chair, “i wouldn’t have agreed to this if you weren’t involved in this project.” he walked to her and placed a hand on her shoulder, which made the hairs on her neck stand up.

mick was about to do his first modeling photoshoot. the girl had been with him as his stylist since he started in formula one, having known each other for a long time. she had experience working with other celebrities, but never with such a high-fashion brand.

“i’m just doing my job, i- i’m sure there’s a lot of other people who could do what i can, or maybe do it better,” she shook her head, fingers fumbling with the many hangers that held shirts, tuxedos, and other items of clothing.

“and yet, i picked you. because you are the most talented person i know, and you make feel comfortable no matter how many cameras are on me.” he said, and he placed a hand on top of hers, his fingers curling around them. with his other hand, he turned her body toward him, then he grabbed her face in his hands. “you make me feel at ease,” he whispered, and she could have sworn that he was leaning forward, could have sworn that his eyes flickered between her wide eyes and parted lips.

“miss (y/l/n)? we need you for a minute,” someone knocked on the door, forcing them apart. she cleared her throat, ignoring her racing heartbeat as she walked away from him.

“i have news,” she said once she returned, finding him sitting on a chair as he read the book she’d brought with her.

“what’s up?” he asked, standing up. he closed the book and left it on the chair he was sitting on.

“okay, so there has been a slight change of plans. first, they want to film this as well as take pictures, and they also want to film and capture you getting dressed, take pictures with the items on, and undress. apparently it has something to do with the valentine’s day issue or something,” she said, forcing herself to focus on him, instead of the images she was picturing in her head.

“could you say that again?” he said after a few seconds.

“were you not listening?” she furrowed her eyebrows, heart beating frantically at the thought of having to explain all of that again.

“no, i was. i just like hearing your voice,” he smiled, making her breath get stuck in her throat.

“mick, please, not right now,” she muttered, covering her face with her hands. she heard his laugh, and felt his arms around her.

“hey, what’s going on?” he asked softly. “i should be the nervous one. i’m the one who’s about to strip for like fifteen people right now,” he laughed.

“you don’t have to, i could talk to them, or-”

“it’s fine. i don’t mind. as long as you’re there, though,” he said.

“w-what?” she stuttered, removing her hands and looking at him, frowning.

“like i said, you make me feel at ease. this is a first for me, and i want to do this right, so, i need you there. plus, you’ve already seen me in underwear,” he shrugged his shoulder.

“i haven’t.” she frowned.

“a bathing suit is nearly the same as underwear,” he smiled. and she remembered the many times they’d gone to the beach, to a hotel pool whenever the weather was nice in whatever country they’d found themselves in for his races.

“oh, right.” she mumbled. “are you sure you won’t be uncomfortable if i’m there?” she asked, she wanted to be sure.

in truth, she wanted him to say he didn’t want her there. her brain was looking around for an excuse, an escape, anything to avoid seeing him without the appropriate layers of clothing. anything to stop the growing heat inside her stomach.

“i want you there, please.” his hands slid down her back, to her waist. “but if you don’t want to, it's okay. i just know i’ll perform better if you’re there, watching me,” he smirked, his voice almost purring as he said the words, giving them a double meaning.

she found herself speechless, staring at his cocky smile and bright blue eyes. she didn’t trust her voice, so she just nodded.

she dragged the rack with the expensive clothes behind her. it was a sunny day, there was a very light breeze and she felt bad for mick, who had to wear about ten different outfits, all made with different materials, some not that appropriate for that warm day.

the director of the shoot instructed her where she could set up. away from the cameras, in the shade, so the clothes wouldn’t get damaged. whatever that meant.

“okay, mick! where’s mick?” the director asked, looking around. mick, who was talking to the girl, left his spot next to her, his fingers grazing against her arm as he walked away. she saw him walk away, he was already shirtless, so she could see the golden skin of his back, the muscles and tendons tensing beneath the flesh. she thought about his back, with angry red scratches running along it. scratches caused by nails, her nails.

she blinked twice, turning back to the clothes. she wondered how many times she could graze her fingers against the fabric before anyone would tell her to stop.

“(y/n)?” she jumped, blinking out of her fantasy. “you okay?” mick asked, watching small drops of sweat gathering around her hairline.

“yup, just… you know, the heat,” she wasn’t lying. the heat was affecting her. the warmth she felt inside was visibly represented by the light layer of sweat on her skin. “is everything ready?”

“uh, yeah. they need the first outfit,” he said.

“oh, okay. which one do you want first?” she asked, letting him look through the outfits they’d pre-picked together a few weeks ago.

her hand was curled around one of the hangers, and, of course, he placed his hand on top of hers. oblivious to the way even his gaze on her was affecting her.

“this one,” he said, looking at her from the other side of the rack, the clothes and hangers standing between them like a barrier.

“everything okay over here?” the director walked to them, noticing the way the girl slipped her hand away from his. “nice choice. okay, come with me.” she instructed him, pushing her glasses up her nose.

“be right back,” mick promised the girl, following the director.

minutes passed, and the girl was trying her hardest not to let out any of the sounds that she desperately wanted to. she didn’t know why he was affecting her this much. but she watched through the screens as the director instructed mick on how to get dressed. because apparently, he’d been doing it wrong his whole life.

“do it slowly, feel the materials, think about the feeling of the fabric against your skin.” she instructed, and mick nodded, eyes flicking back to the girl currently hiding behind expensive clothes.

mick was standing a few steps away from a pool, his hair a little wet from the water that the hairstylist had just sprayed, and he slid a pair of black trousers up his legs. slowly, the fabric covered his bottom half, the cameras now focused on his hands as he zipped and buttoned them up. the director nodded, looking at the screen.

“belt,” she said, “give him the belt,” she instructed, and the rest of the crew turned to the girl, she blinked twice, fumbling around as she looked for the right belt. she cleared her throat, swallowing her own saliva as she walked to him.

she extended her arm, handing him the black leather belt. he took it, fingers wrapping around hers as he took it. her breath hitched, his digits were cold against her own.

she returned to her previous spot, behind the cameras and screens, seeing what they were shooting. the director guided mick with her words. he pulled the belt through the loops, the camera following his movements, focused on his hands.

it was torture. she didn’t know what was coming over her. she felt tingles running down her back every time mick turned to look at her, making sure she was still there. he’d give her a small smile, a short wink that the director thought was for the shoot, but the girl knew was only meant for her.

“i wouldn’t want to be you at this moment,” she laughed as she handed mick a knitted sweater. it was red, thick, heavy, and warm. and with the blazing sun burning down on them, she felt like dying just by looking at the sweater.

“luckily it’s the last one,” he smiled, right before taking off the v-neck t-shirt he was wearing. just like that. right in front of her. she gulped, eyes flicking back to the clothes. “you okay? i swear, if you like the clothes so much, i could let you borrow them, you know?” he smirked.

“y-yeah,” she muttered, eyes flicking back to him for a second.

“hey, are you sure everything’s alright?” he asked, walking closer to her, still without a shirt. a light layer of sweat on his torso.

“mhm,” she hummed.

“you sure?” he took a step closer.

“yeah, i’m sure,” she squeaked as he lifted a hand and brushed back a loose strand of her hair. “just… you know… the heat, the sun,” she pointed up to the sky.

“ugh, don’t tell me.” he grunted, “if i could i’d stay like this all day,” her eyes followed his hands, as he touched his stomach lightly. he noticed.

he’d noticed all day. the way her eyes lingered on his hands, his fingers, following every movement he made. it made his heart skip a beat, his hands sweaty, not from the heat of the sun, but from excitement, expectation, and longing. for her. it was all for her. all because of her.

someone called his name, breaking the tense atmosphere between them. she scurried away, hiding behind the cameras and equipment. mick walked to his spot, the sunlight hitting him directly, perfectly, making his blue eyes shine brighter than before. she tried to take deep breaths. she shouldn’t be thinking this, shouldn’t be imagining his hands trailing the length of her arm, his skin pressing against hers.

it wasn’t right.

“(y/n), we’ll need your help for this one, sweetie,” the director called her name, and the girl wondered how she even knew it. her head perked up, taking careful steps toward the director. “so, for this section we need you to hand him the sweater, the cameras will be focused on your hands. i need slow touches, lingering a second too long. is that okay?” she asked, and the girl looked to her side, where mick was now standing beside her. he smiled at her, pressing his arm against hers. “if you’re uncomfortable, it’s totally fine, i’ll have to think of something else, but-”

“n-no, i- i’ll do it,” she said, clearing her throat, nodding lightly. “if you’re okay with it, of course,” she asked mick.

“sure,” he smiled, nodding.

“perfect. we’re going to need you to change, though. there are some outfits over there, pick whatever you feel comfortable in.”

there she was. the cameras were rolling, mick was looking right at her, extending his arm for her, offering his hand. that was her cue to step toward him, with the heavy sweater in her hands. she handed it to him, and just like before, his fingers rested on top of hers, he traced them from her wrist to the tip of her nails. his digits curled around the fabric of the sweater, bringing it toward him. she took a step back, looking at the director, who shook her head.

“stay there. mick, keep going.” it was a good thing that their faces weren’t in the shot.

mick pushed his head through the neckline of the sweater.

“wait, (y/n), walk toward him,” she did. “put your left hand on his chest,” she instructed. the girl’s breath hitched, looking at mick, who told her it was okay, a whisper meant only for her. mick kept going, with her hand on his skin, he pushed his arms until they were engulfed by the heavy fabric.

the fabric that was supposed to cover his midriff was bunched up, being held up by her hand.

“slowly, (y/n), very slowly move your hand down, let the material fall.”

she did. the pads of her fingers were buzzing as she slid them over his bare skin. her eyes were stuck on his. captured by his intense stare. she felt the muscles twitching as she touched him. he tightened his jaw as her nails left a light mark on his perfect skin.

“move your hand to his waist,” the camera captured the way the fabric bulged as she moved her hand. “take a step back,” she did as ordered, her hand and fingers following the natural movement of her arm. “take your hand out, walk away, slowly.” the director instructed. her hand was almost sweating as she pulled it out from under the heavy sweater. “keep your arm extended,” she took another step back. “mick, grab her hand.”

mick moved forward, he repeated the movement he did when he handed her the sweater, but he started with her fingers this time. the pads of his fingers against hers, slowly making their way up until he wrapped them around her wrist. holding her there for a second.

“pull her close,” mick obeyed, pulling (y/n) to him, chests colliding. “run a finger down her arm, start from her shoulder,” mick lifted a hand, noticing the goosebumps on her skin as he trailed a finger down. he noticed the way her breasts were pressed against his chest, how she was struggling to keep her breathing even. “(y/n), with your free hand, play with the neckline.” she ran a hand up his arm, past his shoulder. with her fingers extended, she traced the neckline, following the slight ‘v’ it created. she tried to keep her finger on top of the knitted yarn, but her fingers were shaking, plus, the up and down movements from his chest were not helping. so, occasionally, she’d graze the sensitive skin of his neck, and he, too, would struggle to breathe.

“good, (y/n), i need you to step back now.” she slowly removed her hands from him, walking away. once the director yelled ‘cut’, the girl felt like she could finally breathe again.

she wasn’t needed anymore, so she grabbed the rack of fancy clothes, alongside her own and walked back inside. she changed into her comfortable t-shirt and jeans, looking at herself in the mirror. she looked just as she felt inside, the sweat represented the heat, warmth, need, that spread throughout her body. her shaky hands were the visible giveaway that she was feeling flustered.

she heard movement outside, meaning that they were done, and she hurried to grab all of her stuff, wanting to get out of there as soon as humanly possible.

“hey, you ran off, are you okay?” mick asked, walking in. she flinched when his cold hand met her warm skin. “hey,” he frowned, she’d never reacted that way around him, and it concerned him. had he done something wrong?

“yeah, i- i’m fine,” she gave him a tight-lipped smile. she turned around once she heard the unmistakable sound of him undressing, getting back to his casual clothes. “um, mick-”

“shit, sorry. i’m sorry, it’s just… i guess i got used to people staring at me while i get undressed, so…”

“so now you’re an exhibitionist?” the words left her mouth before she could think twice.

“apparently,” he laughed. “i’m done,” he announced, and she turned around with her bags in hand. “you’re leaving now?” he asked.

“well… we’re done, so,” she shrugged, ignoring the way her heart was pounding inside her chest.

“oh, yeah. i was going to ask if you wanted to go eat something or-”

“i have to go, now, i… yeah, i-” she stumbled on her words.

“oh, okay. i’ll see you when the issue comes out?”

“sure! i have to go now, bye!” she rushed the words out, bolting out of there before he could notice her sweaty skin, uneven breathing, and frantic heartbeat.

it’s february, and the brand has started uploading pictures and clips of the photoshoot. the first one being of mick putting on the thick sweater, her hand was visible, trailing down his torso, pulling the material down as her hand moved.

the internet went crazy with the pictures and videos. some even had clips of mick speaking, reciting the new slogan for the campaign.

she groans as she locks her phone, throwing it to the other side of her couch. she hasn’t spoken with mick since then, and the fact that the rest of the world is now getting to see what had once been for her eyes only, frustrates her.

she hears the doorbell ringing, and she rubs her eyes as she stands to open the door.

“did you see it?” she looks up, finding mick on the other side.

“mick,” she whispers, eyes wide as he stares at her. “wh-what are you doing here?”

“it’s valentine’s day! remember? they started posting the pictures and videos from the photoshoot! our shoot!” he says, excited.

“oh, yeah, i saw,”

“they sent me the rest,” he confesses, taking his phone out as he closes the door behind himself.

“they did?” she swallows, she’d already been pretty affected by seeing just a few clips and pictures, she’d have to try her best to keep her composure.

“wanna see them?” mick asks, but he doesn’t wait for her answer, he walks to her living room, sits on her sofa and opens her laptop. he types in her password, opens a new tab, and logs in to his e-mail account. “come on,” he smiles, tapping the spot next to him. slowly, she makes her way to him, sitting much closer to him than she had intended to.

she’s about to try and move away, but he places a hand on her knee, freezing her in place.

“look,” he says, turning the computer to the side, allowing her to look at the pictures as he taps on the keyboard.

“woah, mick! these are amazing! you look great,” she smiles, “wait, go back,” she instructs, and mick taps the key twice, “you look perfect,” she turns from the screen to his eyes. and her smile grows as she sees the light red tinge on his cheek.

“thanks,” he throws an arm around her shoulders, and she allows herself to relax. “you did pretty good as well,” he clicks until he finds the videos, and the very first one is where her hand is hidden beneath the sweater.

“oh i- no, i-” she stutters, but mick smiles.

“i liked it,” he admits, catching her off guard.

“what?”

“i liked it. i liked you, touching me,” he says, closing the laptop and placing it on the coffee table in front of them.

she remains quiet, blinking rapidly. she can still feel the heat from when his hand was on her knee. she wonders how long it will take for the tingling feeling on her shoulders to disappear.

“(y/n)... look at me,” mick instructs, but she keeps her eyes on a random spot behind him. she gasps as she feels his hands on her face, directing it towards him. “hey,” he whispers.

“h-hi,” she breathes, making him smile.

“i’m about to do something… that will change our friendship forever. if you don’t want to speak to me afterward, i understand,” he explains, waiting for her to reply, she’s too busy staring at his blown blue eyes to focus on anything else. she sees his face getting closer, doesn’t realize what’s happening until his lips are against hers.

she sighs, the air leaving her lungs as she closes her lips around his. his hands are holding her face delicately. she closes her eyes as one trails down her arm before settling on her waist.

“do you want to stop?” he asks, wanting to hear that she feels the same for him.

“never,” she breathes, throwing one leg over his, straddling his lap. “i’ve liked you forever, i don’t want to stop,” she confesses, one of her hands is on the back of his head, fingers tangling with his hair.

“i think i’ve liked you since the first moment i met you,” he bites his lip, his hands wandering all over her back.

“why didn’t you say anything?” she whispers on his lips.

“why didn’t you?” he retorts, capturing her lips again.

“i asked you first,” she laughs, sighing as she feels him leave a light trail of kisses on her cheek.

“i guess i was waiting for the right moment,” he says, making her smile. “thank god you got me that prada shoot,” he laughs.

“it was either prada, or nada,”

“hmm… i got prada, and i got the girl,” he bumps his nose against hers.

“lucky you,”

909 notes · View notes

monsterenergysimp · 4 years ago

Text

Permanence

corpse husband x fem!reader

summary: you meet corpse on a stream and you’re surprised when he reaches out to you

warnings: cursing, mentions of tattooing

word count: 1.9k

notes: This is proof read but could have missed some stuff. This is my first corpse fic and my first time writing fanfic since I posted that super cringey book on wattpad when I was like 12 or something. I’d appreciate feed back so please reach out to me :)

main blog @itsmysleepover

read part 2 here!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You were cleaning up your station so you can get home and stream. You loved your day job as a tattoo artist but you also really enjoyed streaming. It started as a way to promote yourself as an artist and the shop you worked at but it eventually became a really fun way to destress at the end of the week (or day if you were really itching to stream). “Hey Y/N was that your last client?” your boss, KC, asked as she walked to the front of the shop and put new flash drawings on the walls.

“Yes ma’am!” You said back excitedly. You finished cleaning your station and tossed your black gloves in the trash. “And you can’t trick me into staying and taking walk-ins,” you joked with her. She rolled her eyes and walked back into her office “It was one time,” she said as you slid on your jacket. As you walked out your phone buzzed in your pocket and you checked to see who had texted you. It was a message from Sean asking if you were free to play Among Us with him and some other streamers. You replied that you were on your way home right now and totally down. You were excited to see who was playing this time around since their Among Us streams are super entertaining and have gotten really popular.

On your way back you tweeted and posted to your Instagram story that you’d be streaming soon and set up all your stuff once you made it home. After a few minutes, you had a couple of thousand people watching. You entered the discord chat and Sean spoke up. “Everyone this is Y/N she’s sensitive so be gentle.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you guys and I’m not gentle, I'm ruthless,” You say into your mic and notice the chat calling you a liar. Everyone was in the lobby waiting for the game to start. “You sound way too sweet to be ruthless,” Corpse said. The countdown started and you were imposter with Charlie.

“This should be fun,” you told the stream. Yout tried playing strategically but after such a long shift your brain was mush. You saw Poki in nav and killed her then vented into shields. Not long after the body was reported and you were sure you were going to get voted out or at least sussed.

“Where was the body?” Felix asked. “Nav and I didn’t see anyone near there so whoever is imposter must have vented,” Corpse responded. Felix spoke up again. “I think I saw Y/N walk that way and I haven’t seen her since.”

Shit, shit, shit shit. “I’m in shield right now so-” you said trying to defend yourself but Charlie spoke up. “I was doing tasks with her earlier and I saw her walk into shields so she’s safe but I’m still not sure about Rae.” Everyone discussed a bit more and some people, including Corpse, voted for you but Rae got the majority vote and was ejected. You released your breath and kept playing being extra careful.

“Okay, guys that was super close. Corpse knows and is out to get me,” you said to the chat. You were eventually voted off but one round later victory was written across your screen with your ghost and Charlie’s avatar. “Good game guys,” Corpse said.

“I told you guys I was ruthless!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You sat at your station doing nothing because a client had canceled a four-hour session. You were listening to music and sketching some stuff but you were bored out of your mind and you didn’t want to leave in case you got a walk-in. The music got quiet as you received a twitter notification saying someone had messaged you. You reached for your phone and saw you had gotten a dm from Corpse.

C: hey :)

You didn’t know what to respond. You were mostly confused as to why he decided to message you out of the blue. Did he want something? But what would he want?

Y: Hii! This is sudden

C: was i bothering you?

shit sorry!

Y: Youre fine I wasn’t doing anything rn

C: how has your day been

i dont usually do stuff like this

Y: Im glad you did im doing better now I was so bored

C: what were you doing that was so terrible

Y: NOTHING! thats the problem :(

C: im sure youll find something to do

You stared at his message. Unsure what to respond.

Y: Im gonna give myself a tattoo

C: what?

NO!

You tossed the needles you used for your tattoo into the sharps box. “Oh my god you didn’t,” KC said. She noticed the wrap on your calve from the tattoo you just gave yourself out of boredom. “It’s not my fault I didn’t have anything else to do!” You said trying to defend yourself. She sighed and just shook her head. “Just go home business is slow today.” It was raining so the shop probably wasn’t going to get a walk-in anyway and you didn’t have any more clients for the day. It was only 2 pm but you drove home and after making lunch for yourself decided to stream. You weren’t expecting too many people so it was bound to be super chill. Your leg felt sore reminding you of the tattoo. You snapped a quick pic of the fresh jack-o-lantern on the side of your calve and messaged it to Corpse.

Y: [image] it came out nice!

C: thats super cool actually

i was concerned why you would just give yourself a tattoo but i found your instagram and youre super talented

Y: Thank you!

For some reason, it felt strange to just have that be the end of your response.

Y: Im about to start streaming if you wanted to watch

[link]

C: ill be watching ;)

What’s that supposed to mean?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You sat in your apartment watching tv, hand lost in a bag of Doritos, and scrolling through twitter. You had stopped paying attention to the anime playing on the screen since you’ve watched it a hundred times and knew you wouldn’t miss anything. It was Saturday and you usually take those days off. Take the time to do chores or meet up with some friends but today you felt like not doing any of those things. As you continue your endless scroll (not helping the twitter addiction you told yourself you’d try to get a handle on) you got a message from Corpse.

C: wanna talk?

You looked down at the message unsure of how to answer. It was a simple yes or no and the obvious answer was yes. You and Corpse had started talking more regularly. You still didn’t have each other’s phone numbers but it was fine. Your conversations weren’t too big-- just you sending him memes, tiktoks, and telling him how much you liked the songs he would drop. Or him complimenting a tattoo you did. Sometimes he’d message you during streams telling you funny stuff his fans would say in the chat and you’d do the same. You learned a bit about each other but nothing too deep or serious. Like how you two lived a few cities away and you both really liked Donnie Darko. When Sean first invited you to that game out of everyone else there you were most excited to meet Corpse. He’s just so sweet and funny. Of course, you’d love to talk to him but you were also itching to talk to him and the last thing you’d ever want to do was make him uncomfortable.

Y: Yeah id love to talk

Here goes nothing.

Y: Wanna facetime or something?

No pressure or anything it could even be a regular call

I think facetime is just my default lol

You sent those last two messages quickly after you had sent the first. You wished you could know what he was thinking. It was killing you to think you had turned him off from talking to you completely. You put your phone down on the couch and went to wash your hand of Dorito dust. When you got back from the kitchen you turned off the tv and tossed yourself onto the couch.

Still no message.

Why am I so fucking stupid?

Just as you were standing up to stretch from sitting on the couch all day your phone buzzed. You reached for it fast and looked to see that it was him. You became super excited still not even knowing what the message said. It could have told you to never talk to him again for all you knew.

C: sure lets facetime

xxx-xxx-xxxx

You had his phone number. You added him to your small but growing contact list and called. You sat on your couch waiting for a response when he finally picked up the screen was black. It didn’t upset you; you kind of expected it and didn’t care what he had to do to make himself more comfortable during this call.

“Hey,” he said. His voice was raspier than usual.

“Did you just wake up?” You asked and looked at the time. It was about a little past noon and you had only eaten Doritos all day. Shit, you should probably make a decent meal.

“Not that long ago but yeah,” he responded and giggled. That giggle.

“Well, I’ve eaten nothing but Doritos all day while rewatching Ouran High School Host Club, so you’re welcome to join me as I make myself something to eat.”

“Sounds like fun; what are we eating?”

“I don’t know yet,” You said as you stood up and made your way to the kitchen. You opened the pantry and looked. You noticed a can of diced tomatoes and reached for it then checked the expiration date. It was still good. On your counter were some onions and garlic. “How about some tomato soup?”

“Sounds delicious.” you smiled at Corpse and your phone screen not knowing if he was also looking at his screen or not. “You’re really pretty-- you know that?”

“Thanks, but you don’t have to--”

“I’ve already told you what an incredible artist you are so many times I bet you’re tired of hearing it, but you already know what a talented artist you are.”

“That is very kind of you Corpse,” you said to him bashfully as you chopped the onion and opened the can of tomatoes. “But once again you don’t have to reach so far to compliment me.”

“I’m not reaching you are talented and beautiful and--”

“I thought I was pretty.” You could hear him chuckle with a smile on his face. “You’re both,” he said. You could feel your face getting warm from blushing.

“Fuck you you’re making me blush. My face is all hot and stuff.”

He laughed at how flustered you got. “That’s the cutest thing ever.”

You didn’t know how to respond so you just put some olive oil in a pot and tossed in your onions. It became silent but it was a comfortable silence. You turned the stove on and watched the flame for a few seconds. “If it was dark we could pretend we were together and having a bonfire or something,” you said to the phone as you turned the camera to show him the flame (still not 100 percent sure if he was looking at you or not).

“I’ll put it on the list of things to do when you visit me someday.”

#corpse husband #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband imagines #corpse husband x y/n #youtubers #caffeinated ramblings

1K notes · View notes

kayxleeee · 4 years ago

Text

Bucky Barnes: Normal Days (Bucky Barnes x Reader!)

Warning: NONE! Just civilian Bucky fluff🥺 (I'd die for Buck)

A/N: FIRST OFFICIAL POST WAHOO! If you are here from WP, I love you! Thank you for your constant support. I decided that I will only post my absolute favorites on Tumblr, which will give me more time to actually write new content and not dwell on the fact that everything is deleted! I will be adding a bit more to each one I post from WP (as needed). And if you are new, Hey welcome! Please let me know what you think. xx

Summary: Besides the fact that you were dating an Avenger, you craved normalcy, ironically enough. You always look forward to the days where you can come home to your favorite guy and just be a seemingly normal couple.

Word Count: 909

One of your most favorite things in the whole wide world were the days when you could come home knowing that Bucky would be there too. The normal day’s where he wasn’t away; Not on a mission, not training at the HQ, not with Sam or Steve, but home. It was not always guaranteed, but when it was, it was greatly appreciated, especially since the two of you had just moved into a new apartment together, away from the tower. Today you came home to him just sitting on the couch watching a tv show you started together a few day’s ago on Netflix.

“Hey, you didn’t keep watching without me, did you?!” You call out squinting at the tv while kicking off your shoes and taking the Chinese's takeout to the kitchen, setting it on the counter.

“No, I think I fell asleep on some parts so I was rewatching a few episodes.” He replied pausing the show and following you into the kitchen. “How was work?”

He gives you a quick peck on the lips before he begins to peak into the bags to see what you brought home. “Smells great, I’m starving.” He continues as he pulled out the food containers from the brown paper carry out bags.

You grabbed some plates from the cupboard and two spoons out of the silverware drawer.

“It wasn’t too bad , but glad to be home honestly, with my favorite guy.”

“Who me?” He teases lamely, looking at you then picking up a piece of broccoli from the top of the pile of food and putting it in his mouth. “Damn that’s good!”

“Nah the guy from across the hall.” You giggle. “I’ve literally been craving Chinese food all day.” You continue handing him the utensils to begin serving the content. “Did you get up to anything today?”

“Sleep, that bed is entirely too soft! I always forget. Tv, we have to check out that one show Sam keeps talkin about. Umbrella something? I called Steve, he says hi.” He says this all quickly like a child with excitement in his voice. “Oh and Therapy!” He added seeming as if he almost forget it as he began spooning some of the steamy food onto his plate. “Doc said I’m making progress.” He grins looking at you then taking your plate and piling spoonfuls of rice, chicken, and vegetables on to it.

“Really?!” You smile back at him equally excited. “Thats great news babe!”

With the big move from the Avengers HQ to a small New York apartment, his therapist advised you both to ease into one thing at a time. He had been doing weekly sessions to see how well he was adjusting to modern life on his own. The first thing was him getting use to being in the newly remodeled space, insuring that he would not be triggered by anything or blasted with any dark memories of his past, especially if he was home alone.

“Yup and I think it calls for a celebration.” He winks at you handing you your food.

You let out a laugh and shake your head “Oh really Barnes? Using your milestone as a way to get into my pants?” You laugh taking the plate from him. “Thanks babe.”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“Mmm how about we kick off our celebration finishing a few episodes of our show.” You nudge him as you walk pass with your food going into the living room. He nods happily and follows close behind.

“Babe.” He whispers in your ear nudging you awake.

After spending hours on the couch watching tv, you ended up dozing off in his arms. You were completely exhausted from your long workday. It was almost completely dark in the living room with the tv now off. The only source of light illuminating the small room, was coming from the glow of the city from the windows.

“Let’s get you in bed.” He continues gently once he sees that you are waking up. “I know you’ve probably got a busy day ahead of you.”

You look at the digital clock on your cable-box, allowing your eyes to adjust. It reads 12:43 am..

“Did I miss anything good?” You reply, referring to the show you fell asleep on.

He kisses the top of your head and helps you get up from your position in his arms. The two of you get up from the comfy couch and head to your bedroom.

“Nope just a little main character death action, but I’m pretty sure the angel guy will bring him back to life.” He chuckles a little walking into the bedroom.

“Hey! No Spoilers.” You say rubbing your tired eyes. “I need to shower before bed.” You add with a yawn as you follow him to your bedroom.

“Sorry dollface, we can rewatch the episodes you missed when you get home.” He smiles at you, knowing he gets another day of just being a normal civilian again. “No worries, I’ll run you a shower.”

And this normalcy is what you sometimes craved on a daily bases. Stupid jokes that made you laugh a little too loud, sweet gestures, falling asleep in each other’s arms, forehead kisses, therapy check ins, and favorite tv shows. This is what you looked forward to and you wouldn’t trade it in for anything in the world.

These were the absolute best days, the normal days.

Thoughts, Comments, or Opinions :)

261 notes · View notes

jamespotterthefirst · 4 years ago

Text

Admission

Open Heart, Book 1, Chapter 13 Retold through social media posts and messages All posts here

Warning: Language and implications of adult activities

_____________________________________________________ Posted at 5:59 PM

_____________________________________________________

Sent at 6:35 PM Nurses’ group chat named “Tea Spill”

_____________________________________________________ Sent at 6:40 PM EMT group chat named “10-04”

_____________________________________________________

Received at 7:03 PM From: Rafael Aveiro To: Lilac Allende

_____________________________________________________ Received at 7:46 PM From: Ethan Ramsey To: Lilac Allende

_____________________________________________________

Received at 7:57 PM

_____________________________________________________

Voice call from Ethan Ramsey to Lilac Allende at 7:57 PM Duration: 8 minutes

Lilac: Hey. Ethan: Hey. [Long silence] Lilac:... Ethan? Is everything alright? Ethan: I wanted to apologize to you…. For slamming that door in your face. With the news about Naveen… [silence] Ethan: It wasn't my most gallant moment. After you left, I realized you had also received terrible news of your own. You needed me and I wasn't there for you. For that, I'm truly sorry, Lilac. Lilac: Ethan, I don't blame you for being in that state of mind, but thank you for the apology. [Distant chatting and laughing] Bryce: [in the background] The Haupia has arrived! Sienna: Yum! I've always wanted to try it! Jackie: That's store bought and you know it, scalpel jockey. Ethan: Busy? Lilac: No, just my roommates getting dinner ready. [Chatter grows distant. A door closes] Lilac: I'm all yours. [Long silence on Ethan's end] Lilac: Ethan? Ethan: I'm here. You should go be with your friends. Lilac: It's fine. They'll understand— Ethan: I insist, Lilac. I'll be fine. I promise. Lilac: Liar. Ethan: [chuckling] Fine. But I still insist you go and have a good time. Lilac: Can I check on you later? Ethan: You don't have to. Lilac: I want to. And I'll try my best to help you take your mind off everything. Ethan: That sounds… ominous. Lilac: [laughing] You'll have to find out. Ethan: I'm sure I will. Lilac: Bye, Ethan. Ethan: Bye, Rookie.

_____________________________________________________

Posted at 8:36 PM

_____________________________________________________

Received at 9:16 PM From: Naveen Banerji To: Ethan Ramsey

_____________________________________________________

Received at 9:32 PM From: Zaid Mirani To: Ines Delarosa

_____________________________________________________

Sent at 11:38 PM From: Lilac Allende To: Ethan Ramsey

_____________________________________________________

Sent at 12:22 AM From: Lilac Allende To: Ethan Ramsey

_____________________________________________________

Received at 1:31 AM From: Ethan Ramsey To: Lilac Allende

_____________________________________________________ Received at 1:49 AM From: Ethan Ramsey To: Lilac Allende

_____________________________________________________

Received at 1:58 AM From: Lilac Allende To: Ethan Ramsey Duration: 36 minutes

_____________________________________________________

Received at 2:34 AM From: Lilac Allende To: Ethan Ramsey

_____________________________________________________

Received at 2:21 AM From: Ethan Ramsey To: Lilac Allende Duration: 1 hour, 23 minutes

_____________________________________________________

Received at 3:44 AM From: Lilac Allende To: Ethan Ramsey

_____________________________________________________ Posted at 5:45 AM

_____________________________________________________

Interview recorded for official purposes Present: Harper Emery, Elijah Green Time: 8:45 AM

H. Emery: Thank you for seeing me today Dr. Greene. Please come in. I trust you know why I called you into my office today?

E. Greene: If this is about the lunch thief that's been striking for the last few days, then I'm glad it's finally getting addressed.

H. Emery: Lunch...thief?

E. Greene: Someone's been stealing people's lunches from the lounge. It's getting ridiculous.

H. Emery: I… No, Dr. Greene, that particular incident is not why I called this meeting. Although, I will inform the Senior Resident about the issue. I called you today because I want more information on Dr. Lilac Allende.

E. Greene: What about Lilac?

H. Emery: I understand you two are friends?

E. Greene: Yeah, she's a good friend.

H. Emery: Dr. Greene, I'll get straight to the point. I am conducting an investigation to determine Dr. Allende's involvement in the death of Teresa Martinez. Do you know anything about that?

E. Greene: Sorry, Chief Emery. I'd say I know even less about what happened to Mrs. M than you do.

H. Emery: Hmmm. Do you recall the day Mr. Declan Nash visited Edenbrook for a meeting with me?

E. Greene: Yes, ma'am.

H. Emery: You came to me claiming that Dr. Mirani needed immediate help with a VIP patient. But when we got there, there was no Dr. Mirani and no problem. Why did Lilac Allende ask you to get me away from Declan Nash?

E. Greene: Lilac? She had nothing to do with it, I got the idea to rescue you all on my own!

H. Emery: Rescue me?

E. Greene: Dude seemed like a creep. I thought you could use a break.

H. Emery: (Stunned silence) Thank you, Dr. Greene. That was incredibly thoughtful if a bit unorthodox.

H. Emery: However, I ask you to refrain from intervening during any of my future meetings, no matter how distressed you believe me to be.

E. Greene: Loud and clear, Dr. Emery.

H. Emery: What else can you tell me about Dr. Allende?

E. Greene: Lilac's a cool roommate. Living with her is fun when she gets all my pop culture references. Even if she does believe Mean Girls was the best movie ever made and quotes it constantly. She used to live in LA and has all kinds of crazy stories. Do you want to hear about the time she met Samuel L. Jackson?

H. Emery: … No, thank you, Dr. Greene. I think I've heard enough. [End of recording] _____________________________________________________

Sent at 9:01 AM From: Eduardo Ortiz To: Veronica Ortiz

_____________________________________________________

Sent at 9:10 AM Residents’ group chat named “Boston Tea Party”

_____________________________________________________

Sent at 9:16 AM ICU Nurses’ group chat named “kiss our assessment”

_____________________________________________________

Sent at 9:17 AM Interns’ group chat named “Bop to the Top”

_____________________________________________________

Sent at 9:20 AM EMT group chat named “10-04”

_____________________________________________________

Sent at 9: 23 AM Surgeons’ group chat named “Cutting Edge”

_____________________________________________________

Sent at 9:25 AM From: Harper Emery To: Ethan Ramsey Status: Unread

_____________________________________________________

Sent at 9:25 AM From: Lilac Allende To: Ethan Ramsey Status: read, unanswered

_____________________________________________________

Interview recorded for official purposes Present: Harper Emery, Jackie Varma Time: 10:05 AM

H. Emery: Dr. Varma, thank you for joining me. Do you know why I called you in today?

J. Varma: No idea.

H. Emery: I know you're busy with your caseload so I'll cut to the chase. What is your relationship with Dr. Allende?

J. Varma: We share a bathroom and an internet plan.

H. Emery: You're not friends?

J. Varma: Dr. Emery, I applied here to learn to be the best doctor, not to compete for Edenbrook's Friendship Awards.

H. Emery: I see. So there's nothing else you could tell me about Dr. Allende?

J. Varma: To be honest, she's indistinguishable from my other roommates. They're all distracting loud noise through the wall of my room as I'm trying to study up for my patients. The few times I saw her outside the apartment were a few rounds at Donahue's across the street, when we are all new and in that honeymoon phase. But unless you want to know her drink order, I have nothing.

H. Emery: That won't be necessary.

J. Varma: Is there anything else, Chief Emery?

H. Emery: I suppose not. You may return to your duties. _____________________________________________________

Interview recorded for official purposes Present: Harper Emery, Sienna Trinh Time: 10:25 AM

H. Emery: Good afternoon, Dr. Trinh. Thank you for meeting with me. Please have a seat.

S. Trinh: The pleasure is all mine, Dr. Emery. What can I do for you?

H. Emery: I'd like to talk to you about one of your fellow interns today. People tell me you are close to Lilac Allende.

S. Trinh: We're both dolphins not sharks, so we got along right away.

H. Emery: You're both… what?

S. Trinh: Neither of us are interested in screwing over other interns to get ahead. Lilac's a very moral person.

H. Emery: And how do those morals apply to Dr. Allende's patients?

S. Trinh: She definitely wouldn't screw over a patient either.

H. Emery: Can you say that with absolute certainty?

S. Trinh: Cross my heart and hope to die. I've seen how kind Lilac is in all aspects of her life. But she is the most passionate when it comes to her family, friends, and patients. Lilac has a good heart.

H. Emery: Noted. Thank you, Dr. Trinh. Anything else you'd like to add?

S. Trinh: Yes. I hope you don't mind me asking but… where did you get those earrings? They're gorgeous!

H. Emery: Oh. They were a gift from my mother.

S. Trinh: They're stunning. You look great in them!

H. Emery: Thank you, Dr. Trinh, that's very sweet.

_____________________________________________________

Interview recorded for official purposes Present: Harper Emery, Landry Olsen Time: 10:50 AM

H. Emery: Please come in Dr. Olsen. Take a seat.

H. Emery: Before we begin, it is my duty to let you know our conversation is being recorded for HR and any other parties who might request it in the future.

L.Olsen: ... O-other parties? Like the authorities?

H. Emery: Possibly. Depending on the findings of the investigation. Are you alright, Dr. Olsen?

L.Olsen: I— Shouldn't I have an attorney present, then?

H. Emery: There's no need to lawyer up for this, Dr. Olsen. I only have a few questions about an intern you're in close contact with. Shall we get started?

L.Olsen: Sure.

H. Emery: Dr. Olsen, what is your relationship with Dr. Allende?

L.Olsen: We're roommates.

H. Emery: You're not friends?

L.Olsen: No.

H. Emery: …

L.Olsen: I mean, y-yes. You could say that.

H. Emery: Can you tell me more about Dr. Allende?

L.Olsen: I've rarely seen her these past few weeks. Been studying up for our fellowship competition.

H. Emery: The one Dr. Ramsey used to be in charge of before he quit?

L.Olsen: (long, stunned silence) Dr. Ramsey quit?

H. Emery: That's right. Just a few hours ago.

L.Olsen: Does that mean the diagnostics team—

H. Emery: —will probably be disbanded, yes. Unless Dr. Mirani or Dr. Hirata wish to continue the competition for two spots. Knowing one of them, she will refuse.

L.Olsen: (more silence)

H. Emery: Dr. Olsen, are you certain you're alright?

L.Olsen: Y-yeah.

H. Emery: Given that you live with her, do you know of any involvement she may have had with the death of Teresa Martinez?

L.Olsen: I've already given all the information I have, Dr. Emery.

H. Emery: Very well. Thank you for meeting with me today.

_____________________________________________________

Posted at 11:13 AM

_____________________________________________________

Sent at 3:23 PM Interns’ group chat named “Bop to the Top”

_____________________________________________________

Received at 6:16 PM From: Alan Ramsey To: Ethan Ramsey

_____________________________________________________ Received at 11:10 AM Group chat named “who tf is Martha” Members: Lilac Allende, Sienna Trinh, Elijah Greene, Jackie Varma, Landry Olsen

_____________________________________________________

Posted at 9:00 AM

_____________________________________________________

Posted at 11:58 AM

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Posted at 1:14 PM

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Posted at 1:39 PM

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Posted at 4:49 PM

_____________________________________________________

Sent at 4:55 PM

_____________________________________________________

Posted at 6:16 PM

_____________________________________________________

Posted at 6:30 PM

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Posted at the following day at 10:13 AM

_____________________________________________________

Sent at 10:39 AM From: Lilac Allende To: Bryce Lahela

_____________________________________________________

Posted at 12:03 PM

_____________________________________________________

Sent at 12:41 PM From: Bryce Lahela To: Lilac Allende

_____________________________________________________

Posted at 3:56 PM

_____________________________________________________

Published at 5:00 PM

_____________________________________________________

Received at 5:43 PM Nurses’ group chat named “tea spill”

_____________________________________________________

Author’s Note: Thank you if you read this monster.

A few notes:

A HUGE thank you to everyone who read, liked, and/or commented on the last chapter of this. I just realized I never replied. Forgive me. My brain is all over the place these days. I’m trying to be better. I am appreciative forever and ever for all the support you guys have shown me.

The same goes for “Burgundy”. I will absolutely reply to everyone but I realize it’s been a while. I don’t want people to think I’m being rude and ignoring their lovely words of support. Anyway, I ramble.

Regarding this chapter, I decided to add that Ethan x MC steamy texts scene because I was feeling self-indulgent lol. But also because I figured he knew he was leaving Edenbrook the next day after he told Naveen.

MC didn’t sleep with Bryce in the on-call room (even though she does in the actual game for me lol. Couldn’t have her do it after that phone scene with Ethan)

Sorry for any mistakes or typos. Tumblr will not let me edit a massive post full of code like this. It will let me make all the changes and then not save them. Sigh. I expect nothing from this site and I am still let down.

Thank you so much, as always! Everyone has been so lovely to this series and it means the world!

Much love, Bree ____________________________________

*tagging separately because this post is ready to burst with code

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #playchoices #pictagram #My writing

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