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abbysfrenchbraid · 3 years

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Daring - Chapter 2

This is part two of my Abby Mordern!Au, you can read Chapter 1 here.

Masterlist

Abby and the reader have dinner at Abby's place. There is music playing and referenced, so I'd recommend you listen to this playlist with all the songs playing in order as soon as the date night begins. About 10k words.

CW for alcohol consumption, mention of death/murder, mention of dubious consent (and possibly terrible grammar. It's 10pm, I just finished this, I don't have a proofreader atm)

Thyme and Tree Bark

“Don’t mess this up, airhead. Take care!”

“Yeah, yeah. Bye, idiot!”

You closed the door behind Mark as he vanished down the stairs and headed straight for your bed. Though you were less wobbly on your feet after devouring half of a perfectly cheesy pizza with just the right amount of jalapenos, it had thrown you straight into a food coma. Your angel of a brother had come over at noon with two chilled cans of coke and a large pizza from your favorite Italian place and not even ripped open the curtains as he usually did. Instead, he had thrown himself on the bed right next to you, handed you a slice, and demanded you start talking.

Of course, he already knew about Abby and your embarrassing shyness when it came to the buff blonde, so he was extremely proud of the progress you had made with your excruciating crush. You both agreed that Abby had definitely invited you over for a date this week - alone, without Manny there - and that it had to mean she was interested, too. He had laughed about the little bar stint when Abby had shut down your flirt with the hot waitress in an instant and was now 100% sure this was going to go great. As long as you kept it together and didn’t ruin everything. As you often did. This needed some tactical planning.

Mouths full of cheesy delight and laughing at each other’s stupid ideas, you and your brother had come up with a fairly foolproof plan. You would text Abby in 1-2 days, keeping it cool and asking when you should come over. Then, you would suggest making cocktails at home, already granting a fun activity and something to loosen the mood. You would keep it casual and bring over some nice liquor and maybe a bag of chips, perfect for watching a movie. You’d try to keep the conversation casual and try to speak mostly about Abby, asking lots of questions so you didn’t get tangled up in speaking about yourself. If you steered the conversation toward movies, you could watch something exciting and maybe even scary together so you could cuddle up on the couch together. And well, if you got that far, things would probably fall into place naturally. Foolproof. Y/N-proof.

You groaned as you reached over to grab your phone from your nightstand. You had a message from your mom asking if you wanted to come over for dinner next weekend and an email from your professor who wanted to submit your last essay to some kind of grant application. You’d have to answer her later, your head still felt like it was filled with cotton. Instead, you sent Leah a message.

-Hey, you still alive? There’s leftover pizza and coke over here.

Five seconds later, there was a delighted squeal at the other side of the wall and you heard the click of your roommate’s door before yours opened and Leah tiptoe-danced inside, beaming at you. She was wearing nothing but an extremely tight-fitting cropped wifebeater and a khaki thong, accentuating her long legs as she leaped right onto your bed and almost made you fly as her weight hit the mattress. You tried not to stare at her perfectly toned abs as she opened the gigantic carton and held up a slice of pizza over her head, letting the tip dangle in her mouth before biting down with a moan that made you snort awkwardly.

“Good morning, you animal.”

Leah just moaned again, making a grabbing motion with her hand and pointing toward the second can of coke on your nightstand. You laughed silently as you handed her the cold can, condensed water running down the sides and wetting your fingers. You wiped them on the blanket. The tall brunette swallowed hard and took a sip of coke.

“Good morning, womanizer.” She grinned widely. “I’m so proud of you, man. This is the first time I’ve seen you in action and I can safely say Abby was just as surprised as I was.”

You buried your face in your hands.

“Oh god, was I that obvious? Did I do anything inappropriate? I thought it went well, but now I’m not so sure.” You spread your fingers to peak at your roommate who was currently chewing on a ginormous bite, tomato juice running down her chin. No manners, that girl. She just shook her head and made a noise somewhere between protest and encouragement.

“No, you were fine,” she said with a full mouth, “very tipsy, but cute. I hope you remember Abby inviting you to her place.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

You ran your fingers through your hair, immediately getting stuck in a tangle of knots. God, you needed a shower.

“Yeah, I already went over it with Mark. We made a plan so I won’t embarrass myself.”

“Good. I hope it goes well, you two would be cute together. Hot, even. I mean, no one can deny the allure of those biceps. And her ass?! Godly.” She easily evaded the kick you aimed at her ribs, laughing and slapping your shin away.

“Come on, let’s not act like you’re not ogling her every chance you get. I am, too - the woman looks like a greek goddess!”

“That’s enough,” you giggled, aiming another playful kick in her direction but only lightly hitting her in the thigh. “I know what she looks like.”

“Right. And soon, you’ll hopefully see a lot more of her.” This time, Leah jumped off the bed before your toes could sink right into her side. You tried to suppress a grin as you two stared at each other for a moment before Leah sat back down cross-legged and began eating the last slice of pizza.

“I mean,” she said casually, “you have seen more of a woman before, right?”

You grabbed your coke and turned it in your hands before answering.

“Yeah, I have. It wasn’t… It wasn’t all that, though. Just one time and we were both so nervous it was just awkward.”

Now Leah looked at you with a mixture of shock and pity.

“Come on, Y/N. Only once? You’ve never seen stars because of a woman’s tongue? Never screamed into a pillow because of some skilled sapphic strap game? Never lost your mi-”

“Leaahhhh!” You groaned, feeling blood shoot into your cheeks. “No, okay? I… I made the other girl cum, but for me, it was just… it was too unfamiliar and I didn’t know her well enough to really let myself enjoy it.”

Suddenly a thought crossed your mind and you felt your eyes open wide.

“Wait. Has Abby…? Is she..?”

Leah paused mid-bite and thought for a second.

“Well, she does have experience with men, obviously. As far as women go… I honestly don’t know. She’s dated a few, but it never went longer than a couple of weeks. I don’t know how fast things go with her and she’s never gone into detail with me. I have to ask Nora about that.”

“Don’t you dare! She’ll know this is about me and tell Abby!”

“Oh come on, I’m interested, too.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll tell you so you know what to prepare for, win-win!” She nudged your foot and gave you a mischievous half-smile.

“For god’s sake, do what you must.” You finished your coke and threw it perfectly into the bin beside your desk. Leah gave you an impressed nod. “And now I desperately need a shower. There is a literal nest on top of my head.”

“True,” Leah said and stood up, stretching her limbs as she walked to the door. “Thanks for the pizza. I’m gonna ask Jordan if he wants to come over, so don’t walk out naked if you don’t want a threesome.” She winked at you before closing the door, but a small part at the back of your brain knew that she wasn’t completely joking. You sighed and swung your legs off your bed. No point in lying around, it was past 3 pm anyway.

Grabbing your phone, a shirt, and some clean boxers, you headed for the bathroom. You took your time showering, detangling the mess on your head with lots of conditioner, humming along to Marika Hackman’s cover of I Follow Rivers as you stood under the hot stream of water and brushing your teeth for at least five minutes while waiting for a hair mask to do its magic. When you stepped out of the shower, the bathroom was filled with hot steam and you felt like a whole new person. You slipped into your fresh clothes and held the blow dryer to the mirror until your reflection was clear.

So. Here you were. Finally, you had spoken to the woman of your dreams and even flirted with her. She may have even been jealous of your short conversation with Ellie, the bartender. Tomorrow, you would text her, you would be brave and cool and not at all awkward. As you collected your clothes off the floor and took your phone, you suddenly realized something that would destroy your entire plan. You didn’t even have Abby’s phone number. Why hadn’t you asked her? Of course, you could ask Leah for it, but Abby would know because she knew she hadn’t given it to you. It would be a lot less cool and casual. Fuck.

You stepped into the hallway and ran straight into Jordan. Perfect. Good thing Leah had warned you.

“Oh, hi Y/N! You doing alright after all those tequila shots?” Jordan’s face was open and kind. You immediately relaxed. Just a guy, not a threat.

“Better than I thought I would, actually. What about you?”

“Well, I sent them back out the way they came as soon as I got home.” He grimaced and shrugged. “Just glad I’m still alive, to be honest.”

You had to laugh. “I’m glad, too. Leah would have been devastated.”

“I hope so.” He grinned back. The silence between you stretched a little bit too long.

“Anyways, I’m gonna see what she’s up to. See you later?”

“Yeah, sure!” You said, relieved that he didn’t make it awkward. You quickly slipped into your room and sank down on the bed, composing a text to Mark.

-Minor hiccup - I don’t have her number.

His reply came immediately.

-Shit. What now?

You let yourself fall back on the mattress and covered your face with your arm. Your phone vibrated again and you lifted it up, hoping for a brilliant idea.

-Hey, this is Abby. Are we still on for next week?

You almost dropped your phone on your face. For a minute, you just stared at the message. Then you rolled over onto your stomach and screamed into your pillow.

-Hi Abby. We absolutely are. Y/N.

You tried to suppress a fit of giggles as you texted your brother.

-Nvm, she just texted me.

-Omg what!! Play it cool, don’t answer yet. What did she say???

-Oops already answered. Still on for next week.

-Incredibly casual lol. Whatever, good for you!

-Shut up!

Another text by Abby came in and you actually started drumming your feet on the bed with excitement.

-Tuesday? I could cook for us

-Very impressive, I’ll bite. What time should I come over?

-Very clever. 6pm? Any allergies?

-Vegetarian, hope that’s okay. 6 is great, text me your address?

You watched the little text bubble pop up and vanish again for a good minute, getting more and more nervous for her answer.

- No problem. 2425 Constance.

There was nothing else to do but scream into your pillow again.

The next two days went excruciatingly slow. You spent the rest of your Sunday in bed, watching a terrible zombie movie and later ordering curry because you couldn’t be bothered with preparing any food. As it got late, you suddenly heard a knock on the wall. At first, you thought it was accidental, until the knocking started to continue in a steady rhythm. With a death glare that you hoped would reach through the concrete, you plugged your headphones into your laptop and continued watching your movie.

On Monday, you threw yourself into art history coursework and caught up on your studies, emailed your professor, and spent three hours on an essay about the depiction of blood in paintings of Judith beheading Holofernes. Lovely subject. Even though you got through a lot of your tasks for the day, you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at your phone every 10 minutes to see if you had missed a message. Of course, nothing came up. Around 4 pm, your phone buzzed and you leapt for it only to find out it was Leah asking you to buy toilet paper later. At 6pm, you shut off your laptop and grabbed your backpack to go grocery shopping.

Standing in the liquor store you realized you hadn’t asked Abby about cocktails.

“Looking for something in particular?” the elderly lady behind the counter asked. It seemed to be her own shop and to have been hers for a while, judging by the elegant wooden shelves and the warm, nice feeling of the room instead of neon lights and rows of white metal.

“Uh, yeah, actually. I have a date tomorrow and I thought we could make cocktails, but I forgot to ask what she likes. So now I don’t know what to bring.” You gave her an apologetic half smile. She stood up from her seat behind the register, growing not even 2 inches standing compared to sitting and made her way over to you. Her eyes twinkled behind thick glasses that made her look a little bit like an owl.

“Well, dear. I don’t know if I would go straight into the hard liquor on a first date. On my last first date, we had a delicious red wine, a Merlot. Couldn’t that be something? Are you going to eat anything?”

“Oh yes, she said she’d cook for us, but I don’t know what exactly.”

The shop owner gently put a hand on your arm and guided you to a shelf of dark bottles.

“Well, Merlot goes well with any food, so I think it would be perfect. Cocktails come later, when you dress up and go out together or after a night of theater.” You felt a surge of warmth spread through your chest. Theater? Well, why not? For a second, you began to trail off, imagining Abby in a perfectly tailored suit, you at her arm just as dressed up, every head turning as you entered the room and ordered Gin Tonics at the bar during the break. The voice next to you pulled you back to the present.

“If you’re cooking at home, wine is the thing to bring, trust me.”

“I trust you,” you said with a smile as you took the bottle she handed you. The label was a creamy white, with beautiful golden letters. Hopefully this wouldn’t bankrupt you. “Thank you for your help.”

The shopkeeper sat back down in her chair with a sigh and typed into the cash register. 15.99$. That wasn’t so bad. You paid and gently put the bottle inside your backpack.

“You know, you should come by soon and let me know how it went. I think that Merlot will bring you good luck. My wife and I still have it every Sunday.” Your head snapped up and your eyes met that charming, smart twinkle again, flashing at you out of dark brown irises. For a moment, all of the things you wanted to say were stuck in your throat, then you just broke into a smile.

“That’s wonderful, ma’am. I hope I can have that, in the future.”

“Of course you will, dear.” She really sounded like she meant it. A small lump suddenly appeared in your throat.

“Thank you so much. I wish you all the best.”

“Go get her!”

You laughed and waved at her again as you exited the shop, taking the warmth and comfort of it with you and tucking it right beneath the bottom of your heart and the top of your stomach where you knew it would fuel you for a few days. You had already decided that you would come back and make it your mission to befriend that old lady. What a wonderful woman.

Only 23 hours to go. That night, it was almost impossible to fall asleep.

You got through the next day by once again banning any thought of the evening from your mind and diving head first into your assignments. You were going to lead a discussion on different planes of language or communications in women’s art and literature and reading up on the historical differences between male and female narratives, beginning with the ancient poet Sappho. It was an exciting topic, something you were extremely thankful for. Otherwise you might have been looking at your phone every 3 minutes instead of every 20. Of course, no message from Abby.

The bottle of wine was standing on your nightstand, reminding you of your plans with an exciting tingle in your stomach. At 4pm, you gave up on doing anything productive. You spent forever in the shower, stealing some of Leah’s expensive pink body scrub, shaving everywhere and regretting it immediately because you felt stupid for assuming anything, entertaining the but what if thoughts while you thoroughly lathered your entire body in Leah’s shampoo and shower gel and spending a good 10 minutes just standing under the hot water because you weren’t ready to leave that fantasy yet. When you stepped out of the shower, the bathroom was an actual steam bath and you could hardly see the door through the thick waves of wonderfully scented fog. You took your time stealing some more of Leah’s skincare products, having come to the conclusion that if she noticed anything and scolded you for it, you might as well try out the whole arsenal.

When you finally opened your closet door, feeling luxurious and clean and fresh, it was 5.10pm. What the hell were you going to wear? You and Mark had agreed on casual, but what the hell did that even mean? You decided to ask him.

-Help!!! Freaking out over my outfit, need a definition for casual

-Jeans and T-Shirt, just your standard outfit. Imagine meeting me for sushi.

-I’m bringing red wine. It seems wrong to bring wine in jeans and a t-shirt..

-What happened to cocktails?? Trust me, keep it simple. You don’t wanna turn up in a dress and she opens the door in sweatpants.

-I don’t think I’ve ever seen her in sweatpants. Ughh fuck I don’t have time for this. Jeans and t-shirt it is. Lesbian grandma recommended wine, I’ll tell you about it tomorrow x

-Go get her x

You quickly slipped into some black jeans that were just the right amount of tightly fitting around your ass and a white shirt with a tiny pomegranate embroidered on the front. Then you put on your jacket and quickly threw your wallet, phone and keys into a tote before grabbing the wine and putting it in as well. With a last look into the hallway mirror and a yelled goodbye to Leah, you rushed out of your apartment.

The evening air was not as cool as you had expected and the sun was just about to set. On your way to the train station, you typed out an on my way! message to Abby and quickly deleted it again. No sense in sending it now when you hadn’t spoken since Sunday and were about to see her. The train ride was annoying, the wagon stuffed with commuters and some guy trying to convince you the apocalypse was upon you all. Zombies, not the last judgement - something different at least.

During the walk from the station to Abby’s house, you were sure it wouldn’t take much more for you to actually start levitating. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your throat was so cramped up it was hard to breathe. When you pulled out your phone, your fingers were actually shaking. Jesus Christ, get a grip. 5.58 pm.

And there it was, 2425 Constance. Just a normal suburban white house, like any other in the street. It actually seemed a bit weird, Manny and Abby living here in the midst of what seemed to be a family neighborhood with real adults . Then again, they both weren’t in college, so you supposed they actually were real adults. When you walked up to the front door, you could hear faint music from inside - jazz? You wouldn’t have guessed she was the jazz type, but then again you knew almost nothing about her. Right. Ask questions, keep the conversation about her. Be cool.

You knocked.

Abby opened the door, a wave of warm air hitting you from inside. It smelled delightful. Her face was slightly flushed, her lips parted as she took in a deep breath. She had tied her hair back in a low bun, but a few strands had fallen out and framed her face. One was standing up in a funny angle.

“Hi, Abby,” you said, trying to keep your voice level and not stare at her body. Fuck, she had dressed up. And she looked hot.

“Hi!” A smile slowly grew wide on her face. When she realized that she was blocking the door, she quickly shook her head and stepped aside. “Come in! Can I take your jacket?”

Oh God, this was hopeless. You already knew you were hers. Thanking her, you took off your jacket and she hung it in a closet next to the entrance. When she turned around, you got a chance to admire her fully. She wore wide dress pants that perfectly accentuated all of her muscles, topped with a loose white shirt with wide sleeves, reminding you a little bit of a pirate. Her jewelry rounded off the pirate look and you had to bite back a grin. She raised her eyebrows at you.

“What?” Her cheeks were still slightly red, but you attributed it to standing in a hot kitchen for probably the last hour, judging by the variety of smells overlapping and mixing together, already making your mouth water.

“Uh, I brought wine,” you said and held out the bottle. Eloquent as always. Abby took it and whistled through her teeth as she inspected the label.

“That looks classic. The sauce I made has some wine in it as well, this is perfect. Thank you, what a great idea!”

You were overwhelmed with her generous praise and didn’t know where to look, so you settled on her hands. You had always sneaked looks at her hands, at the way she held a glass or drummed on a table or clasped them when she was intently listening to someone. They looked strong and rough from work, but there was also a delicacy in their movement and you were sure her touch could be as gentle as the brush of a hummingbird flying past. Realizing you were staring, you tore your gaze away.

“It smells delicious in here, I can’t wait to see what you cooked.” You followed her into the kitchen, where she placed the bottle on the counter and took a corkscrew from a drawer. A big red pot was standing on the gas stove over a tiny flame, the lid still hiding its contents. Your stomach suddenly growled loudly into the silence.

“Someone’s hungry.” Abby gave you a side glance and an amused smirk as she screwed the silver device into the cork. “Everything’s already set, we can get started right away.”

You covered your eyes with your hand for a second before laughing.

“Yeah, I kind of forgot to have lunch earlier and then I figured I’d just wait so I could really savour this.”

“Smart thinking. I made patates au vin , a vegetarian version of coq au vin which is chicken in wine. It’s basically potatoes and vegetables in a thick brown sauce, served with some good rustic bread.” You couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling back at the thought of getting to eat home cooked french cuisine made by Abby in a few minutes.

“Oh my God, say that again.” You could barely stop yourself from moaning. Abby laughed and opened the wine with a loud pop.

“Here, take this over to the dinner table. I’m right behind you.” You took the bottle and followed her nod into the dining room. The wooden table was beautifully set with big and small plates, glasses for water and wine, candles, two blue glass bottles of water and a bowl of salad topped with what looked like apples, pomegranate seeds and feta cheese. You carefully placed the bottle of wine next to the water bottles and stepped aside for Abby, who came out of the kitchen carrying the heavy pot and placed it on a cork coaster in the middle of the table.

“Wait, let me just…” she trailed off as she grabbed her phone from the sideboard and changed the music. A saxophone led a jazz band into the song before a beautiful female voice set in, soft as butter and filling the room like the smell of roses. The voice was familiar to you, but you couldn’t quite place it. As Abby sat down, the music came to a crescendo before breaking off, the voice setting in again with a soft

is it a crime?

“Who sings this?” you asked as Abby opened the water bottle and filled your glasses.

“Oh, it’s Sade. She was my dad’s favorite.”

And I want you to want me too, the woman sang, and your eyes met over the table. You swallowed. Was? Not the right time.

“Sade? Oh, she sings Smooth Operator, right? I know that one, but I never checked out more of her music.”

Abby smiled at you and opened the lid of the pot.

“Yeah. This is the Promise album, my favorite. She is a force.”

A wave of steam erupted from the pot and you bent forward to look inside. Thick, roasted wedges of yellow potatoes lay in a bed of orange and purple carrots, mushrooms and tomatoes in a thick brown sauce, a stalk of thyme on top and a bay leaf poking out from the sauce. You weren’t sure if you were drooling, but you didn’t care.

“Abby, oh my God! This is fantastic.”

A spark had lit in her eyes when she heard you say her name. She elegantly stood up again, grabbed a serving spoon, and held out her hand for your plate. You watched her hands again as she plated an array of vegetables for you and used the spoon to draw a little sauce heart on the rim of the plate. Your ribs felt two sizes too small around your chest. This woman was actually going to be the death of you.

“Thanks,” you quietly said and waited as Abby helped herself to a plate. She sat down and gestured toward the small basket with thick slices of grey bread with a dark brown crust.

“Help yourself. Bon appétit.”

After a few moments of eating in comfortable silence before you showered the blonde in an array of compliments, this time not able to refrain from moaning when you bit into a tender, sweet purple carrot, the conversation began to flow. Abby complimented the wine, you talked about your studies, Abby told a few work stories in which both she and Nora were involved, you told her about your close relationship with your brother and she bittersweetly reminisced about her upbringing as an only child with a single dad. It had just been the two of them, moving frequently because of his changing jobs in different hospitals. He had been a neurosurgeon, and a brilliant one at that, but always humble and ready to help wherever he could. Abby sat up straighter when she talked about him, her chest actually swelling with pride when she told you about one time they had rescued an injured horse that had run away and been hit by a car in front of them.

“I think I was 16 back then. It’s one of my favorite memories of him. It actually wasn’t long before…” Her eyebrows moved into a frown and she bit her lip, pushing a small piece of onion around her plate. Fuck, maybe it would have been easier to talk about you, after all.

“We don’t have to talk about it. You can tell me when you’re ready.”

She looked up and you expected to see tears, but her eyes were full of love and her face smoothed out into a gentle smile.

“No, it’s okay. I’m still working on it, and part of my therapy is telling people who don’t know yet. You know, I don’t really have a lot of friends.” She suddenly laughed, easing the tension at the bottom of your lungs. “That sounds stupid, of course I do. I have Manny and Nora and Leah and Jordan and Owen, I guess. But the thing is, they all knew me before. I haven’t really made friends ever since my dad.. passed away. The idea of needing to open up to someone about all this so I can develop a real connection and friendship with them is just a lot to bear.”

“The mortifying ordeal of being known,” you mumbled, more to yourself, crumpling up your napkin in one hand.

“Sorry?”

“Oh, it’s this quote from a New York Times article that has been floating around the internet for a while. ‘If we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known’.” You looked up at her and inhaled deeply. “It’s something I’m also terrified of. Although it seems kind of stupid sometimes, because compared to you for example, I don’t really have a good reason.”

Abby looks at you like she’s just discovered something extremely interesting. She takes a sip of her wine before answering, her silver rings blinking at you in the candlelight.

“It’s not at all stupid. I’ve always been very careful with who I open up to, even before my dad died. It’s horrifying, laying yourself bare for a person, putting yourself on a silver plate and handing it to them and saying there, now do with it what you wish. Maybe they’ll look at it and say no, thanks. Maybe they’ll call everyone and say hey, look at this mad woman with her twisted insides, isn’t that funny? Maybe they’ll see it and think, I can do this, and then after a few years they suddenly realize they actually can’t and you’re way too much and so they leave for someone with a more simple, prettier silver plate. Maybe they’ll even take a few pieces with them as they go.”

She didn’t sound bitter as she said it, and she didn’t look terribly sad either, more as if she was making an observation about something she was mildly interested in. You didn’t know what to say except for show me your silver plate, please show me your all, and I will devour it, savor it, keep it with me forever. But you stayed silent, your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth.

“I’m quite the handful, am I? Sorry, I shouldn’t have thrown all this” - she gestured toward herself - “at you during our first date.” Then her eyes widened as she realized what she had said. “Fuck, sorry, I just assumed… you probably don’t…”

Finally, movement came back into you. You jumped from your chair and were next to her in a few paces. She lifted a hand and you took it in yours.

“Of course this is a date,” you said gently and smiled at her. “Otherwise why would I have been this nervous for the past three days, thinking of nothing but you, constantly checking my phone to see if you texted me? And I brought red wine, come on.” That brought a smile to her face. She chuckled lightly.

“So I haven’t just ruined everything?” The hope in her eyes was mixed with real, honest fear.

“No, of course not. I’m glad you’re being open with me. You know, I planned not to reveal too much about myself tonight, fearing I would scare you away or say something stupid and make you suddenly lose interest.”

The current song ended and a soft, funky beat came on. There it was again, that twinkle in Abby’s eyes. Your hands were still clasped around hers and she made no move to pull back.

“Well, now I can’t wait to see what you have in store for me. Lay it on me. Over dessert, maybe?”

You raised your eyebrows.

“There’s dessert? You’re going to have to roll me out of here later.”

She laughed, warm and genuine, and the pride you had felt back in The Closet filled your chest again. You would do anything just to be the one to make her laugh every day for the rest of your life. She got up and you both started clearing the table together.

Never going to know

What fate is going to blow

Your way, just hope that it feels right

Could that Sade lady be any more on the nose? You risked a glance at Abby, who was smiling to herself. You followed her into the kitchen and she opened the fridge to produce a large glass dish, showing the several layers of biscuit and white cream, topped with dark cacao.

“Tiramisu? Seriously Abby, how much time did you spend in the kitchen today?”

She gave you a crooked grin before exiting the kitchen.

“Took the day off.”

You just sighed and went back into the dining room.

Such a fine time as this

“Here.” Abby handed you a small plate with a piece of her gourmet tiramisu. Your fingers brushed against each other and you both paused for just the blink of an eye.

What could equal the bliss

The thrill of the first kiss

You sat down and grabbed the small fork left next to your wine glass. On second thought, you took another sip of Merlot. It really was exquisite.

“Buon’ appetito,” you said and sliced off a perfect edge of tiramisu. The soft, coffee-drenched biscuit fell apart on your tongue, mixing with the heavy vanilla-flavored mascarpone. “Did you know where the name tiramisu comes from?”

Abby lifted her fork to her mouth and softly closed her lips around the piece of creamy dessert. You were entranced, watching her hand sink down to the table again, then her jaw moving and flexing as she chewed. She raised her eyebrows questioningly and you cleared your throat, taking another piece on your fork.

“ Tira mi su is Italian for ‘pull me down’. It’s the last thing you eat after dinner and the thing that makes you tired, pulls you right into the food coma. In restaurants, it rounds off the meal and guests will probably leave in the following hour because they feel they’re ready to go home.”

Never as good as the first time

Natural as the way we came to be

“Oh,” Abby said, her voice quiet. She looked up at you through dark lashes. “And are you going home after this?”

“No.” You said it without thinking, only knowing what was true in your heart. “I don’t want to.”

“I’m glad.” Taking a deep breath, Abby straightened up, then reached a hand across the table, her palm facing up. You stared at it for a fraction of a second before placing your hand in hers, feeling something fall into place inside you. The glances you exchanged said so much more than you could possibly dare to say out loud right now.

You used your free hand to stab the last piece of tiramisu. This time it was Abby who was watching you with hungry eyes as the fork vanished between your lips and emerged clean.

“This tiramisu could be the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my life,” you said after swallowing and Abby’s fingers twitched ever so slightly around your hand.

“Thank you. I’m really into French and Italian cuisine, as you may have noticed.”

You leaned back in your chair, careful not to pull back your hand.

“I couldn’t do it, honestly. Spending so much time in the kitchen. Especially not with a job like yours, on your feet all day. I’d probably survive off of pasta and takeout.”

Abby smiled and began slowly drawing circles on the back of your hand with her thumb. You were already hyper-aware of how your blood rushed through every vein of your body, a side-effect of the red wine, but now it came to a roar in your ears.

“I guess I need some kind of hobby besides lifting weights. It calms me down. And it’s not just about the end result, about getting to eat something, but also about picking the right ingredients, taking my time cutting them up, trying new recipes with new flavors, and learning more about food and culture, and honestly about myself. It’s like meditating.”

“That sounds…” you were at a loss for words, “unbelievable? I’ve never heard someone talk about cooking like that. And I’ve never felt that way about it, too. I guess I’d like to, though. It sounds nice.”

Abby brushed her thumb over your knuckles.

“Well, I could show you.” You tilted your head slightly. “I mean, we could cook together. Next time. If you want to?”

Sade’s voice, smooth as polished wood and dripping with honey cut into the moment.

How could I have doubted

Honey, it's with me that you belong

“Yeah, I’d love to. What do you have in mind?”

“Do you like lasagna? We could make a vegetable lasagna and substitute the meat for soy. I could show you how to make a béchamel.”

You laughed and squeezed her hand.

“I love lasagna, although I have no idea what a beshmel is.”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” Abby’s face was glowing with happiness.

As the last two songs of the album played, you helped Abby clean up the table. You got into an argument about doing the dishes - Abby said she’d do it later but you insisted you would do them now or at least help because so far you had not lifted a finger.

“Come on, Abby, please let me help?” You tried your best doe eyes at her. She grinned and playfully slapped your upper arm.

“Okay. But I’ll put on different music.”

She vanished to the dining room while you began filling the sink with water. A high note filled the room before a man spoke.

You broke my heart / 'Cause I couldn't dance

You didn't even want me around

And now I'm back / To let you know

I can really shake 'em down

Abby stepped into your field of vision. The music set in, a delightful 60’s rock and roll melody, and Abby began dancing toward you with tiny steps and shaking shoulders. She was lip synching to the coarse voice of the singer and reaching out her hands for you. Snapping out of your frozen position, you shook your head, grabbed her hands, and were immediately twirled through the kitchen. A squeak escaped you as Abby pulled you back toward her and with another pirouette, you almost slammed into her chest. You both laughed out loud, continuing to dance through the kitchen with big, overexaggerated moves, flailing your arms and shuffling your feet across the tile.

I can do the twist

Now, tell me baby

Do you like it like this?

You quickly began singing along to the simple lyrics and both of you were giggling at each other’s dance moves. The next song was Stand By Me and you both settled down, beginning to clean the pots and dishes. You did the washing while Abby dried off the pieces you gave her and put them back into the right cupboards. Both of you were swaying and humming along to the music.

During the second chorus, both of you began belting along, filling the kitchen with the wonderfully familiar sound of slightly drunk women singing together. As the song ended, you both comically froze and waited for the next song to set in. When it was La Bamba by Ritchie Valens, you both continued singing along and showing off some probably terrible salsa moves. You were done in no time and Abby took your hand, pulling you into the dining room and sliding across the wooden floors with you. Your stomach hurt from laughing and you couldn’t stop smiling.

Next came the bittersweet Be My Baby by the Ronettes, a song you remembered from your childhood, vague memories of your parents slow dancing together after another terrible fight. You swallowed down the hint of bitterness creeping up from your stomach. Instead, you looked up at Abby, almost a full head taller than you, and dared yourself to step forward. You placed your right hand in Abby’s and your left on her tricep, coming unbearably and exhilaratingly close. Abby put her hand on your back, right below your shoulder blade, warming you through the fabric of your shirt. Your faces were incredibly close, her breath warm on your nose, and you could have counted every single freckle on her beautiful face. There was a slim ring of gold around her pupil, complimenting the green of her iris. She was breathtaking.

You couldn’t take this any longer. Should you kiss her? Everything inside you wanted to, but you couldn’t bring yourself to close the last inch of distance. It felt like wanting to do a handstand but pulling back at the last second every time because of a deep fear of failing and hurting yourself. It was terribly frustrating.

Instead, you leaned your head against the round muscle of Abby’s shoulder, turning your face toward her chest and pressing your temple to her collarbone. You could smell the herbs she had used to cook earlier in the fabric of her shirt, but her skin smelled like pine and something else, earthy and dark, like tree bark or wool. Abby rested her chin against your forehead and her low hum of contentment vibrated against your cheek.

A light waltz melody began, Unchained Melody, a song you knew from some commercial and had listened to for a few weeks straight after.

I need your love

God speed your love to me

You smiled to yourself and could sense Abby was doing the same. You kept slowly turning, dancing through the candle-lit room and swaying side to side. The band set in louder and you lifted your head again. Abby’s eyes were fixed to yours, but you couldn’t stop yours from wandering lower, finding those perfectly pink lips, hanging open ever so slightly. Your hand wandered upward, along her shoulder, and to the back of her neck. As the last verse of the song began, you stood on your tiptoes and brushed your lips against her. Abby inhaled sharply, her fingers spreading on your back and pressing against your skin. You gently pressed your lips to hers again and this time, she kissed you back. You dug your fingertips into the back of her neck, desperately wanting to come closer, to pull her down to you, hell, you would climb her like a tree if you had to.

Feeling courageous, you stuck your tongue out and ran the tip upward over her lips. Abby instantly reacted, opening her mouth for you and greeting your tongue with hers. She tasted like wine and cacao, and faintly like thyme. Releasing your hand, she wrapped her arms around your waist. You reached up and buried your hand in her hair. She gasped into your mouth. You tucked that sound away for later, swearing to yourself you would make her do it again as often as you could.

A few seconds of silence between songs were disrupted by your wonderfully frivolous wet kissing sounds and a small whine that escaped you when Abby’s hand wandered lower to cup your ass. The first guitar chords of Nights In White Satin vibrated through the air and Abby grabbed you tightly before lifting you off the ground and wrapping your legs around her hips. She carried you over to the dining table and set you down.

The dramatic crescendo in the song you loved so much began.

And I love you

Yes I love you

Oh, how I love you

The singer’s voice filled every corner of the room, his declaration hovering above you, the high voices of the background singers ringing in your ears and Abby’s hands everywhere, her body leaning over you, her hips pressed between your legs. You flexed your legs to pull her in closer, almost falling apart when Abby let out a low moan and rocked her hips forward against you. Then she suddenly slowed down and broke the kiss.

“Wait, let’s talk for a second.”

You kept your legs clamped around her, but relaxed back a little, brushing back a strand of hair from her forehead and giving her an encouraging nod to go ahead.

“I haven’t… I’m not that experienced with - with women. And generally. And I don’t want to rush things and do something wrong and lose you. I don’t really know how this works and I want to do it right.”

Her hands on your waist tightened slightly. You gave her a shy smile.

“Me neither. I’m scared, too.” You surprised yourself with your openness. “How about we take this slow, then? Talk about everything openly? And just go one step at a time?”

Abby nodded and pulled you closer again.

Holding Back The Years began playing.

“One kiss at a time.” She gave you a gentle peck on the lips.

“Oh, really? I would have never picked you as the sappy type,” you laughed against her lips.

“You wouldn’t?” She acted shocked. “Let me remind you of how I took the day off to cook a gourmet french dish for you.”

“True.” You shrugged and pulled her in for another kiss. “It’s probably the muscles. With those guns, you can do anything and still be taken seriously.”

Abby snorted and you realized that had been the wine talking. For a second, you were mortified, then she scooped you up again, holding your body with one arm as she ran her free hand through your hair.

“Oh, those? You know, they’re specifically for carrying you around all day. Anything for my - princess.” You had very well noticed the little pause there, but you decided not to say anything yet. Instead, you lifted your chin and eyebrows, imitating what you thought a royal would look like.

“Well, what does that make you? You’re obviously not a prince. My lady knight?”

Abby nodded solemnly.

“Sworn to protect and defend you. And to carry you wherever.”

“Well, do you have a sofa you could carry me to?” You tightened your hold on her shoulders and leaned in closer again.

“Of course, my lady.”

Abby carried you through a doorway at the back of the dining room into a cozy living room, equipped with a large sofa and a gigantic flatscreen tv, two vintage armchairs, a wooden bookshelf with at least 100 books, and a desk facing the window, medical books spread across the surface. The blonde sat down on the sofa and you knelt left and right of her hips, straddling her as you gave her another soft kiss.

“You know,” you began, “I’ve been crushing on you for months now. I thought you had absolutely no interest in me. I didn’t even know you liked women.”

Abby’s eyes widened at your confession.

“Shit, I had no idea. You weren’t exactly forward, you know. The first time we met, you already had this pull on me. But you were so shy and I didn’t want to jump you or annoy you, so I tried to keep my distance and wait if you would come around.”

“You have Leah to thank for that. Me coming around. I kind of forgot to come out to her until karaoke night and she told me you were dating women as well. She knows I’ve been a hopeless case when it comes to you, but she wanted me to figure this out on my own.”

Abby thought about this for a second.

“Yeah, Leah probably only told you because she knew I liked you, too. I haven’t been that open about dating women in the past, just because talking about dating in general was weird with Owen and Mel around and I also just don’t like everyone knowing my personal business.”

“I get that.” You nodded. “As I said, I hadn’t even been out to Leah. Mostly because I haven’t dated anyone in forever and the last time was a disaster not worth talking about.” You winced at the memory.

“You wanna tell me anyway?”

You thought about it for a second, then you climbed off Abby’s lap and laid down on the sofa, resting your head on her thigh. Her fingers immediately began brushing through your hair and massaging your scalp.

“Well, I met this girl during a freshman party at a sorority house the weekend before my first semester in college,” you began. You had felt weirdly out of place, but were determined to speak to at least one person. A few hours and an almost-lethal amount of tequila later, the girl you had talked to all night had dragged you into one of the bedrooms. You both had no previous experience, were extremely drunk and it was already 5am. You had fun making out and were both eager to try more, but it had been more out of curiosity than desire for each other and so the experience had not ended in the expected bliss of lesbian sex. Rather, she had come pretty quickly and afterward she'd begun crying and told you she had a boyfriend, and you had gotten dressed and fled the house. After that, dating in college was not really something you thought about much.

Abby listened to your story with interest and sympathy, laughing at a few parts and stroking your hair as you told her about the end of that fateful night. She felt deeply sorry for your experience of strangeness and betrayal, immediately promising to you that she would always tell you what was going on inside her head and what she wanted.

“Like you just did,” you smiled at her. “That was brave. It’s what I should have done that night.”

“I mean, I had a few weird moments, too, before I learned to speak my mind.” Abby’s gaze unfocused and she frowned as she clearly recalled some not very pleasant memories.

“Wanna tell me, too?” you asked, keeping your voice light. She nodded, looking down at you again.

“I mean, there's Owen, obviously. That didn’t work out well and now he is with Mel, leaving me wondering if he was interested in her while we were still together. After we broke up, Nora and I went on a little bender.” Your heart jumped into your throat. Did Abby and Nora...? A wave of jealousy rose from the bottom of your stomach, but you forced yourself to keep your calm, smiling at Abby as she continued.

“We spent every weekend at a different bar, and one of them was actually at The Closet. Nora was making out with a woman in actual overalls” - she snorted - “and I just hung out at the bar, drinking Long Islands and not brave enough to make eye contact with anyone. And then the bartender started talking to me.”

Suddenly realization dawned on you. You sat up and stared at Abby.

“Wait, Ellie? The short-haired one?”

Abby grimaced.

“Yeah. We talked for a while and I came back the next week with Leah and Jordan. They didn’t even notice I was spending a lot of time at the bar. Ellie and I met for coffee a few days later and I mentioned my dad and she got really quiet and strange. Turns out, she’s related to the guy that murdered my dad, so...”

You were pretty sure your heart stopped for a moment, all the air in your chest building up pressure as you tried to figure out how to breathe out. Abby noticed and gently guided you to lay back down, continuing to weave her fingers into your hair.

“It’s okay, Y/N. I’ll tell you the whole story another time. So yeah, Ellie and I. It was horrible, but we still stayed and talked for a while. She couldn’t tell me a lot about what happened, but she had no idea that I even existed and she was about to have a panic attack over it all. I helped her calm down and then she felt terrible for reacting so badly when it should be me panicking and I just told her that there’s nothing any of us can do now and we should probably leave it at that.” She sighed. “I hadn’t been to The Closet until a few days ago. I only came because I knew you’d be there.”

“Fuck, that’s terrible,” you mumbled. “I don’t think I could have gone back there. I’m still glad you did, though.”

“Me too,” Abby said, her voice gentle and honest. She leaned down to kiss you, deeply and passionately.

You stayed on the sofa for the next few hours, talking about school crushes and gay awakenings, about women constantly hitting on Abby and her being confused for a long time. She told you more about her relationship with Mel and you started to actually resent that woman. Who did she think she was? You told Abby about living with Leah and about your current research projects and she listened intently, asking a lot of questions about the art you were analyzing. You began diving into queer art and Sappho and your theory on the different languages of different social groups. Abby actually gave you some great new ideas and some good questions you couldn’t yet answer and you were actually beginning to look forward to writing tomorrow.

As the clock moved past midnight, it became clear you would have to leave at some point soon. Abby had to get up at 7 in the morning for a 10-hour shift, and you had stifled one too many yawns. You were cuddled up on the couch, kisses interchanging with long, deep conversations and more kisses.

“I can accompany you to the station,” Abby suggested as you looked up the departure times on your phone.

“You don’t have to. That’s sweet of you, but I’ll find the way.” You kissed her for her generosity, but she pulled back.

“Honestly. I don’t want you walking alone. I’ll go with you.” A sheepish smile appeared on her face and she did a tiny bow. “My lady.”

You rolled your eyes and got up, making your way to the entrance hall. Abby gently helped you into your coat and put on a black bomber jacket, a strange but hot combination with her fancy pants. She opened the door for you and you stepped out into the cold night together.

You held hands on the way to the station, stopping at every corner to make out, laughing together, and making plans for your lasagna night. You would come over on Thursday, promising to yourself you would finish all your coursework until then. Manny would come back on Friday, so you’d have the house to yourself again.

You arrived at the station way too soon, but your train was announced to arrive in two minutes. Heavy-hearted, you flung your arms around the tall blonde and she wrapped hers around your waist, lifting you up for another deep kiss.

“I can’t wait to see you again,” she whispered against your lips.

“I’ll even dress up next time,” you mumbled and she grinned at you.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything but jeans and a t-shirt. I’m excited.” Well, now you had to go shopping. Leah would be delighted to go with you.

You pressed a last kiss to Abby’s lips before unwrapping yourself from her arms as the train rolled into the station. As you stepped away, she caught your hand and pulled you back for another one, cheekily running her tongue over your bottom lip. You sighed and kissed her hand, wrapped firmly around yours, before stepping back and boarding the train. You waved at her through the window as you departed and watched her stand on the platform until she was out of sight.

Letting yourself fall into one of the seats, you pulled out your phone and texted your brother.

-We kissed!!!! Call me when you can

Then you texted Leah about shopping tomorrow, just able to send the text before your phone vibrated with a new message.

-You looked beautiful tonight. I’m the luckiest person in the world.

You tried to keep your squeal as quiet as possible. A woman a few seats ahead of you briefly looked up from her phone.

-Can’t believe I have a personal knight who will carry me wherever I want to go

The reply came in seconds.

-Anywhere and anything you want. Text me when you’re home!

-Can I text you before I’m home? I miss you already :(

You had to wait a few minutes before your phone vibrated again. This time, Abby was calling.

“Sorry, I was cleaning up and getting ready for bed.” She sounded a bit breathless.

“No worries,” you said. “What are you wearing for bed?”

Abby let out a surprised laugh.

“Really, now?”

“I’m serious. I want to imagine being with you.”

“Well, I’m wearing a gigantic black t-shirt with a ton of holes and boxers.”

You closed your eyes, envisioning Abby’s thighs straining against the hem of her shorts and the soft cotton of her shirt that you could bury your face in. She would smell like nature and like home somewhere far away.

“I wish I was there.” You noticed you were sounding desperate. Fucking hell, were you about to turn into a 13-year-old? You could hear the smile in Abby’s voice when she spoke.

“I wish you were here with me, too.” She paused for a moment. Then, “Do you want to sleep over on Thursday?”

“Uhm -” you had to think for a second, remembering you only had dinner plans for Friday with your mom. Before you could answer, Abby cut in again

“Fuck, am I rushing you? I didn’t mean - I just thought it would be nice, falling asleep together. But I totally get if that’s -”

“Abby! Of course I want to stay over!” You clenched your free hand into a fist, punching your thigh a few times in order to divert the explosion of energy inside your chest.

“Oh, thank god,” Abby’s shaky laugh was heart-wrenching. “I thought I messed up already.”

You stood up to exit at your station.

“No, not at all. I’d love to fall asleep with you.”

The way to your apartment was over faster than you wanted it to be.

“I’m home now. I think I should hang up, Leah is probably sleeping.”

“Yeah, don’t wake the monster.” Abby chuckled.

“Good night, Abby. Tonight was incredible.”

“Good night, Y/N. You’re incredible. Sleep tight.”

Author's note: Thank you so much for your comments and kudos! If you'd like to support me, you can buy me a coffee here

#abby anderson #abby tlou #abby tlou2 #the last of us 2 #tlou abby #abigail anderson #abby fic #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson fanfiction #ellie #ellie tlou #leah tlou #jordan tlou #owen moore #owen x mel #mel tlou #owen tlou #abby x reader #abby anderson x reader

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prurientpuddlejumper · 4 years

Text

Out Tonight (Part 3)

<- Part 2 | Part 4 ->

Summary: The morning after your drunken karaoke hookup with Rafael Barba

Rafael Barba x female reader

Warnings: Mature content (no smut), very dubious consent due to alcohol, SVU-typical topics discussed

1,850 words

The light was what woke him up. Even behind his eyelids, the light was a gnawing pain that irritated him out of what had been an extremely heavy sleep. When he at last gave in to the inevitability of consciousness and opened his sluggish lids, the light seared into his retinas and stabbed him like a dagger through the optic nerve, making him hiss and pull the covers over his head.

In short, Rafael Barba awoke with a splitting hangover.

Groaning and shielding his eyes from the blaze with a palm cupped to his forehead, he peeked out of the covers and swiveled his head around. He was lying in a bed that was not his bed, in a room that was not his room. Based on the narrow size of it, the big screen TV at the center, and generic art on the walls, it was clearly a hotel room. The sun shone angrily in through the window, reflecting harshly off the windows of adjacent skyscrapers.

Something heavy and warm moved in the bed next to him, and made a low noise. At that moment, he realized there was an arm draped around his waist. His head throbbed painfully as his heart sped up.

You opened your eyes with a yawn, stretching your arms above your head, then propped yourself up on your elbow with a drowsy smile. “Morning, Rafael.”

He blinked at you, eyes wide and unbelievably pale green in the daylight, with his pupils contracted to dots. “Hello,” he greeted with bewilderment and impending panic that he haphazardly stuffed down inside a well-trained disguise of professional courtesy, though several of its seams were ripping already, only two syllables in.

“Last night was… something,” you murmured, eyes squinted into narrow slits. You were calm and pleasant, but there was a trace of hesitation in your voice, like you were nervous, or hiding something. It was enough to arouse his suspicions. You knew what was happening. You knew his name and weren’t surprised to find him in your bed, or yourself in this room.

“Where am I?” he said sternly, words short and clipped. “Who the hell are you?”

Your eyes opened wide at that, then scrunched closed again with a pained grunt that brought your hand to your face. You opened them again slowly, gradually adjusting to the light, and squinting at him in confusion you rasped, “What?!”

He was convinced of it now. He’d seen enough cases like this, taken enough witness testimony, to understand exactly what had happened to him. “You drugged me,” he growled. “You think you can get away with drugging an A.D.A.? Was this for some kind of… of blackmail?”

“Drugged you? What the fuck?” Your eyes filled up with confusion, hurt, and fear. You scrambled away toward the headboard, wincing. “Are you saying you don’t remember anything? No,” you shook your head, laughing nervously, “This… this is one of those weird pickup artist games so you don’t have to call me, right?” But there was no recognition in his eyes, only a cold, impersonal glare. Your hands flew to your mouth.

His resolution that you were some sort of predator faltered as he watched you panic, and you seemed so small and frail, and scared. It made no sense that he would wake up with no memory of last night, though. Rafael Barba was always in complete control of himself. He did not drink to excess—he rarely even got drunk—and he would never have gone home with a stranger.

As he collected the fragments of his thoughts, however, he began to shape a different story. The splitting headache and fuzziness in his mind was familiar—he recognized it from sophomore year at Harvard, and a party with the legacies who shared last names with wings of the library where he had been peer-pressured into drinking so much he blacked out. He ended up being blamed for the whole thing, while his wealthy “friends” didn’t get so much as a stern lecture. That day, he learned a valuable lesson about never letting his guard down. But a dim memory came back from the night before—he remembered being devastated by the result of a trial. He remembered nothing had been going right. And he remembered drinking.

If he was that drunk… if he couldn’t remember what he did…

He was stuck to the inside of his pants with dry semen. You had pulled away so that you were no longer under the blankets, and his chest constricted when he saw your shirt and bra torn open, and angry bruises and bite marks covering your neck all the way down to your breasts. Your face was drained of color, and you stared at him with terror when you spotted the direction of his gaze, swiftly closing your blouse. “Oh god,” he croaked. He had seen images just like this hundreds of time, submitted into evidence. He had heard this story a hundred times, too: a normally harmless man gets drunk and assaults someone, then later feigns innocence because he couldn’t remember the crime. Barba had put away men like that, with never an ounce of pity for their excuses. It wasn’t you. He felt nauseous. Blood pounded in his ears.

“What did I do?” His throat was so dry. He swallowed hard, and swallowed again, but the horrible dryness remained. “Oh god, what did I… Did I do anything inappropriate? Are you hurt? Oh god.” He blinked, glancing around the room to anchor himself to his surroundings. Big hotel flat-screen. Bathroom door. Tiny office desk with his Brioni suit jacket folded over it sloppily. He didn’t remember taking it off. “OK,” he breathed. “I need to establish a timeline. We need to determine if any… if any crimes were… Oh god.” He scrubbed his face with his palm and left his hand clamped over his mouth. He sexually assaulted someone and his life was over. He was one of the monsters he put away.

“What the fuck is happening?” you half-whispered, the corners of your lips pulling taut into a grimace as your hungover mind spun to catch up with the emotional whiplash of the last sixty seconds.

His eyes were glassy with unspilled tears, but he tried to smile comfortingly, like he might to a hesitant witness in a trial. “Look, I’m a lawyer. I… I know the detectives in the Special Victims Unit,” he said. You shot back a skeptical glance, and he realized that probably sounded like a veiled threat. “I can give you Sargent Benson’s number. They won’t go easy on me if you press charges, trust me. I’m sure some of them would be happy to handcuff me for how difficult I make their lives. Obviously, I’ll plead guilty to any charges, but first we need to convince the grand jury to indict...”

Your face had worked through several stages of confusion, cringing, and brow-raising, and finally your brow pinched together and your grimace broke into the dark, guilty grin of someone laughing at something that was probably too serious to laugh at.

“Rafael, you really...” you covered your eyes and shook your head, “You are really obsessed with proving you’re a rapist; I think your job is doing something to your brain. Maybe you need a vacation.”

His mind had been working a mile a minute to uncover the crime that would explain the mystery of his distressing circumstances, first accusing you, and then himself of being the perpetrator. But, he had been told more than once that he could be high-strung at times. Maybe there was no crime, legally speaking. At least, he was relieved he hadn’t done something awful. It was still unclear who you were, and why you felt comfortable taking advantage of someone who was severely impaired by alcohol. There was something else… something just out of reach in the smoky nebula of his memory.

“What do you know about my job?” he asked, eyes narrowed.

“You told me about it last night!” You sighed heavily, and scooted closer to him. “Tranquilo, Rafael. Cálmate.” You gently pressed his shoulders as you searched his eyes. He flinched away from your touch, and you frowned. “You really don’t remember me? Jesus, you were drunker than I thought. It’s a good thing we didn’t fuck.”

“We didn’t?”

“No. You wanted to, but I told you you were too drunk!” You poked his chest in a playful I-told-you-so way, but when he returned only a strained glare, your hand dropped sheepishly to your side.

He was puzzled and disturbed. Most strangers mistook him for a gringuito, but you just told him to calm down in Spanish. You had obviously spoken at length. But he couldn’t remember. And there was something about you he couldn’t put his finger on, something that felt important. It probably wasn’t. Whenever he forgot something he meant to say, it grated at his brain for the longest time, and when he finally remembered, it was always something like, “I prefer Cheez Doodles over Cheetos.”

There was something in the way you were looking at him, almost mournfully that stirred up a lost feeling. He wondered what he had said to you last night—what kind of reckless flirt drunk-Barba had been to leave you so heartbroken this morning. He would have felt guiltier, but his head was being squeezed in a lead vice, and he was in no mood to tolerate fools. Maybe you hadn’t intended it, but you had taken advantage of a moment of weakness, and he was done with the whole sordid incident.

“I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that…” He winced as he stood up from the bed, his underwear yanking on the pubic hair glued to it with dried cum.

“Please, stay and use the shower,” you offered, but it was more like a plea.

“Well, I certainly can’t go out like this,” he snipped. His shirt was wrinkled, and his slacks ruined, with the embarrassing pièce de résistance of the crispy, stiff area at his crotch which could not escape anyone’s notice. He could only imagine what his hair was doing.

Your eyes followed him as he bustled around the small room wearing a sour expression, checking the closet for, and gratefully finding, an ironing board. They kept following him until he closed the bathroom door behind him, and he was left alone with your helpless eyes still hanging in front of him in his imagination, and the strange way they made him feel. He had a million questions for you, but he was certain he did not want the answers.

It’s not as if this story could have had a happy ending, anyway. He was an A.D.A. with a career in the public eye, and this was already bordering on a scandal. Drunken hookups with party girls at bars never ended well. It was better to just forget.

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Tags: @beccabarba @caked-crusader @itsjustmyfantasyroom @thatesqcrush @dianilaws @permanentlydizzy @eclecticreader2020

#Rafael Barba #Rafael Barba x Reader #Raúl Esparza #law and order svu #Barba x female reader #my writing #I am very certain the last 2 tags did not work...#they're accounts that only ever like posts & don't have any reblogs so I wonder if tumblr like... disapproves??

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icedcappujaeno · 5 years

Text

twist | lty

➩ pairing: gamer/barista taeyong & reader ➩ genre: (extreme dosage of) fluff ➩ words: 5k ➩ warnings: too much fluff. handle uwus with care.

a/n: OH LOOK. ICEDCAPPUJAENO’S POSTING A FIC AGAIN?! I thought it was a meme blog--!! Hell yes I am! Supposedly this fic was going to be posted last Christmas (I gave you my heart-?) but we had to go out-of-town to celebrate the holidays, thus no proofread and all but voila! I present to you, my gift to everyone on this site who’s been with me all throughout 2019! I know I haven’t been the best in posting my works now and then but please don’t blame me, I got the job that I wanted so it kept me busy and I’m a person that would prefer career over hobbies most of the time. But yes, anyway, enough being sappy, thank you so much for everything and please look forward to more works in the upcoming year!

It's never too late for a really big plot twist for you and player rubbiesyong.

Christmas — the season of joy, the season were everyone would momentarily forget conflicts and be giving, the season to be jolly.

Everyone in the dorms already left to come home for the holidays, but not you. Not with the burden of a thesis, the expensive amount of plane tickets, the hassle of being stuck in a crowd in airports — you decided to stay in your dorm, alone, yet maybe, this was another experience you’ve yet to face.

However, it wasn’t as joyful and breathtaking as you thought.

Being scooped up in the dorm was most likely the most boring experience you had—and the motivation to complete your thesis chapters was downright zero. The weather isn’t cooperating as well: the low degrees and negatives making you wrap yourself in a blanket and stay under its warm covers, along with some Netflix.

But at some point, you got tired of watching.

Four days into the holiday season the app was already boring you. Thus, you mindlessly searched for games - the hobbies you once enjoyed when you were younger. Any genre was fine, although there was a magnet between you and MMORPGs. Searching for one, and alas - a free to play with good reviews appeared, downloading the installer not a minute after.

As soon as you installed the game into your laptop, the dialogue box said it would take around 5 hours. With that, for the first time that day, you looked at the time - 3 minutes past 2 o’clock. A low growl came from your stomach, it was no surprise as you’ve only been eating chips and coffee since you woke up. With a stretch, you rose from the bed, trying to beat the lazy syndrome that’s gotten to you.

You hissed as your feet pressed flat to the cold floors. To be honest, you don’t want to leave the bed, however, your back already started to feel some pain from lying all day. You got up, trotted your way to the bathroom and washed. Once done, you fished the coat, gloves, and scarf, and bag from behind the door, leaving your laptop open while the game installs.

The cafe bell that hung loosely on the glass door rang as Taeyong entered, the warm breeze brought by the heater comforting his near numb senses from the cold wind outside. Even with the low temperature, Taeyong decided to open the shop even he thinks that the customers won’t come to this kind of weather. It was a tough decision from him, especially the part where he decides to get up from bed, an addition would be texts from his baristas that they’ll pass work for today.

But the cafe work attracted him like a magnet, even if he was up staying up all night playing a game. Nevertheless, if he did reach half the quota for today, he’d close up, snuggle into the warmth of his blanket once again, lost in the virtual reality his game would bring.

Time passed quickly in the cafe, and when Taeyong looked up the wall clock, it was almost past 2, and while he didn’t reach half the quota of the day, Taeyong decided it was time to close up. Looking outside, it seemed like the weather isn’t clearing up any time soon. A grunt escaped from his lips as he stretched, his back and butt aching from almost sitting all day.

As he was about to reach for his cleaning tools, the bell rang, signaling an entrance of a customer. A smile automatically waved through his lips, a manner he got out of habit.

“Hello, welcome to our shop.”

The walk to the nearest cafe was tedious: the icy path made it quite hard to balance and the chill breeze hitting your cheeks wasn’t helping at all. Your lips are chapped brought by the cold wind, thus making you hiss as you enter the warmth of the shop.

Though the heat from the cafe was comforting, the slit you made from trying to remove the skin from your chapped lips stung. You didn’t even hear the barista greet you—going straight to the counter without even minding the polite gesture from the staff.

“Caramel macchiato, and a slice of banana bread.”

“Are you okay? Your lip is bleeding.”

You touched your lip in reflex, for a moment your eyes widened at the sight of red within your fingertips. You were about to fish for the handkerchief from your pocket, but when nothing came to your senses, you bite your lip—hissing as you made the wound even worse, tasting the irony substance within your palate.

He hands you a tissue, and to be honest, you almost forgot about the barista in front of you. You looked up to thank him, noticing his sharp features—his brows were thick and manly, the shape of his jaw carved in an almost perfect sculpture. Although skinny, he looked so menacing, but when he showed you the softest smile you’ve ever seen—the intimidating aura blew away. His eyes started to grow a little bigger in your vision, pursed lips as he tried to suppress the laughter coming.

“So, it’s a caramel macchiato, and a slice of banana bread, correct?”

He chuckled, a low vibrato heartily coming from his as he punched your order in. He asked for your name and you answered rather immediately. And if you weren’t embarrassed enough after the scenario, your stomach growled once again, and the urge to run away to avoid further shame from the cute guy was spiking.

“Is banana bread enough?” He asked, very amused with the situation.

“Yeah. It is.”

He hummed, telling you to take a seat as he prepares your order. You did as told, sitting on the closest chair next to the counter. You watch him work behind—and you have to admit that encountering a cute barista like him, in winter, was a scenario you’d only imagine in dramas and fiction, it was surreal. The fact that someone this good looking exist was beyond your comprehension.

Needless to say, you developed this tiny, tiny, bitsy crush on this guy.

You turned to look around the shop: you ordered here before but most of the time, you ordered your coffee to go before going to the university. With the rush, you never noticed the cozy atmosphere that lingers on its surroundings—an LP player on the side, a touch of antiquity that brings some unique features for the shop. It emits a calming aura that reminds you of home.

It seemed like you found a new place to stay.

“Caramel macchiato, and a plate of carbonara with garlic bread on the side,” you hear the barista say that broke your reverie, along with the clink of the utensils when it collided with the glass table. The pasta’s smell was inviting, but pretty sure that you only brought enough money for a slice of bread and a cup of coffee.

Incredulously, you declined his offer, polite enough to let a smile pass your lips. “I didn’t order it…”

“Taeyong,” he finishes your sentence, although it was not what you had in mind. “It’s on the house.”

You gulped, looking at him foolishly for a moment, then pushed the plate away while standing up to only get the warm coffee cup. “I’m not that hungry…”

As if on cue, your stomach growled once more.

You groaned, face flushing from another embarrassment brought by your involuntary body actions. Taeyong laughed this time, not just a giggle, rather a hearty one that made his eyes crinkle in delight, showing the molars and fangs that made him look like a lion cub.

“Eat up. You need it.”

He said as he gently pushed you back to your seat with your shoulders. “I’d be disappointed if you’d decline my offer.”

With the aroma of the food in front of you and the request of the cute barista-slash-waiter of this cafe, you submitted. Whole-heartedly. Taeyong never left your side as you took the first bite, and when you hummed in satisfaction of how great it tasted, a smile plastered on his lips.

“This is good Taeyong!”

He shrugged, and you feel smug in his aura as he did the action.

“Expected. Now, finish that up so I can close up.”

You didn’t need any reminder. There was nothing on your plate as you finished the food.

Your stay at the cafe took longer than expected. The initial plan was to order take out and stay at home, watch some Netflix again as you wait for the game to download. But once you took a peek at your laptop, the game was done and ready to play.

Once you pressed the button, a young woman, elegant and pristine in her frilly dress, welcome you to the virtual world. She was all smiles when she made the entrance cue, and let you decide the class you want to main. You spent a few minutes in the tutorials and customization, and when you feel your neck ache from numbness and eyes strained, you stopped, satisfied with the character on the screen.

The first quests were easy—making you lose track of the time. Not with how your character seemed to be enjoying to slay the demons and monsters in the game, time passed by so quickly that it was past dinner when you glanced at the clock. You stretched your arms, forcing yourself to get up to get dinner, starting by boiling water in the kettle pot to make instant ramen.

Thirteenth day on your vacation.

Character? Leveled up. Accessories included an armor that boosted defense. The headdress that increases magic. The staff that was initially without power now holds ice magic.

Thesis? Still on the same page.

You sighed. This wasn’t part of the holiday plan. Initially, you were going to finish your paper after Christmas, have it revised and to be submitted before the new term starts. But here you are, sitting on your study table, but no word applications opened, nor any site with related literature. Instead, the whole screen was engulfed in bright colors, your character (fully armed, by the way) smiled at you while she stands while you’re on AFK.

When you glance at the time, it was fifteen minutes past five. You called in for pizza, and after the beep, there was contemplating between your thoughts: should I finish at least ten pages of my paper, or wait until my order arrives and start doing work after eating?

You sighed. The former was a better option (in terms of productivity), to say the least. At least you’re starting.

But as you were about to log out, a bubble appeared on the side of the screen.

Hey.

The bubble flashed, signaling a personal message.

It was from player rubbiesyong . That dude who helped you during a difficult mission; as you presumed—but turns out you got lost with a fork and went to the high-ranking road instead. Player rubbiesyong slew all the enemies, and even though you are trying your best to keep him alive by healing, it seemed like you were only there for the cheer and tickles.

Heya ruby!

You typed back, a nickname you gave to him as calling him with his full username was kind of a hassle.

You up for a short quest? I need a hand with some as well as my daily.

Oh shit.

You bit your lip. The offer was tempting, but since rubbiesyong messaged, the decision was changed into the latter: doing your paper after eating pizza for dinner. However, with the circumstances—truly, it was stressing. The temptation is there, and deep in your heart and mind you wanted to keep playing but the obligations and guilt of finishing your work were making your heart heavy.

As you were typing your reply, you see a notification that says rubbiesyong is in-game. His character spawned next to yours, all in his glorious armor.

Sorry...gotta do some work first...maybe next time?

You don’t see his reply for a while, and while you were waiting, the doorbell rang. It was the pizza delivery guy, and once the food was paid, you slide your laptop away from a little to the side to have space for your food. When you thought everything was set, you sat back down, feeling the warmth of the chair against your bottoms once more. Ruby replied to your message.

Damn. But that’s okay. I understand.

It’s only virtual, you thought, but you can’t help but feel guilty with a slight pang of the chest. Although you’ve only known this person for days, it was as if you knew each other for a long time. Even though you’re only doing quests in the virtual world, with how he helped you leveled up and gave tips soften your emotions.

There is a living person behind rubbiesyong , and although you know how dangerous it is to trust someone you met online, talking to him was comfortable. You already considered him as a friend.

I guess I’ll see you later then.

You sighed and bite your lip. Your anxiety levels were rising as you stared longer at his reply. No emoji? He’s disappointed. Before munching on pizza, you replied to his short farewell.

If I get this done I’ll come ASAP hehe. Wait for meee!! With the emphasis on the triple ‘e’. Somehow, there was guilt in your chest, mainly because of leaving a friend, and partly because you want to play badly.

Alright ^_^

He replied, and this time with an emoji that lessened your worry. A smile crept to your lips, anticipation with finishing your work for you to set yourself into the virtual world.

Brb!! Enjooooooy and see ya later! :)

It was half-past eight when you glance to your desk clock, the pizza box now empty along with the 2 mugs of coffee you made for yourself. You managed to finish what you ought to do, thankfully, but not leaving a sore back and strained eyes from staring at the computer screen for a very long time, with only trips to the restroom as breaks. You cleaned your mess but not before taking a sip of water.

When you returned to your desk, a sigh escaped your lips. Ruby is probably offline by now. Who would wait for long hours for a stranger? He’s probably resting by now, in his bed, maybe with warm cocoa…

You would be lying to yourself if you didn’t imagine how Ruby would look like, but for sure he’s a guy as you asked in the early stages of your meeting to make sure the pronouns you’ll use are spot on. The assumption was there, ranging from good to bad, however, it isn’t bad to dream that he’s quite the good-looking fella, right? It was inevitable as his character looked so clean and fresh, so you’d imagine he’d look the same—but as they say, don��t keep your hopes up. You try to keep it away from mind.

You logged in-game, and to no surprise, player rubbiesyong is offline.

Although it was expected, the notification brought you a heavy heart. Playing with Ruby is always exciting, but what can you do? The banters were always fun, most especially when you two role-play with each other’s role. The priestess, who met a swordsman on the way, bickering as they do adventures together. It was in this virtual world that you can feel genuine happiness somehow, that is why you look forward to every game with him.

With a heavy heart, you go on with your daily quest alone.

Two days later, you found yourself sitting in the cafe where you encountered Taeyong, but the barista was different for today. Frankly, you were hoping for Taeyong—somehow he made you feel comfortable, a feeling that would equate like home. Although you only met him once, the atmosphere he radiated was warm like the confines of your room, but for the most part, you kinda feel guilty for the pasta he gave you as you’re not the type to owe favors, so you’re to return the favor.

Not only that, for today, the agenda was to finish at least chapter three and prepare a presentation for your upcoming defense. The game was left untouched for the time being as you were trying to make up for the lost time you spent playing games. You were so immersed in your paper that you didn’t notice Taeyong coming in, although not dressed for work. He immediately noticed your slouched figure and the cup of coffee beside your laptop, so dangerously close that a little, leaning mistake would spill over your desk.

A hand pushed your coffee cup away from your laptop, and you were about to spare a glare but you see Taeyong’s toothy grin. He was dressed casually: you noticed how odd the mix in his fashion taste but it fits him either way.

“Good morning, Ms. Caramel macchiato,” the grin never leaving his lips. “I see you’re working hard even on the holidays.”

Baffled by his use of nicknames, you chuckled. “I am, good sir. I see it’s your off today.”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugged, then took his coat off his shoulders as the warmth of the cafe started to seep into the fabric of his clothing. “Mind if I join you?”

“I would be lying if I said no, because I badly need to finish my agenda for today and you distracting me isn’t a great idea.”

Taeyong momentarily stopped as you were speaking. He looked at you quite a few seconds after you talked, then blinked almost comically. He never expected for you to blurt out like that, but then, when he glanced at the screen of your laptop, it was quite understandable as to why you’re acting as such. His eyes started to roam around to find a vacant seat, or he could always hang out in the staff office.

“Oh, Uhm, sorry. I’ll just take another-”

“But a company is great,” he heard you say, and when he glanced back at you, you were sipping your coffee, eyes glued to the computer screen. You then looked at his back with a raised brow. “You didn’t let me finish.”

What a strange fellow, indeed. Taeyong thought and was about to retort back when his co-worker behind the counter called him. He excused himself, telling you that he’ll be back in a minute. Honestly, you could care less, but the kick of the caffeine was needing you to move your lips, hence the disappointment was washing your features. You hid it with a smile though and sent him off, going back to the paper you’re working on.

And true to his word, Taeyong did come back, two cups of steaming drink in his hand. He placed them on the table, pushing one to your side. It was chamomile tea.

“Yours.”

“It’s not in the house, is it?”

“It is,” he chuckled, sitting on the seat opposite of yours. The scent from the tea was inviting, although you’re not much of a tea person. Taeyong seemed to notice this and pointed towards the cup. “It will help you relax.”

“Biscuits, as ordered,” you hear the barista say as he carefully placed the tray of assorted biscuits on your table. Taeyong thanked the guy, and while you were so focused on the cute animal-shaped biscuits, you failed to notice the smirk growing on the barista’s lips. He gave Taeyong a quick nudge to which he shooed him off quietly, making the barista leave but without suppressing a peal of silent laughter.

“You’re paying for this, Taeyong. I don’t have enough allowance anymore.”

“I am,” he laughed, and the way his lips widely stretch that showed his pearly whites and the eyes crinkling reminded you of a baby fox. You can’t help but laugh along as it was contagious, and never have you felt comfortable in the presence of another person in a long time.

“Sorry, I know I’m distracting you. So I’ll just sit down and behave quietly while you work.”

“No, it’s fine,” stretching your arms was almost as relaxing as you were slouched for hours now. “I need someone to keep me sane. The words are already jumbling-look,” you turned your laptop screen to him. “The grammar is everywhere, all I can see are red lines.”

He laughed, once again, and to be honest, every time he does, you were becoming more and more infatuated. “Alright, I’m Taeyong and here to keep you sane.”

You giggled. People like these are genuinely rare these days. Your instinct also seemed to like him, as normally you’d be avoiding these situations as much as possible. But, for the one who gave you free pasta when you were starving and now, free tea and biscuits? How can you be so wary of such a guy?

“If you don’t mind me asking,” he started, and your gaze shifted to him as he trailed off his question. You nodded as you took a sip of the now-warm chamomile tea, urging for him to continue his query. “What do you do?”

You put the cup down and tell about yourself. That you are a full-time graduate student and working as a part-time assistant professor at the university. In your field, although there are holidays, your principal investigator will roast you if you haven’t done anything over the holidays- where is the data? Have you thought of another problem already? - cute phrases that your principal investigator will ask you. He seemed to be so interested that a question led to another, and that when you glanced at the clock of your screen, two hours had already passed and nightfall was about to come as it was getting dark outside.

“Ah, shit. Sorry, I took most of your time.”

Taeyong said, and his tone sounded so concerned and genuinely apologetic. You shake your head with a smile, putting back your laptop inside your bag and taking one last of the biscuit on the table.

“It’s really fine, Taeyong! I enjoyed it as well, plus, I told you I needed a break. That’s exactly what I needed,” you chuckled. “So thank you.”

“Sure, always here to help,” he mirrored your reaction as a light chuckle escaped from his. “Anyway, is it okay if I asked your number? I mean, you don’t need to, just, you know, if you need someone to talk to-”

You laughed at how he stuttered, lightly hitting his shoulder with how stupidly cute he looked. Of course, who would miss an opportunity to get a number of a cute guy? Not you. So you asked for his phone and vice versa, both of you satisfied with your goodbyes as your numbers were saved directly in your contacts.

You also never missed the opportunity to hit the button favorite upon his contact details.

Going to the cafe became a habit, and time passes so quickly that you didn’t notice that it was the 24th of December already: the sign on the cafe door the only thing that reminded you of the day.

You sighed. And you were even looking forward to the coffee, pastries, and Taeyong’s company. His presence and the coffee he brought seemed to boost your efficacy—you finished your due papers in time, and today was going to be a break, but with the locked door and closed blinds, the plan was ruined. Along the way home, you ordered a small cake for yourself, and a bottle of red wine for later’s celebration.

Going home was the only option, and when you’re back at the comforts of your duvet, you opened your laptop, log on to the virtual world. The usual, with a smile, your character greeted you. At the very least, you’re happy. Maybe in another world, but it’s all good.

You started clicking on the quests on the side of the screen. Spending the Christmas online sounded lonely, but celebrating it alone outside—just the thought of it makes you shudder for it was freezing, and walking nor eating along on the eve of Christmas will earn you pitiful stares. You stood up and boiled water to make hot cocoa, a perfect drink to accompany your online adventures. And who said it was lonely? The lobby was full of online players publicly chatting and greeting everyone a Merry Christmas! , and of course, although alone but with the spirit, you greeted them back as well.

The first quest was not so bad, it was only delivering some goods to one NPC to another. The second one wasn’t so bad either—slaying low levels monsters in the forest nearby. However, the third quest, unbelievably, was consuming your time. The former only took around 30 minutes each, but an hour has passed and you’re still stuck: escort this NPC to the palace without him dying from bandits along the way.

rubbiesyong is now online.

The notification never failed to catch your attention, and genuinely surprised. There was an assumption that Ruby is the type to spend Christmas with his loved one: may it be family or friends—there was an aura behind his character that radiates. You haven’t been online for days finishing your paper, and how badly you want to greet him a Merry Christmas, but wouldn’t it be awkward? The thought crossed your mind, but another notification bubble popped on the side of your screen.

rubbiesyong: Merry Christmas!

A smile crept on your lips, anxiety decreasing as you replied a Merry Christmas! back.

rubbiesyong: Haven’t seen you for days, busy?

You replied with a yes. You wanted to tell him everything that happened in the past few days, though you know it isn’t an obligation, and you were too lazy to type.

rubbiesyong: I see.

rubbiesyong: mind if I join you? Bored to death lmao

A sigh of relief came through, and there were no options as you desperately want to finish this never-ending quest you’re stuck on (which you weren’t supposed to be, you are just a noob).

Not a minute later, Ruby joined your group, his character stood side of yours. You explained the quest you’re currently doing, and it seemed like he was typing something so long that the group chat was continuously showing rubbiesyong is typing… notification.

rubbiesyong: can we voice chat instead? It’s too long to type haha

Voice chat.

Honestly, it was a thing you avoid as there is an underlying feeling of insecurity—you weren’t very confident with your voice over the line. Another is the anxiety of struggling with your words—a very common occurrence every time you’re on the line. However, as you agree with Ruby with the feeling of laziness, plus his tips will probably lead you better on finishing your quest.

rubbiesyong entered the voice chat.

You turned on the voice chat as you put your earphones on. You waited for him to speak first, but since he was not saying anything, you were about to open your mouth as you hear a masculine voice over.

“Hello?”

Oddly familiar, you thought, but you shrugged the idea off. Maybe all guys sounded familiar over the line? You weren’t sure, but it wasn’t of priority. You whispered a subtle hello back and you hear him laugh, a deep baritone resonating on the line.

“I guess it’s connected,” there goes the laugh again, and you can’t help but imitate the action.

“Cute voice,” Ruby commented that halted your laugh. You were thankful that he couldn’t see your face as you were sure that you’re flushing with the sudden compliment.

“Whatever,” an attempt to change the topic, you asked him what to do and of course, you told him where you’re stuck on. He guided you throughout as expected—the quest being chicken with Ruby at your party. He guarded your back as you escort the NPC to the designation, and although he took a few hits here and there, Ruby slew the bandits that resulted in success.

“Ah, finally!” You stretched your arms when the screen flashed glitter gold letters of completed! for the quest. You hear Ruby laughed and there were sounds of clapping in the background.

“Congrats.”

You chuckled, taking a sip of the water beside you that you got while on a short break. “Couldn’t have done it without you, Ruby!”

“Calling me Ruby in type-chat is okay but it feels weird hearing it to be honest,” he chuckled.

“I kinda feel the same when you call me with mine, but it’s fine? I’m not sure how to feel, to be honest.”

“But you know, you sound familiar, I swear I heard your voice before.”

“You know what? I thought of that too!” Unbelievably, you feel like you’re closer to this stranger as well—not only because you met for a while now, but his voice just sounded so amicable. “What are the chances, right?!”

“Yeah,” you hear him pause and breathe, and when you feel like the silence is getting awkward, you initiated another conversation by asking him:

“Why are you online this very Christmas eve?”

“Got nothing better to do,” he sighed, and you thought he drank from something as an exhale from his lips rang over the line. “Don’t have work today since it’s Christmas, and plane tickets are hella expensive. I miss my sister and mom though, especially my dog.”

Hearing him talk about family made you think of your own, and the feeling of homesickness hit you like a deer-in-headlights. You sighed and rested your head comfortably on the pillow in front of you. “Yeah, same.”

“What about you?”

You told him your reasons—that you were a graduate student finishing a paper for your defense on the upcoming semester, and the tickets for the same reason. Although he chuckled, it was cut short as he asked:

“By chance, do you ever stop by a cafe to do your work?”

“Yeah, I do,” you quipped slowly, eyebrow-raising from the sudden question from him.

“Sorry if this is personal, is your name (Y/N) by chance?”

You feel your heart race faster than normal, how did this stranger know your name? No words were forming in your confused and tangled thoughts, and the only thing that came to mind was to disconnect, but Ruby beat you to it by saying:

“Shit, sorry, that was weird huh?” You hear him sigh and he continued. “But like, in this cafe where I work, there’s this person who always comes in stressed—clearly, and you know, cute and all, we’ve become close you know? I have this tiny—hell, I have this crush and I even thought it was you.”

Did he just tell what happened to your daily life the past few days?

“They’re cool when they’re doing their stuff you know? Ah—I’m rambling. Sorry,” he chuckled apologetically, and even over the line you hear the sincerity in his tone.

“No, no, it’s fine!” You bit your lip, a habit you got when you feel your anxiety reaching roof high. “Uhm, is your real name Taeyong, by any chance?”

What plot twist it is when you hear a pause—followed by a rather loud vocal of your name. In a questioning tone.

“Seriously?!”

“Lee Taeyong!?”

Another minute passed with exchanges as such, tossing your real names back and forth. It was the biggest plot twist of the year, you thought, as from what he said not too long ago was a subtle confession, isn’t it? That he had this crush on you?

Because you feel butterflies in your stomach as you feel the same way for him. The smile that grew fondly on you, his strong features that soften with every conversation, no matter how silly the topic is. You remember the first time you met, embarrassment was all around your facade, but his presence and soothing existence were enough to radiate a calming and comforting persona that you got infatuated with.

This has to be a joke, isn’t it?

Maybe he’s a hacker—stalker, who knows all about Taeyong and since they do know about Taeyong, they know about you as well? Maybe they’re using some sort of voice changer to make it sound like him. It’s a threat to National Security! It’s some overthinking, but—

“It’s me, you idiot! I can hear you overthinking!” You hear a roaring laugh on the line, and it sounded genuine that he’s having fun.

“Yeah? If it’s you what was the thing I ordered in your cafe when we first met?”

“Caramel macchiato. A slice of banana bread. That was your order,” with an emphasis on the word your. “Then I gave you a plate of carbonara, with garlic bread, all made with love.”

You feel the blood rushing to your cheeks.

“You’re not being discreet about it, Taeyong.”

“Well, I kinda confessed anyway. Not in the way I planned, but—“

“No need to worry about that,” you chuckled, burrowing your head to the pillow you’re propping on to muffle your next words.

“I like you too.”

“Come again? I think the line was choppy.”

You were sure that he still heard it, and that he was only teasing you, but with your heart almost bursting out from your ribcage, and the amount of embarrassment and butterflies fluttering in your stomach, you sighed.

“I like you too, you idiot.”

He was clad in a brown coat and scarf that you gave to him as a gift to protect himself from the cold. His hands, however, were inside his coat pockets, fidgeting the heat pack that kept his digits warm.

When he looked at the side, he noticed your shivering figure, hands inside your coat’s pockets as well, and the tip of your nose beet-red from the cold. A smile tugged at his dry, thin lips—though it was cute seeing you like this, he can’t let you catch a cold.

Taeyong moved to your back and wrapped his arms around your waist, his warmth radiating to yours like a heater. You sighed and basked in his comfort, laying your head on his chest as he hugged you from behind.

“Happy New Year, babe.”

He said, looking down to meet your gaze—a galaxy that you considered home. His presence that made your cold, lonely holidays warm and colorful unlike what you expected, and additionally, a friend that you could confide in—whether be it in real life or virtually.

And when his lips descended on yours, the colors in the sky long forgotten, you feel safe.

Though not back home, Taeyong was and had to be, the biggest twist of your life.

#lee taeyong fluff #taeyong fluff #lee taeyong drabbles #taeyong imagines #neowritingsnet #nct imagines #nct fanfic #nct fluff #nct taeyong #taeyong x reader #lee taeyong x reader #taeyong drabbles

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eallisnwndrlnd · 4 years

Text

A Year Like No Other

Well this year certainly made quite an impact in history where no matter where one lived in the world, there was no way they were not affected by one if not many surprises 2020 decided throw our way.

I, like many, saw 2020 as a fresh start. A reset button for a new decade.

But alas, 2020 had other plans.

To annihilate all ours.

My plan, after a year of finalizing documents after graduation and marking off moving checklists, was to have us moved back to my hometown of Los Angeles, California.

We delayed the flight to May rather than February due to the sudden eruption of the Taal volcano. We were holed up in our house due to air quality and forced to wear masks to protect ourselves as travel was limited and flights were canceled for weeks.

All the while, knowledge of an unknown virus was already impacting China. We knew it was only a matter of time before it would reach us and the rest of the world. Little did we know how much wreckage Covid19 would leave in its wake as it traveled to every country and wreaked havoc across the world. It disturbed our normal lives. The way we lived daily was forever changed. Some more than others as people lost jobs, homes, family and friends to this pandemic.

As Covid19 barely rose to the forefront of a world crisis, my mother and I were packing for our move back stateside by May. I was aware of the seriousness of the virus in January as Taiwan and other Asian countries prepared for a possible repeat of the the last SARs outbreak. As the travel limits that stemmed from Taal died away and the alert level was lowered, we retained our mask wearing as we moved about metro Manila and back to Batangas.

Eventually Philippines began to see its first cases of Covid19 in February. The number of cases slowly increased but not quite as widespread as how it tore through my home country, the U.S. I watched the news, frustrated, horrified and embarrassed at how poorly my country decided to handle the virus.

By March 15, the Philippines was in full lockdown under level ECQ which stood for Enhanced Community Quarantine. Many strict guidelines went into place to mitigate the growing cases and death toll. Travel bans and limits were given for domestic and foreign travel. Travel within provinces and cities were limited to essential workers only. Transportation was completely shuttered from tricycles, jeepneys, buses, ferries, trains, etc, making commute for essential workers a daily nightmare. Nonessential businesses, schools and churches were forced to shut down for the time being. The only businesses allowed to continue were government offices at limited capacity, grocery stores and pharmacies, as well as wet markets but also limited capacity. Only those between the ages of 21 to 61 were allowed to leave their house. (This led to having a very cranky mother for over two months straight)

To enter any place of business people were expected to wear a face mask at all times. A guideline that difficult for some in the beginning only due to a shortage of face masks that stemmed from the Taal eruption and when the Philippines initially sent their supply to China in the beginning of the pandemic. About a few weeks later the masks were expected to be worn as soon as one left their house with a hefty fine of P5,000 ($100) if caught without one or a punishment of 6 months in prison. At entrances every person was checked for their temperature. As cases climbed and hospitals were heavily burdened, the guidelines became stricter by enforcing a quarantine pass that was given to each household where only one member of the household that met the age restrictions, was allowed to go out for only essentials. (This role of course went to me) For about two months we were assigned only one day out of the week we were allowed to go out for shopping for what we needed. (I was assigned Tuesdays.) If anyone was caught without their quarantine pass or going out on a different day they were assigned they risked the same punishment as not wearing a mask. (This meant heavy lifting of groceries and multiple trips in one day whilst walking for 5-13 miles on a given day.) After a while our province along with other provinces met the requirements to downgrade our ECQ to Modified ECQ, then to GCQ (which level we currently are still in since June or July) The quarantine pass was changed to being needed only during the week to not needed at all. (Although I still carry it just in case due to guidelines changing every two weeks or so.) Under GCQ, all businesses were allowed to open but with strict enforcement of guidelines and social distancing with restaurants at 50% capacity. Most businesses and all transportation require wearing full face shields aside from face masks. (This becomes a frustrating addition when my shield starts to fog and I can't freaking see) Schools have remained shuttered and gone remote. Movie theaters have yet to open at least that I'm aware of. Places of worship have opened at very limited capacity but have been shuttered again from time to time. Liquor bans were given during multiple periods of the pandemic.

Eventually our flight was canceled in May. Even if it hadn't been we would have canceled it ourselves since travel between cities and provinces were limited to essential personnel only for around two months and more in other areas. As well as the fact that by that time, U.S. was the most negatively affected with growing cases and deaths with many people becoming difficult tempermental raging toddlers in defying guidelines and refusing to wear a mask. We just did not feel it was safe to go back home any time soon. So here we are still where we were last year with only a non definite plan to move back stateside set in April. I hesitate to say that with any confidence whatsoever.

This year was a year of losses for many. So many of my friends and family have lost someone they knew and were dear to them. My dad's brother, uncle Rick, passed away mid year. I lost my nearly four year old cat, my fur baby, Gandalf "the Grey Whitewalker" only a month ago.

Every time I walk to the backyard to our outhouse, I am constantly reminded of him following me and keeping me company. Every time I look at my window near my bed, I remember him meowing at me to feed him. And every time I look out the front window, I see his little grave marker in our yard. He was my first real pet out of multiple fishes, a hamster, a duck, chickens, a mouse, and a turtle that I had the longest and the only pet I had in my adult years. I didn't realize how hard his loss was going to hit me until it did. The idea of him moving on to furry heaven left me very little to no comfort as I am not a person of faith. I just had to tell myself that it was his time to go and that I was blessed with the time that allowed him to be with me as my furry friend, companion, and confidant who followed my every move and meowed mama (as I taught him) when he wanted something. I will miss Gandalf very much.

With the pandemic holding its place as the suckiest thing to happen this year (...this century), other memorable events happened that held significant importance here and around the world.

Aside from the Taal eruption in January, Philippines was met with natural disasters one after another from multiple earthquakes to an onslaught of disastrous typhoons. Just recently on the morning of Christmas day, my province was hit with a 6.3 magnitude earthquake. Thankfully it didn't cause any damages in our immediate area.

Other disasters hitting other countries and multiple wildfires that took a major toll on my homestate. One fire in particular that threatened the home of my dad, step mom and where my sister was living, drew my attention for weeks. Thankfully them, the house and their area remained safe.

As political issues arose here which created tension and conflict, so did it in the U.S. and other countries.

Since I follow multiple global news media outlets, I was kept abreast of the increasing issues in not only my home country but many others. Some mirroring what was occurring in the states like police brutality, riots, authoritarian tendencies among its leaders.

I awaited with bated breath for the U.S. elections results along with much of the world.

At least for that moment, I, like many others, allowed a heavy sigh of relief when the final result was announced.

One silver lining I could find in an otherwise shity year.

Take all that aside, what else did I manage to accomplish with limited movement, limited funds, and limited access...

My freelance work dried up to nada so I put back my energy to the things I could do.

I studied a bit more of Korean.

Started vlogging again.

Submitted more of my photography into contests which garnered a few live digital exhibitions in a few galleries in different countries.

Began drawing and painting after so many years.

Delved into more current events and became more connected and acquainted with other foreign news outlets that far exceeded the quality of many of my country's national news outlets. (This came from my growing disappointment at how my country's news outlets covered the Taal eruption and the pandemic early on)

Got rid of more of my things and organized what will stay here and what I'm taking with me to the states.

Cooked and baked more and added newly learned menus into my forte.

Found joy and comfort in walking for miles in extremely hot weather.

Kdrama and Cdrama binged watched like never before.

There are of course many more things I didn't accomplish that I would have liked to but either couldn't do or couldn't bring myself to bother to do.

Travel. Cuz pandemic guidelines and pera.

Move. Cuz pandemic, and my home city is doing a piss poor job in dealing with it so we're stuck here where I'm not legally allowed to obtain work until my country and the rest of the world minus a few exceptions (I.e. Taiwan, New Zealand, etc) get their shit together.

Get new job. See above.

Lose weight. Cuz I ate through our pandemic food supply like a starved hippo, baked my fat ass to oblivion, and decided to wait until the possible apocalypse happens before I bother to put any effort into excercise. Cuz if the world's gonna end and the choice is between cookies and ab crunches...I'm gonna choose cookies. And ice cream. And cake. And garlic buttered chicken. Might as well go with a BIG FAT BANG and a smile on my face.

Now 2020 is finally coming to an end.

The world with it. A few hours will tell.

But if 2021 manages to happen in two hours and we're all still alive I'm going into the new year with cautious anticipation.

Do I think that everything will suddenly come up roses once the clock strikes 12?

I'm not delusional.

We're still deeply into a dangerous and deadly pandemic now with a mutated version slowly making its rounds across the globe. Millions are still in hospitals with covid. Millions are jobless. Millions are homeless. Millions have lost that and more.

Sure we have a vaccine but with knowing that less than half the world will have access or being willing participants...it most likely will have little effect on the outcome.

Our politicians and governments are inept, corrupt, greedy, insane, just plain stupid to see any real change any time soon. Significant change takes time and a cohesive willingness to make those changes.

Still awaiting for the inauguration of my country's new president or the fall of its democracy once and for all this coming January. Frankly could go either way the way it's been going over there.

As for me and my plans for 2021.

Try to make the plans I made in 2020 happen.

Again I say this with hesitant confidence that I can make it happen. Frankly life has a way of turning those plans into merely contrived goals on a useless resolution.

I meet this new year with hope but prepared for whatever may come be it good or bad.

There's no use to be anxious about not being able to accomplish a list of goals I may have if life has other plans.

I can just call it detours.

Eventually I know whatever goals I want to accomplish, one way or another depending on my willingness to make it happen even if it doesn't meet a set timeline, I'll get it done.

If it takes me as long as it took me to finally graduate college or longer to check off those goals then so be it as long as I manage to find some little moments of happiness and snippets of accomplishments along the way.

Here's to 2021 being an improvement over the last.

May everyone (minus a few people I think of with detestation) have a Happy, healthy, safe, prosperous New Year.

May the world be allowed to heal.

May this pandemic go away.

May the year 2020 go frak itself.

#new year #new years resolution #life goals #life #goals #2020 #fuck 2020 #2021goals

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thenamesseven · 5 years

Text

Word count: 6.8k

A/N: So! Tamed finally reached its end! I hope you all enjoy this last part as much as the first ones ^^

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“Do I look okay?”

You were standing in front of Shownu’s mirror for the tenth time in five minutes, you had managed to arrive before Jooheon and some of the guys who still had some stuff to do before going out for dinner and decided to accept Shownu’s and I.M’s help to choose your outfit. All the guys knew what was going on between their boss and you thanks to Minhyuk’s big mouth but since the night you two spent together and the feelings shared that night, it was like you didn’t care anymore about what their opinion could possibly be. Actually, all of them were happy when they found out Jooheon and you had been hooking up since apparently, it was starting to be incredibly difficult to stand the sexual tension between the both of you.

It seemed like everyone had been aware of the mutual attraction between you but you and Jooheon had been too busy dissing each other to notice something.

“Didn’t Jooheon told you to wear something more...Conservative?” I.M. asked with a frown on his face, his eyes going up and down on your figure.

You looked at yourself on the mirror once again, watching attentively how the red, short dress you were wearing hugged the curves of your body perfectly. The cleavage wasn’t too big but it was pronounced enough to attract the right amount of attention. The main course of tonight wasn’t the dress but what was underneath, after a really long hour spent in the Victoria’s Secret shop you had found the perfect set of lingerie. You still didn’t know Jooheon’s likes very well but since he had never complaint about the underwear you wore in your past encounters you had a slight idea of what he would like.

“I mean” Shownu cleared his throat, joining the conversation as he quickly moved his eyes away from you and back to his phone screen “It is not that you don’t look good in it, it’s just Jooheon will definitely try to murder us if we even glance your way”

“Uh?” Turning around you glanced at the two males just to see them nod, giving emphasis to Shownu’s statement “He wouldn’t do that”

“Alright maybe not murder us but I do not want to get punch if I get caught accidentally looking down at your cleavage” I.M admitted making you chuckle

“Then don’t look” You replied smirking

He rolled his eyes “You know telling a kid not to do something makes them want to do it even more, right?” Shownu asked playfully, teasing I.M.

"Yeah whatever, I bet Jooheon will be punching you before me, you're struggling to keep your eyes on her face" I.M mumbled, laying back down on his bed

"Shownu!" You exclaimed, feeling slightly fluttered

"I am not blind okay!? You can't blame me!"

"What's the fuss about in here?"

The three of you turned around at the sound of Minhyuk's curious voice just to find him poking his head into the room to check what was going on. At the sight of you, the male smirked, knowing exactly why I.M and Shownu had been arguing before he got there.

"You look absolutely stunning" He stated meeting your eyes, even when the smirk on his face was mischievous, you knew his words were honest and you couldn't help but blush a little at the compliment

"Are you sure this isn't a little bit too much?" You asked, looking down at the dress you had chosen to wear an hour ago

"Didn't you just hear what I said?" Minhyuk crossed his arms on his chest, noticing you were struggling to accept his compliment. He poked his head back out of the room for a second "Jooheon! Come here for a second, please!"

At the sound of his name your eyes widened, your breath got stuck in the back of your throat and your heart started beating incredibly fast. In an attempt to calm yourself down, your hands started playing with the hem of your dress looking like a fidgety teenage girl on her first date. You felt ridiculous, he was only Jooheon, the guy that had seen you naked not once but twice, then why were you almost having a heart attack?

"What? I have to get ready for-"

Jooheon stopped walking on his tracks as soon as his eyes landed on you. Minhyuk, who had been holding the door wide opened, bit his lower lip trying not to burst out in pure laughter at the sight of his boss. On the other hand Jooheon stood there, most of his body frozen while his eyes wandered down your figure in a painfully slow way, taking in as much as possible without being a total creep.

He cleared his throat, snapping himself out of his own thoughts "(Y/N), I didn't know you were here"

"I was too bored at home alone so I came and chilled with this two" You shrugged, already feeling yourself submitting under his passionate yet powerful gaze.

Still you had different plans in mind for tonight though. You weren't going to play the role of daddy's little good girl tonight, you were willing to make Jooheon suffer as much as he did the night you two had sex for the first time. You wanted to hear him beg, to hear him stating he was yours over and over again.

"Mhm" He hummed acknowledging your response as he started undoing the first buttons of his shirt "Why don't you help me out choosing my outfit for tonight?"

You scoffed, arching one of your eyebrows at him "What am I? Your servant?"

It wasn't the first time you challenged Jooheon's authority with the guys around but it was the first time you weren't being so submissive around him after your previous sexual encounters which caught Jooheon totally off guard. He opened his mouth to say something, eyes glued to the small smirk that was pulling your pink lips up while a surprised, quiet chuckle escaped from the back of his throat.

"Tsk tsk tsk" Jooheon quickly recovered from his surprised state and raised his chin, cockily staring at you "Do you really think I would hire somebody as useless as you?" Somebody would get offended by his words but you definitely wouldn't, this was a game for power, for dominance between the two of you that you didn't want to lose this time "(Y/N)" He stepped forward, the confident smile on his face making the butterflies in your stomach fly around crazily "The only reason I would hire you as my servant would be to see you on your knees in front of me...Whenever I want"

If you wanted to play, Jooheon would play too and he was not planning to let you win.

--------------------------------------------------

When you got to the restaurant, things hadn’t got any better. When the eight of you sat at the private in zone the restaurant since the company had reserved for all of you, Minhyuk had attempted to pulled you down onto the seat next to his but Jooheon, with his scary yet bossy glare, managed to steal you away from your friend. Feeling slightly nervous you didn’t have any option left other than sitting besides him, the bad thing was that Jooheon seemed to be in a mood as playful as yours and that incremented your chances of losing your wicked game tonight.

Dinner started out nice. What in the outside seemed to be a meeting of some of the most dangerous yet skilled people in the city actually was a group of silly friends dressed up in suits that ate as if there was no tomorrow. Surprisingly, Jooheon always made sure there was food on your plate before the guys cleaned all the food out. It wouldn’t be the first time you had gone out with some of them to get food, you were part of their group and were extremely close to most of them but now, with Jooheon by your side being an absolute gentleman to you and both of you taking your jokes in a funny yet teasing way instead of an offensive one, it felt different. It was almost as if you finally were part of their little made up family.

No matter how cheesy it sounded it felt like you belonged there with them.

All good things end though and by the time dessert reached your table Jooheon’s hand had found its way to one of your naked knees. At first you were surprised by the sudden contact but when his hand stood still there, you relaxed under his warm touch. Your focus was soon moved to the chocolate cake that was placed in front of you, you were a person who prefered sweet things over salty food so dessert was always your favorite part of a meal.

Seeing your eyes glinting with excitement just at the sight of a chocolate cake made Jooheon smiled sweetly, you looked like a kid who had been given a bag of candies, it was obvious that you had been looking forward for dessert all this time. “Here” Jooheon said quietly to not attract the other guys’ attention, pushing his plate towards you “I ate too much and won’t be able to eat all of this”

You glanced at him surprised at his words, his hand gently squeezing your knee. That was clearly a sign for you to not question his intentions but were you obeying him tonight? Not too much “Mhm? Let me eat mine first and then we can share yours” You proposed shrugging softly “Jooheon, you have to try this cake is so delicious, I would never let you miss out on this” Even though you hadn’t accepted his offer like he had expected you to Jooheon had found your words quite amusing. He liked this side of yours, the one that didn’t feel like punching him in the guts.

“Fine but we’ll get a lot of teasing for sharing food” He muttered leaning back against his chair, his thumb tracing small circles on your skin.

“Do I look like a care about teasing?” You asked cockily, scoffing a little before you slipped the spoon full of delicious chocolate inside your mouth.

The moment was played in slow motion for Jooheon, you hadn’t intended to tease him by doing so, it was such a cliche move that you would have thought Jooheon wouldn’t fall for it but surprisingly he did. Jooheon’s eyes were glued to the way your lips wrapped around the metal spoon, how your cheeks were sucked in when you sucked the remainings of chocolate around it. The way you closed your eyes delighted by the sweet taste and the barely audible moan that exited the back of your throat...Would he sound like a creep if he admitted getting a boner just by seeing that?

When you noticed him quietly shifting on his seat you bit your lower lip attempting to hide the small smile that was threatening to pull up the corners of your lips “Everything alright, Jooheon?”

“Why don’t you check out yourself?” You knew what he was talking about, the fact that you had made him hard while his closest friends were sitting around you two made your insides burn in soft arousal.

“No thanks, let me enjoy my dessert” You replied without sparing him another glance

Jooheon smirked at your words, discreetly leaning forward so he would get closer to you “Babygirl” He was looking down at his cake so nobody, not even Minhyuk who had been watching the two of you curiously for most of the night, could guess he was talking to you “The dessert I have in my pants is way better and you know it”

Right in that moment the tip of his fingers caressed the lingerie you were wearing underneath the dress making your breath get caught in your throat. Jooheon smirked, knowing he was finally getting to you and knowing that, if you had chosen to wear lingerie it was because you had known the both of you would end up tangled in your sheets by the end of the night. Nothing would be wrong if he warmed you up a little bit in the restaurant’s bathroom right?

“Excuse yourself to the bathroom, I’ll be there in two minutes” He whispered at you, glancing your way with a smirk on his face that made your heart stop beating.

“No, they’ll notice” You mumbled shaking your head, refusing his tempting proposition "I won't hear the end of their teasing"

"Didn't you say you didn't care about teasing?" He pressed his finger harder against your clit, making you bite your lower lip as you stared at the remainings of your chocolate cake "It will be fast, nobody will notice"

You knew he wouldn't stop insisting until you finally gave in so you tried to make him stop wanting to get with you in a bathroom "I'll do it if you let me be in charge when we get home"

Jooheon was a pretty dominant person, you knew that very well thanks to the two times he had fucked you so it was pretty unlikely that he would accept your idea. In fact you were 99.99% sure he would call you crazy or something like that for proposing such things.

But then he opened his mouth and his words hit you as hard as a truck "Sure thing, I'm always up to try new things"

The way he smiled at you told you that he knew you thought he wouldn't accept your offer "I was kidding" You quickly muttered, looking away from him

"Me too, I'm the boss when we get into the bedroom and you know that" He chuckled darkly, in such a manly yet confident way that you couldn't help the chill that ran down your spine "But my suggestion wasn't a joke so if I were you I would already be on my way to the bathroom"

"And why is that?"

"Do you think you could handle a fingering session here with everybody around us? Minhyuk will notice soon that my hand has been under the table for way too long"

You stood up from your chair so fast that everybody's attention was suddenly on you. Jooheon looked up at you, feigning surprise and confusion like everybody else in the table. By the corner of your eye, you saw him tensing up, trying to hold back his laugh.

"Be right back, I have to go to the bathroom" You muttered clearing your throat, turning around and walking away as soon as you could.

Your heart was pounding against your chest, you couldn't believe Jooheon had managed to turn things around and be on control of everything once again but still, a little adventure in the bathroom was way better than being fingered with the guys around. Both thoughts turned you on but the risk of being caught was too high and you didn't want to make things awkward tonight, that's why you chose the bathroom.

When you locked yourself inside you couldn't help but let out a breath you didn't know you had been holding until you had closed the door. You walked over to the mirror and quickly yet nervously checked your appearance, running your fingers through your hair. You didn't know which excuse Jooheon would use to join you but if he got caught, you would definitely kill him. This would be your first time having sex in a public place and you couldn't help but feel slightly tense and nervous about the whole thing.

What if somebody came? What if somebody caught you? What if you got kicked out of the restaurant?

Those questions stopped worrying you as soon as the door opened and Jooheon walked inside, locking the door behind himself so nobody else could join you there. He had a small smile on his lips when his eyes landed on you, Jooheon knew you were nervous and he definitely loved the feeling of you relaxing with his touch, of you trusting him blindly and being a naughty girl in places you shouldn't.

Oh he loved it so much.

"Come here kitten" He said looking into your eyes.

Feeling a sudden yet unexpected rush of confidence you leaned back against the sink with a smile on your lips as you shook your head “Nu-uh” You said looking into his eyes, watching the playful smirk he had “You come here”

“Alright, if that’s what you want”

Jooheon wanted you too much to keep wasting time, he had got out with the excuse of having to take a really important phone call but it wouldn’t be too long until the guys put two and two together and realized what the two of you were doing. Once he was standing in front of you, he grabbed you by your hips and pulled your body closer to his, pressing your breasts against his chest.

“You’ve behaved so bad tonight, kitten” He whispered, lips hovering over yours, teasing with the promise of a kiss “This dress, you flirting with other members...Don’t you think I need a little reward for putting up with your bratty behaviour?”

“I thought you wanted to come back to my apartment tonight” You muttered playing with his tie, brushing your lips against his

“Oh I will” Jooheon chuckled, pressing his lips in a brief kiss against the spot behind your ear “I’m just going to stand here and let you suck me off for standing you tonight, alright?”

Fuck, you couldn’t be wetter at this point. You wanted to keep challenging him, you wanted to be a bad girl tonight but as soon as Jooheon had placed his hands on your body all of that was screwed up. The way he handled you and the confidence yet cockiness he got knowing you would end up obeying him turned you on so freaking much that there was starting to appear a small swamp in your panties.

“Yes” You answered looking up into his eyes.

Jooheon spanked you gently, a horny groan escaping the back of your throat “Yes what, babygirl?”

“Yes sir” You muttered getting down on your knees in front of him

“We don’t have much time though, so you better work quick” He warned, looking down at his watch.

You took his belt off as fast as you could, your hands quickly undoing the button of his jeans and pulling down the zipper before pushing his pants and underwear to the floor, you moaned when Jooheon’s boner almost hit your face from how hard it was. Biting your lower lip and looking up at him, you wrapped one of your cold hands around his length pumping it slowly, attentively watching the reactions he made with every single stroke. No matter how hard he wanted to look, Jooheon was unable to resist you and as soon as he looked down and watched how the tip of your tongue teased his sensitive skin he felt himself losing it. He leaned back against the sink, gripping the edge for support in case his legs became too weak to stand his own weight.

“(Y/N), don’t fucking tease” He hissed closing his eyes, the muscles of his body getting tense with pleasure “If you don’t finish me up in five minutes I won’t let you orgasm tonight”

Those were the exact words he needed to say to get you going, not teasing but still moving slowly, you pulled his length into his mouth and started sucking his cock the same way you had sucked the spoon full of chocolate before. Jooheon moaned, his hand moving up to mess his hair a little as he avoided looking down at you to not cum so fast, in this kind of moments he felt like a teenager getting a blowjob for the first time. You always pushed him over the edge so fast that if he let himself cum as soon as he felt like it, it would totally be embarrassing.

When your tongue came out to lick his skin once again, Jooheon groaned, almost whimpered as he held himself up stronger using the sink. His knuckles were turning white thanks to the strength he was using and a few rolls of sweat were rolling down his forehead.

“Fucking hell babe” He moaned, looking down at you as he bit his lower lip “You look so pretty like this, with my cock inside your mouth” You moaned at his words, causing him to feel the small yet pleasuring vibrations of your voice against it “And you’re so good at it” He moaned again when you sucked harder, lowering your head even more trying to deep throat him.

Willing to give him the release he was seeking you didn’t stop bobbing your head up and down as fast as you could while you tried your best sucking him as hard as you ever had. One of your hands reached up to caress his balls, squeezing them whenever his moans got too loud thanks to the pleasure you were making him feel.

“(Y/N)” Jooheon’s body became incredibly rigid, his eyes closed as he tried concentrating enough to hold himself back until he could pull out of your mouth. He didn’t know if you were okay with him cumming inside your mouth and Jooheon didn’t want to make you feel bad or awkward. “W-wait, hold on” He muttered, his fingers tangling in your hair as he attempted to stop the movements your head was making.

You knew he wanted you to stop but since you weren’t listening to most of his requests that night you kept moving, sucking and licking pushing Jooheon over the edge and towards his orgasm after a few minutes. He moaned so loud that if there was somebody waiting to get in the bathroom they would definitely get an idea of what was going on thanks to him. A string of swearing words got out of his mouth as he stared down at you, holding himself up for a few more seconds until he was sure he had regained his whole strength and could finally stand by himself.

You waited until he stopped filling your mouth with his warm yet sticky cum, making sure Jooheon was watching when you had swallowed every single drop of it. “Fuck...You’re going to be the death of me kitten” Jooheon whispered, running his fingers through your hair as he watched you lick the remainings of his cum that were still on his cock.

“Mhm, I’m glad you enjoyed it” You replied smiling like an idiot, standing up with his help, quietly hissing when your sore knees were stretched

Without saying anything, Jooheon grabbed the back of your head and pulled you into a passionate yet deep kiss, his tongue explored the inside of your mouth probably being able of tasting himself in it.

When you moaned against his lips, Jooheon unconsciously pulled his hips closer against yours making himself moan too “I loved it” He whispered against your lips, smiling as he cupped your cheeks “We should get out of here, have a couple of drinks with the guys and head to your apartment already...I can’t wait to get between your legs tonight” His words made you blush, a reaction that made him smirk “Don’t get all shy on me now kitten, that will only turn me on even more” Jooheon pecked your lips one last time and gently patted your butt before he moved away from you “Fix your hair and make up a little bit so we don’t get caught, I’ll get out first and say you’re just talking with a friend or something so they don’t suspect anything”

“Alright” You nodded smiling, starting to turn towards the mirror to watch yourself right before Jooheon pulled you back into another kiss making the both of you chuckle.

However the moment was broken when some unexpected yet scary words escaped his lips, it had been almost automatic, his lips acting without his brain's permission “Love you”

With a scared and slightly panicked look on his face, Jooheon quickly turned away and exited the bathroom before you could even process the confession he had just made.

--------------------------------------------------

By the time you were back to the table you were still as shocked as before, not having completely processed what Jooheon had told you a few minutes ago. When your eyes landed on him as you sat down on your chair Jooheon didn’t even glanced your way and by the rigid posture he was in while sitting you knew he was tense as fuck.

You could feel the guys’ eyes going from you to him, knowing there was something going on between the two of you by the look of your faces but thankfully none of them asked any questions. For the rest of the dinner, the two of you were slightly quiet, not joining the conversation that was going on unless it was strictly necessary which made everybody even more suspicious. Unfortunately, the guys made (kind of force actually) Jooheon to drive you back home and when the two of you got inside the car things got awfully awkward and quiet.

You reached a point where the silence and tense atmosphere became too much for you and you desperately needed to break it which resulted in you saying the first thing that popped into your head “We can act like nothing happened if that’s what you want” By the corner of your eyes you saw his jaw clenching, his hands gripping the steering wheel extremely tightly “But talk to me Jooheon, fucking say something because this shitty atmosphere is driving me nuts”

Jooheon shook his head, stopping at a red light. “That’s not what I want to happen” He said making you frown, confusing you even more

“Then why are you acting as if I had just kicked your guts?” You asked stressed, wrapping your arms around yourself as you looked through the window

“Because” He simply stated, gripping the steering wheel even tighter

“Because…?”

“Because I fucking want to (Y/N)!”

He hadn’t intended to sound so harsh, in fact, Jooheon hadn’t realized how frustrated he sounded until he shouted at you. It wasn’t the first time you saw Jooheon being mad, in fact, you’ve seen him shouting at people like this a bunch of times but he had never been like this with you and your first reaction, the automatic one, was flinching and moving as far away as you could from him. Jooheon felt as if his heart had been squeezed, as if somebody had stabbed him when he saw how scared you got of him in just a second. It wasn’t fair for you to be shouted like this when he wasn’t talking about what was going through his mind.

Rubbing his face with both of his hands Jooheon leaned back against his seat, swearing under his breath “Look” He let out a really deep sigh keeping his eyes on the car that had stopped across yours “This is the first time I'm going to talk about this kind of things so you better understand everything I say because I’m not willing to repeat this whole mental speech I was planning while I was driving” You quietly nodded, relaxing when he seemed to be much calmer “What I said wasn’t a lie, I don’t know when or how it happened but I realized I had fallen for you a long time ago” His confession stopped your heart while his was already pounding against his chest “This little game we have between us, all that teasing and all those arguments made me addicted to you” He smiled softly “There wasn’t a single day I hadn’t tried to get on your nerves but it was just so funny and cute seeing you get so worked up, you are the only person I can be like that with...You're not scared of me like everybody else” Jooheon turned his head to look at you “I was and still am scared of what I am feeling because this is my first time” He sighed frustrated, running his fingers through his hair “But I definitely didn’t want to make that kind of confession in a dirty bathroom after you had sucked me off (Y/N), fuck” Jooheon mumbled frustrated “Even an amateur like me knows that’s kind of shitty and extremely fucked up”

He got quiet while his eyes scanned your face for any signs or clues of whatever feelings and thoughts were going through your brain and heart but you were so incredibly shocked that nothing exited your lips, your mind was totally blank and your heart, that had been frozen through his whole confession, was now beating incredibly fast.

Thinking he had scared you even more Jooheon turned his gaze back to the road and started driving when the light turned green “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything”

A few moments of silence passed before you decided to break it once again “Jooheon stop the car” You suddenly said, making him glance at you extremely confused but when he didn’t obey you, you repeated your words once again “Stop the car, Jooheon!”

“Fine! Geeze woman!” Jooheon stopped the car on the side of the road, sighing as he turned to look at you “What’s wrong? You want to go home by yourself because I am not letting you do-”

You cut his nervous rambling, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him closer to you until your lips clashed together “It’s okay” You whispered against his lips, kissing him over and over again as you repeated the same words

Jooheon shook his head, returning each kiss you gave him “It is not and I understand if you hate me for ruining such a precious moment”

“Jooheon I don’t mind” You muttered, using your thumbs to caress his cheeks gently “You could have confessed in the shittiest place in this world and it would have made me happy” You rested your forehead against his, looking into his eyes quietly “The place didn’t matter to me, your words were what mattered the most for me”

"But the bathroom-"

"Shut up!" You groaned frustrated but smiling "I love you too, even when you confessed in a bathroom after I gave you the best blowjob ever, you idiot"

"You love me?" He asked dumbfounded

"Mhm, do I?" You asked smirking

"Say it again" You shook your head giggling, biting your lower lip "Damnit (Y/N), say it again"

"Make me"

"Oh, you shouldn't have said that baby girl. You'll be screaming it by the end of the night"

--------------------------------------------------

By the time the two of you stumbled into your apartment, none of you knew where your body began and ended, you were so close to each other that it was difficult to see what was Jooheon's body and what was yours.

Giggles, sweet kisses and smiles echoed through the empty apartment as you made your way inside. Clothes were thrown everywhere, leaving a trail that ended by the living room table on which Jooheon sat you down before getting on his knees to place his head between your legs.

He approached it slowly. First, his fingers tested how wet you were, surprising him when he saw you were damp at this point. Then, absolutely quiet, Jooheon started leaving small kisses on your inner thighs while he sometimes glanced up at you to look into your eyes, to see that adorable blush on your cheeks. You two had done dirtier things together but this time it was different, it felt different.

You ran your fingers through his hair, biting your lower lip when his tongue made contact with your wet entrance for the first time. Gently, you gripped his hair when he started licking and sucking like his life depended on it. The sounds of your moans only fueled the fire inside of him, making his will of leading you towards your first orgasm of the night stronger. A gasp escaped your throat when his tongue slid inside of you at some point, gently wandering and investigating your inner walls making you grip his hair tighter.

Jooheon groaned turned on and you couldn't help but moan in return "Fuck...Jooheon…" You moaned, smiling when he didn't scold you for not referring to him as sir.

"You taste so fucking good baby" He whispered still between your legs, licking before sucking on your sensitive clit "I could eat you out for an entire day and I would still be hungry for more"

He glanced up at you, going back to eating you out before he slid a finger inside of you. Your body slightly tensed at the feeling of the sudden stretch but sooned relaxed when he started moving it, making little waves of pleasure drown your body. Looking down at him, you noticed he had stopped eating you out to watch you, to stare at your pleased face every time his finger moved back into you. Your lips parted willing to say something but another moan came out instead, Jooheon noticed this and smiled, slowing down on his fingering to let you talk but also to tease you.

"What is it princess? Tell me what you want" He whispered, pecking your inner thighs again before a second finger was carefully slid inside of you

"Jooheon" You moaned his name, gripping the edges of the table in pleasure

"Mhm?" He hummed, feeling himself getting harder and harder just with the sight of you

"Come up here and kiss me already" He couldn't help but chuckle at your bossy tone.

Standing up without stopping the movement of his hand, Jooheon leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours, gripping the flesh of your thigh with his free hand.

"You've been so bossy recently" He muttered teasingly, kissing down your neck. Your arms made their way around his body, placing your hands on his naked back "It's hot but you know who's the boss around here right?" He asked licking your skin, making you moan.

"You are" You whispered pleasing him, your nails softly digging on his skin when he started to leave multiple hickeys on you.

"Such a good girl" His praises only turned you on even more, the feeling of his lips getting closer and closer to your nipples started making you dripping wet.

You smiled, nodding and closing your eyes when his lips wrapped around your left nipple. You gasped, holding onto him tightly when he started sucking on it while his hand between your legs started moving faster. Honestly, you reached a point where you stopped monitoring every movement he did and just drowned yourself in the pleasure he was making you feel.

"That's it baby girl" Jooheon whispered smiling, focusing on the sound of your moans as he kept moving his hand faster and faster "Cum for me kitten, let me see you breaking down"

Needless to say, like the good girl you were you reached your orgasm as soon as he told you to. Your body shook in his embrace, your face tensing up in pleasure to his delight as a quiet whimper left your lips before some moans echoed in the living room. Jooheon stood there watching you, burning the beautiful sight of you in his mind as he held you.

"Fuck, have I ever told you how beautiful you are, (Y/N)?" He asked making you shake your head weakly, allowing you to rest your forehead on his shoulder "I'm not done with you yet baby girl, you haven't said the magic words yet" He muttered smirking, wrapping his strong arms around your body.

"You're an idiot" You muttered laughing quietly, quietly kissing his neck

"Yeah but I drive you crazy, don't I?"

He didn't let you reply, Jooheon placed your legs around his waist and picked you up with an easiness that surprised you. Already knowing the way to your bedroom, the male started kissing you as he walked around carefully, avoiding to make the both of you fall down. Jooheon gently kicked opened the door of your bedroom, not even caring to close it since he was too anxious, too focused on getting you on the comfortable bed.

Hovering over you, he buried his face on your neck once again, breathing in your scent before he started rubbing his hard cock against your wet entrance. You could feel the tip teasing your hole, making you tense up with anticipation, making you feel sexually frustrated but also incredibly aroused.

"You want me inside of you, baby?" He asked, looking down at you, biting your lower lip.

"Please" You begged, your hips moving up to meet his.

Then Jooheon did something unexpected. Instead of positioning himself like he usually did, he wrapped his arms around your body, holding you close to him before he rolled on the bed and placed you on top of him. Straddling him, you ran your hands down his chest when your eyes met. You could feel Jooheon's hands going down your body, stopping at your waist.

"I'm all yours tonight, fucking take me kitten"

You didn't need to be told twice. Reaching down, you positioned the tip of his boner against your wet entrance and moved your body down on it, letting it stretch your inner walls. The sight of you throwing your head back to moan, got Jooheon almost cumming, trying to come up with stupid thoughts to not orgasm as soon as he slid inside of you.

The grip of his hands on your waist got stronger, not allowing you to move until he felt like he got everything under control again. As soon as you felt his fingers relaxing on your body, you started moving your hips back and forward making the both of you moan in absolute bliss.

"Fuck (Y/N)" Jooheon groaned huskily, staring up at you as he guided your movements "Just like that baby, do not stop" He moaned, making your inner walls clench.

Without ceasing your movements, you reached down and grabbed his hands, intertwining your fingers as you leaned down, closer to his face. You closed the distance between your lips right when you started bouncing on his cock, moving your body up and down on it making the both of you feel even more pleasure. Jooheon's moans got mixed with yours through the kiss, making your movements faster and more desperate with time.

Seeking both of your orgasms, needing to be closer to you Jooheon sat up with you still on him. His arms embraced your body, holding you against his chest as you bounced on him harder and faster, the sound of your heavy breathings, moans and thrusts breaking the silence of the peaceful house. He buried his face in your neck, muffling the sound of his moans that kept becoming louder and louder the closer he got to his orgasm. You were gripping the hair on the back of his head with one hand, digging your nails on his back with the other.

"So close…" You whispered against his ear, forcing him to move away from your neck so you could rest your forehead against his, listen to his moans and look into his eyes "Jooheon…"

"Come on baby" He whispered against your lips "Let go...With me...Together"

"God I love you so fucking much" You muttered, closing your eyes, missing the way Jooheon looked up at you with eyes full of love and adoration.

Pecking your lips, he held you stronger, knowing his next words would be the end for both of you "I love you too, so god damn much"

The orgasm you felt was so strong that it made your body shake harder than ever. Even though Jooheon had been holding you, his orgasm shook him too, making his hold weaker but still strong enough to keep you against his body. You two were so sensitive that he didn't dare to move to ride out both of your orgasms, Jooheon just sat there with his face against your chest, one of his big hands caressing your back.

It wasn't until your heavy breathings calmed that he finally moved, gently laying you down on the bed next to him, immediately pulling your body closer to his so you were back against his chest.

"You love me, huh?" He asked in his usual, playful way, brushing some of your hair out of your sweaty face.

"I do" You admitted smiling tiredly, cuddling against his body as your eyelids started closing by themselves. "I don't know how it happened...I just feel like that" Yawning, you nuzzled his neck as you quietly drifted to sleep.

"I don't know either" Jooheon whispered, squeezing you gently as he rested his cheek against your head "But I'm so glad it did"

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larstenobar · 4 years

Text

Okay so I mentioned it in the tags but I kinda wanna talk about my experiences with So/uth Pa/rk. I say this as a cis, gay, non-Jewish man. I also say this as someone who used to actually engage with the forums on the main site. I also say this as someone who played. both the two major video game RPGs. So I am speaking not from reaction to other people’s reactions but from my own personal knowledge. This post is incredibly long so it’s under a read more. In it I provide what I believe are the actual effects of South Park on its viewership but I need to stress that I think it’s the wrong energy to blame parents for letting their children watch the show.

Don’t blame the parents, blame the show.

That show is genuinely horrible. I’ve seen a lot of people questioning how anyone could let children watch it - and to that I say you’re not adding anything to the conversation by shaming parents for letting their children watch that show.

My own parents weren’t even out of their twenties when I watched the show, and many other parents grew up with the show as a non-issue. Young parents make mistakes.

At the time it came out and its early years only extremely vigilant parents realized how problematic the show was and the news was hard to spread without social media. At best you could inform your parent friends and hope they listened.

The show’s main characters are children, many parents found/find it hard to believe that a show with children as the main characters could be bad for those children. If the show were exactly the same but the children were college-aged then it would be another raunchy show they could easily see is not meant for their kids.

There’s a good portion of children who watched the show that weren’t actually allowed to watch it because their parents weren’t as tech savvy as them and therefore didn’t know about pirating/streaming until it was mainstream. We who grew up with YouTube knew you could put in [show] episode 1 part 1 and start watching. (this is gonna be another point later btw)

I know that it’s hard for you guys to even know all the reasons it’s problematic because you all barely scratch the surface of it’s problems. But before we even get into the meat of its problems (Science Denial, Homophobia, Transphobia, Ableism, Anti-Semitism, Islamophobia, etc.) we have to look at the very premise of the show.

The main characters begin in fourth grade. Fourth Grade. There’s a phenomena in our culture where we believe that children saying stupid stuff is harmless, and we forget that when children hear children speak - even animated children - they are hearing their peers. And peers learn from each other. This is why the show is so insidious, because it makes it easier for children to digest the messages.

Another thing that’s very important to note is that - while it’s labelled satire, every single joke is played straight, and the straight man character (usually either S or Ky) are ridiculed by the culture they’re surrounded in. Don’t believe me? Think I’m over-exaggerating? Think about the election episode, where they had to pick between a literal piece of shit or a douche. Our Straightmen were constantly saying how ridiculous the situation was, but everyone around them was telling them they were the ones who were stupid for not particpating in the election until they eventually break and submit to the absurdity. This is a light example, but it’s the typical formula. If they aren’t actively participating in the absurdity around them, they’re ridiculed until they break. What this tells the audience isn’t that the people who were particpating were stupid, but that they were right.

Now that we’ve looked at the show premise, let’s get into the details. A note: This is just what I remember from approximately age 5-18, the latter years I’d been turned off from it slowly so I wasn’t as engaged but it was not any better then. Since this is just what I can remember without looking through episodes or looking up articles, this is going to be a small sampling of things that stuck with me. Be assured, there was much, much, much more.

Science Denial and its effects on the viewers.

This is the lightest thing I can recall, and probably going to be the smallest section as it’s mostly centered around their stand-in for global warming, a cryptid figure called M/an/Be/ar/P/ig. Al G/ore was painted as a desperate, raving lunatic for believing in the phenomena, and was even implied to be making it up by having him dress up as the cryptid. I don’t have to explain why this is wrong, but we need to look at the effect this had.

On the one hand it made fans think that Global Warming (as it’s something A.G. believed in) was a hoax. Furthermore, it made them believe that anyone who believed in it was telling lies, which was overwhelmingly the most progressive people. A direct effect of these jokes (which they apologized for but never stopped propagating btw, MBP was still a joke when I stopped watching) was that progressives were seen as over-dramatic and stupid.

Now, I am not saying people watched these shows and immediately thought “oh wow, how fucking stupid of A.G. I don’t believe in climate change anymore.” It’s more like this: “Oh haha, S thinks A.G. is annoying, I like S so I agree, A.G. is annoying. You know, A.G. is kinda annoying with all that global warming, maybe there’s something to him being over-dramatic? Gosh why can’t these progressives see that it’s not that big of a deal. If they trust A.G. then they MUST be blowing other things out of proportion.” That’s the thought processes it trains its viewers to have.

LGBT+ Characters

Okay so there’s actually a lot of things that go into the Homophobia of S/P. And it goes back to the very beginning of the show, and is both explicit and implicit. There is a huge problem with these, but the main problem isn’t so much that they exist, but the show’s attitude towards their own ‘jokes’ and the ways in which fans suck up that thought process.

Before I get into this, there were some things that I need to say in favor of the show - not because I think the show deserve praise, but because there were some things that I latched onto and showed a surprising nuance. There’s like one thing, really but it is, of course, attached to something that’s a much larger issue within the show, so while it is a small glimmer, it’s in no way outshining any of the problems in the show.

For a while, the teacher underwent gender reassignment when he (the teacher currently identifies as male from my last interaction with the show) got breast implants and presumably bottom surgery (I vaguely remember a surgery but honestly that could be an invention) he was in a gay relationship. His then boyfriend had a very heartfelt and difficult conversation about how he still cared about him and how he’ll never hate him for being the woman that he wanted to be, but there was no way that he could pursue a relationship with him. I thought that this was a very mature depiction of a very difficult situation that is never really talked about. However, as I implied earlier, this is attached to a larger issue. Before any of you start having second thoughts about your ideas about S/P’s portrayal of gay and trans people, immediately after getting broken up with the teacher became violently homophobic as a backlash, I vaguely recall a group being formed.

Our main examples of LGBT individuals in the show are these big four (five?):

The afforementioned teacher

The teacher’s boyfriend, who wears leather gear at school and can’t stop talking kink even in front of the child characters

A character called B/ig G/ay A/l who is just as stereotypical as his name implies.

T/weak and C/raig, who are classmates of the focal characters. There’s a lot of reasons this is problematic, none of them being the age of those involved in the relationship - but the portrayal of them is hugely problematic.

Since I’ve already touched on the teacher, we’ll get into them first. When he was introduced, he was a sort of ambiguously gay character who was very bitchy and spoke with a slight lisp that eventually became a canon gay character with his relationship with the Kink Character. He was violently hateful towards his class, verbally abusing them all the time and often particpating in bullying children. Furthermore he’s seen as incompetent. This is problematic not because he’s a gay man doing this (though it’s not great either) but because this taught children that teachers don’t care about them and that they shouldn’t listen to them because they don’t know what they’re talking about anyways. This goes into their anti-intellectual stance mentioned earlier. It enforces the idea that education systems are useless, not because of the institutional problems they have with racism, but because of the incompetence of the system.

Going back to the point of this, still with the same character, let’s further explore the problems they had when the teacher had an arc as a trans woman. Honestly, I didn’t pay much attention to it, but the show made a point to let you know that the other characters were uncomfortable when Mr. G became Ms. G. The most damning thing about this, however, is the fact that Mr. G detransitioned bc he realized he wasn’t a straight woman, just a gay man. I think this is problematic because it frames transitioning as a sexual strategy. I don’t think I have to go into detail on why that’s problematic. And while this isn’t actually a tie into how horrible their handling of this character is, it should be noted that he’s the character that went on to be their T/rump stand-in.

The next character is the Kink Man.

God, the character’s personality isn’t actually all that bad. He’s loving and caring and empathetic and actually usually on the right side of topics, but. He doesn’t separate his kink from his personal life. He’s always strutting around in leather-daddy gear and has a lisp. His name is literally Mr. S/lave. There was an episode where he shoved a hamster in his ass. To viewers, he represents the dirty gays that keep shoving their sex-life down their throats - and this view is never, ever, ever subverted, so since the show never makes fun of people for having that view it reinforces that idea in their minds.

Honestly the least problematic character of the LGBT characters that I mentioned was BGA. He’s still a stereotype, yeah, he has a gay dog and is super flamboyant and constantly talks about how proud he is but honestly that’s not really all that bad. I can’t directly recall anything bad about him except that he’s incredibly flamboyant, speaks with a lisp, and loves to call things he owns “BGA’s Big Gay [noun].” Relatable. That doesn’t mean there was nothing problematic, it just doesn’t immediately come to me.

Now, for the next most problematic “representation” in the show. First, T&C showed no signs of actually being gay before. I do recall them both being my favorite characters before they became a couple, however. T is a coffee addict which has some suspect aspects we’ll get into later, and C used to flip everyone off. This was why they were my favorites. They became gay literally when fangirls started shipping them in the show. I’m sure there was an actual fandom movement, but their getting together was incredibly forced - that was part of the joke btw, that gay shipping is always forced. What’s horrible about this is that this was in an episode about ya/oi.

Now, let’s try to dissect this issue. First off, what this tells viewers is that being gay was not a natural part of who they were, but was an active choice (if you’re being kind) or something society forced on them (if you’re not.) The two were actively fighting with the narrative that they were gay and in a relationship. I think their actual agreement for being boyfriends was more of a mutual public display than an actual relationship, but it’s a fuzzy memory because that whole episode felt like a fever dream.

What’s worse about this, is that the show actually displayed ya/oi depictions of these children within the show. Nothing NSFW, but clearly sexually charged situations were definitely shown. At the time, they were 5th graders. 9/10 year olds for those not in the states. This emboldened actual CT shippers “If the show could do it, then so can I” was the general mentality on the forums I was on. So we can talk on pedophilia to reasons why this show is awful.

And those are just the named recurring characters. Another commonly recurring character is a prostitute with a deep voice who is very sloppy looking that, from my recollection, is implied to be a transwoman. This might have just been a conclusion I drew when I was young however - but even that is reason to be critical of the character, that such a conclusion could even be drawn means it might have played a factor in the character’s inception.

They also “Solved Overpopulation” with a gay orgy. I don’t have the language to define why this sat so wrong with me, but I remember being very deeply hurt by it. I think it has something to do with the idea that homosexuality is a choice and that it should only be accepted because of the potential benefits it has for population control.

Islamophobia and Racism

Okay so I’m just gonna come out the gate by saying that they fought hard to depict the prophet Mohammad. Like, hard. And they did it twice - one time went almost unnoticed but the second had a huge backlash from the Islamic people. For those who aren’t aware, it’s sacrilege to depict Mohammad. It’s like desecrating a church, maybe worse - I really have no frame of reference for how bad it’s viewed, but however bad it is, it still boils down to being a strict taboo that S/P broke not once, but twice.

Now, as I keep reminding, my memory gets hazy for many things, especially things I wasn’t aware of being insensitive early on. I have vague memories of terrorists being depicted in traditional Sikh garb, and similar instances of directly relating Islam with terrorism. I don’t recall the show ever making fun of anyone for relating Muslims with terrorism, for all those fans out there saying they make fun of everyone.

There was an episode where the characters wore blackface. There’s a black character literally named t/oken b/lack. Sure, that could be satire and maybe even be defended if they subverted the trope, however it should be noted he’s not the only black character in the show! There was an episode where there was a child adopted from Africa whose name escapes me - he was emaciated and devoured food at an alarming rate and generally was a nuisance if I remember correctly.

There was an instance where one of the main character’s father was on Wheel of Fortune. The category was people who annoy you. the letters on the board were ‘N_ggers.’ You know where this is going, the father said the N-word. The word was really naggers, but the rest of the episode was a sympathetic journey with him dealing with being ostracized. He became known as an ‘n-word guy’ which was treated as a worse term within the universe. I say this because a law was passed where the phrase was outlawed and they said you had to have a space of at least 5 words between ‘n-word’ and ‘guy’. Also, the n-word was said multiple times by a number of white characters. Now, I know the argument people make about this episode. They say that we were supposed to find the scanario ridiculous, but the issue I take with it is more that we’re led to feel sympathetic to racists who’ve had their lives ruined for being racist. That’s the issue with South Park’s brand of ‘satire’. It satirizes one issue, but doesn’t touch on the problematic things used to support that satire.

Almost every single Mexican character is a stereotype of some sort. Either a laborer who can barely speak English, a gangbanger, or some other stereotype. There was an episode where they had C’s hand become a famous Latina popstar by singing about Mexican Food themed songs, like the actual songs ‘T/aco F/lavored K/isses’ and ‘T/aco B/urrito’. The hand’s name was Jennifer Lopez, I don’t know of these songs are direct parodies bc I’ve only heard Jenny From the Block.

And while S/P tends to stay away from very direct anti-black jokes, they don’t shy away from other races. There’s an asian character whose business is called ‘c/ity wok’, but he always pronounces it ‘shitty’ because the joke here is ‘oh haha asians have funny accents’ and literally nothing else. I honestly believe that asians receive the WORST treatment on S/P when it comes to facing racism, but I’m not qualified to make that claim. Other examples of anti-asian racism: There was an pokemon episode where they said that Japan was using anime to indoctrinate youth, they literally had the kids operate fighter jets to make an attack on the U.S. What’s worse about this, is that whenever the Japanese execs were questioned about this, every time, they dropped their pants to show how small their penises were and how they should be pitied for it. Another instance, I very strongly remember a depiction of asian characters as being lemon yellow with eyes like this: \ /. There was an episode where they had Asians violently murder whales with glee. They lean into anti-asian racism so much harder than any other form of racism - the only thing they’re worse about is their antisemitism, which will get its own section later.

Antisemitism

God there’s so much. Jew Gold, nazi imagery, the entirety of c/a/r/t/m/a/n as a character and there are so many posts on this website by people much more qualified than me to delve into what exactly is wrong with this and the depictions of it, so I’m mostly just going to catalog what comes to mind and then speak about the actual factual instances of S/P inspired antisemitism I’ve witnessed and been party to.

There was an episode devoted to Jewish people having a secret bit of gold around their necks. This was proven true in the universe when Ky gave up his ‘J*w Gold’ to C.

Ky’s mom is such an overbearing harpy who bulldozes over everyone, this was later explained as her having Jersey-Blood (yes this was a Jersey Shore joke) but before that it was completely because she was a proud Jewish woman.

Ky’s father is depicted as weak-willed and piddling. He always wears a yarmulke no matter the situation.

Ky is often depicted as being whiny and non-commital

OF ALL THE CHARACTERS, KY IS THE ONE WHO IS DEPICTED AS A HYPOCRITE THE MOST

Ky’s cousin with the same name is depicted as in poor health, complains about everything, whines about things not being fair bc they don’t go his way, and has caricatured Jewish features

As mentioned above, there are hosts of Nazi imagery associated with C

C has said every Jewish slur I have ever heard. In fact he introduced me to the concept of antisemitism

Ky, in a Christmas episode, is depicted as wishing he could celebrate Christmas and Hanukkah is depicted as a sort of consolation prize that’s Not As Good.

Ky’s father was an internet troll, and the trolls were. literal trolls. with certain features that are not great.

The following image is the Prophet Moses:

And there’s more and more and more. I will not accept anyone saying that this is just jokes because I know firsthand how insidious their treatment of Jewish people is because this show literally made me think it was okay to engage in Antisemitism. I made greedy jokes, like saying a got J**ed when i was screwed over, or that someone who was being greedy was being a J*w. I am not proud of this, and I think I grew out of it relatively quickly as I dropped that language in middle school.

But not everyone did. Even some of my closest friends were still saying they got J**ed when we were graduating high school. There were no Jewish people at my school, so there was no humanizing face for the Jewish people for us. Thank god for the Nanny or who knows what kind of person I’d be now. There were people even worse than me, I should mention. There was one person in my school who literally used J*w as a stand-in for loser because of this show. This show was the only interaction with the Jewish faith that most of my classmates ever had, and the same is true of many rural towns in America who have only Protestant populations.

Fatphobia

All the most unlikeable characters are fat. C. Ky’s mom. The gun-toting republican. And there are other specific episodes where they equate fatness to not being healthy. In their episode partnered with WoW (don’t forget that happened, y’all) the main antagonist was depicted as a no-life having loser and he was, surprise, fat. This show draws a very direct line between being fat and being unlikeable.

Sexism

God, the portrayal of women is so horrible, literally my only entry here is going to be one single link:

youtube

Note all the other isms depicted in this btw.

Substance Abuse

The prostitute mentioned in the LGBT section would wander into scenes screaming about how she wanted crack. There was an episode where they created a league of basketball players who were comprised entirely of ‘crack babies.’ I’m being generous by not putting that in the racism section because most of the babies were BIPOC which says something about the kind of people that M/att and T/rey think are addicts.

The character T/owelie is supposed to show an addict, but his addiction is literally just weed which means they’re claiming weed is addictive.

I can’t even begin to describe the show’s relationship to alcohol. As a child of an alcoholic, I can say that it’s not fucking cute that they made S’s dad a violent drunk. It’s genuinely scary to see your parent fly into a rage because of their alcoholism and them reducing it to a joke was, I think, one of the points where the ‘it’s just a joke’ mentality started to break for me personally.

While we’re on the subject of parents, C’s mom was literally a crack addict who was also a full service sex worker. The correlation is not sympathetic in the slightest. And even worse was Ke’s parents. They were depicted as abusive, neglectful, drug-addicted rednecks. This was sometimes played to make you sympathize with Ke, and it worked because even now I can hardly think of how Ke himself was problematic rather than the situations he was in. (He’s the one who gets gruesomely murdered every episode) I don’t know if this is because of selective memory, if he was genuinely just the least problematic in the show, or if I’m waxing nostalgic for the show. Regardless, as I said, his situation was mostly played for sympathy. However, it was also played for jokes almost as often.

Pedophilia

The children are put in sexual situations a nonzero amount of times, they make priest molestation jokes, and they made jokes about MJ.

Slurs

Yeah they said them a lot. There was the aforementioned N-Word Guy episode, but there was also an episode that thinly mirrored immigrants coming to America for work and the people (time-travelers) were called ‘Goobacks’. I think the word ch*nk was used a nonzero amount of times, C used every slur for Jewish people in the book. None of these were censored by the show, any censoring was done by networks.

Why make this post?

Because I know people know this show is garbage, but I think it’s important that people know why it’s garbage with specific and nonspecific instances of why the show was problematic.

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residentanchor · 6 years

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Pretty by default

Done and done, here it is!

I realized this was mentioned as lamp first, but most of the stuff I saw was for analogical, so I stuck with that. Celery: Thanks to @sockpansy once again for submitting something to the “You’re famous?” au! :D I like this as analogical actually!!

Model Logan

Logan knew his name was known by many, being a famous model it was to be expected, but that didn't mean he would actively seek out attention.

Quite the opposite in fact.

Logan did enjoy his job, he did! But he was never…satisfied when he saw finished works of him. There was always something that never sat right with him, but he knew the pictures were fine, and they would be published after he gave the ‘okay.’

Then he met Virgil. Virgil who wore the same hoodie every day, that he hand made himself no less, and would randomly pull out snacks from the pockets. Virgil, who dyed his hair purple because his friend Patton wanted to dye his blue, but was nervous to go along with it by himself. Virgil, who probably lived on caffeine more than Logan.

Logan looked forward to seeing him so much.

They had met in an online debate website, which logan used when he was overworked and stressed and needed to calm down (spending hours looking for links to prove you are right is calming for him) and he came across someone he enjoyed debating with.

xXstormCL0UDXx was quickly his favorite person to engage in witty combat with. It took some convincing, but they agreed to meet up for coffee one day. Logan had been worried Virgil might recognize him. But when Virgil just laughed at his hat that said 'cognitive cap’ he knew there was no way. They ended up trading numbers and met up multiple times to just talk or do something in each others presence.

Then came the coffee incident.

Due to logan’s work schedule, and…whatever it is that Virgil does, they sometimes couldn't meet up, so they had a scheduled coffee trip weekly. It was always marked as 'important business’ on the schedule, so no one questioned it, and Logan always had 1-2 hours to have coffee and just sit with Virgil.

Logan had gotten a refill and was returning to his booth when he slipped on the newly mopped floor. His coffee landed on Virgil, who jumped up with cries of 'hot hot hot!’ And stripped his jacket off.

The coffee had managed to quickly get to his band t-shirt underneath, and Virgil held the hem away from his body to keep the hot liquid away.

Logan quickly stood and sat the mostly empty cup down.“Virgil, I sincerely apologize, I did not mean to do that.” Logan grabbed napkins from the table and dabbed at Virgil's shirt, getting what coffee he could off. Really, it had to be the day Virgil wore a gray band shirt instead of black. It was for sure going to stain. Logan pouted and looked at Virgil.

“Hey, specs, its fine, just some split coffee, no big deal.” He gave a reassuring smile and helped Logan attempt to dry his shirt.

Logan wasn't convinced. “Let me buy you a new shirt, just for today.”

Virgil's eyes widened. “What? Yeah no, that is not happening.”

Logan stood, back straight. “Your hoodie is soaked with coffee, and your shirt will be stained, no doubt, I am at fault for this, accident or not, and I wish to buy you something so you do not get cold, I will not debate this.”

Virgil knew Logan. Meaning he knew this was one of the few points he can’t argue.

“Fine, there is a Wal-Mart nearby, just a shirt ok?”

Logan broke into a smile and agreed, carrying Virgil's hoodie as he leads the way to Wal-Mart.

_____

Logan was most-likely 17 the last time he was in a Wal-Mart. His clothes all came from designer shops or sponsors, and his food he got from…better quality areas than Wal-Mart. Or he ordered it.

But here he was, in the men's section of Walmart clothing, with Virgil obviously wanting a sweater but thinking 15 dollars was too much. Virgil went to grab a random t-shirt for $5 when Logan stopped him.

“You want the sweater correct? I will get it for you.” Virgil looked at him. Then the sweater.

“Nah, 15 bucks is too much for split coffee.”

“Virgil, $15 is nothing, I'm getting you the sweater.” Logan crossed his arms as if that was the end of the conversation.

Virgil has different plans. “Dude, I'm not letting you waste that much on me.”

“It is only $15, I can afford that.”

“And your coffee cost what? $3.50? And I can use a laundromat for a few quarters, that does not equal a $15 sweater.”

“I am getting it for you anyways.” And as if to make a point, Logan picked a sweater off the rack.

Virgil grabbed another one and held it out to him. “You get me one, I get you one. We either match or no one gets a sweater.” Virgil looked like he just won a trophy.

Logan looked at the sweater in Virgil's hands, it was a simple black sweater with navy blue and purple strips. Logan took the sweater from Virgil and hung it back up. Virgil had a moment to look smug before Logan grabbed a different one.

“This is my size, should we go try them on?”

Needless to say, Virgil did not win that day.

Logan walked out of Wal-Mart in the sweater. It was slightly itchy around the collar, and was incredibly low quality, especially compared to what logan usually wore. He glanced over at Virgil, who was carrying his hoodie now but looked delighted in the matching sweater. Logan decided this was his favorite article of clothing he owned.

_____

They were matching. They should have expected it, but that didn't mean they were.

It had been a kid. Kids are always the ones to say what they see, so when a kid on the street pointed at Virgil and Logan, saying “Mommy mommy, look! They match like you and mama do! They must be married!” Logan nearly died on the spot.

Virgil let out a snort, hiding his face from Logan. “Kids, I swear, they jump to the weirdest conclusions.”

Virgil’s ears were turning red, Logan was sure they were. He knew they are matching, but Logan didn’t think about how couples outfits often matched.

“Would it be that bad?v logan’s hands covered his mouth quickly as Virgil's head shot to face him.

Oh, Virgil's ears were red for sure, as was his entire face.

"Would what be…bad? What are you…?” His question trailed off.

Logan moved his hands in order to talk, fighting off his blushing and failing.

“Well..perhaps not the…marriage in total but…matching is often times…its uh…linked to couples. I didn't think about that before until the kid mentioned it and..uh..yeah.” Logan was at a lost for words, something he would not admit happens around Virgil a lot.

Virgil on the other hand, had managed to scrabble enough letters together to ask, “is this your way of asking me out?”

Logan let out a shaky laugh, looking at the sweater-clad Virgil in front of him. “I..i would..supose so?”

Virgil only became a darker red as he broke into a smile. He took one of Logan’s hands, interlacing their fingers.

“Well… it’s about time.”

This was definitely Logan’s favorite sweater.

_____

Dating Virgil was just like being friends with Virgil, only with kisses and cuddles and 'dates’ instead of hangouts and 'i love you’ is said.

Logan loved it.

But there was an… issue. After a date to the planetarium, Virgil and Logan had been looking for a place to eat, not realizing how late it was. Virgil saw a McDonald’s ahead and suggested it.

Logan couldn't remember the last time he had fast food. Virgil looked like he won the lottery as he walked in.

“I'm going to get soooo many chicken nuggets.”

Logan gave him a nod, as he read the menu. He squinted his eyes as he read it, it was like looking at the same thing over and over again.

“Hey, nerd, what you want?” Virgil’s voice broke logan from his trance.

“Oh uh..." he glanced up quickly. ”…number 2…meal?“

Which was how Logan was now sitting with a cheeseburger and fries in front of him. Virgil was shoving chicken nuggets in his mouth as promised.

Logan looked at his burger and unwrapped it, hesitantly taking a bite.

You know that Squidward meme? The episode where he ate a Krabby Patty and suddenly couldn’t stop?

Logan was Squidward.

"This is the greasiest, most vile thing I have ever tasted.” Virgil looked up as Logan shoved another bite into his mouth. Swallowing his chicken nugget, he asked,

“Then why are you still eating it?”

Logan took another bite. “I can’t stop.”

Virgil laughed.

______

“Wait you're a what?!” Logan could feel the panic rising. He was trying to keep calm but this was very surprising.

Virgil looked at logan confused. “A photographer. Well, sometimes. It's not my main thing, but it does pay well. And I'm just taking a few wedding photos for a few hours.”

Logan tried to calm himself. Virgil couldn’t know he was a model…right?

“Do you..do shoots often? Or for like..company things?” Logan had never seen Virgil at one of his shoots, but if he happened to see Logan or take photos for his company he might know.

“Nah, not really. I normally take scenery shots, but I do get commissions for things like this. It pays well, and I normally get to leave with cake.”

Logan relaxed a bit. He probably didn’t know who he was.

“Ah well, perhaps I could see the shots when you are finished? I think id like to see your work.” He smiled.

Virgil shrugged. “I mean, it's not that impressive, normally I get hired by people on a budget 'cause I’m cheaper than a professional.”

“Nonsense, no matter how much you cost, I'm sure your works are amazing.”

Virgil smiled at Logan. “Well…if you want, you could come with me? You’d mostly just be watching but…it would be…” Virgil glanced away blushing. “..nice to have you there.”

Logan found himself agreeing.

Logan also found out, on the day of pictures, that Virgil will go to extreme lengths to get the perfect shot.

Virgil was up a tree at the moment, hold his camera at the couple. He frowned and gave a few instructions of how the couple should pose. Logan walked over and gently tapped the bride. “It would be much better if you moved your arm here.”

“Logan, what are you doing?” Logan looked up at the tree.

“Oh, my apologies, I only wished to help.” He nods to Virgil in the tree, who stared Dr the couple.

“Ya know..thats actually not bad…keep doing that Logan.”

Logan helped to pose the couple for the 2 hours Virgil took pictures. Virgil got into increasingly weird angles and dragged other people in to help with the shots.

Logan watched over Virgil's shoulders as he flipped through the photos. To say he was impressed was an understatement, some of these were even better than professionals he has worked with!

“Hey, why did you delete that one? It was good…” Logan frowned as Virgil looked back at him.

"The lighting was wrong, and the bride’s dress was folded at the bottom, I can do better.”

By the end, Virgil had narrowed down the pictures and spent a while helping the couple pick out the pictures they liked best. Virgil was paid ahead of time, but he was still given a tip from the couple in thanks.

Oh, and cake.

_____

Virgil had been wanting to take pictures of the scenery because, and quote 'i have some sudden motivation and I need future inspiration and who knows when I'll have it again’ so he was going on a walk.

Logan had joined him on it. Walks with Virgil were always peaceful.

Virgil was taking pictures of the landscape when he looked over at Logan, who was looking out at the park in thought. He wasn't really thinking, just letting his mind wander.

He turned his head as he heard the sound of a shutter closer than before.

Virgil popped his head out from behind his camera and grinned. “You're my subject now.”

Logan couldn't help the smile he gave at Virgil. “Alright.”

And he posed. He knew exactly what he was doing, and even in his bulky glasses, and thrift store clothes (thrift shopping with Virgil was the best, you can find so many weird things, and the 'fashion’ shows are hilarious) he took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair.

Virgil was… Fucking stunned. Logan looked…he looked…fuck he looked hot. He quickly went to take his picture as Logan gave him different poses. Virgil made sure to take time to aim and focus and get good angles. At one point he noticed Logan didn't smile in the pictures. Virgil pouted and looked at him.

“Hey, Logan?”

Logan looked at him.“yes Virgil?”

Virgil decided to quote a text post he saw on Tumblr. “I love classical literature….an Edgar Allen hoe if you would.”

Logan stared at Virgil for a second, before he burst out laughing, going as far as to hold his sides.

“That was horrible,” Logan laughed as Virgil smiled and took pictures.

Virgil found different ways to make logan laugh, going as far as to point at a nearby bird and just say 'daddy’ before the bird flew at him angrily. Once Virgil was bird safe, Logan didn't stop laughing at that any time soon.

It got to the point that Virgil didn't have to make logan laugh. He was smiling in all the pictures, relaxing more. His poses weren't perfect but they managed to leave Virgil even more floored than before.

As they sat on a bench and looked at the photos together, Logan found that he enjoyed the pictures Virgil took of him the best.

_____

“Everyone take five!” Roman shouted. Logan slouched on the stool and sighed. This was the tenth break today, and he knew it was his fault.

Roman, the one in charge, walked over. “Logan, normally this goes by without a hitch, but today you're just…" he made a vague jester. "Not You. And it is interfering with the work…I gotta ask…whats wrong buddy?”

Roman and Logan had known each other since Logan started working as a model, they were actually rather good friends but held a professional relationship during work.

They totally got into a rap battle on a break though, so…

“I'm doing what I always do. I don't get what’s wrong.” Logan crossed his arms.

Roman put his hands on his hips. “It's like someone forgot to oil you, tin man! Everything seems…more robotic than usual…”

Logan suddenly had an understanding of what was wrong with his photos now. He had gotten used to posing for Virgil, relaxed and enjoying himself. He still knew how to pose for magazines, and whatever else they wanted his picture for, but he felt it was more a routine than fun.

He had been thinking about Virgil and trying to pose for the magazine, but those are two different things to him.

“I…think I realized the problem…”

Roman clapped.“great! Then let's fix it and get back to work.”

“It isn't that easy…” Logan let out a sigh. “My boyfriend..he is a photographer, its..different when he takes pictures of me…but he doesn't know I’m…well…me…” Logan gestured to himself as if making a point.

Roman looked offended.

“You got yourself a boyfriend and didn't tell me?” Of course, that is what Roman focuses on. Logan rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I do, now back to the problem at hand.”

“Solution, tell him who you are.”

“But I don't want him to know, that's the point!”

“And if he finds out on his own?”

Logan looked for an argument. Coming up with none. It was inevitable that Virgil will one day find out who Logan was. Logan wasn't too sure how Virgil would react if he found out on his own, telling him would be the best course of action.

Changing the subject, Logan asked, “so how would telling him to help me?”

Roman broke into a grin.“simple, I hire him to take your photo and if you are right, then you won't have a problem with the shoot.”

Which was how Logan found himself waiting for Virgil at the coffee shop. When Virgil sat down, he was wearing the sweater logan bought him. Logan nearly swooned on the spot.

Focus! Logan smiled at Virgil, tapping his coffee cup. “Virgil I..have a job offer for you.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “What kind of job? You've never offered me one before.”

Logan sipped his coffee, giving himself an excuse to gulp his nerves down.

“Well, it is…a photography job…would you be willing to take my photo for a magazine…professionally?”

The look on Virgil's face was proof enough that he didn't believe that, but planned to humor him.

Logan could work with humor.

“Yeah sure, pocket protector, when?”

Logan checked his phone. “We can leave now.”

Logan was a lot more relaxed, even if somehow Virgil still believed this was a joke or a prank. He goofed off behind the camera, made Logan laugh and smile, but Roman watched as the pictures were downloaded onto a computer as they were taken, and he was impressed.

The photos were finished and Virgil was told, to come in tomorrow for his paycheck. Logan led him out and Virgil stretched,

“If you wanted your picture taken, You can just ask you know.”

Logan couldn't help the smile he gave, “I know,”

Logan had been taking with roman when Virgil walked in, Patton following behind him.

Roman whistled. “Please tell me puffball there is single?”

Logan rolled his eyes and took the check from Roman, walking to Virgil. He held it out to him.

“Your payment.”

Virgil looked downright confused as he took the check and glanced at it. Then stared at it.

“Those zeros are on..the left side of the decimal point?”

“Yes, they are.”

“..and those zeros are also..on the right of the other number?”

“Correct again.”

“This is in dollars?”

Logan couldn't fight the smile, never could around Virgil.

“Yes, it is.”

“…holy shit, you really are a model…” Virgil looked at Logan.

Logan laughed. “It took a check for you to realize that?”

Virgil actually laughed back. “Oh, wow…everything makes sense now…hey, where did Patton go? He tagged along and now he’s gone…"Logan glanced around before looked at Virgil unamused,

"Your friend and my boss are making out in the corner.”

Virgil gave a nod of 'yeah, that's expected’ before holding hi the check grinning.

“So mister model….shall I treat thee to a meal at McDonald’s?”

Logan laughed and took his hand. Intertwining his fingers. He gave Virgil a quick kiss before nodding.

“You better.”

#youre famous au #model logan #photographer virgil #analogical #i love this dynamic #I might write more myself #submission

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killingmebtob · 6 years

Text

Until Next Time // Lee Minhyuk

Author: @killingmebtob // Sara

Title: Until Next Time

Characters: Minhyuk and Reader

Summary: It was supposed to be my rest day but I’m being asked to go and babysit.

Author’s Note: This was requested quite recently so I tried it to give myself a break from all the NSFW requests and my current writing project. Er... Might be a little lame but I hope it’s okay. :)

Your name: submit What is this?

It was supposed to be my rest day this weekend. I had the entire Saturday and Sunday planned for myself and that included a bed, a television, a bunch of DVDs, numerous bowls of popcorn, and a tub of my favorite ice cream. I even changed my bed covers into my coziest comforter just so I would feel like I was being embraced by the clouds.

All week I had been looking forward to it. Each day after dance practice, I would think that I was one step closer to my weekend getaway in my apartment.

Well, unless you have a sister who likes to ruin things with last minute favors.

I had to force a smile on my face as I stood outside her door on Friday evening with a backpack filled with clothes that would last until Monday. She had kindly asked me over the phone to stay with her little girl for the weekend because she and her husband were going on some kind of trip and they couldn’t take her.

I suggested that they hire a nanny because that’s why people do these days. Not that I know of. I mean, I live alone in the comfort of my own small, tiny, yet cozy apartment. No boyfriend, no pets, and no kids too because who doesn’t keep it safe nowadays?

I’m kidding. I’ve never done anything too.

That’s probably also why she got me instead of a nanny. She wouldn’t have to pay me because she would stock up their home with food and she knew that I didn’t have plans for the weekend. By plans, plans with other people. She always emphasizes that my solo plans don’t count as weekend plans.

Yeah? Okay, sis.

It was almost like I could hear her in my head.

You’re part of a dance troupe that performs with celebrities and you’re telling me that you have no plans at all? By plans, I mean with people and not with your bed and your television.

I sighed as I rang the doorbell to her home. Well, at least now she can say that I have plans this weekend. No thanks to her.

The familiar scent of her sophisticated perfume wafted into my nose the moment she opened the door and wrapped her arms around me. I smiled as I returned the gesture. My sister always smelled like home. Even if I diss her or roll my eyes at her, she’s the only one I have left.

“I missed you,” she whispered.

“Me too, Minnie,” I responded.

“I’m so happy that you’re here,” she smiled as she pulled away. “It’s been such a long while. Your niece has been asking when you were going to visit again the moment you left the house last time,”

Ah, my niece who looked so much like my sister. They had the same loose dark brown curls that fell beautifully on their shoulders. It was pretty similar to mom’s hair. I was stuck with pin straight hair that was always in a bob cut the fell above my shoulder. I got that from our dad.

As if she had a detector for when I was near, the sound of running footsteps echoed from inside their apartment along with excited calls of my name. “Is that auntie?! Auntie (Y/N)!”

Auntie always made me feel old but… I could only shrug.

“Chie~,” I called out in the same small tone.

I crouched down as the little girl rounded the corner. My sister stepped aside, completely aware of the routine the child and I have. The little girl launched herself into my arms, her short arms circling my neck in an embrace before I stood up to carry her and twirl her around.

She was laughing so cutely into my ear.

“You’re here~ You’re here~,” she chanted in that small voice of hers.

“You’ve grown a lot. You got prettier too, just like your mom,” I told her as I observed her face. “But heavier. I don’t think I’ll be able to lift you up like this next time,”

“No,” she whined. “I want auntie to carry me like this every time,”

I just chuckled at her childishness. Yeah, sure. Like, tell me that again in five years. You’d probably be crying for me to put you down because it’s embarrassing.

“Okay,” I smiled at her nonetheless.

I went in the house with her still in my arms. Minnie kept on reminding me about the things that I have to remember about Chie’s schedule like bedtime and bath time and meal time. But I knew it all by heart given the numerous times she had me babysit her daughter. Then again, it’s not like we follow it.

“Yeah, okay, okay. You’ve said this to me for about a hundred times now,” I reminded Minnie. “Calm down and enjoy your weekend getaway to the island you mentioned earlier,”

“Bali,” she reiterated.

“Okay. Bali,” I repeated after her. “Enjoy your time in Bali and I’ll take care of little Chie here. No need to worry about her. With me around, we’ll just stay here in your apartment,”

“Did you not hear what I said earlier? She has her an appointment with her pediatrician tomorrow,”

“Yeah, I heard that,” I dismissively responded. I certainly did NOT hear that. “So, who and where is this pediatrician?”

Chie was animatedly talking about how she was excited for her appointment today as we walked to the clinic that was only a few blocks away from their home. She even wore her favorite clip, saying that the doctor told her that she looked really cute with it.

The kid was even blushing when she said it!

I was amused because it took a great deal to make Chie comfortable with a stranger. My sister picked a good clinic to go to.

The wide smile on my niece’s face grew even more, if possible, when we went in the clinic. She was hopping around like a cute little bunny.

“Chie, calm down,” I told her as I held her hand. “Should we go get ice cream after?”

Her eyes sparkled. “Yes, please! Auntie, let’s go to the ice cream parlor we sneak out to,”

I shook my head, a teasing smile on my lips. “Oh, look at this kid. Talking about sneaking out with her auntie. It’s our secret, okay?”

Chie giggled as she nodded.

“We’ll go if you behave,”

“Okay~”

She had stopped jumping around but I could still feel the joy and excitement radiating from her. What kind of pediatrician is this? Did he or she make her drink some kind of potion or concoction to make her this way?

“Hi, we have an appointment today for Dr. Lee…?” I was unsure. Stupidly, I forgot to note down the name when Minnie told me the name last night before they left. She even repeated it thrice.

“Oh yes,” the receptionist smiled. “Chie, right?” She smiled at my niece who nodded vigorously. “Okay. You’re just in time. Dr. Lee’s just attending to another patient and then you’re up next,”

“Thanks,” I smiled at her before we settled on one of the small waiting chairs.

It was my first time to bring Chie to her pediatrician so I had absolutely no idea what I was going to do or say. All my sister said was, “Hey, bring Chie to the pediatrician tomorrow. Thanks.” It was like throwing me into a den of wolves with just a twig to defend myself. Of course, that was an exaggeration.

The clinic had a small pharmacy and about four offices for each doctor.

“So what’s this Dr. Lee like?” I asked Chie who was swinging her short legs.

“He’s really nice,” she beamed. “He has these candies that he gives me when I visit. He always makes sure that I get my favorite. He’s my favorite!”

“Oh? More than auntie?”

“No, no! Auntie is my favorite but Dr. Lee is also my favorite,” she giggled.

I pouted. I was about to tease her about it but someone had called for Chie. She perked up at the sound of her name and before I knew it, she was already out of her seat and running towards who called her. Of course, I called after my niece as I turned around. The sight had me smiling.

Chie was in the arms of a young-looking doctor. Her smile was so bright that it could light up an entire city. Her eyes were sparkling too as she talked to the pediatrician. Meanwhile, the doctor was also radiating the same towards her. There was a fondness in his eyes as he spoke to her animatedly.

Even with just this scenario, I knew that he has a way of connecting with children. Chie, who was extremely picky when it came to people, was fond of him and that’s not an easy thing to do. I felt like he has a knack for being a children’s doctor. He gave me that vibe.

“Oh, who’s this?” He smiled at me when I went up to them.

God, he looks beautiful. I mean, I’ve never seen a man as beautiful as him. To be honest, he looks a lot younger than I am but at the same time, there was this mature vibe coming from him.

“Auntie (Y/N),” Chie smiled.

“Ah, the infamous auntie,” he chuckled.

Oh man, even his laugh sounded like music.

How can a person be this perfect?

“That’s me,” I grinned. “I’m (Y/N),”

“Dr. Lee,” he nodded. “But Minhyuk is fine,”

“Ah,” I blushed. Why in the world are you blushing?!

The doctor chuckled. “It’s fine. The parents of my patients often call me by my first name. It makes the whole environment more casual,”

“I see,” I nervously laughed. Geez. Way to go girl! I rolled my eyes at myself.

“Shall we?” He gestured towards his office. Dr. Lee, I mean Minhyuk, went in with Chie still in his arms.

As he was preparing his equipment, he was making small talk with me. He asked me about my profession. He was surprised when I told him that I work in a dance company. Minhyuk asked about where I’ve performed before and about what was my favorite performance.

In return, I also asked him about his career. Chie would sometimes comment too about what we were talking about. Once he was done preparing everything and checking Chie’s past records, he went to work.

The rest of the time was a blur. I sat on a stool at the side as he did his usual check-up routine with Chie. It’s not that I wasn’t paying attention but I was paying attention to something else. Instead of listening to what he was saying to Chie, and probably to me too, I was listening to how his voice sounded. I was observing how fluidly he moved—he looked so sure of himself in what he was doing.

It made me smile, seeing a person do something they’re passionate about. For me, it was dance. For him, it was looking after these children to make sure that they’re well and healthy.

Of course, it didn’t slip from my eyes how his back looked nice. For a doctor, he sure looked like he went to the gym a lot.

Oh geez. What the hell am I thinking about? This is my niece’s doctor, for crying out loud!

But it’s illegal to look that handsome, my mind argued, It’s not your fault.

“You’re really healthy, Chie,” he cooed as he gently patted the head of my niece. Oh crap, he was done and I didn’t even hear anything! My sister is going to be mad at me.

“Yes! I follow what Dr. Lee tells me every time,” she proudly grinned. “I want to be healthy like Dr. Lee,”

“And you will be if you continue to drink your vitamins and sleep early. Be good to your auntie,” he said. Geez, his speaking voice was nice too. And when he told Chie to be nice to me, I almost melted.

Help. Mayday. Mayday. This is a red alert.

Several tiny versions of me were running around in my head in panic.

“There’s really nothing much that I can say,” Minhyuk turned to look at me. This time, I gave him my 100000000% attention. At least, I could get something from this and tell my sister. “Chie’s vitals are good and she’s healthy. Just continue with the vitamins and the balanced meals,”

“Okay,” I smiled at him. That’s good. At least I didn’t have to deal with any kind of technical term that I was unfamiliar with. “Is there anything else?”

“Let me write a note about the next appointment so that they wouldn’t forget,” he stated as he went around to sit behind his desk.

Chie, on the other hand, walked to me and climbed on my lap. I couldn’t help but scrunch up my nose as I pinched her cheeks. She looked so cute as she pouted at me.

“Did Chie do good?” She asked me, peering up at me with her doe eyes.

“Of course,” I cooed, making her smile proudly.

Minhyuk, who was probably listening, cracked a smile and let out a soft laugh before he spoke, “Here’s the schedule. The next check-up will be a month from now. It’s been set to be a monthly thing. Just no one would forget.”

He handed me a folded paper from his prescription pad.

“Okay,” I nodded as I patted Chie to stand.

“Before I forget. Chie’s favorite candy,” he warmly smiled at my niece as he handed her a lollipop.

“Thank you~” Chie was beaming as she took it.

“We’ll head out then. Thank you,” I said as I took Chie’s hand.

“Have a good day. And I hope to see you again some other time,”

My heart leapt at the smile he showed me. It was almost like he was trying to make sure that I’ll go again next time. Oh man, I must be crazy. I just shook my head and went to the reception area to pay the fee. While I was waiting for the change and receipt, I remembered the piece of paper in my hand.

I opened it and saw the date of the next appointment. I took note of it.

I was about to keep it but there was something else scribbled at the bottom. My eyes widened when I realized that it was a cellphone number. Under it were the words,

Until next time.

He even drew a winking emoticon. It was cute because the smiley had a mole on the side of its mouth just like him. I couldn’t help but smile as I tried to contain my giddiness.

Next time, I nodded and kept the paper in my bag.

Once I got my change, I turned to my niece who was eating the lollipop. “Ice cream?”

Chie beamed, “Yes, please!”

#btob #minhyuk imagines #lee minhyuk #kpop imagines #minhyuk fluff #btob fluff #lee minhyuk imagines #minhyuk scenarios #btob minhyuk #btob minhyuk imagines #kpop fluff #lee minhyuk scenarios

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sickdaysofficial · 6 years

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Cracks in the surface

A story by xxx-cat-xxx.

Submitted for 12th of August, Bodily Fluids

Fandom: Marvel

Characters: Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Natasha Romanoff

Summary: Tony is badly injured on a mission with only Peter there to take care of him.

Tags/Warnings: Injury, blood, vomiting, a bit of PTSD and anxiety.

———-

When Peter had wished for an adventurous weekend, he definitely hadn´t meant it in a way that included a building collapsing on him.

Everything happened awfully fast. One minute he and Tony were duelling a pair of rather stupid criminals in a broken-down office building at the edge of the city, which was fun, all considered. Nat was somewhere outside chasing a third guy that had managed to escape. The next moment one of the suspects fired a blast at Tony that was deflected by his armour and instead hit the ceiling, and then everything dissolved into noisiness and rubble.

When the dust had settled, the first thing Peter noticed was that his ear-piece was missing. Then he realized that he was buried chest-deep in a heap of rubble.

“Mr Stark?” he shouted as loud as he could, the dusty air making him cough. “Mr Stark, are you there?”

The response came late and somewhat slurred, but Peter attributed this to the blood still rushing in his ears.

"What happened, kid? You injured?“

"No, I´m okay, just pretty sore….” Peter was already making his way out of the mess, looking around for his mentor.

"So, Parker, to continue with our afternoon lesson of fight strategies,” Tony´s voice said from the far corner of the room, “this is a perfect example of what you should try to avoid. Don´t let a building drop on you…just don´t…” He broke off coughing.

"Mr Stark, are you alright?“ Peter asked, walking towards him as fast as he could, aware of the deep cracks in the floor that were growing with each of his steps.

"Don´t worry kid, just a scratch. Might´a hit my head, though. Believe it or not, I´m actually glad that I took you out for a Kindergarden trip today. I´m kinda stuck here, to be honest. Looks like Friday decided to break up with me today of all days. I´m completely out of charge. You don´t happen to have a working communication device, do you?”

“No, it got lost in the crash….”

Peter frowned as the Iron Man armour came into view, most of it buried under what looked like at least half of a story. He started to remove the pieces of debris and worriedly bit his cheek when he saw what was lying below. The suit had taken heavy hits. The faceplate was bent beyond repair, and when Tony tried to remove it while Peter was shifting the last pieces of rubble, he couldn´t help but realize that the older man´s fingers were trembling. When he had finally managed to get rid of the plate, Tony´s face came into view, heavily bruised and definitely a few shades paler than usually.

"Mr Stark, what happened? You really don´t look fine.“

Instead of a reply, Tony yanked the helmet from his sweaty curls with a curse, ripped something out of it and started to chew on it.

“You - you are eating your tech?” Peter asks incredulously. Was this a sign of concussion?

“Sure kid. You know, I’m about to turn into a cyborg so that we can contact the mothership to beam us up,” Tony said between trying to crash whatever was in his mouth with his teeth. Peter just stared at him.

“No, genius, I am trying to access the communicator to get us help.“

Something in his mouth gave and audible crack and he smiled, though it quickly turned into a grimace.

“Ah, here we have the little baby,” he said, spitting out a mess of wires and metal. He connected the pieces to some cables sticking from his suit, causing a few sparks to singe the hairs on his forearm.

“I knew you had some reserves stored somewhere, old friend…”, he said while absent-mindedly patting the armour.

It took only a few minutes and an admiring glance by Peter till the device came alive with static.

“-you can… me…Tony? Pet…“

It was extremely distorted, but it was Nat´s voice.

“Hey, Romanov, you good?”

“Stark? God, what took you so long?”

“Ya, got a little tech problem here. Where are the suspects?”

“Mine is straight on his way to jail. Can´t locate the others right now, but since they were in the building when it collapsed, I doubt they made it far.”

“One thing less to worry about… Listen, I´m running on some pretty volatile current right now, and I don´t know how much longer this thing´s gonna work. We’re trapped in the eighth floor, West side, the office with the largest window front – “

“Figured that, genius, I saw the building coming down on you. The problem is, it will take a butterfly coughing and the whole thing´s going to collapse for good. I’m not joking here. Just try to literally not move from your position or you might bring everything down. Nobody´s allowed to enter right now, but we’ll figure out a way to get you outta there. Just give us some time.” Then, after some more static: “The kid’s alright?”

“I’m good,” Peter cut in, “but Mr Stark is-“

“Okay dokey, we’ll make ourselved comfortable,” Tony cut him off “See you in a-“

“Hello? Stark, you there? Shit, I think I lost you-”

There was a loud crackle of static, and then no noise at all.

———-

“I´m never going to eat canned seafood ever again. What an awful feeling to be peeled out of a metal box.” Tony complained while trying in vain to remove the shoulder piece of his armour. He had been talking even more than usual, and Peter had been wondering what he was trying to distract him from. He kneeled down to help Tony with the armour when he noticed something wet soaking the fabric of his jeans. He looked down and nearly jumped at what he saw. There was blood on the ground, lots of it. He traced it back to its origin and discovered a metal shard, at least as long as his forearm, halfway concealed by the rubble, that had pierced deeply into Tony´s body just at the height of his hips. It must have come down with an incredible force, considering that it had managed to penetrate the armour.

“Mr Stark, there’s a hole in your side!” he gasped.

Tony tried and failed to act surprised. “Oh fuck, did it cut my armour? It’s gonna take a week to fix the circuits, dammit.” His voice was shaking, sweat beading his brow despite the coldness of the air.

“This is what you’re worried about right now? Your suit?”

“Can we at least pretend that my distraction tactics work on you?”

Peter just looked at him.

“No? Fine.” Tony sighed, clenching his jaw. “Then get this piece of metal out of here before it turns rusty.”

Peter bent closer to inspect the way the shard was pierced into Tony, but all he could see was blood, way too much of it. He could feel panic rising in his throat, the reality of it all crushing down on him. He had wanted real missions, adventures, but not this. He wanted to be an Avenger, and he did know that this involved seeing people get hurt. But it wasn´t supposed to be the people on his side, and definitely not the one person whose guidance he relied most on. He wasn´t made for this, for pulling a metal shard out of the man who had always seemed invulnerably to him - it was Mr Stark, after all, and he just couldn´t bleed out here in front of him -

“Pete, breathe. Just breathe, come on. You can do that, it´s not so hard, I promise.”

He tried, but he felt like the oxygen wasn´t reaching his brain. Black spots were appearing at the edge of his vision.

“Spiderman! Look at me!”

The sharpness of the voice pulled him out of it. He glanced at Tony´s brown eyes that were radiating confidence, but he couldn´t help to notice the pain set in the wrinkles around them. He realized that both of them were shaking. Iron Man needed help, what was he doing sitting here and panicking?

“I- I´m so sorry, I-“

"It´s alright kid. Happens to the best of us, believe me. Just calm down and then give me a hand here, will ya? I kinda think I really shouldn´t lose any more blood, or we´ll start attracting vampires….” he trailed off, face rigid from the pain he was trying not to let show.

“Okay.” Peter breathed. “Okay, what exactly should I do?”

“Just remove that damn thing. Try to do it in one go, if you can. If I pass out-“

"You´re gonna pass out?” his voice was an octave higher than usually.

“Of course I won´t do it intentionally, idiot. But if I do, just stem the blood flow, I don´t wanna end up like a god-damn Jack the Ripper victim…

Peter took a deep breathe. He tried to steady his hands, and then gripped the shard and pulled. The metal piece came out with a wet and ugly noise that nearly made Peter gag. Tony was desperately trying to keep blank expression on, but then his face screwed up in agony and he let out a whimper that turned into a gasp when the pain hit fully. The amount of blood flowing from the wound increased rapidly, and his eyes rolled back into his head.

“No, no, no,” Peter whispered frantically, “Stay here, Mr Stark, please.”

“Don’ worry,” Tony mumbled, his eyelids fluttering, “You´re not getting rid of me that easily.”

———-

“Mr Stark?”

There was no reply. Tony was lying on the ground where Peter had tried to make him comfortable, his arm cradling the injured side that was now covered with a makeshift bandage from the button-down he´d been wearing above his T-shirt.

He looked like a wreck, and not only because he was drenched in blood and dust. Everything about him was radiating a deep-bone exhaustion, and he suddenly looked years older than usually, vulnerable and tired in a way Peter had never seen before. The dark shadows under his eyes were definitely not just a result of today´s unfortunate episode, but suggested that the last time Tony had gotten a full night´s sleep lay a long time back.

And Peter could understand why. Eyes shut tight against the pain, Tony´s pupils were moving frantically behind his eyelids, his lips forming unintelligible words that could only belong to a nightmare. Peter had tried to cover him with parts of the room´s original carpet, but Tony was still shivering hard, the blood loss taking its toll. He shifted a little and moaned quietly, something he would never allow himself in front of Peter in a less-delirious non-concussed state. Peter had been debating whether or not to wake him up, but he knew that Tony definitely wouldn´t want him to witness one of his PTSD dreams.

“Mr Stark?” He prompted again. Tony stirred.

“Yinsen? No, don’t…” His eyes were darting across the rooms, his whole body tense and ready to fight.

“No, it´s – it´s Peter. Who on earth is Yinsen?”

“Huh?” Tony´s confused gaze found the boy, settled on him. “Where…?”

“We’re trapped in a building, Mr Stark, part of it fell on top of you. You got hurt and I think you have a concussion, you’re pretty out of it.”

“Well, that explains why I feel like puking all the time…” His eyes drifted close.

“No, please, I´m not supposed to let you sleep!”

Tony glanced at Peter again, seeming a little more lucid this time.

“Who told you that?”

“You, last time I got hit by that guy in the bee costume.”

“Well, that was valid for you, boy, not for me.” Peter was happy to have him talking, even if it was nonsense.

“And why is that?”

“Because I say so.” Tony sighed. He started to inspect himself, pushing the makeshift-blanket aside and frowning at what he discovered beneath.

“You know you aren’t making sense, right?”

“You know that you are a smart-ass?”

Tony coughed, and a few spots of blood appeared on the bandage. Peter swallowed nervously. If help didn´t come soon…Then they heard a faint rumbling from the heap of debris piled up where the windows were supposed to be. Peter desperately wished for it to be someone who had come to rescue them, not a sign of the house going down for good.

He looked at Tony, who was now pulling himself up on the wall, apparently trying to stand. Once he had reached a sitting position, his face paled even further, and he sagged against the wall.

“Give me some privacy, kid”, he groaned, before suddenly turning to the side with a wince and heaving remainders of his breakfast onto the broken floor.

“God,” he gasped and wiped his mouth, but more came up, and he seemed about to lose his balance. Peter was there in an instant, supporting him while the man was retching miserably, one hand pressed to the injured side and his face grimacing from the pain.

“This… sucks…,” he managed when he was finally done, and Peter could only agree. Tony was shivering hard under his hands.

“Let´s get you lying down?”, he suggested, unsure of how to help.

“Just…give me a moment, kid.” Tony panted, leaning his head against the wall and closing his eyes. He was still trying to get his nausea under control when the pile of debris at the other side of the room burst with a loud explosion that made both of them jump.

“What a glorious sight!” Nat shouted at them from the open door of a helicopter that was hovering outside what had once been a window. The afternoon sun that gleamed behind her gave her an otherworldly appearance. There was a cut on her cheek and her hair looked like she had just fallen out of her bed, but else she seemed unharmed.

“You definitely know how to make an entrance, Widow” Tony grinned weakly. “But we really need to work on your timing. What took you so long?”

“Told you, the building´s unstable as fuck. Took us ages to figure out how to blow a hole into it without everything collapsing immediately. Ok, no time for small-talk. I´m gonna throw these harnesses over to your side, they are meant to secure you in case you fall. You wear them and then you slowly walk over here, one by one. Is that clear?”

“Don´t you think you´re exaggerating?” Peter intermitted, scared at the thought of Tony having to walk unsupported. “I mean, there´s a few cracks in the floor, but it should be fine, right?”

“Pete, the ground you are standing on is literally being held by a single glass window front one floor below. Trust me if I tell you that you don’t want to try your luck.”

“Which luck is she talking about?” Tony mumbled, then looked at Peter who was already wearing the harness and had started to pull Tony upright.

The mere act of wearing the thing left Tony breathless and dizzy, Peter could tell from the way he was swaying lightly and clinging to him for support. He bit his lip in worry.

“Go slowly, ok?”, he told him, “Just try not to faint.”

Tony ignored him. “You go first, kid.”

“No, Mr Stark! You´re injured, you – “ Tony cut him off with a glance that managed to be intimidating despite the fact that he could barely keep himself upright.

“Peter, this is non-debatable. You can argue about this as long as you want, I´m not gonna change my mind. But time is kind of a critical factor right now, so please, just get moving.”

Peter gave the slumped figure a last concerned look, then proceeded to cross the room as fast as he could, willing his weight to actually equal that of a spider for once. He made it to the helicopter unharmed, but some of the cracks in the floor had started to spread, and he could practically feel the structure shaking.

“Mr Stark, your turn!”, he called as soon as Nat had pulled him into the vehicle. Tony didn´t acknowledge him, but started to drag himself into their direction, heavily leaning onto the wall for support.

“What´s wrong with him?” Nat asked when Tony stopped after a few steps and hunched over, gagging into the dirt.

Peter replied without turning his eyes away even for a second.

“He got hit by, like, half a floor or something. A metal shard cut open his whole side, and I think he´s got a concussion.” he informed her, trying not to let his voice shake.

“Oh.” Nat said, carefully taking in the man who was now upright again, moving towards them with painfully slow steps, and then “Looks pretty bad.”

Peter agreed silently. Tony had nearly made it, but he was swaying dangerously now, blood trickling down from his side and marking his walk over the ever-growing cracks in the floor. The way he was desperately trying to remain upright was agonizing to watch, and Peter didn´t even want to imagine how it must be feeling.

“Come on, Mr Stark, just a few more steps, you are nearly there!”

Tony looked at him for a second, panic written all over his face, and Peter´s spidey senses went into overload when a part of the floor broke away under his legs, causing him to collapse into a heap. It was enough to break the delicate balance of the building, and the whole thing seemed to give a moan when it started to crash down.

Peter saw it happening in as if in slow motion, and he had a split second to take a decision. Webbing himself to the ceiling of the helicopter, he swung out of its open door, Nat´s protest lost in the noise of the blood pounding in his ears. He caught Tony just when the rest of the floor under him carved in, grabbed him tight and maneuvered them back to the vehicle. Not a second too early, the whole building was coming down for good now. He landed hard, prompting a whimper from Tony, and just sat there for a few seconds while the helicopter gained speed, waiting for his adrenaline rush to die down.

“Dramatic last-second rescue,” Natasha smirked and pulled Peter up, “kind of reminds me of someone else… What did you teach him, Iron Man?” she teased while supporting Tony towards one of the helicopter´s seats.

But Tony was so out of it that he couldn´t even muster a grin, apparently having used up all his strength during the past few minutes. When she deposited him into a seat, he gagged weakly, not even bothering to lean forward, and brought up a slim stream of vomit that mixed with the blood on his shirt. His head rolled limply to the side, sweaty curls sticking to his forehead.

“Hold tight, Stark, it´s less than ten minutes to the hospital. Just don´t pass out on us yet”. Nat urged, already fiddling with a first-aid box she had taken from under the seat.

But Peter knew that wasn´t what was happening. He recognized the fear and fogginess in the older man´s eyes just before he shut them close, and he could feel that his breathing speed had doubled. He rested a hand on Tony´s shoulder, who flinched away.

“Mr Stark, it´s me, Peter. We´re save, we´re in a helicopter, it´s all good now.”

Peter´s fingers found Tony´s, squeezed them tight to make him understand that this was reality. He knew that in any situation other than this, it would be a clear overstepping of boundaries, but right now he didn´t care. Tony needed to know that he wasn´t alone in this world full of agony. Whatever the noise of the rotor blades and the movement of the helicopter were leading him to believe was happening, Peter was determined not to let him go through on his own.

He pressed his hand, and Tony didn´t pull it back. Instead, after a minute, his breathing slowed down, and he opened his eyes a tiny bit, taking in Peter, acknowledging his presence. And when he whispered, “Good job, Spiderman”, beneath all the panic and exhaustion and pain, Peter could glimpse a spark of gratefulness in the eyes of his mentor.

#injury tw #blood tw #building collapse #vomit tw #passing out #12 august 2018 #submission

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jordan202 · 7 years

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Maybe This Time

Hey guys, I was watching the scenes from episode 12 and it just got me thinking… I don’t usually write a different story while working on something else, but I was probably going to forget about the idea I had. I didn’t plan for it to take this turn but the story got a life of its own :)

Oh, I am in a hurry for a double shift so I didn’t ask anyone to proofread. I apologize in advance for my mistakes. The title isn’t coincidental.

Maybe This Time

Amelia nervously tapped her fingers on the working desk, too anxious for the computer results. During the past week, as she watched her patient being submitted to radiotherapy to treat a recurrent tumor, the neurosurgeon had struggled to come up with a viable plan that might allow her team to properly fund their ambitious plan.

While she knew the procedure was a sort of a Hail Mary and had its flaws, Amelia was desperately in need of something that would give her patient hope.

Maybe the reason behind all that was that she needed something to give her hope.

Lately, her life had been nothing but a mess. After a failed marriage, which she refused to think much about, and a brain tumor that had given Amelia answers about her impulsivity but had also served to confuse her feelings even more, the neurosurgeon longed for something that would be good and actually help someone. It was actually easier to focus her energy on the study for Kimmie’s tumor and devote her entire time to it than trying to figure out the mess that her personal life had become.

“So, have you come up with anything yet?”

Amelia’s thoughts were distracted by the sound of Alex Karev’s words and she saw the look of defeat on his face. Much to her own dismay, he also hadn’t been successful to get any kind of support for their project. It pretty much seemed like a dead end for them. Even Bello and DeLuca were losing motivation and Amelia couldn’t blame them. There were several other projects out there that were soaring and the eager interns probably would rather spend their time actually learning something than staying immersed on a computer all day doing research.

Alex gazed at the neurosurgeon and saw the consternation on her face.

“It looks like we’re really going to lose this battle,” Karev commented, obviously unhappy about it.

Amelia hated that situation. And she hated what she was about to propose. But then she thought of Kimmie’s joy and the girl’s happiness at sharing her gift with the world. Something had to be done.

“Not yet,” Amelia said with determination, looking into Alex’s eyes. “I have an idea…”

“You have to be kidding me,” Thomas Koracick’s annoyance was obvious not only in his voice, but also on the look on his face and the way he walked, “you have to be freaking kidding me.”

“Look, Tom, I…”

“YOU tricked me here saying you had a groundbreaking project for me,” Koracick nearly hissed, looking at his former’s student with impatience. “I actually bailed on presenting a case at the American College of Surgeons and got on a flight to this hell hole because I believed you and this is what you have for me?” he frowned, absolutely irritated. “HIFU? Are you kidding me?”

Amelia sighed heavily, knowing she shouldn’t be surprised. A couple of days before, she had gotten in touch with her former boss at Johns Hopkins. Tom Koracick ran the neurosurgical department there and had more resources at his disposal than anyone else she could remember. A few weeks prior to that, Tom had flown over to operate on her brain tumor and he’d even stuck around to help her get her department back on track once she was recovered. Before he could return to Hopkins, the two of them had slept together but Amelia knew it hadn’t really meant anything. Not to her, at least, and she supposed that not for Tom either.

For Amelia, it had been all about having a rebound after her complicated separation from her husband. It still sounded funny to think of Owen as that, since they weren’t even living in the same house anymore… But until their divorce was finalized, Amelia knew that technically, that was what he was.

And for Tom, sleeping with her had probably been about his own ego. Amelia knew he was a womanizer and even though during her residency the guy had been extremely professional, never had he hidden the fact that if Amelia ever gave him an opening, he wouldn’t hesitate to sleep with her. She had never really been interested, especially while he was her boss. But now, the two of them were at a leveled position, both ran neurosurgical departments and Amelia had impulsively done it. Physically, it had felt okay, but emotionally, Amelia knew it hadn’t really meant anything.

“It has never been tested on brain tumors before…” Amelia tried to reason and hopefully convince him.

“Oh, why do you think that is?” Koracick sarcastically asked, looking at her as if she should have known better. HIFU, or high frequency focused ultrasound was a non-invasive method that recently was being studied to treat tumors. That wasn’t exactly news in the surgical word.

“No one has really studied it on brain tumors…” Amelia sheepishly gave it another try.

“Yes, exactly!” Koracick interrupted her. “I am sure I don’t need to tell you that even if you successfully blast tumor cells with this new technology there is just no way you can guarantee clean margins and without the full, resection the likelihood that the tumor…”

“…will grow back is high, I know, I know,” Amelia sighed, hating to admit he was right. On tumors that could be later operated or managed with follow up, the HIFU method seemed like a good option. But for brain tumors, there were no guarantees it would work on the long run. “But it could help her buy some time and who knows even…”

“This is exactly why your project got rejected,” during the brief time he’d been at the hospital, Thomas had been brought to speed on the contest and saw the few projects that had made it. “It’s not cost effective, you should know that” he condescendingly rolled his eyes at her. “It doesn’t matter how noble your intentions are, Shepherd. Haven’t you learned this by now? Why would anyone in their right minds invest money on a study that promises no different outcome than a partial resection would?”

“You’re being extremely pessimistic!” Amelia lost her patience with him. “You’re putting all these obstacles when you’ve barely given me a chance to try.” She understood his frustration but he was throwing a bucket of ice water on her plans and that infuriated her.

Especially because she couldn’t refute any of his arguments.

“Look, you know I would love to help you if I could but my hands are tied,” Koracick sighed heavily, regaining some of his calmness. “Trust me, I deal with this kind of debacle all the time and I know you desperately want to help this kid, but it’s better if you just play it clean with the family instead of playing God here, okay?” Amelia scowled, hating to feel like once again he was the professor and she the inexperienced intern, but at the moment, it was exactly how she felt. “I have promised Catherine I’d have dinner with her. She wants me to properly meet her husband,” the neurosurgeon rolled his eyes, as if he was dreading the idea. “I am sorry I can’t help you.”

Amelia watched as Tom Koracick left, hating the fact she couldn’t really hate him for what he was doing. In his place, she probably would have done the same. And now she was back to square one.

For the rest of the day, Amelia stayed immersed in her project, trying to think about any loopholes she could fix to make the idea more tempting for Koracick. She knew he would be in town at least until the following day, so she was racing the clock.

After hours reading in front of the computer, too focused on what she was studying, the click of the door handle started Amelia, causing her to nearly jump from her chair at the unexpected interruption.

“Uh, sorry…” a deep male voice spoke in a low tone. “I had no idea the room was taken.”

Amelia looked up to meet the eyes of the man she was married to. Other than the brief, awkward encounter at the house when she’d walked in on him having breakfast with another woman, they hadn’t really been alone in the same room ever since the day they’d returned their wedding bands to each other.

“It’s okay,” Amelia rubbed her tired eyes, shocked to realize it was nearly midnight. “I was just reading and lost track of time.”

“I was printing some papers earlier today and I think I left my phone charger here somewhere,” Owen justified his presence, pointing at his dead phone. “I’ve been looking for it everywhere and realized I last used it here.”

Amelia got up from her chair and helped him look, scrolling through the files and forgotten objects in the room that was mainly used by interns and residents.

For the following seconds, the neurosurgeon unsuccessfully tried to find the charger, but the lingering silence was growing uncomfortable by the second.

“So…” she cleared her throat, eager to make small talk, “you’re on the liver project, right?” Amelia distractedly asked. She wasn’t really sure. “How is that working out?”

“I was actually trying for a clot factor study but I dropped it,” Owen answered with a shrug. He saw the question on her face and elaborated, “research is not really my thing.”

“Yeah, you’ve always been more of a do-er than a planner,” Amelia smiled.

The neurosurgeon failed to realize at the time of her comment just how personal she sounded. But Owen captured the intimacy it implied and he avoided thinking much about it, choosing instead to focus on his search.

“Why clot factors, though?” Amelia asked after a few seconds of silence.

“I had read about this chained Polymer that was isolated not long ago,” Owen explained. “It basically adheres to hepatocytes and you can sort of choose the cell you’re working with.”

“Really?” Amelia frowned heavily, uncontrollably assaulted by ideas. “You mean like a selective binding protein?”

“Yeah, there is a full catalogue of those at Polymer that have been isolated but even though it sounds good, it’s not very viable for out type of research,” Owen added. “It has an extremely high cost and the patents are just insanely hard to get.”

“Can you tell me more about your clot factor work?” Amelia asked. The more information she had, the better would be to fit all puzzles together.

“Uh… Okay,” Owen saw the eagerness on her face and agreed. It was late and he was tired, but if that was going to make her happy, he could stick around for a few more minutes.

Very patiently, Owen sat down near a computer and logged into a system. For the following minutes, he thoroughly explained Amelia about the idea he’d had. During the entire time, it became kind of hard to ignore her presence. Especially when she stood so close like that. Was it just him, or did her hair smell especially good today?

“This is actually very helpful,” Amelia leaned forward to examine the computer screen a little closer, unaware of the reactions she was causing on the man sitting right next to her.

Owen closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He really shouldn’t be having those thoughts. Well technically, he should, because the woman responsible for invoking those feelings was his wife, but a thousand complications and unspoken issues stood in the way and he really didn’t want to deal with his feelings.

“Do you mind if I print this?” Amelia looked at him with expectation in her eyes.

Owen knew her well enough to realize she was up to something. And judging by the look on her face, it was good.

“Sure,” he instantly agreed, satisfied that his abandoned project had served at least to the purpose of making her smile like that again. He hadn’t seen in ever since the day she’d left their home and his life. “Feel free to use it.”

“Thank you,” Amelia shyly bit her lower lip and made eye contact with him, seeing the warmth in his eyes. She smiled brightly and tried to ignore the way her heart accelerated when he smiled back. “Good night, Owen.”

“Good night,” he reluctantly left the room, knowing that it was the wisest decision.

“So you’re telling me you want me to fund a multi million project in which you’ll basically buy the most expensive protein I’ve ever seen so you can blast it with high frequency waves?” Tom Koracick frowned, looking at Amelia with a mix of surprise and admiration.

“Precisely,” Amelia smiled widely, struggling to contain her excitement, “but the real catch here is that, when I blast those cells, the whole tumor will be gone.”

“I don’t know this is insane or purely genius,” Koracick commented, skimming through the paper that had her detailed project.

Amelia had spent the last ten hours coming up with the plan. Her body was tired, but her mind was too alert and excited for her to want to sleep.

“Where did you get the idea?” Koracick frowned, hating that he didn’t have it first.

“A colleague inspired me,” Amelia confessed. “He was going for something along those lines and I adapted his idea to mine.”

“Get him here,” Koracick unceremoniously demanded.

Amelia desperately needed Tom to embark on the project, because she depended on him to finance it. So she decided not to refute. Grabbing her cell phone, she called Owen, gently asking if he could meet her in one of the conference rooms.

About fifteen minutes later, the trauma surgeon joined them, supposing Amelia needed help with something they’d discussed the previous night. But to his surprise, he found her sitting next to Thomas Koracick, the same guy who had taken out her tumor.

Before Owen could ask any questions, Amelia started to fill him on what she’d spent the entire night working with. After Owen had introduced her to the Polymer idea, she had basically filtered through a huge catalog, finding the heaviest binding protein she could that would link to a receptor present only in cancerous cells. Those would heavily increase the mass of the tumor, including the tissue near the margins. Then, once with the ultrasound technique she was working on, it would be possible to work with the HIFU at a frequency that not only would kill the sick cells, but also make sure they had clean margins. Without the heavy Polymer, it was hard to tell and adjust the machine to sort out the diseased tissues from the healthy one, but once Amelia made the cancer cells much heavier, chances of success were incredibly higher.

“This is a brilliant idea,” he stated with conviction after taking a look at her initial proposal. “But the cost would be beyond the charts,” Owen affirmed, certain it would be a problem. “I mean, this Polymer chain you selected costs nearly twice as much as the one I had. It’s going to increase the cost of the project. And it’s not guaranteed it’ll work.”

Amelia was aware of that. She on purpose kept silence, sneakily turning her head to the side very slowly until her eyes finally met Tom’s.

“Give me a concrete reason why I should invest my money on this,” the arrogant surgeon demanded, raising his eyebrows.

“I am going to make history treating gliomas. And if you don’t fund my idea, I am going to sell it to someone who is going to make it happen.” Amelia raised her eyebrows in defiance. “And if I do that, your name won’t be on the paper when it gets published,” she sneakily reminded him, knowing nothing would infuriate Koracick more than letting an opportunity pass. “You’ll lose.”

Tom narrowed his eyes, studying Amelia’s features. She was serious, he knew it. Rolling his eyes, the prestigious surgeon finally made up his mind.

“Fine, but you’re going to report to me. I am going to be here when we use the HIFU for the first time. My name goes before yours on the project,” he dared her, seeing on Amelia’s scowl that she hated it. “And keep this guy, he clearly is more familiar than us with the Polymer thing.”

“No, thanks,” Owen straightforwardly answered. He wouldn’t mind doing it if it was for Amelia, but he had never sympathized with the guy who had once been her mentor and he definitely wasn’t going to be a part of something that would benefit him more than the true author of the project.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Amelia protested Koracick’s terms. “Hell no. Your name is not going before mine.”

“These are my conditions, it’s give or take,” Koracick said in a final tone.

“God… I hate you!” Amelia complained. But she knew she couldn’t give it up. Koracick was her only chance to keep the project going and most importantly, actually give Kimmie a chance. The hard work was just beginning and she would need a lot of help, but it all started with the funding.

“I have a plane to catch, you keep me updated,” Koracick wickedly winked in her direction, loving that he was coming out on top. And just as he was reaching the door, Amelia was collecting her stuff and Owen was logging out the computer, the controversial surgeon turned around, unable to help himself. “If you thought that sleeping with me would give you special treatment, you better think again, Shepherd,” he smirked, knowing he was causing a scene. Even though Amelia hadn’t said it, Koracick had recognized the guy in the room as the husband she’d recently separated from. He was glad he was leaving, because fixing marital drama wasn’t his thing. He was much better at causing it. “Email me as soon as you have phase one initiated.”

Koracick exited without another word, leaving Amelia in absolute shock. Not because he had been inappropriate, rude and extremely unprofessional. She was used to his teasing and didn’t mind it when it was just the two of them. But at that moment, her heart was racing and she had an awful feeling in her stomach.

Amelia knew that, by the time she’d slept with Koracick, she and Owen had already broken things off. She also knew that he had no right to judge her on it, considering he had pretty much slept with the first woman he found right after that.

But she was well aware of how possessive men could be. Especially men like Owen. And she recalled just how they’d agreed to blame all the problems of their marriage on her brain tumor, as if her feelings for him had been questionable while Owen didn’t really have a similar excuse to justify why he’d broken the marriage…

“Owen, I…”

“Good luck with your project,” he violently shut off the computer without waiting for it to properly turn off.

It was obvious he was furious and Amelia got instantly mad at that too.

“You can’t be serious, right?” she asked him just as Owen was about to exit through the door. “Are you really that upset that I had a one night stand? Really?” she followed him to the door, hoping Owen would calm down. He had always failed at keeping rational when he was furious like that. And she was actually surprised that he had been so bothered by it, to the point of getting that mad. “You spent the past weeks fooling around with that…”

“Don’t,” Owen grabbed her slim wrist and stopped Amelia from touching him just as she’d been about to. “Don’t say anything. You don’t owe me any explanations,” Amelia looked at him and instead of the warm, caring eyes, she found the scowl of a guy who was just too mad to even pretend he was okay. “You are a free woman. You can do whatever you want,” he said and Amelia instantly noticed his calm, rational speech completely contrasted with his infuriated reaction. But even though she noticed something was off, never would she be prepared to hear what would come next. “If you have to sleep with Koracick to get funding for your project, then so be it,” he cruelly accused her, knowing he was being extremely unfair. But Owen couldn’t help himself. The news had caught him totally off guard, and the way it had infuriated him had surprised him even more. “Next time just leave me out of it, okay? I don’t want to be a part of another one of your games.”

Amelia felt the blow the instant the words fired out of Owen’s mouth. She didn’t know what hurt her the most, the way he had cruelly accused her of something they both knew wasn’t true, or the cold look on his face as he’d done it.

The first tear rolled on her cheek, enraging Amelia even more.

Screw Owen, she thought, trying to contain the tears that insisted on falling. He had been the one to change his mind… It had been Owen the one to break off their marriage… It had also been Owen the one to jump into someone else’s bed and take a random woman to the house they’d once shared the minute she’d left the house. So he had no right to play that low.

How dare him accuse her of that? Amelia sighed heavily, heartbreak and hurt slowly being replaced by anger and determination. Briefly, she thought about giving up the project and telling Owen to shove his Polymer idea up his ass. But she couldn’t do that because Kimmie’s life depended on it.

And as she went on with her day, blaming exhaustion and sleep deprivation rather than her hurt feelings for the way she struggled to keep focus, Amelia felt more determined to make her innovative project work. It was the only thing in her life worth focusing on.

Owen could take care of his bruised ego on his own. Maybe their idea to become friends was really faded to disaster. After all, they could barely interact without the heavy cloud of their unresolved issues lingering on their heads. And if Owen’s display of anger served as example for what was about to come, Amelia thought maybe it was better to simply never go there after all.

#omelia #owen hunt #amelia shepherd #omeliafics #omeliafanfics #omeliafic #amenff #greysanatomy #grey's anatomy #greysnanatomyfanfic

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derevosky · 7 years

Text

Blue Little Soul: Chapter 1/5

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Categories: M/M

Fandom: Hetalia: Axis Powers

Relationships: America/Russia. Minor: England/France and Germany/Nyo!North Italy

Characters: Russia, Belarus, Prussia, Ukraine, Poland, China, England, Ancient Rome, America, Canada

AU: Human

Language: English

Word Count: 9,247

Summary: Ivan was back in Oregon, or as he would claim, his hometown after five years in St. Petersburg. He had a premonition, and eventually he discovered he had a power to manipulate something he didn’t even imagine that he can.

Chapter 1: Chrysalis

Was it night time? But there was a faint light. Maybe the sun was covered by thick dark clouds. It was raining heavy enough to be a storm, accompanied by thunders that seemed to be near. By a high cliff, there was a lighthouse, fortunately for now, not being approached by the tornado, but still affected the pine trees along the path to it; some were falling down. Ivan was there, for some reason unknown.

‘Where exactly am I? Why am I trapped in a storm? How did I get here… and where is ‘here’?’ He contemplated.

Without knowing what to do, unaware where the strong wind came from. Noticing the lighthouse, he attempted to go there.

‘A lighthouse… maybe I’ll be safe there.’ Ivan thought.

He walked slowly, carefully as his vision was blurry because of the rain and its darkness it casted, distracted by the electrifying feeling creeping in his body. He raised his arms to guard his eyes from the strong gust. A tree fall almost near him, surprising the ashen blond teen. He kept track on the steep trail, trying not to trip on some branches, and broken barks. As he got closer by the lighthouse, there was an abnormally large tornado by the sea, slowly approaching the town. Flabbergasted by the view, he didn’t notice ahead the thrown boat to the lighthouse effectively broken, and its debris was about to crush him. As it was going to fall unto him, he was too shocked to run, instinctively holding out his hand to protect himself.

He jumped out of his seat, almost fell out of it. His muffled hearing slowly cleared. He examined his surrounding as if he just got here; he was in a classroom. He swore he wasn’t sleeping. Why would he?

“Alfred Hitchcock famously called film ‘little pieces of time’ but he could be talking about photography, as he likely was.” Ms. Arlovskaya discussed.

‘Okay, I’m in class.’ Ivan clarified to himself.

(Feliciano’s pen fell to the floor. He picked it up.)

‘Everything is fine. I’m okay.’ Ivan comforted himself.

He was in Ms. Arlovskaya’s class, his favorite photographer that somehow got here in a dead end of a town to teach photography.

(Liz threw a paper ball at Kat.)

“Now can you give me an example of a photographer who perfectly captured the human condition in black and white?” Ms. Arlovskaya inquired the class.

(Gilbert's phone vibrated.)

‘That wasn’t a dream. It felt too real. Was that supposed to be a nightmare?’ Ivan still felt perplexed.

“Diane Arbus.” Gilbert answered with a grin.

“Very well, Gilbert. Why Arbus?” Ms. Arlovskaya was pleased.

“Because of her images of hopeless faces. You feel like, totally haunted by the eyes of those sad mothers and children.” Gilbert explained.

“She saw humanity as tortured, right? And frankly, it's bullshit. Seriously though, I could frame any one of you in a dark corner, and capture you in a moment of desperation. And any one of you could do that to me. Isn't that too easy? Too obvious? What if Arbus chose to capture people at the height of their beauty or innocence? She had a brilliant eye, so she could have taken another approach.” Ms. Arlovskaya deliberated.

“I have to admit, I'm not a big fan of her work. I prefer... Robert Frank.” Gilbert answered as if they were conversing.

“Me too, Gilbert. He captured the essence of post-war America. Then, there was honesty about the economic conditions of the era, but a beauty in the struggle. You don't have beauty without a beat. Which explains why Frank was Kerouac's photographic muse and both were great chroniclers of the 1950s. We've all seen that iconic shot of Kerouac on the balcony - and if you haven't, shame, shame - capturing the romantic urban solitude of the 20th century poet. You understand? Now, contrast Frank's stark Americana with Salvador Dali's surrealist photographs. Like Cocteau, he was a true renaissance man, and his famous self-portraits are famous early examples of that truly awful word you pesky kids love so much, the ‘selfie’. And it's a great tradition, and I wholeheartedly fight for your right to self-expression. So if anybody wants to question the portrait as modern narcissism, they could go back hundreds of years to blame society.” She rambled and noticed this as most of the class didn’t pay attention.

“Speaking of questions, I bet you thought I'd talk all the way until the bell rang. It's your turn to lecture us. Now, based on the chapters I have no doubt you all memorized, who can tell me the name of the actual process that led to the birth of the self-portrait? Anybody?” She tried to peak up the class which just made most of the people quiet.

“This does not bode well. Just jump right in with an answer. This was in the chapters you read. You did read the chapters, right? Your silence is deafening. If this were a photo, I'd call it a still life.” She sighed, waiting for an answer.

(Ivan took a picture of himself using his polaroid.)

“Shh, I believe Ivan has taken what you kids call a ‘selfie’. A dumb word for a wonderful photographic tradition. And Ivan” she said, like a proud teacher.

“…has a gift. Of course, as you all know, the photo portrait has been popular since the early 1800's. Your generation was not the first to use images for selfie-expression.” Now, she was feeling proud for the pun.

“Sorry. I couldn't resist. The point remains that the portraiture has always been a vital aspect of art, and photography, for as long as it's been around. Now Ivan, since you've captured our interest and clearly want to join the conversation, can you please tell us the name of the process that gave birth to the first self-portraits?” she returned to her question.

“You’re asking me? Uhm, let me think…” Ivan, answered profoundly.

“Either you know this, or not, Ivan. Is there anybody knows how to answer?” She said in frustration.

“Louis Daguerre was a French painter who created "daguerreotypes", a process that gave portraits a sharp reflective style, like a mirror.” Gilbert answered then looked at Ivan.

“Now you're totally stuck in the Retro Zone. Too bad, it’s not that awesome. Suck your scarf while you’re at it.” Gilbert added, and Liz laughed.

“Very good, Gilber. The Daguerreian Process brought out fine detail in people's faces, making them extremely popular from the 1800's onward. The first American daguerreotype self-portrait was done by Robert Cornelius. You can find out all about him... In your textbook. Or even... online.” The teacher was relieved until the school bell rang.

“And guys, don't forget the deadline to submit a photo in the ‘Everyday Heroes’ contest. I'll be with the winner to San Francisco where you'll be guaranteed influential by the art world. It's great exposure, and it can blossom your career in photography. So Feliciano and Ludwig, get it together. Liz, don't hide, I'm still waiting for your entry too. And yes Ivan, I see you pretending not to see me.”

‘Gilbert didn’t waste any second on kissing ass, no?’ Ivan mused.

He noticed Yekaterina wasn’t as cheerful as today. He approached his classmate and tried to engage her in a conversation.

“You seemed quiet today, Kat.” Ivan started.

“Just thinking too much, I guess.” She smiled weakly.

“I hear that. Want to have tea with me and complain about life?” He offered.

“Thanks, but not today. I have homework to do.” She said, still smiling that friendly and mother-like smile, although not as bright.

“No worries. Let’s hang out later then.”

“Sure.”

By the teacher’s table, Gilbert and Ms. Arlovskaya were talking about the contest.

“Yes Gilbert, you still have to do your homework this week, even if you're submitting your photo for the competition. Everybody in class is turning a photo, so you see the dilemma.” She deadpanned.

“I know, Ms. Arlovskaya. I just worked so hard on this shot, and I'm sure you know what it's like to be consumed by your work. I just really think ‘Everyday Heroes’ is an important cultural event, and I want to represent Blackwell Academy.” Gilbert raised his concern rather obnoxiously.

“You have just by participating, by putting yourself out there in the world. Well, no matter who wins, this is just a bump on a bigger road. I don't want anybody to feel excluded from this process. But I also want everybody to know that this photographic world is not for everybody. I had my moment in the camera eye and everybody should have that chance, right?” She answered objectively.

“Oh totally. I only want to share whatever gifts I have with the world...” He said.

Ivan approached the two.

“Excuse me, Ms. Arlovskaya, can I talk to you for moment?”

“Yes, excuse you.” Gilbert demanded.

“No, Gilbert, excuse us. I'd never let one of photography's future stars avoid handing in his picture.” The teacher dismissed Gilbert earning a pout from him.

“Do I have to? I don’t really think I have what it takes.” Ivan reacted.

“Ivan, you're a better photographer than a liar. Now I know it's a drag to hear some old woman lecture you... but life won't wait for you to play catch-up. You're young, the world is yours, blah blah blah, right? But you do have a gift, you have the fever to take images, to frame the world only the way you envision it. Now, all you need is the courage to share your gift with others. That's what separates the artist, from the amateur.” She encouraged.

“Okay, Ma’am. I will try. Thank you.” Ivan shyly bowed his head and headed towards outside the class.

The corridor, as usual, was filled with students. Some were walking, laughing at something; some were talking, standing by the lockers. The janitor was mopping the floor, muttering something. Ivan noticed, every now and then, the recurring posters of a missing person at almost every corner of his sight as he was looking for the restroom. ‘Matthew Williams’, he recalled. When he got inside his destination, it was empty. ‘Good.’

Ivan turned on the faucet then washed his face; he looked at the mirror, and remembered to turn off the faucet. He wiped his wet hands on the side of his pants, and took out his polaroid photo.

‘Relax, Ivan. Stop torturing yourself. You have… a gift.’ Ivan doubted. He sighed heavily.

‘Fuck it.’ He tore the photo while a bright blue butterfly flew into the restroom. It landed on a bucket beside the stall. Ivan followed it with careful footsteps. He approached the butterfly with his camera on his hands. He took a photo, and the butterfly flew away; it landed on the sink. Almost getting out of the corner, Feliks entered the room, closing the door. Ivan remained in his spot, hiding.

“It’s okay, Feliks. You're okay. Just count to three... Don't be scared... You, like, own this school... If I wanted, I could blow it up... You're the boss...” Feliks was breathing heavily.

A bespectacled blond entered the room as well.

“So, what do you want?” Feliks asked without looking at who is he’s asking.

“I hope you checked the perimeter, as my step-ass would say. Now, let's talk bidness.” The blond said rather without any sign of closeness.

“I got nothing for you.” Felix deadpanned.

“Wrong, you got hella cash.”

“That’s my family, not me.”

“Oh boo hoo, poor little rich kid. I know you been pumpin' drugs n' shit to kids around here. I bet your respectable family would help me out if I went to them. Man, I can see the headlines now.”

“Leave them out, you bastard.”

“I can tell everybody Feliks Łukasiewicz is a punk ass who begs like a little girl and talks to himself!”

Feliks took out a gun and pointed it at the blond.

“You don't know who the fuck I am or who you're messing around with!” Feliks shouted.

“Where'd you get that? What are you doing? Come on, put that thing down!” the blond panicked.

“Don't EVER tell me what to do. I'm so SICK of people trying to control me!”

“You are going to get in hella more problems for this than drugs.”

“Nobody would, like, ever miss your ‘punk ass’, would they?”

“Get that gun away from me, psycho!”

Feliks pulled the trigger, and shot the blond in the stomach. Without thinking straight, Ivan reached out by stretching his right hand.

“NO!” Ivan shouted, and his world began to slow down. The gun was falling slowly, and floating upwards to the owner’s hands. The world began to move reversely, and suddenly swirled. Everything was too fast to comprehend.

Ivan found himself in a classroom, again, almost falling out in his chair. He was in class. The class with Ms. Arlovskaya.

“Alfred Hitchcock famously called film ‘little pieces of time’ but he could be talking about photography, as he likely was.” Ms. Arlovskaya discussed.

Feliciano dropped his pen, and picked it up. Again.

‘I already heard this before.’ Ivan pondered.

Liz threw a paper ball at Kat.

‘Kat is being bullied again. And if Gilbert’s phone vibrates…’

Gilbert’s phone vibrated. Again.

Surprised, he knocked his camera off the desk, causing it to break.

‘So… I can actually reverse time?’ Ivan gaped at his thought. He noticed his broken camera, and with enough time manipulation, it was fixed.

‘I did it! Wow. I’m, I’m a time-traveller! Okay, so, what happened before? Ah, yes. I took a picture of myself, then Ms. Arlovskaya asked a question.’

“Shh, I believe Ivan has taken what you kids call a ‘selfie’. A dumb word for a wonderful photographic tradition. And Ivan” she said, yet again, like a proud teacher.

‘I’m not dreaming. This is real. What if, I could save that boy?’

“The point remains that the portraiture has always been a vital aspect of art, and photography, for as long as it's been around.” The teacher was still discussing.

‘I need to go to the bathroom!’

“Now Ivan, since you've captured our interest and clearly want to join the conversation, can you please tell us the name of the process that gave birth to the first self-portraits?” She looked at Ivan, waiting for an answer.

“I need to go the bathroom.”

“Nice try, Ivan. But you're not going to get away that easy. We can talk more after class.” She was not amused.

‘Oh shit, Ms. Arlovskaya wants to keep me after class. And I need time to save that boy.’

“Is there anybody here who knows their stuff?”

“Louis Daguerre was a French painter who created "daguerreotypes", a process that gave portraits a sharp reflective style, like a mirror.” Gilbert answered then looked at Ivan, as he was supposed to be.

“Now you're totally stuck in the Retro Zone. Too bad, it’s not that awesome. Suck your scarf while you’re at it.” Gilbert added, and Liz laughed.

An idea formed in Ivan’s head. He decided to rewind time. The world began to swirl again for a few seconds then...

“The Daguerreian Process. Invented by French painter named. Louis Daguerre. Around 1830.” Ivan answered hesitantly.

“Somebody has been reading. Nice work, Ivan.” She beamed, proud of her student.

“The Daguerreian Process made portraiture hugely popular, mainly because it gave the subjects clear defined features. You can learn more when you actually finish reading the assigned chapters. Ivan is so far, way ahead of everybody.”

With a queue in his head, the bell rang.

‘Ivan, you are not crazy. You are not dreaming. It's time to be ‘Everyday Hero’.’

He was about to exit the classroom until Ms. Arlovskaya stopped him.

“I see you, Ivan Braginsky. Don't even think about leaving here until we talk about your entry.”

Ivan winced, then turn around to see his teacher. He walked towards her.

“I'd never let one of photography's future stars avoid handing in his picture.” She noted.

“I'm not avoiding, just...”

“Biding time, waiting for the elusive ‘right moment’?”

“Da. Exactly.”

“Ivan, don't wait too long.”

“…da. I will do my best, Ms. Arlovskaya.”

She nodded. Ivan took this time to leave, and hurried to the restroom. He retraced what happened by doing what he did. He washed his face, ripped his photo, and took a photo of a butterfly. He remained in his hiding spot. He noticed the fire alarm, readied himself with a hammer he picked on the floor, and waited for the moment to come.

“…leave them out, you bastard.”

“I can tell everybody Feliks Łukasiewicz is a punk ass who begs like a little girl and talks to himself!”

Feliks took out a gun and pointed it at the blond.

“You don't know who the fuck I am or who you're messing around with!” Feliks shouted.

“Where'd you get that? What are you doing? Come on, put that thing down!” the blond panicked.

“Don't EVER tell me what to do. I'm so SICK of people trying to control me!”

“You are going to get in hella more problems for this than drugs.”

“Nobody would, like, ever miss your ‘punk ass’, would they?”

Ivan braced himself, exhaled, and started the fire alarm.

“No way…” Felix muttered.

“Don’t EVER come near me, you fucker!” the blond then punched Felix causing him to fall.

The blond rushed out of the restroom while Felix picked up his gun, noticed the stripped photo on the floor.

“Another shitty day…” Felix muttered while exited the room.

‘Did. I… just save… that boy?’ Ivan felt excited while his body was still in shock. His adrenaline slowly draining, reminding him that he violated a school rule, and decided to head outside. When he did, he was greeted by a security guard.

“Didn’t you hear the bloody alarm? That means you should be outside.” Arthur scolded.

“I had to use the bathroom.” Ivan answered quickly.

“Yeah, sure. I can see your face covered with guilt.”

“The alarm tripped me out.”

“Then trip on out here, lad. Or are you hiding something?”

“Thank you Mr. Kirkland, the situation is under control. There's no emergency here. Leave Mr. Braginsky alone and please turn off that alarm, since that's your job.” Principal Vargas joined their conversation.

Arthur decided to walk away, irritated. As Ivan was to walk away as well, the principal stopped him.

“Hold on, Ivan. Come back here” he commanded. Ivan complied.

“You look a little stressed out. Are you okay?” he inquired.

“I'm... I'm just a little worried about my... future.”

“You are sweating pinballs. Is that all you're thinking about? You can always be upfront with me, Ivan. Or have you done something wrong... Is that it? Well, Ivan? Talk to me.”

Ivan was cautious to give an answer. He can either tell the truth or hide it.

He decided to tell the truth.

“I just saw Feliks Łukasiewicz waving a gun around... in the restroom.”

“Feliks Łukasiewicz. You sure?”

“Yes. He was in the bathroom talking to himself with a gun. I saw everything. He was babbling like crazy.” Ivan said as his accent slipping.

“Okay, slow down, slow down. So now you saw this... without him seeing you?”

“I was hiding. Behind stall.”

“I know, I know. I just wanted to be completely clear what happened. Mr. Łukasiewicz happens to be from the town's most distinguished family. And one of Blackwell's most honored students. So it's hard for me to see him brandishing a weapon in the school’s restroom. So what happened next?”

“Then he left. I ran out here wondering what to do. Are you going to bust him?”

“We'll continue this discussion, later, in my office. Please go outside with the rest of your class now, Mr. Braginsky.”

‘Of course this academic drone won't do anything since the Łukasiewicz family owns Blackwell now. Should I rewind and change my story?’

He dropped his thought, and exited the building.

“Attention. Feliks Łukasiewicz, please go to the principal’s office at once.” The school speakers echoed throughout the open field.

Ivan noticed his Spanish history teacher by the door.

“Excuse me, Ivan? I know everybody loves being asked to sign a petition, but would you do Mr. Carriedo a favor and hear me out?” Mr. Carriedo inquired.

“Sure, I always have time for you. What's the petition?

“Arthur Kirkland, our chief of security, wants to put surveillance cameras all around the campus. Halls, classrooms, gym, dorm rooms etc. Blackwell Academy should be a high school, not a high security penitentiary.”

“I guess cameras could have helped Matthew Williams. I can see both sides.”

“You're fair minded, Ivan. And we all pray Matthew is found safe and sound, bless his soul. But this petition isn't about him. Blackwell Academy has a noble heritage, from the Native Americans who founded this land, to the pioneers who shared it in peace, not fear and violence.”

“The Native Americans?” Ivan curiously asked.

“The tribes who were here first, who welcomed the settlers. Both cultures found a mutual symbiosis and thrived. Now before I assign you homework with this lecture, will you please sign the petition to keep our campus from going back to 1984?”

“Absolutely. I don't mind security, but not... pure surveillance.” he signed the paper his teacher hold out.

“I knew you were my favorite new student at Blackwell for a good reason.” he smiled at his student and dismissed him.

He began exploring the campus. It was quite an open field with pine trees scattered along with lightposts and stoned paths; a fountain was at the center with the campus’ historical figure’s bust on top. There were students who were sitting nearby; some tossed coins. Among the grassy field were occupied tables, minding their own clique.

“Hey, you’re that new quiet kid, right? In Ms. Arlovskaya’s class?” Toris suddenly greeted him.

“Ah, hello Toris.” He greeted him back.

“Isn’t she incredible? You know, Ms. Arlovskaya?” Toris gleamed.

“I think so, too. We're lucky to have such famous teacher. And I actually love her works.”

“Me too. Her New York urban stuff is great, but I'm glad he came back to her Belarusian roots. Screw the East Coast elite. It must piss off those pretentious galleries that Natalya Arlovskaya is teaching photography to us Blackwell hicks... plus she is really hot.” He noted as matter-of-factly. “If Gilbert wasn't all over her, I would definitely make a move.” He added.

“No way. You can get her busted. And she's not going to mess around with a student.” Ivan retorted.

“That's what you think.”

“Now how do you know this?”

“You have a lot to learn here at Blackwell. Matthew Williams absolutely had sex with her. Well... I heard that from a good source.”

“So you knew Matthew?”

“Not really. I saw him hanging with the other cool kids like Gilbert. Not my kind of clique. But I heard insane stories about Matthew...”

“Well, you shouldn’t assume, I guess.”

“Beats me, anyway, nice talking to you.”

Ivan nodded then dismissed himself. As he walked around aimlessly, he spotted Wang Yao sketching on his pad.

“Privet Yao!” he waved his hand, approaching the Chinese student.

“Nihao, Ivan. You don’t mind sketching you, do you?” Yao asked his permission.

“I’d be honored, Yao. Makes me feel like a muse.” He giggled.

“Funny you should say that. I was just thinking about my real muse in class, Matthew Williams.” He started sketching quickly some guidelines.

“Hard to avoid his posters all over campus.” His body stilled while Yao added thicker lines to his sketch.

“Kills me to see his sweet face used as a crime photo. He had a good heart.” He shaded some parts smoothly.

Ivan nodded a little so he wouldn’t ruin Yao’s work. As Yao began finishing the details, he squinted, stretched his arm to see the whole work in a different angle. He sketch a little more, and decided that his work was complete.

“Ja-jan! It’s done.”

“Wow! I like how you drew my nose. It’s smaller, da?” he joked.

“Believe it or not, your nose is your asset.” Yao noted.

“Thanks, little one. Anyway, I should get going. Talk to you later.” He giggled, and waved goodbye.

“Bye bye!”

He glanced at his footsteps and he noticed the sidewalk was plagued by a patch of ants, circling like a spiral. A bizzare sight, he noted. He felt his phone vibrated. He read the text he just received.

From: Alice Vargas

Hey, meet me at the parking lot. But, don’t forget my flash drive!

He kept his phone in his pocket, and walked to the dormitories. As he was about to enter his building, unfortunately, Gilbert was there by the stairs blocking the doorway.

“Oh look, it's Ivan Braginsky, the selfie ho of Blackwell. What a lame gimmick. Even Nat —Ms. Arlovskaya— falls for your waif hipster bullshit.” he greeted while Elizabeth and Roderich was there.

“‘The Daguerreian Process, ma’am!’” he mocked his Russian accent. Ivan rolled his eyes.

“You could barely even say that. I guess you got your meds filled. Since you know all the answers, I guess you have to find another way into the dorm. We ain't moving. Oh wait, hold that pose!” Gilbert held out his phone and a shutter sound rang.

“So original. Don't worry, Ivan, I'll put a vintage filter on it right before I post it all over social medias. Now, why don't you go fuck your selfie?” Gilbert insulted him as Ivan walked out away, glaring and grumbling.

‘Oh yes, Gilbert. I will definitely get you albino ass out of the way.’ He smiled in quite a creepy way. He would smack him with a water pipe if he had to, but he had enough trip to the principal’s office. As he looked up, he witness the janitor was painting the walls, and knocked out the paint bucket, unfortunately, far enough from Gilbert. Forming an idea, he saw that the sprinklers by the side of the doorway were turned off. He went to the janitor’s shed which was also the control room, and turned on the sprinklers.

As the sprinklers were on, Gilbert and his friend abruptly stood up from the stairs they were sitting on.

“What the hell? Are you kidding? Look at this...” Gilbert ranted.

“It’s just water, Gil.” Rod remarked.

“Water on my awesome cashmere! Do you know how much this fucking outfit cost?” Gilbert added.

The paint bucket dropped, causing it to splash some of its content to Gilbert.

“No fucking way!” Gilbert whined.

“Oh my god, I’m really sorry.” The janitor apologized frantically.

“Don’t even talk to me or I’ll have you fired!”

“Shit, let me get some towels.” Liz said.

“Hello, Gilbert.” Ivan said with a smile.

“Don’t even say a word, Ivan.”

“Oh wait, hold that pose! And no filter needed before I post this. Now please move. I've had messed up day and I'm going to my room. Poka!” Ivan mocked, earning a glare from Gilbert.

“You do that... I know where you live... So does Felix...” Gilbert warned.

‘Maybe I shouldn't have done that... Now I have to get to my room, then see Alice.’

He walked through the halls, then entered his room. He looked for Alice’s flash drive but instead found a note from Ludwig. “I borrowed Alice’s flash drive. You could get it from me. –Ludwig B.”

‘Great. Now I have to talk to his brother.’ Ivan complained. He went to Ludwig’s room and saw him there typing something on his computer. He looked focused at what he was doing.

“Ludwig, may I know where is the flash drive?”

“Oh, Ivan. You’re here. Uh…” Ludwig was surprised but didn’t show it as much. He looked for something, and found the flash drive near him. “Here it is.”

“Ah, spasiba, Ludwig.” He headed out of his room and then the building.

He witnessed Raivis got hit by a football. He rewinded the time, and warned Raivis.

“Raivis, look out!”

“Huh?” Raivis moved his head, and blinked in shock when he felt the football almost touching his face.

“Wow, thank you, Ivan!” the boy said earning him a smile from Ivan.

‘Yay! I helped someone!’ he chirped. He walked along the path, and saw small dead birds along the way. ‘That’s quite ominous.’ When he was heading outside the dormitory premises, he heard a familiar British voice scolding someone.

“...so don't think I'm blind! I see everything here at Blackwell! Do you understand what I'm saying?” Arthur alleged.

“No! And leave me alone.” Kat answered back.

“Hey, why don't you leave her alone?” Ivan stepped in.

“Excuse us, this is official campus business—“ Arthur snapped.

“Excuse me, you shouldn't be yelling at students. Or bullying them.”

“Hey, hey, nobody is bullying anybody. I'm doing my job.”

“No, you're not.”

“You're part of the problem, lad. I will remember this conversation.” Arthur left them.

“Oh Ivan, that was great. I think you scared him for once... I have to go, but thank you. It means a lot.” Kat said with an appreciative tone while smiling still weakly.

“Anytime, Kat.” He smiled back but wider.

Going through the school campus again, he walked briskly. He spotted the parking lot, and then Alice by her car. Alice saw him approaching, smiled as she usually do while waving her hand energetically like the cheerful girl she was.

“Ciao, Ivan! How are you?” She greeted and hugged him. He hugged back.

“Here's your flash. Spasiba, as usual.”

“No problem. Check out my new wheels.”

“Cool. Very old-school.”

“1978, to be exact. Now we can go to the drive-in. There's one in Newberg, just sixty miles away.”

“You're in wrong time, Alice. But then, so am I.”

“You okay?”

“It's been one strange fucking day.” He sighed.

“Man, I saw that Gilbert didn't take down that pic of you on Facebook. Major dick move.”

“No worries, Alice. I took sweet shot of Gilbert I can't wait to share.”

“Oh, score one for Team Ivan! It will be so karmic to see his ass-clown face all over the nets.”

“I guess he does deserve it for all shitty things he's done to people here.”

“By the way, I saw Yao’s sketch of you online? Not bad, but I could do a much a better job.”

“Yao posted it online already? That was nice.”

“Congrats! You're part of his online portrait posse.”

“Don't be jealous. I'm sure he'll ask you soon.”

“Oh you're a wit, Ivan.”

“It's the company I keep, Alice.”

“So, did you get a chance to check out the movie booty on my flash drive?”

“Da. You had taste, from ‘Akira’ to ‘Twilight Zone’ which seems appropriate today.”

“I consider myself a pop...cultural pirate connoisseur.”

“That does sound better than ‘thief.’”

“Ha-ha. Make sure you watch ‘Cannibal Holocaust’.”

“Seen it. I was more disturbed by all those emo vampire movies in there.”

“Can't a sensitive high school girl love sensitive vampires too?”

“So you're sensitive...”

“Ouch, that sounds awful the way you say it.”

“Not at all. Sensitive is good, unless you're a pushover. You have hip taste and quick mind.”

“Thanks for noticing, Ivan.”

“The right boy will, too...”

“If I was lucky. Speaking of hip and fast, we should cruise out in my car to an actual movie this week. But you seem distracted.”

“I need to talk to somebody ...just to get it out of my system.”

“Dr. Alice Vargas is in the house. I won't even prescribe you any meds. Tell me everything.”

“For reals, Alice, this is between you and me, not social media.”

“Don't insult me, Ivan, go on.”

“I had this incredibly bizarre experience in Ms. Arlovskaya’s class today. I mean, life-changing. Have you ever had dream so real it was like movie?”

Alice was about to say something, but Feliks was approaching them while glaring.

“Ivan Braginsky, right? In Arlovskaya’s class?”

“Da. I’m one of her students.”

“What-the-fuck-ever. I know you like to take pictures, especially when you're hiding out in the bathrooms.” He said as he shoved Alice when she tried to stop him from bringing his face closer on Ivan’s.

“You best tell me what you told the Principal. Now!” Feliks demanded.

“I told him truth: student had gun.” Ivan deadpanned.

“No, you told him I had a gun! That's why he dragged me into his office.”

“And did what, give you stern lecture?”

“Nobody ...nobody lectures me! Everyone tries though ...they try...” Feliks almost broke down.

“You should talk to somebody, Feliks...” Ivan said out of concern.

“Do not analyze me! I pay people for that. Worry about yourself, Ivan Braginsky.” Feliks back at his previous trance.

“Take a step back, Feliks.”

“Oh, man, you're, like, telling me what to do?”

“Hey! You should stop shouting at him!” Alice confronted but was given a head-butt by Feliks.

“You shouldn’t have done that!” Ivan growled, tried to grab Feliks, but was grabbed in the neck by Feliks instead.

“Nobody tells me what to do! Not my parents, not the Principal, or like, that whore in the bathroom!” Feliks dictated.

Ivan scrapes Feliks's cheek with his attempted punch, and Feliks pushed him to the ground. An old pick-up truck drove up to the scene. Ivan got up, panting for air, and looked in the windshield, where the bespectacled blond from the restroom was in the driver's seat. He suddenly recognized who he was.

“Alfred?”

“Ivan?”

“No way, you again?” Feliks interrupted their mini-reunion, and eventually got punched by Ludwig.

“Ludwig?!” Ivan shouted out of worry.

“Don’t worry, we got this.” Alice smiled, and continued to face Felix along with Ludwig.

“Get in, Ivan!” Alfred shouted as Ivan complied.

“Get your punk asses out of there now! Don't even try to run! Nobody messes with me! Nobody!” Feliks shouted as they drove away. Arthur interrupted their fight.

“Feliks is messed up… and dangerous. This day never ends.” Ivan said what was on his mind.

“’Oh, and spasiba, Alfred.’” Alfred spoke in an attempted Russian accent. “After five years, you're still Ivan Braginsky.” Alfred continued in his usual voice.

Ivan looks down and shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“Don't give me the guilty face; at least pretend you're glad to see me.” Alfred pointed out.

“I am seriously glad to see you. Oh, and spasiba, Alfred. It makes perfect sense I'd see you today.” Ivan said sincerely.

“Yes, it's been that kinda day. So, what did that freak want with you?”

“Hopefully nothing after today. So, how do you know Feliks?”

“He's just another Arcadian asshole. Your friend really took a beatdown for you...”

“Ludwig? Yeah, I owe him big-time.”

“You're not the only one in debt. And you're already causing trouble.”

“Thought it would be quiet here. Feels so weird to be back.”

“So, I guess St. Petersburg sucked hard?”

“No, it felt like real city for artists. Big and bright. Great for taking pictures.”

“Yeah. Must be hard coming back to a hick town like Arcadia again.”

“Not after seeing you.”

“Please. You came back for Blackwell Academy.” He said bitterly.

“Of course, it's one of the best photography programs in the country. And my favorite teacher, Natalya Arlovskaya.” Unfortunately, Ivan didn’t notice Alfred’s tone.

“So you came back to Arcadia for a teacher, not your best friend.” Alfred threw some shade, and Ivan winced.

“Don't you think I'm happy to see you?”

“No. You were happy to wait five years without a call or even a text.” Alfred just glared at the road.

“Give me a break! I was going through changes...like you...” Ivan weakly defended himself.

“I guess those changes included dumping me from your life.”

“That's not true, Alfred...” He frowned, not liking the conversation.

“Bullshit. You thought you'd hook up with all these art pricks in St. Petersburg. Didn't happen, though.”

“You're merciless.” Ivan muttered.

“You've been at Blackwell for almost a month without letting me know. 'Nuff said.” He reminded.

“I just wanted to settle in first and not be such a shy, cliche geek. I totally would've contacted you.”

“I bet you don't use these sad excuses on Ms. Arlov-whatever. Don't use them on me, Ivan.”

Ivan fell back on the seat behind him. He watched Alfred driving for a while, ‘Since when did he start wearing glasses? It looks good on him.’ he thought, then bended down to retrieve his camera, which was smashed during the confrontation in the parking lot.

“Ahh, blyat.” He muttered.

“Wow, haven’t heard that in a while.” Alfred mused.

“Nothing changes, except for my camera decided to be trash.”

“Good thing my step-douche has a boatload of tools. Maybe you can fix it at my place.”

“I need very specific, tiny tools.”

“Nerd alert! My stepdad has a fully-stocked garage. And he actually is a tiny tool.” Alfred smiled, losing up a bit of his scrunched face.

“Welcome home, Ivan.” he said warmly and Ivan thanked him in his head.

Ivan and Alfred drove up to Alfred's house, and parked in the driveway. They get out of the car, and Alfred began unlocking the door with his house keys.

“Come on in, don't be shy.” Alfred tried to be hospitable.

“The house still looks...nice.” A faint nostalgia surged through Ivan.

“Home, shit home.” Alfred remarked as he entered the house.

Ivan followed him upstairs, and entered his room.

“My room’s a bit different than the last time you saw it.”

“It’s cool. At least we can chill out.”

“This isn’t exactly where I chill out. My step-Fuhrer makes sure of that. Close the door, and put on some music while I ‘meditate’.” Alfred began smoking weed.

“So tell me, what does Ivan Braginsky do for fun now that he's a grown-up?”

“Not much. You know me. I like to observe the world more than participate.”

“I can't say I know you anymore; maybe you love to go clubbin' every night.”

“Can you see me at a rave?”

“I'd dose those candy-flippin' morons and watch them twitch into a DJ-dance-death-rattle... Take a photo of that.”

“Pfft, da. Sure.”

Ivan looked for the power switch and turned it on. He searched the metal box under the bed and took the CD. Noticing a picture of Matthew Williams, he pulls it out and unfolds it to reveal that the other side of the picture shows Alfred. He noticed this.

“Hey, give me that!” Alfred snatched the photo out of Ivan's hand.

“Ah, prosti. I wasn't trying to be nosy. Obviously, he was good friend, yes?”

“That's putting it mildly.”

Ivan sat down next to Alfred. Not really wanting to look a know-it-all, he inquired about Matthew.

“So, who is he? Do you mind talking about him?”

“Matthew Williams. He was my...angel.” He answered with longing.

“After my mom died and you moved, I felt abandoned. Matthew saved my life.” He continued.

“I had no idea...” Ivan whispered.

“Well, you never made much effort to find out. I was fourteen, we were best friends.” Alfred countered.

“So, Matthew took my place... I'm glad he was there for you.” He replied weakly.

“Matthew had my back. We were gonna kick the world's ass. You would laugh at how different we were... He wanted to be a star.”

“He looks like a model. Well, he looks like you.”

“We get that a lot. That was his plan. Our plan. Get the hell out of Bigfootville, and into Los Angeles.”

“So, what happened? Did your folks, your papa, try to stop you?”

“My papa was too busy hooked up with Sergeant Shithead.”

“I feel the love... Now, when did Matthew actually disappear?” Ivan said sarcastically.

“Six months ago. He just left Arcadia. Without a word. Without...me.” Alfred weakly responded.

“How do you know he disappeared? Maybe he wanted to start a totally new life...”

“Unlike you, he would've told me, okay? Something happened to him.” his tone took a break from the nostalgia.

“I believe you. I'm just trying to get all deductive...” Ivan sighed.

“Before he left, he said he met somebody who changed his life... Then, poof.”

“And you haven't heard anything from him since?”

“Like everybody in my life. My mom, you...and Matthew... Gone... Can you put on some music now?”

Ivan got up slowly. He inserted the CD into the stereo. "Santa Monica Dream" by Angus and Julia Stone began playing. Alfred lied down on the bed, a sad expression across his face, and he began to smoke.

“Anyway, you can find tools to fix your camera in the garage.” Alfred noted.

“Alfred, are you okay?” Ivan noticed Alfred’s dazed face.

“Sure, I'm awesome. I just want to blaze and be alone for a moment.”

“Horosho.” Ivan left Alfred's room and went downstairs.

He glanced around the living room, and invited himself to a nostalgia trip. ‘It’s been five years.’ The living room was still the same as he remembered, except for the old wallpaper stripping out of its age. The bulky television was gone, and was replaced with a flat-screen. He looked through the sliding door, noticed that the backyard’s swing was still there.

He spotted an open door to the garage and welcomed himself. He searched for the tools, cabinet by cabinet. When he opened another cabinet, he was surprised to see what’s inside. A small television with surveillance of the house. ‘Damn, Alfred’s step-dad is really paranoid and creepy.’ He closed the cabinet, and searched through the drawers instead. He found a manila folder containing Blackwell’s student profiles, and apparently, his opinions as well; he also had a file about Ivan. He skimmed through the detail. ‘Really nosy, doesn’t know how to mind his own business. Quite sketchy.’ He laughed quietly when he read his opinion about him. He read Kat’s file and it bothered him. ‘Related to a scandal in the Vortex Club’ he read. ‘Why would he thought of that? This man has a problem.’ He put the files back to its place, and opened another drawer, wherein he found the tools. He grabbed the tools and headed back to Alfred’s room.

“Sweet, you found the tools? Go work on my table. Just tidy it up a bit.” Alfred said as he noticed Ivan had returned.

He complied and began fixing his camera. He removed the pictures inside of it and put it aside. He screwed some parts as it began to take its form. When it seemed presentable, he pressed the shutter button. The cover did not immediately eject, so he removed the film backing, then reinserted it. It still didn’t work.

“Why are you pain in the butt?” He felt defeated.

Alfred stood up from his bed and moved closer to Ivan. He noticed the photos on the table, and looked at it one by one. He commented each of the photo with compliments, making Ivan smile. He then took the photo of a blue butterfly that seemed familiar.

“Hey! Is this… is this the butterfly in the restroom?!” Alfred exclaimed as if it’s a Eureka moment.

“Ahh, da. Yes. It is. Why?”

“You… you son of a gun. You saved me! You knew Feliks had a gun so you tripped the alarm. Wow, you’re like the KGB or something.” Alfred was still amazed.

“What are you talking about?” Ivan grinned and Alfred threw a pillow at him, causing the camera to fall.

“Now, it’s officially broken.” Ivan deadpanned.

“Hey, since, it was your birthday like more than a year ago. Right?” Alfred smiled, giddy, and searched for something in his cabinet. Well, under it. He pulled out a box, and found what he was looking for. He hid it behind his back and-

“Belated happy birthday, Ivan!” Alfred held out a Polaroid camera, better than his previous one.

“I- Uh, spasiba, Alfred. But isn’t this your mother’s camera?”

“Pfft, no worries. Besides, I don’t know how to take good shots, unlike you.”

“Bol'shoye spasiba, Alfred. I am much honored.”

“Y’know what, we should celebrate! You’re back, and we need to have a homecoming party for you.” He paced through his room and changed the music to a livelier one. He maxed the volume, and started dancing on top of his bed.

“C’mon. Shake that big, white ass!” He howled, earning a giggle from Ivan as he awkwardly began dancing as well.

“Are you even trying, Ivan?” He danced vigorously, bobbing his head.

“Turn off that bloody music, Alfred Bonnefoy-Kirkland!” A voice shouted from downstairs.

“Fucker, I hate it when he does that.” Alfred cursed as he turned off the stereo.

“What now?” Ivan asked.

“I’m going to your room, young man.” His step-dad shouted.

“Oh, shit. Ivan, go hide or something.” Alfred whispered.

Ivan was frantically finding a hiding spot, and remembered that he used to hide in Alfred’s closet. He went inside and remained silent while he heard the door opened.

“Alfred, did you, or did you not take any of my guns in my stash?” His step-dad asked impatiently.

“Wow, what are you even talking about?”

“Is this marijuana? Why am I finding marijuana in this house?”

“Okay, first, guns. Now, weed. Wanna blame me more on something else?”

“I will not tolerate that kind of tone if I were you. Your father and I were worried about you.”

“Yeah, sure. I feel the love.”

“Answer my question, why is there marijuana in your room?”

“I… Uhh, it’s mine.” Ivan lied as he stepped out of the closet. He was surprised to see Arthur Kirkland in Alfred’s room.

“Okay, first of all, I don’t like it when bloody strangers pop out from my son’s closet. And you do know the consequences for having such illegal drug, Ivan Braginsky.”

“You should shut it, Arthur. You shouldn’t care who I’m friends with. And please call me Alfred F. Jones if you really want to call me by my full name.” Alfred butted in.

Ticked off, Arthur slapped Alfred in the face. Alfred glared at him.

“You’ll regret this.” He warned, eyes glinting.

Arthur, without another word, walked away with grief.

“Alfred, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. So that’s my step-douche.”

“I can’t believe Arthur Kirkland is your step-dad.”

“Yeah, beats me on how Francis looked him in the eye and say ‘Wow I love this man’ because seriously, who could even like that guy? Anyway, I have another surprise.” He went to his table and uncovered something.

He held it in his back then held it out. It was a gun.

“Look at my cool toy.”

“Alfred, chto za blyat?!”

“I know, pretty cool, right?” He ignored his friend’s colorful expression.

“Anyway, let’s go outside. I don’t really feel chill here anymore.” He opened his window and noticed Ivan hesitated.

“What? Are you coming or you’re just gonna mope there and maybe have a heart to heart talk with Arthur?” He continued stepping out through the window.

Ivan followed him, and he was excited.

They went to a familiar cliff. Too familiar.

“Isn't this awesome sauce? Totally reminds me of when we were kids...” Alfred recalled. He noticed Ivan was slowing down and waved at him. “Come on, slowpoke!”

“Wait up!”

‘I haven't been here in forever... So why do I feel like I was just here? Whoa, this is the exact same path I was on during my nightmare today.’

He noticed Alfred was already sitting on a bench by the lighthouse. Alfred noticed him standing like a doof.

“Have a seat, Vanya.”

“You’re in a good mood.” He said as he noticed the sudden use of his nickname.

“Seeing my step-dork get played makes me happy.”

“I'm not as brave as you. And Arthur is indeed ‘step-douche’.”

“I'm sorry you had to experience it firsthand.”

“You have to live with him. Has he always been this way?”

“Ever since my desperate papa dragged his ass to our home! I never trusted Arthur.”

“He freaked out on poor Yekaterina Chernenko today.”

“I know her. She's cool. Only that prick would bully her.”

“He has some kind of weird agenda.”

“He has a lot of secret files. Sherlock still thinks he's gathering enemy intelligence. Did you take a peek?”

“Well, yeah. I couldn't help it.”

“Never change. What did you find?”

“Creepy photos of Yekaterina... other Blackwell students...”

“This dude takes his job too seriously. He still thinks he's at war or something. He has a total surveillance fetish. I worry there are spy cams in the house.”

“I knew you didn't know! Alfred, your house is under surveillance.”

“What are you talking about?”

“There are cameras all over the house. I saw it on a monitor in the garage.”

“I knew it! He is so hella fucking paranoid. I'll keep this a secret for now...”

“Sometimes ignorance is bliss.”

“No wonder I'm so miserable. Everybody in this town knows everybody's secrets...”

“Even yours?

“Not anymore.”

“So what do you have on Feliks?”

“He's an elite asshole who sells bad shit cut with laxative ...and he dosed me with some drug in his room.”

“What?”

“I met him in some shithole bar that didn't card me. He was too rich for the place and too wasted. And he kept flashing bills...”

“Just tell me what happened, Alfred. Now.”

“I was an idiot. I thought he was so blazed it would be an easy score.”

“You needed money that bad?”

“Actually, yes. I owe big time. And I thought I'd have enough for me and Matthew if he showed up.”

“How much do you owe?

“Three grand plus interest. And before I could get a chunk of that from Feliks...he dosed my drink with some shit.”

“God, Alfred, I can't believe this... I mean, I do. Then what?” Ivan was frustrated.

“I know I passed out on the floor. I woke up and that perv was smiling, crawling towards me with a camera...”

“Go on...”

“Everything was a blur... I tried to kick him in the balls and broke a lamp. Feliks freaked, so I managed to bum rush the door and get the hell out. Ivan, it was insane.”

“What did you do then?” Ivan gritted through his teeth. Furious at what he was hearing.

“I figured I would make him pay me to keep quiet. So we met in the bathroom.”

“And he brought a gun.”

“That was Feliks's last mistake.”

“He's still dangerous, Alfred. Not just to you.”

“I won't always be there to save you...”

“You were here today, Ivan. You saved me! I'm still tripping on that... Seeing you after all these years feels like—“

“Destiny?”

Alfred got up from the bench and approached the cliff. Ivan follows him.

“If this is destiny, I hope we can find Matthew. I miss him, Ivan. This shit-pit has taken away everyone I've ever loved... I'd like to drop a bomb on Arcadia Bay and turn it to fucking glass...”

Ivan glanced at Alfred who’s still look at the horizon. The sun was setting and sky was clear until-

Ivan felt his head ache. The world was spinning on its own, darkening.

He was, again, trapped in the same storm. He was on the same path as before.

‘Not again... Why is this happening to me? Why am I here again? Is Alfred still up there?’

Ivan followed a doe, translucent it seemed, to the top of the hill as a boulder fell down the left fork in the road. Thunder crashed and lightning stroke a tree, causing it to fall down in front of Ivan. He rewinded time and walked up the path as the tree fell behind him. Ivan continued to follow the ghostly doe up the steps to the lighthouse. A pile of logs crashed down the path in front of Ivan. He rewinded and stood in the area next to the path as they fell past him. He continued toward the lighthouse. A boat flew out of the tornado and crashed into the lighthouse. Debris rained down and knocked the fallen tree blocking the road into the ocean below. The top of the lighthouse fell down and balanced precariously on the edge of the cliff. It slowly tipped over and fell into the ocean, taking chunks of the cliff with it so Ivan cannot cross it. Ivan rewinded and crossed to the bench area after the debris rained down. The lighthouse roof fell over again behind him. Ivan then read the newspaper stuck on railing. ‘October 11th? Is this Friday? That's only four days away!’ The wind tore the newspaper out of Ivan's hands. He watched the tornado.

‘Oh, no... That tornado is headed straight for the town...’

Suddenly, Alfred's hand touched Ivan's shoulder. Ivan found himself back with Alfred at sunset. Ivan falls to the ground and Alfred kneeled beside him. He looked at Alfred one more time, about to break down.

“Alfred! You're here! I'm back. Oh, Bozhe, this is real--it's real! This sucks.” Ivan rambled, mixed with emotions.

“Ivan, what's going on? You totally blacked out.”

“I didn't black out...I had another vision. The town is going to get wiped out by a tornado...”

“Oregon gets about five tornadoes every twenty years; you just zoned.”

Ivan grabbed Alfred's wrist.

“Nyet, nyet, I saw it! I could actually feel the electricity in the air...”

“Come on, take a breath, okay?”

“Alfred, I'm not crazy. But there's something else I have to tell you... Something...hardcore.”

“Talk to me, Ivan.”

“I had this same vision earlier in class... When I came out of it, I discovered I could reverse time. Like I said: not crazy.”

“But high, right?”

“Listen to me, how do you think I saved you in the bathroom?”

“By reversing time? Yeah, sure.”

“I saw you get shot, Alfred. Saw you actually...die. I was able to go back and hit the fire alarm...”

“Okay, I see you're a geek now with a great imagination, but this isn't anime or a video game; people don't have those powers, Ivan.”

“I don't know what I have, but I have it. And I'm scared.”

“You need to get high. It's been a hella insane fucking day...”

Ivan began shaking his head. A snowflake falls on his face and he wipes it away. Ivan and Alfred watched as snow begins falling all around them.

“What...the hell is this?” Alfred said dumbfounded.

“Snowflakes...?”

Alfred stood up.

“It's, like...eighty degrees. How?” Alfred stated, unable to comprehend what’s happening.

Ivan got up.

“Climate change...or storm is coming.” he commented gravely.

“Ivan...” Alfred looked him in the eye. “Start from the beginning. Tell me everything.”

Disclaimer: I do not own ‘Hetalia: Axis Powers’ nor ‘Life is Strange’.

So, there you have it. A ‘Life Is Strange’ AU RusAme.

Fun fact: Babochka is a Russian word for butterfly which also means “little soul” because the old peeps believed that souls take form of a butterfly. Thus, the title.

Another fun fact: I don’t really write fanfic; this is just a giant incorrect hetalia quote if you ask me. I just got into deep of RusAme hell. I’d appreciate it if someone would like to beta for me, though. I would love to learn how write properly.

If my request in AO3 got approved, I’d definitely post it there.

#rusame #amerus #aph russia #aph america #hetalia #hetalia axis powers #ivan braginsky #alfred f jones #rusame textposts #blue little soul #i tried to write

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serahne · 8 years

Text

What am I doing with my life ? This is it, folks, I promised and now I deliver, here comes the Hajime Hinata analysis, since after months in the fandom, I’ve decided to write something about one of my favorite - and probably one of the most complex - character in the serie, Hajime Hinata. His complexity is often ignored by the fandom, and he is often characterized as the ‘protagonist with inferiority complex, but still nice’ which is a very superficial analysis for a character we spend so much time with. But that may be part of the problem : everyone has the feeling he knows Hajime Hinata, also because we see so much of him, while we have to gather the scratch from the other characters.

With the approaching release of Sdr2.5, and unless we get a big surprise from the upcoming game, we’ve now seen everything about Hajime Hinata in canon material. I will use both Sdr2 and Dr3 for this analysis. My goal is to paint a consistent picture of Hinata through it, one that could help to understand how his character evolved the way it did and what set this - apparently average boy - apart from the rest of the world.

Fasten your safety bells, please, we’re going into Hinata’s ( intact, for now ) brain. It’s going to be fun.

PART I - HINATA BEFORE HOPE’S PEAK ACADEMY

Who was Hajime Hinata before going to Hope’s Peak ? Well, from the flashback we had in the third chapter… not a very happy person. He doesn’t have friends, the whole class is talking behind his back while he is trying to not listen or understand what they are saying, and he talks about Hope’s Peak as a place where he could finally be proud of himself. I almost can understand the ‘Hinata has an inferiority complex’ theory but…

That doesn’t sound at all like an inferiority complex. Hinata isn’t alone because he considers himself inferior to the rest of the class, he is alone because he choses to be, because he thinks that he deserves better than what he got, and this includes the people around him as well as his school. Also, having an inferiority complex is not something that will motivate you to pursue higher goals/status, for you will think that you aren’t good enough for them. This is even more obvious since there is in canon someone who really has an inferiority complex.

That’s a pretty different stance on the matter.

If he doesn’t have an inferiority complex, then why is he so unhappy ? Because unfortunately what we aspire to be isn’t always what we are in reality.

To be more specific, the Japanese school system is extremely selective, with an incredible pressure put on kid’s shoulder to success : between 3 and 5 years, many pre-school will prepare children to enter a good ( private ) elementary school, which will prepare them to enter a good ( private ) middle school. After middle school, the exam that will determine which High school you’re allowed to enter is pretty much the moment that your future is traced : if you are accepted into a very good high-school, you’ll be ready to go into a very college and you’ll end up having a successful life and if you don’t… well.

I’m absolutely not saying that the socio-economical situation of a family has no role into a kid’s success : if you are from a rich/high middle class family, chances are your mother doesn’t work and can help you with your homework, your parents can pay for additional classes, for the best textbook and educational tools, and for the school fees themselves etc… but having money is definitely not enough to buy your way into the school system.

Do you know which High-School isn’t like that ? Which High-School doesn’t ask for a lot of work, doesn’t ask you to destroy yourself trying to learn things in the hope to succeed ? Which high-school will scout people who spend their time being themselves, playing video games or drawing animes, or playing poker, or drawing doujinshis and won’t bend them to fit into the society but will instead move the society around them ? Hope’s Peak Academy.

And this is the main reason he decided to enter Hope’s Peak Academy, which means that this line :

Is a lie. And we are proved how much a lie it is at the very beginning, when Hinata happens to meet someone who is a Hope’s Peak enthusiast.

Hinata pretends that his childhood dream was to enter Hope’s Peak Academy, that it was an accomplishment for him to finally get in there, and he didn’t even bother to google it ? We saw from Dr1 that there were forums where people talked about the Academy, even when they weren’t chosen to attend it. Hinata never even heard of them. He also doesn’t know the ‘lucky student’ system, even though, again, we can wonder how many students prayed to be picked up by the school this way.

And finally, he has a very relaxed behaviour when it comes to talking with the Ultimates, saying how weird or annoying he thinks they are while Komaeda is gushing about their amazing talents. Here are a few examples, even if he has some snarky comment to say about everyone, including about their talent itself.

Which is why this is a lie when he equates his admiration for Hope’s Peak with the admiration a kid who is passionate about baseball has for the major league. Hope’s Peak isn’t the accomplishment of his dream, it’s his escape to a life and a system he feels stuck in. Hinata entering Hope’s Peak is incredibly hopeful because he thinks that he has finally found out the ‘more’ he has been looking for.

But if his goal was really entering the Reserve Course in Hope’s Peak, why does he look like that a couple of weeks after the beginning of his classes :

Yes, it’s pretty obvious that Hinata doesn’t care about Hope’s Peak for what it is, but for what he expected to find in the ‘most prestigious school of the world’. And that he didn’t find. Because what he wanted was a way to escape the tyrannic school system, and the only thing he found out was something even more oppressive and unfair toward the less gifted.

But this points out another trait in Hinata, something that is very important for the way he acts in Sdr2, especially : Hinata is incredibly skilled to avoid to face the truth, because facing the truth means suffering the consequences of it and having to take action. When confronted to the school system, Hinata had two possibilities : he could submit himself to the school system, by either working even harder, trying to succeed according to the rules but having to accept the potential failures and the consequences, or fighting the system which… would basically mean dropping out, and, again accepting the consequences. And Hinata managed to find in Hope’s Peak a way to avoid this dilemma.

This is only the first time we see it do it in canon. Sheltering himself from the truth, lying to himself, running away, ignoring deliberately the truth is almost Hinata’s default mode, and we’ll definitely come back to it.

On a not-very-happy point, I tried to think about Hinata’s choice if he had not bought his way into Hope’s Peak Academy, and the first and main theory I have is pretty depressing. I honestly don’t think Hinata would have accepted to submit himself to the school system and accepted who he is and how his life was going to be. But I don’t think he would have refused the system either and dropped out, he seemed way too distressed to take that kind of action.

I obviously cannot prove anything with absolute certainty, but I think that Hinata would have been part of these alarming high statistics about High-schoolers committing suicide because of the pressure they put on themselves that the japanese government is trying to reduce. If we think that the next time he feels ‘stuck’ into the school system he willingly chooses to go rhough a possibly-brain damaging operation, that doesn’t seem impossible to me. Hinata doesn’t have a death wish, he is just ready to do anything to make a change and stop to feel so crushed by the rest of the world, and that may occasionally lead to destructive/suicidal behaviour.

That’s not such surprise if his parents were willing to ruin themselves to pay Hope’s Peak’s fees. I think they may had that in mind too.

By the way we don’t know much about Hinata’s parents, but the idea that they are ‘uncaring parents who sold their son against money’ doesn’t really hold waters They had no way to know about the Kamukura project before Hinata enters Hope’s Peak, and they still decided to put their son there, even if it was too expensive for them.

Unfortunately, I think that knowing that his parents gave so much money to Hope’s Peak put even more pressure on Hinata to find some sort of accomplishment there, and added to his frustration. But just like when they gave agreed with the Kamukura project, it was probably for the same reason : helping their son, without realizing that it would create some feeling of expectations on Hinata, the same he is always trying to escape.

We are done for this first part, but here is a summary of main idea here

-> His parents aren’t terrible people they just wanted the best for their son

-> Hajime doesn’t have an inferiority complex but is unsatisfied with his life

-> He wanted to go to Hope’s Peak as a way to escape the tyrannic school system, not because he admired Hope and Talents.

#hajime hinata #sdr2 #dr3 #dangan ronpa #analysis

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ecotone99 · 4 years

Text

[HR] Call Me Birdy

The florescent light shined oppressively bright. The room was sterile, not a single speck of dirt or dust can be found. There's hardly any furniture, only two metal folding chairs and a cold, metal desk populate this small room.

I've been in this room before, it never gets easier. For hours I've stared at the walls, the silent sea of white made me want to scream. There was a clock, but I chose to stop counting the time a long time ago. The ticking, it made my teeth hurt.

I tapped my fingers on the desk, waiting for the interviewer to arrive. He's normally early, but today it seems he's late. Not that I cared, I wasn't leaving any time soon. After all, I was born in this lab.

The interviewer finally came in. He was a short, stocky, bald man with wire frame glasses. He flashed me a cheesy smile and sat down in the adjacent chair. He was drinking a coffee, he offered me some but I declined. He was also holding a file of my profile.

"Sorry I'm late, I was getting a coffee." The man said.

"No problem. Can we get this moving please?" I asked impatiently.

The man grimaced, but it was so fast you would miss it if you blinked. He cleared his throat.

"Well, Subject 3250."

"Birdy! Call me Birdy!" I interrupted, slamming my fist on the table.

His coffee shook, spilling a little bit.

The man sighed and moved on with his speech.

"Well, Birdy, I'm here to say that you are no longer needed for Project Hellhound."

I smiled. This was the first piece of good news I heard in, all my life! Since I was a hatchling, I've been poked on proded for Project Hellhound, but now I'm free.

"That's great news! Finally I can leave." I said, not trying to hide my joy.

Instead of being happy, the man just sighed and shook my head.

I was confused. I'm free to go, right?

"We're done testing for Project Hellhound, but we still need you here. Further testing is needed.

I shook my head. This had to be some practical joke.

"But I completely all my tests! Maybe you eggheads made a mistake with the paperwork?" I said, confused.

The man continued, not even addressing my complaint.

"We understand that you're upset, but we simply can't let you leave. Scientific breakthroughs are about to be discovered, we can't afford to let you leave."

I started to get upset. My feathers became rigid with rage.

"You can't do this to me! Project Anubis is done, what the hell do you need me for?" I asked exasperated.

"You can't leave, deal with it!" The man said, frustrated.

I was furious. All my life I waited for this moment, and for what? To be told no?

I was silent for a moment, then I spoke again.

"I'm leaving." I muttered.

"What?" The man asked.

"I'm leaving!" I shouted.

The man's face grew red.

"You listen to me, bird boy. You're aren't leaving, and that's final. What, you think you can walk outside? A disgusting abomination like you? You were born in here and you're gonna die in here. So get your bird ass back to your room!" The man shouted.

I had enough. I got up, like he wanted. I grabbed the cup of coffee and threw it in the man's face, catching him off guard.

He screamed in extreme pain, rubbing and wiping his face in vain. I reached down and grabbed the key from his key rack. He grabbed my hand, not letting go. In his other hand, he had a walkie-talkie.

"3250 has breeched containment! 3250 has breeched containment!" He said over and over.

I had no other choice. He held onto my arm and was calling in the Regulators. I reached down and bit him in the neck.

He screamed loudly as I bit, breaking the skin. I was aiming for a vein, and I found one.

Blood stained the sterile room, mixing red with white like an unholy fourth of July.

Blood stained the hospital gown I was wearing. I let go, the man dropping to the floor dead.

A puddle formed, allowing me to see myself for the first time.

I had the face of a Raven, eyes, nose, and body to go with it. Instead of a beak, I have human teeth, yellow and straight. Blood covered my mouth, like I ate chocolate cake.

I opened the door and walked out, the lights of the hallway greeted me as I walked. Down the hall was a guards nest. Only one guard was stationed because until this moment, I was one of the more cooperative subjects.

The guard was on his phone, away from me. I walked back into the room with the dead interviewer and broke the coffee cup. I grabbed the sharp piece of porcelain and made my way to the guard.

I raised the sharp piece, waiting to strike. My foot made the floorboards creek. The guard turned around, seeing me.

Panicked, I stuck the piece of porcelain into his neck, causing him to bleed intensely.

Before he dropped dead, he pressed the alarm.

"Shit!" I yelled, closing the door.

Once the alarm was on, only a senior Regulator could shut it off.

I took his utility belt, including his pistiol.

As I wrapped the belt around my waist, I couldn't help but notice how funny this was. All I wanted to was to be free, and no I'm actually doing it.

I took off my shirt and replaced it with the guards.

I took the guards keychain, using it to open the storage locker behind him. Inside was a flashlight, a box of pistiol ammo, and an MP5.

I took the rifle and placed it on my back. I had a feeling I was going to need it. I pressed the button leading out of the hallway, leading into the dorm room.

The lights were out because of the alarm. An errie red bathed the hallway. The other hybrids were locked in there rooms until further notice.

Pounding and scratching filled the hall. I walked down for a bit until I got a cut on my foot. I was barefoot going in.

I investigated the ground, discovering broken glass. They path ahead was covered in broken glass.

I turned right, into another hallway. I saw blood splattered to the walls. Dead hybrids littered the floor. Apon further investigation, it appeared that someone, or something, bit a chunk out of all there heads!

I heard disgusting chewing sounds. Flesh being tore, the cracking of bones. It made me sick.

I shined my light ahead of me, at the end of the hallway. On the other end of the hallway was a wolf man eating the body of a dead deer girl.

Shit, I thought. They brought out the pure breds! The pure breds were successful experiments conducted by Project Hellhound. They're used to police the hybrids.

It looked at me, blood and drool dripped from its mouth.

"Back to your room!" It shouted, throwing the deer girl aside.

I didn't move, instead I pulled out my pistol and shot it in the head.

It didn't work, because the wolf man charged at me.

In a split second I ran into the the closet room I could find. Which so happened to lead to the children's wing.

I ran through the double doors, locking them with a mop.

The wolf thrashed wildly against it, applying stress to the broom.

I was certain it was going to give way, allowing the wolf to rip me apart. In a stroke of luck, a half rat half man caught the wolf's attention.

"Please! Help me, I've been stabbed!" He said.

The wolf tackled him, mauling him.

I took off, running down the hall. I entered a gym like area, but it was dark so I couldn't tell.

No one was there, so I took time to breath.

All of this was insane, I felt like I was in a nightmare. An endless nightmare, but no matter how many times I pinch myself I can't wake up.

I heard crying behind me, I spun around ready to shoot. To my surprise I saw a little girl. She looked like a piglet.

"Don't hurt me, please!" She pleaded.

I put my pistol back into my holster. I shushed her.

"Don't worry honey, I'm one of you." I said.

The girl looked at me, calming down.

"Who are you?" She asked.

"I'm Brian, Brian Thatcher." I replied.

"I'm Hallie." The girl said.

"Where's your parents, Hallie?" I asked.

Hallie started to sniffle.

"The bad people killed them."

Guilt ate away at my insides. I didn't know I would cause all this pain and suffering. I looked at Hallie, her innocent face looking back at me.

"Hallie, I'm leaving this place." I blurted out.

"C-can I go with you?" Hallie asked.

A voice inside me told me to leave her, but I couldn't live with myself if I did that.

"Sure Hallie." I replied.

Hallie smiled widely.

"Thank you, Mr Thatcher! I can't wait to see the sun for the first time!"

"Just call me Birdy, ok?" I said.

"Ok, Birdy." Hallie replied.

This was serious now. Not only did I have to leave for myself, but I have someone to protect. I would never leave her alone.

I am the feathered soldier.

submitted by /u/BillyManHansJr [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2AASAjb

#Blogger #Story

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rebeccahpedersen · 5 years

Text

Two Perspectives On Offer Nights & Bully Offers

TorontoRealtyBlog

How come discussions about real estate are so negative?

Remember when it wasn’t this way?

I started Toronto Realty Blog in 2007, and there were many differences between then and now. My blogs were about one-third as long, I wrote four times per week instead of the current three, I had a feature called “Listing of the Week,” which was blatant unauthorized advertising and had to be taken down, and oh yeah – most of my posts were positive!

After the last few posts, it occurred to me that the subject matter, the themes, the opinions, and the comments thereafter often take a somewhat negative tone. Why is this?

Is it because real estate is just so damn expensive in Toronto, and people are angry?

Is it because the market is extremely complex, fast-paced, and difficult to understand and thus navigate?

Or am I just a negative person?

The blog-comment I wrote about on Friday is still stuck in my head; the one where a reader told me that if I’m constantly describing interactions with agents who have no idea what they’re doing, and then seem surprised that I have these interactions, then something isn’t right with my expectations.

A lot of my blog topics over the past couple of years have been about organized real estate, and the industry in which we work. I cover a variety of topics on TRB, but every agent out there will talk about new buildings, show pretty pictures of lofts, and re-Tweet the same stats that every other brokerage has on hand, but I pride myself on tackling the tough subject matter, and openly discussing the industry.

Whether it’s commission, multiple representation, access to sold data, the role of TREB and OREA, or the lack of experience of many agents, I have no problem sharing my opinions, even as other agents, and often the boards, ask me not to.

I think that as the pool of licensed agents has grown, the market has become more dynamic, and new brokerage models have popped up, the overall level of service and level of knowledge, experience, skill, and capability of the average agent has dropped significantly.

I wanted to talk today about OREA’s announcement that they, apparently on behalf of Realtors, want the Ontario government to “ban” bully offers, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t describe a recent interaction with an agent that I think will put my above commentary in perspective, and shed some light on the real problem with bully offers.

This story is a short one, but I think it’s a good example of how different people may have drastically different perspectives on the same situation.

Last week, I brought out a condo listing in the downtown core for $599,900.

This was your classic “under list, hold back offer” strategy, and for those of you that believe this to be hypocritical, since I have lamented this strategy on occasion in the past, welcome to the Toronto real estate market! And by the way, it’s the seller’s decision in the end.

Based on comparable sales, this property was probably worth anywhere from $650,000 to $700,000, and while I know that’s an enormous range, you have to consider just how subjective comparable sales can be. Every buyer is looking for something different, and while the average price-per-square-foot in the building over the last six months might lead you to a $650,000 price, there was nothing average about this unit (nor the cleaning, painting, de-cluttering, staging, marketing), nor are 6-month-old comparable sales still valid, in my opinion. I personally believed this property was worth $675,000 to $700,000, and figured we had a good chance of breaking $700,000.

The amount of showings on the property defied expectations. It was just nuts.

We had eight booked on the first day, which is a lot. But we had fourteen booked the second day, and we were pushing forty as we moved into the weekend.

By the time offer night rolled around, we had over fifty showings from agents, and probably sixty to eighty people through the Saturday & Sunday open house.

We were reviewing offers at 7:00pm on Monday evening, and at 10:00am that morning, something odd happened.

I received an offer from an agent with a 1:00pm irrevocable.

I emailed him back and said, “Thanks Jim, but we are reviewing offers at 7:00pm tonight.”

He wrote me back and said, “This is a pre-emptive offer.”

It made no sense to me. And for those of you that don’t understand what pre-emptive of “bully offers” are, let me give my a quick two cents.

If a listing comes onto the market on Tuesday, with offers to be reviewed one week later, and you and your agent see the property on Tuesday night and love it, you might get really aggressive and submit a “bully offer” with incredible terms and conditions, that evening. You essentially put the seller to a test for all their poker chips, and force them to either forego the next week of showings and the open house, and accept the offer right then and there, or turn the offer down, and risk you not coming back to the table on “offer night.”

Bully offers can happen at any time, but they usually happen in the first couple days of the listing.

So boy was I ever surprised to receive a so-called “bully offer” a few hours before my sellers and I had scheduled our offer presentation.

I’ve been in the business for fifteen years, and this was a first. And any time you experience a first in this business, it’s either a stroke of genius, or absolute madness.

I reviewed the offer, and it was a poor one. The price wasn’t great, but more surprisingly, it was conditional. Not just one, but two conditions!

Again, for those of you that aren’t in the know, we are in a market right now where just about every offer accepted on a scheduled “offer night” for a downtown condo is unconditional. Buyers know this, buyer agents know this, and it’s merely a given.

But here I sat, at 10:00am, with a conditional offer, at a price that was far less than any comparable sale would justify, when all the while, I was set to review offers that evening.

It made no sense.

So I called the agent, thinking that perhaps a communication on the phone rather than by email would shed some light on the situation.

“Jim,” I told him. “I have your offer here, thanks for this. The thing is, we’re going to review offers at 7:00pm, as per the listing, as per my email to all the showing agents this morning, and as per my last email to you.”

“I get that,” he said, “But as I told you in my last email, this is a bully offer.”

I knew this wasn’t going anywhere. But I kept it amicable, as I always do, and tried to be honest with the agent on the other end of the line.

“Jim, listen, I appreciate your offer, but my clients are in Jamaica, we’ve got a ton of interest in the condo, and I’ve talked to five or six agents already tonight that have said they’re bringing offers. There’s just no reason for my sellers to work with the deadline you’ve set.”

Somewhat unsurprisingly, he said, “Has the offer been presented to your sellers, and can you provide confirmation?”

I didn’t understand. He was trying to strong-arm when he had absolutely zero leverage.

So I changed my tune a little, offering a little more honesty: “Jim, you’ve submitted a conditional offer; an offer with not one, but two conditions, for a price that won’t work, on the day of offers, with a deadline of six hours before multiple other agents are going to submit offers.”

He asked again, “So has the offer been presented to the sellers, and can you confirm so?”

“Oh, Jim,” I said, “I think the conversation with my sellers would go something like, ‘Hi Guys, we have, for some reason, received a conditional offer for $635,000, expiring at 1pm. Let’s reject this offer and move forward with the plans tonight.’ That’s how the conversation would go, Jim. So yes, I can get you receipt if you would like.”

Then he started to rant and blame. “This is bullshit,” he said. “This bully offer nonsense. It’s ridiculous. I’ve tried to get the boards to stop this, it’s bullshit….”

He went on an absolute tear, and I pleaded, “Jim, Jim, can I get a word? Jim?”

I asked, “Jim, can you give me fifteen seconds, please?” And he calmed down and allowed for it.

“Jim, I looked you up online,” I said. “You’ve got thirty years in the business.”

“That’s right,” he said, “I do. I’ve been in the business thirty years, and this is all bullshit, this crap going on now…”

I continued, “Jim, I respect that you’re a real professional, you’ve been in the business since I was in grade-school, just please hear me out. Jim, you submitted a conditional offer to us, with a gun to our head. Please, Jim, put yourself in the sellers shoes. They’re going to have five, six, or ten offers tonight. Why would they accept a conditional offer at a price, that, with all due respect, is so far off base, and forego working with the other offers this evening? This is the market we’re in, Jim. A bully offer doesn’t have conditions, it just doesn’t. It’s not how this works, and I’m trying to help you here, Jim. I’m giving you information that you can use, and take back to your client.”

That made perfect sense to me, and it was the information he needed, from the perspective that he was missing.

But he went on another rant, and then said “Goodbye.”

7pm came and went, and we had a high offer of $703,000, which was fantastic. There were three other offers at $681,000 and above, then two in the middle somewhere, and then Jim and another agent at the bottom. To his credit, Jim did remove the conditions, but the 4-month closing was somewhat odd, as was the low deposit.

We accepted the highest offer, which was unconditional, with a deposit cheque in hand, and my sellers celebrated in Jamaica.

I called some of the agents to let them know that we appreciated their offers, but we wouldn’t be working with their offers tonight. Others I emailed, one of which, was Jim.

Jim responded and said, “Well, I’m sure you sold the property with no conditions and you probably have a cheque,” with this undertone that somehow this was not a good thing, and then said, “Can I get the sale price?”

So I told him.

And then he wrote back, “Wow, the sellers won a lottery. I have been trying to get boards to eliminate offers dates as it inflates the prices and affects the economy. Hopefully they will wake up and realize what it is doing to our industry.”

And that was that.

I didn’t write back because I didn’t feel there was anything left to say.

So what do you make of this, folks?

I think we’re all going to have different opinions, but there are really only two perspectives on this.

Personally, I think that this agent, with 30+ years in the business, has lost his edge. He is utterly and completely out of touch with the market. He doesn’t know how to transact, doesn’t understand the market dynamics, is lost when it comes to the offer process, and has let emotion take over.

An experienced agent is supposed to take the emotion out of the process for the buyer, so that the buyer can keep a cool head, and focus. In this case, the agent was the emotional party.

The agent didn’t run his comparables, and seemed to suffer from the same affliction as many buyers, who feel as though their dream price has a chance in reality.

The agent was confrontational and aggressive when he was in the submissive position.

And in the end, he got in his buyer’s way. This was not a case of an agent protecting a buyer, or looking out for the buyer’s interest; this was an out-of-touch agent who put his own emotions and ego first and foremost.

And in the end, he blamed other agents, other buyers, real estate boards, and just about everybody in between, but never looked at himself in the process.

Or, maybe he’s right about everything.

Maybe the other perspective on this carries weight.

What if he’s the only one not jumping off the bridge? Just because everybody’s doing it, doesn’t make it right, and maybe the other seven buyers and buyer agents are in the wrong.

Perhaps he’s correct as to how our market has changed, and the industry along with it. “Offer nights” and bully offers? Where did this come from?

With thirty years in the business, having seen ups and downs, maybe his experience is just insurmountable.

Maybe he does know what’s best for the economy, and everybody in it.

Okay, that last one was what “did it” for me.

You all know how I feel, even though I’m trying to make an argument here.

The guy telling me what was best for the economy seemed like a really big reach, and the context was misplaced.

But I will admit that there are a lot of folks out there that will agree with what this guy is saying, and doing.

It’s not going to buy any of his clients a property, and that’s my problem.

It’s childish, to be quite honest.

It’s like when a kid wants McDonald’s for dinner, but his parents tell him that they cooked chicken and rice. So the kid says he’s not hungry, and tries to “show them” by not eating. The parents say, “fine,” and the kid goes to bed without dinner. How long until that kid realizes just how hungry he is?

Despite the dislike for “offer nights” in Toronto, they are a necessity, based on supply and demand. I refuse to accept otherwise, and I refuse to accept a contrarian opinion from anybody that does not own a home, since it goes without saying that all buyers would love to see the supply and demand dynamic change.

Despite the dislike for “bully offers,” they are a part of our market – for how long, who knows.

But an agent putting his head in the clouds and trying to stay there and work out a deal for his buyer is n-e-v-e-r going to work in this market.

That’s just my perspective…

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