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spine-buster · 4 years

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The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 13

A/N: We’re getting into some seeeeerious business now. Thank you all so much for your anons and DMs about last chapter! Hopefully you all enjoy this one despite the subject matter.

Also, if you didn’t see my post, I created a Ko-Fi page in case you ever want to support my work / my writing: https://ko-fi.com/spine_buster . I love all of you so much and appreciate the reader engagement I have with you SO much!

TW: workplace harassment

December 21st, 2019

Aberdeen Bloom was in a meeting.

Brendan was addressing the room, full of practically everybody who worked on the administrative side of the Leafs. Because it was just a few days until Christmas, he wanted to address everybody before the holiday to thank them for their hard work. It was also the day that Brendan decided to hand out the Christmas gifts for all the employees – a “swag bag” with a S’well bottle, candy and chocolate from Sugarfina, a coffee tumbler from Yeti, a Patagonia sweater with a Leafs embroider, and a Raptors toque. Aberdeen knew because she helped assemble them – literally and figuratively, because Brendan had asked for her opinion on a few of the inclusions. She was happy to see everybody loved the gifts.

As the meeting began to wind down, Brendan singled out some specific people who had earned a promotion. She was glad they were getting the recognition they deserved, because she knew how hard everyone worked. It was a great gesture, and a nice way to wind down the meeting – letting everybody leave on a good note—

“And my executive assistant, Aberdeen Bloom,” Brendan’s words completely caught her by surprise. She could feel a blush rush to her cheeks as many of the eyes in the room focused on her. “Just a couple of weeks ago, Aberdeen pulled off the nearly impossible – she managed to track down Niklas Lidstrom while he was in Toronto to get a signed Tre Kronor jersey from 2006 for our special guest, Colonel Richard Brant. But not only did she get the jersey – get this – she got Nik to come meet the colonel backstage.”

There was a round of applause for Aberdeen. Now she was really embarrassed. There was no reason for him to single her out like this – like she told him, she was just doing her job. She smiled awkwardly at everyone. Even Brendan was clapping. When it died down, he continued. “So, even though she had a bit of a rough start – like everybody does when they first start with the Leafs – I’m so happy to see how much she’s grown and integrated herself into our family. So…great work, Aberdeen!”

Another round of applause. Aberdeen continued to smile awkwardly and even through in an awkward wave for good measure. Brendan said a few more words before the meeting ended, everybody filing out of the room patiently. When she approached him, as one of the last bodies to leave, she gave him a stern look. “How’d you like that?” Brendan asked.

“Please never, ever do that again,” she said, giggling at the end.

“Why not?”

“Because I told you I was just doing my job.”

Brendan shrugged his shoulders. “And you did a damn good job of it, so everybody should know.”

As they walked back into his office together, she saw a perfectly wrapped box lying on his desk on top of all his newspapers and other things. It was very, very rare that things were delivered directly to him – usually it went through her first, and Brendan had no problem with her opening his work mail because it was part of her job and all his personal stuff got sent to his house anyway – so it definitely piqued her interest. “What’s that?” she asked.

“It’s your gift.”

Aberdeen’s brows furrowed. “But I got my swag bag in the room.”

“I know that, silly,” he smiled. “It’s my gift to you.” Aberdeen stopped dead in her tracks, giving Brendan another look. “What?” he asked. “Are you seriously surprised? You think I wouldn’t get you something?”

“Sort of…” Aberdeen admitted. “But also…I was going to give you my gift to you on Monday. It’s underneath my desk,” she laughed.

Brendan let out a hearty chuckle. “Why’d you get me a gift?”

“You’re my boss!”

“Go get it. We’re doing it now. I’ll be too busy with kids being everywhere on Monday.”

Aberdeen quickly made her way to her desk and retrieved the gift, hidden in her bottom drawer. It wasn’t large by any means, but she did put thought into it and she did have to enlist her mom for some help. When she went back into his office, he closed the door behind them. “It’s not much…” she began, comparing the size of the box on his desk to hers.

“You should be saving your money anyway,” he quipped.

Aberdeen sat in one of the chairs and handed him his gift across his desk. He unwrapped the Christmas wrapping paper to see something wrapped in tissue paper and a Prada box. Taking off the top of the Prada box, he was greeted with a blue and white patterned silk tie. He shook his head but smiled. “Aberdeen…”

“I had to get you something from Prada one of these days since you always send me there,” she smiled.

“I love it. It’s very fashionable. What are the kids saying these days? It’s lit?”

“Please don’t.”

“It’s lit, Aberdeen. Thank you.”

“Thanks. Although I think you’ll like the other gift better,” she said.

Brendan placed the box with the tie on his desk and focused on what was wrapped in the tissue paper. When he unwrapped it, he saw that it was a card, made out of thick construction paper glued together. Along the front were the words “With Love from St. Leo”, and in the middle, a big maple leaf cut out and painted with multi-coloured fingerprints. When he opened it, the card had been signed by every student from her mom’s grade one class. A small message was printed out by her mom:

Dear Mr. Shanahan,

We love the Toronto Maple Leafs and we love you! We heard you came to this school a long time ago. You and the Maple Leafs can come visit our class anytime you want and we can show you how well we read!

Love, Mrs. Bloom’s grade 1 class

Aberdeen watched as Brendan read over the card, looking at all the names printed, and his eyes glossed over with tears. He smiled. “Well would you look at that…” he mumbled, nodding his head slightly. He already knew he was going to display this forever in his office.

“She means it, by the way,” Aberdeen said, trying to lighten the mood. She didn’t think it would get him so emotional.

“Oh, I believe it,” he nodded again. “This is really, really special to me Aberdeen. Thank you. I…it’s always nice to remember where you came from, you know? This will remind me,” his tone was so sincere.

“You’re most welcome,” she smiled.

Brendan moved to display it on his desk. He composed himself before picking up the box that started this whole thing and handing it to her. “For you,” he said. “Although I don’t know if it’ll top that card.”

She unwrapped the pretty ribbon and beautiful wrapping paper – clearly Catherine or one of his kids had helped, because for all the skills he had, she didn’t think he was capable of this wrapping on his own. As she tore it apart, a box with the embossed logo and lettering of Smythson London stared back at her. Aberdeen stopped. “You didn’t.”

Brendan only smiled at her.

She was already overwhelmed because she knew how expensive Smythson London notebooks were – the smallest, cheapest, and most basic notebook ran for around £40. But when she opened the box to find three notebooks – two small navy blue Soho notebooks retailing at £195 each and a large gold Portobello notebook retailing at £235, each of them personalized with her initials which she knew cost even more – she felt even more overwhelmed. “Brendan…” she whispered, running her fingers over the embossed calf leather.

“I hear writers write in notebooks or something,” he joked once he saw the look on her face. “Anyway, I want you to have these. And when you get published and become super famous and they display all your notebooks in museums like they do with Charles Dickens or Jane Austen, I want to see one of those behind the glass.”

“I hope I get published one day…” she said quietly, almost to herself.

“You will,” Brendan said assuredly.

Aberdeen nodded. The material part of his assertion was nice – the notebooks – but what obviously meant more to her was the sentiment. Hearing his tone and the confidence in his voice meant that he believed in her. He wanted her to succeed. That meant more to her than anything. “Thank you, Brendan,” Aberdeen said in the same sincere tone he thanked her with earlier. “That means a lot to me.”

Brendan could only smile again. “I like to think I knew what I was doing when I hired you.”

“Was it all part of the Shanaplan?”

“Do not,” he giggled, shaking his head. He hated that term, and she knew it. “Go on. Get out of here. Go start your novel on your lunch break or something. Actually, before you do, can you go down to scouting and give them these for me please,” he said, handing her a stack of files.

She smiled. All was right and normal in the world again.

***

It was a few hours later when Aberdeen found herself in the staff kitchen, warming up a croissant she’d gotten earlier in the day from Starbucks as a snack before she and Brendan had to start preparing for the game against the Red Wings. She had a fresh batch of files from scouting in her arm for Brendan to look over as she stuck the croissant in the microwave. It was then that Ethan walked in, no snack in hand but instead wielding a tea packet. She ignored him. She wasn’t going to grace his presence with a greeting and, though it was probably a bit immature, she didn’t care. He’d said and done enough to her that she didn’t want to be the first one to engage at all.

“Good afternoon,” Ethan half-mumbled, engaging first.

Aberdeen looked at him. “Hello,” she said curtly.

“Nice swag bags, huh?” he asked, trying to engage more. Aberdeen only nodded her head. “Did you put them together?”

“Of course I did.”

She hoped her short responses and tone were getting across that she didn’t want to speak to him, but Ethan couldn’t read a room to save his life, so he kept going. “You know, a lot of us were jealous in that meeting that Brendan was praising you so much,” he said. “We couldn’t believe you pulled that Lidstrom thing off.”

“Guess I’m surprising a lot of people lately,” Aberdeen shrugged her shoulders, setting the files down on the counter. He didn’t have to tell her people were jealous. She had a hunch that it was only him who was jealous, and not anybody else in his department. “Especially you.”

“He must really like you to publicly praise you like that. He doesn’t do that often, you know.”

“Does that officially make me better at my job than you?” she asked cheekily. “You know, after you told me I can’t do the job at the Major Donor Gala.”

Ethan threw his head back at the fact that she brought that up again. He moved to stand behind her as she stuck her food in the microwave. “Abbie, come on. You know I rib you because I think you’re good at your job.”

Well that was news to her, because for the last three and a half months, all he’d been doing was making her job a living hell and telling her how much she couldn’t do her job. This complete 180 was out of the norm, even for him. “You’ve known me for three and a half months and you’ve consistently called me every name in the book besides my actual name,” she said, turning around to face him, bringing up the other thing that was annoying her about this whole interaction. “Don’t try to suck up to me now just because you know for a fact Brendan actually likes me.”

“Aberdeen, do you realize how cutthroat the hockey world really is?” Ethan began. It was at that moment that she realized how close he really was to her; how there wasn’t much room between the two counters of the galley kitchen anyway, but that he was closer to her than normal, than what anybody would consider normal, and it was starting to make her a bit nervous. “Do you realize how much backstabbing there is? How many people cross each other all the time just to get promoted or get ahead? If the little guys like us are going to survive in this industry, or any other industry adjacent to this one, we’re going to need to stick together.”

Aberdeen shook her head. “You’re trying to use me and it’s so blatantly obvious,” she said sternly, turning around so she wasn’t facing him anymore. She didn’t want to face him anymore. “You can’t fool me, Ethan. Now get out.”

“C’mon, Abbie,” his voice was low, and extremely, extremely close to her ear. She could practically feel him breathing down her neck.

Then she realized.

“Stop calling me that.” She tried to make her voice sound strong but it only came out weak as she felt his body pressing up against her back. Angry tears welled in her eyes as her emotions broke through. Her chest began to rise and drop from her heavy breaths.

“Abbie, the hockey world is full of favours that help people move up and excel at their job,” Ethan said.

And then she felt it. His hand on her ass. Her mind went into overdrive. She shifted and reached her elbow up and across to push it away, which she did, thankfully. “Get your hands off me,” she said as firmly as she could.

She turned around quickly so he couldn’t do it again. Her back leaned against the counter, and she saw he had taken a small step back, but they were still unnaturally close. “Abbie—”

“Get away from me,” she tried again.

“Just listen—”

“Is things okay in here?” a deep voice asked from the door way. Ethan took a quick step back further as the both of them looked to see Pierre Engvall standing in the doorway awkwardly, holding a protein shake. He seemed to be assessing the situation, but Aberdeen had no clue how long he had been standing there. She would have seen him, she thought, if he had been there long.

“Pierre! Good to see you up here buddy!” Ethan put a smile on his face, walking over to him. Ethan left her standing at the kitchen counter, chest still heaving. “Feeling good being up with the Leafs?” he asked, switching his demeanour completely. Aberdeen felt sick to her stomach at how fast he could switch from doing what he was trying to do, to being so buddy-buddy with Pierre.

“Is there a party going on in here?” another voice asked from out in the hall.

Aberdeen’s stomach dropped. Right then and there, William popped into the doorway. He looked between Ethan’s shit eating grin, Pierre’s serious stare, and Aberdeen’s face, red from trying to hold back her emotion as her chest still heaved. His brows furrowed. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine!” Ethan said quickly, shifting to get out of the room. He looked over his shoulder once more at Aberdeen, taking his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll email you what Brendan was asking for as soon as I get back,” he called out as he left the room, walking down the hall and disappearing up the staircase.

William was trying to piece everything together. He looked at Aberdeen. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” she said, forgetting about her lunch and gathering the files folders quickly and messily in her arms.

“Aberdeen—”

“Just leave me alone!” she whispered harshly as she shoved past the two large hockey players.

William and Pierre watched as she marched down the hallway, disappearing into the staff washroom. When they couldn’t see her anymore, William looked at Pierre. “What happened?” he demanded.

“I don’t know,” Pierre shook his head, trying to piece together and remember everything that he saw – at least the tail end that he saw – with all the visual, emotional, and verbal cues that just happened. “I…I walked in and he was really close to her and—and—you don’t think—”

William saw red. He didn’t even wait for Pierre to finish his thought or sentence – he started marching down the hallway to Brendan’s office. Pierre followed.

He was the eyes, after all.

***

Aberdeen didn’t know how long she was in the washroom for. She didn’t know how long she’d been crying but also trying to keep herself from not crying and just making herself redder in the process. She couldn’t believe that had just happened to her…that Ethan would do something so awful and so heinous. It had happened to her at clubs before – a quick squeeze or a pat on her ass, unwanted grabs of her hips, or awkward leans ins to try to get a kiss – but in those instances, she was able to swat the boys away, scream at them or tell them off, or her friends would intervene and help. She didn’t do that this time, for some reason. She couldn’t, maybe. Maybe because they were alone? Because she truly felt helpless? Because she really did feel like Ethan could get away with whatever he wanted – he had been for the past few months with her alone, she couldn’t even imagine what he was doing to other people, specifically to other women – so what was the point?

But as she kept thinking about it, she came to a conclusion: that she couldn’t let him ruin her life because she still had her whole life ahead of her. That even though she’d just become another statistic – another woman sexually harassed at work – it wasn’t her primary identifier, and she would never let it identify her. She was so much more than that. She had to put it behind her and had to overcome.

She looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were red, but there was nothing she could do now. All she could do was keep doing her job. And all she had to do was avoid Brendan until she looked normal again. She unlocked the door and stepped out, trying to walk inconspicuously down the hallway.

“ABERDEEN!” Brendan called out loudly from his office.

She stopped dead in her tracks in the hallway. She didn’t even have time to go hide from him, let alone breathe, because Brendan popped his head out the door of his office and looked around feverishly. When he saw her, he immediately noticed the redness in her eyes and cheeks. “Aberdeen, I need to speak to you inside my office,” his voice went ten times softer than what it was.

She was caught. She followed him in, trying to think of ways she could lie to him or make an excuse for why she had been crying. But when she walked in and saw Pierre and William standing in the room, she knew she wasn’t going to be able to get out of it. She sat down in the same chair she had been sitting in earlier in the day. It felt different now than it had then, when they were exchanging gifts. “Why were you crying in the bathroom?”

“I wasn’t crying.”

“Aberdeen—”

“I watched a sad video on YouTube and—”

“Aberdeen,” Brendan said firmly but calmly. He looked her straight in the eye. “Do. Not. Lie. To. Me.”

She took a deep breath. She looked at Pierre, who had a sympathetic and extremely worried look on his face. She looked at William, who looked ready to explode right then and there. “Umm…there…there was an incident—”

“An incident?”

“In the staff kitchen.”

“With who?” Brendan asked. “Was it with Pierre or William?”

“No. God, no,” she shook her head vehemently. “It, um…it was…I don’t…I don’t—”

“Was it with Ethan Baker?” Brendan filled in her stutters. He could see how pained she was. His hands gripped the armrests of his chair. Aberdeen couldn’t look him in the eye. She nodded her head once, bringing her hand up to wipe a tear away. “If we check the cameras will we see that he touched you inappropriately?” Brendan asked again. Clearly William and Pierre had told him what they thought happened.

Aberdeen couldn’t – didn’t – even register that Brendan mentioned cameras, that the entire thing was probably caught on a camera. She couldn’t form words. She could only nod her head. Slightly, too. Not even enthusiastically. Pathetically.

Brendan didn’t say another word. He picked up the phone on his desk and called an extension. “I need Gary to share the last hour of the security footage from the staff kitchen right this instant.”

Aberdeen shifted uncomfortably in her seat. A few more words were exchanged before Brendan hung up the phone. “You’re going to tell me what happened,” he said, before spinning his chair slightly to face Pierre and William. “And then you are going to tell me what you saw,” he pointed towards Pierre, who followed Brendan’s finger and sat to the left of Aberdeen, “and then you are going to tell me what you saw,” he pointed towards William, who sat to the right of her.

Aberdeen recalled everything: walking in, the conversation they’d had, the things Ethan had said to her, where he moved and how he got there and the feeling of how close he was behind her. Brendan wrote everything down. When she recounted how she felt his hand on her ass, Brendan and Pierre visibly scowled. William looked like he was about to punch a hole in the wall. When she mentioned Pierre in the doorway, Brendan stopped her and let Pierre take over. Pierre told her what he saw – he’d come in at the last possible second of seeing Ethan’s hand on her ass before she pushed it away. When it was William’s turn, he mentioned how upset Aberdeen was and how she looked ready to cry. A notification sound came through on Brendan’s iPad and she knew it was the video footage.

“Aberdeen…” Brendan tried to say softly, though he was saying it through gritted teeth. “Have there been any other incidents like this one?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Has he even been inappropriate or demeaning in any other way?”

And there it was: the million dollar question. She remembered everything Ethan had done to her and everything he’d said; she was hyperaware of his presence around her at all times since her first day of work, so she felt like she had to remember everything. In her hesitation, she made eye contact with William. The way he was staring at her, it was like he was begging her to say something. But William. Poor William. He only knew about the bag incident because he had intervened. Now the floodgates were about to open. “Yes…” Aberdeen nodded her head, taking a deep breath.

“What were they?”

Aberdeen reminded Brendan of the coffee incident from her first day, but then recalled the long list of others: the bag carrying incident where William stepped in; the “Girl Friday” and “Brendan girl” nicknames he’d given her; the slightly inappropriate flirting at the Major Donor Gala and the things he’d said to her when she didn’t reciprocate; the comments he’d made to her at the Christmas party. Brendan kept writing everything down. The more she told, the angrier his scribbles got and the harder he pressed down onto the paper. The more she told, the more William looked like he was about to rip Brendan’s massive solid oak desk in two with his bare hands like Captain America did with that log.

“Anything else?” Brendan asked.

Aberdeen hesitated. “Um…no.”

“Aberdeen.”

She could feel William look at her as she looked down to avoid any eyes on her. “There was um…there was an incident where I was in the staff kitchen heating up a snack wrap, and he asked if I should really be eating it because nobody likes a piggy working for a hockey team.”

Time stood still as Brendan, Pierre, and William looked at her, completely and utterly speechless at the words that had just come out of her mouth. She tried to fixate her eyes on something in the room, but she landed on William’s balled up fist in his lap, his knuckles white from how much anger he felt. It took Brendan reaching over to his phone and dialling another extension for any semblance of time to pass. “Can you let Ethan Baker know he needs to come into my office in ten minutes? Thanks.”

Aberdeen knew what that meant. “Brendan—”

“Don’t Aberdeen,” he grabbed his iPad and swiped to his mail to get the security footage. Everything that Aberdeen had said, what Pierre had said, what Willy said – it was all corroborated by the video. Ethan wouldn’t be able to get out of it no matter how hard he tried; no matter what charms he tried to pull on Brendan. Not that Brendan would fall for them. “He’s never working another day in his life for any professional sports organization,” Brendan mumbled. “And I’ll make sure of that.”

Aberdeen was shocked. “That’s—that’s ruining his life—”

“You’re right – I am the one ruining his life,” Brendan said sternly, lifting any feelings of burden off of her immediately.

“And he deserves to have it ruined,” William piped up, his tone scathing. Pierre nodded in agreement.

“You two can go back to the locker room and do what you need to do to prepare for the game tonight,” he said to Pierre and William. Pierre got up first, and had to wait for William, who didn’t want to leave. It wasn’t until Brendan urged him with a slight head nod that he got up out of his seat. Brendan waited until they left completely to continue. “You can go home, Aberdeen. If you want to take the Next Gen day off I won’t mind at all—”

“I don’t want to.”

Brendan stopped. “You what?”

“I don’t want to go home and I don’t want to take the Next Gen day off. Just let me do my job,” she said.

“Aberdeen, I really think—”

“If I go home all I’m going to do is wallow in this feeling. All I’m going to do is think about it over and over again until I cry some more. I don’t want to let him get to me more than he already has. Just…just let me do my job. Please.”

***

William booked it out of Scotiabank Arena the second he was able to. Despite the team winning 4-1 against the Red Wings, William’s mind was somewhere else. He was able to keep focused, sure, and make plays and complete passes, but there were other things that occupied his mind. He didn’t even change into his suit – after showers and media, he left in his workout gear. There was no point in suiting up. He knew exactly the places he needed to go and exactly what he needed to do.

When he got to the lobby of Aberdeen’s apartment, he typed Kasha’s name into the call system and waited to hear one of their voices to let him in. However, there was no voice – only an acceptance of the call, and a click of the door opening. He rushed towards the elevators. He remembered the floor number easily.

The door was already slightly open. When William showed up in the doorway there were three people in the apartment, and luckily, none of them were members of Aberdeen’s family. He didn’t take her as the type to have her parents talk her through a crisis like this one – she was too independent and maybe a bit too stubborn for that – but he knew she’d already called Siena about it. It was what he would do with his brother. Aberdeen had already washed all her makeup off and had her hair in a bun, and was standing in a hoodie and pyjama shorts as she cradled Minerva in her arms. He recognized one of the people as Kasha, but had no idea who the guy was.

Kasha was the first to see him. Her eyes widened when she recognized him. “William?”

Everybody’s eyes turned to him. Aberdeen’s were bulging out of their sockets in shock. He saw that they were red – that she’d been crying again, probably recounting everything to Kasha once she got home. “Hey,” he said.

There was an awkward silence as they all stared at him. Kasha noticed that William was shifting his focus between Evan and Aberdeen and knew she had to be the one to break it. “Will, this is my boyfriend Evan. Evan, uh, this is William Nylander. Aberdeen’s…uh…work colleague.”

Evan moved to shake William’s hand politely. “You guys work together?” he asked, his voice upbeat. “Are you another assistant with MLSE?”

Kasha intervened before anybody else could. “Evan, William’s a player for the Toronto Maple Leafs.”

Evan’s eyes widened at the revelation. It began to sink in to him how…interesting it was to have a member of the Toronto Maple Leafs in the apartment of his girlfriend. “Ooooooooh, okay,” he nodded slowly. “Sorry. I don’t watch hockey.”

“It’s probably better that way,” William quipped.

“I…that was you calling?” Kasha asked. William nodded his head. “I thought you were the Uber Eats we ordered.”

“I’m not Uber Eats but I brought Sugo for…uh…” he held up the bag.

“Sugo’s been closed for like, two hours…” Kasha furrowed her brows.

“They’re not when you’re…me,” William said. He stared directly at Aberdeen. “Can we talk?”

Aberdeen stayed silent. She looked at Kasha and Evan first. Kasha held her hands up in front of her. “Don’t look at me. He’s your friend.”

“Kasha—”

“I don’t mind him being here at all,” she said, knowing what the question would be. If she had to push them together herself, she would. “And you know I’m not going to say a word. He won’t say anything either,” she nodded towards Evan. “If you guys need to talk, then talk. Evan and I will be in my room.”

“We will?” Evan asked as Kasha yanked his arm. “We will. Nice to meet you Will,” he said as he was dragged towards Kasha’s bedroom, the door slamming behind them.

Aberdeen and William looked at each other. She’d barely moved since he walked in the door. She knew with every fibre of her being that he wasn’t supposed to be here, but she couldn’t help but feel…solace? relief? gratitude? as he stood there with his blonde hair and blue eyes and that dumb but cute look on his face. “I got some pasta and their giant meatballs,” he said softly, setting the bag down on the counter.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice a bit strained.

“What do you think I’m doing here, minskatt?” he asked. “I needed to see if you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” she tried to brush him off.

“Aberdeen…” he said softly. “I’m trying to be here for you. Will you let me?”

His words sounded so soft and so sincere that it almost broke her. There was no way she could say no, no way that she could ask him to leave and deny him. After everything that they’d been through, after everything he’d ever said to her, the hotel room visits, everything – she couldn’t deny him this. He wanted to be there for her, and she was going to let him. She swallowed the sob that threatened to escape her. “Plate that pasta and bring it to my room,” she said quietly.

William’s eyes bulged in shock for a split second before he began moving around the kitchen trying to find an appropriate plate. He kicked off his shoes before grabbing a fork and walking into her bedroom, kicking the door closed behind him. He looked around, and it was just as he remembered it. It had been a while, but the events of that night in June still played over and over in his mind. If he thought about it hard enough, he could imagine the feeling of her bare skin underneath his fingertips.

He found her sitting on her daybed, Minerva lying on her legs and her laptop on her desk chair that was placed at the edge of her bed like a TV stand. He handed her the plate full of pasta and meatballs before climbing into bed beside her, sitting right next to her so their bodies were touching. “He deserved what he got, you know. After that piggy story I wanted to go to his office and strangle him with my bare hands.”

She nodded her head softly. “I know. I got that from seeing how white your knuckles were in your lap.”

“Do you want to know how Brendan did it?” he asked. She didn’t respond, so he just went for it. “He called Ethan into his office and he asked him what his dream hockey organizations were to work for. As Ethan said them, Brendan wrote them down. Then Brendan showed him the video, and in front of Ethan, called the president or GM of the teams he mentioned and blacklisted him. He told them never to hire him because he was a sexual harasser.”

Aberdeen didn’t know what to think. She knew William didn’t tell her that to get a reaction out of her, and she knew he wasn’t expecting one either. It was harsh, very harsh. Ethan’s career in the sports industry was ruined, that was for sure. It was a fitting end to a guy who was such a dick. And more than anything, she realized one important thing: Brendan cared about her. He cared about her so much he’d ruin another man’s career for harming hers. “Good,” she mumbled.

“Why didn’t you tell me any of that was going on?” he asked. “You promised me you’d tell me, Aberdeen, and you broke that promise.”

She shook her head. She couldn’t deal with this right now. She knew she should have said something earlier, but she was the lowest person on the metaphorical totem pole, and she didn’t think it was worth William’s time or effort. “Please don’t.”

“I could have helped you, Aberdeen—”

“William, please,” her tone was strained, her voice begging. “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to keep reliving it. I just want to sit here with you and eat this giant plate of pasta with these giant meatballs, okay? Please.”

William looked at her for a few moments, directly into her eyes, before he nodded his head. It was all he could do. He didn’t want to make her relive it any more than she had to. And, quite frankly, he didn’t want to have to think about it, because thinking about what Ethan did to her made his blood boil and made him want to search every street and apartment in the city for Ethan so he could punch him. She’d let her guard down, however minimally, and said she wanted to sit there with him. If him sitting next to Aberdeen was going to make her feel okay, he was going to do just that. If just being there, physically, was enough for her, then it was enough for him. “What are we watching?”

“The Real Housewives of New York City.”

He smiled. “Alright. Real Housewives it is.”

With Minerva sleeping on her legs, Aberdeen downed the plate of pasta. William couldn’t really keep up with the show, with all its drama and all the ladies gossiping over events he had no clue about, but that didn’t really matter. All he was really focused on was Aberdeen. And as her body language softened the more she worked through the giant plate of pasta, the more comfortable she became. When she was done, she leaned forward and put the plate on her dresser. She’d deal with it later.

When she curled her arm underneath his, he rested his hand on her legs and she leaned her head onto his bicep. Their bodies couldn’t be any closer, and now they were starting to intertwine. It wasn’t long before her breathing steadied, and when the screen went dark during a scene, William could see through the reflection that she was sleeping peacefully against him. He closed the laptop with his foot.

He moved to lie her down in her bed. The disruption in position made her grumble slightly, though she was still latched on to his arm. “Willy?” she mumbled out.

The use of his nickname that everyone else called him but she never did until now brought a small smile to his face. “Minskatt?”

She didn’t say anything else, but she made it clear she didn’t want to let him go. And she showed it by grabbing onto him tighter. When he lay down in her tiny bed with her – seriously, it was tiny and there was barely enough room for his body, let alone both of theirs – she closed her eyes again. Comfortable. Safe. Protected.

William closed his eyes too, letting his feelings of serenity overwhelm him.

***

Aberdeen woke up with the sun, which she was mad about because she had the day off and wanted to sleep in until it was an acceptable time to have brunch. Her body still felt fatigued from yesterday, but her mind – even her mind still felt tired, like she’d barely gotten any sleep. She saw Minerva curled up at William’s feet and smiled.

William.

William was in bed with her.

The events of the night before came back to her – him showing up at the apartment with takeout Sugo; eating the giant plate of pasta and meatballs all on her own; sitting on her bed and watching the Real Housewives of New York; resting her head on his arm until she fell asleep. He’d stayed the night. For the second time in one month, she’d shared a bed with William. The first time, they’d stayed on their respective sides because the bed was big enough – it was respectful and innocent, but she had still kicked him out in the early morning in complete fear. But now, there was no respective sides. She felt his hand underneath her hoodie on her bare skin. She felt his body pressed up against hers, holding her delicately. She felt his chest rising and falling softly. But mostly, she felt the grip of his hand holding hers, cradling it near his chest.

For the first time, she didn’t mind. And she didn’t pull away.

_______________________

Sexual harassment in the workplace resources:

from the Women’s Legal Education and Action Fund: Sexual Harassment at Work - What Can I Do About It?

from the Ontario Human Rights Commission: Policy on Preventing Sexual and Gender-Based Harassment

from The Muse: Here’s What You Can Do If You’re Sexually Harassed at Work

from Workplace Fairness: Sexual Harassment Practical Strategies: How Do I Deal with Sexual Harassment?

from Canadian Labour Relations: Sexual Harassment Lawyers and Attorneys: a Legal Solution

from Workplace Fairness: Sexual Harassment - Legal Standards

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calypsoff2 · 3 years

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Fifty Three. Part 2

I am super proud of Chris, I was very shocked when I got the email about him, but I am not sure why I got it and they couldn’t ask him themselves but then again Chris is his own boss but whatever, if that gives him these opportunities then I am all for it “did you request Dennis, or did they ask?” Walking up behind Chris, I am feeling loving today. My hormones have been a mess ever since this period started but I am not going to put my hormones to regards on how I feel about what happened in Barbados because that is flat out wrong “I did it, because the photographer they wanted to use is shit and I want the best for you. So I said he has Dennis, that is his personal photographer. They went quiet, made you sound prestigious here, so they agreed and yeah, nice little sum of money” placing my arm behind his back looking down at his duffel bag “you my manager now?” I laughed “you think I would make a good one? I charge though, by the toe” I winked at him as we both laughed out “by the toe, you a trip. Thank you. Is Dennis meeting me there?” Nodding my head “indeed, don’t have too much fun though, remember to come home” Chris turned to me and then hugged me close “I’ll be back before you know it, also I wanted to ask something” raising an eyebrow, he stepped back from me “like you been in this business for so long, you know your stuff. You know everything, so I love Herbo. He’s family, you know that. He’s a good guy and I have no issues with him but then again I do, he’s become so lazy. Like he’s not fighting to be what he should be and what I met him as, you know? I don’t know what to do because he is my friend too, I keep asking him to do things like Cole and H.E.R they are doing so good” nodding my head “my advice costs too? It’s a kiss to the lips” poking my lips out, Chris chuckled and pressed a kiss to my lips “right, you need to be hard on him. I am with these; they are my friends too and still are and they are still here. I think him living here has really made him lazy, he’s here and he’s made it. You need to be truthful with him, you need to say where is the fire in you and if he doesn’t listen or change then you going to have to kick him off because you also need to help him fulfil the contract he sighed, remind him of that too. Stop being too kind, you will be fine. I think Herb will understand, Hawaii together. Bring it up then ok?” Chris can be too kind, he needs to be strict on these people “I don’t want to come off as a dickhead that ain’t for the people, I am trying to be a good friend too” he is too cute “I know poppa but don’t get called into Roc Nation, then I will have to argue with them because they ain’t doing that to you” Chris grinned “you are your own boss but there is always someone in the background, remember that. And from now on, I am going to build you” Chris looked at me confused “see you down” he’s going to be the man of the year, he will be by the time I’m done with him.

I hate to see him leave, I think this part sucks for me “your security hate me” Tina walked in huffing and puffing “they shouted at me and said they missed me because I am too short, how rude” laughing at poor Tina “I bought you Starbucks and some cake” Chris looked at me all wide eyed “what? A bitch is on her period you know” Chris shook his head, I can’t help but eat “Chris, come here” opening my arms “in the interview I want you to say, and you better. You say that you are collaborating with Fenty to bring out clothing” Chris looks confused “just don’t question me, just say that. You will be doing it anyways, just say that ok. Have fun, and if you need me call me. And if any industry person says anything out of line tell me, I will deal with it” Jah whistled “whew chile, she is is not playing. Have fun Christopher” Chris pecked my lips several times “got you, love you. Herb let’s go” oh my baby doing this on his own, he will be ok “bye Jah” he waved “and bye Tina, and Robyn the kids. Remember the SUV will arrive to pick them up” I am glad he reminded me “Jah you can do that” I turned around; I am busy today. I have people to meet and things to do “I am not picking up your devil kids” Jah is a trip “now you know damn well those girls are soft” he is playing on my kids “spawned from you, they will make me go to other places. Fine, whatever” making my way back to the dining area “what a mess” I have had my team here for two days now, working on my projects. I thought I would give Chris a pep talk before he left, he seems nervous since I told him yesterday, he knows I am always there “so as I was saying” sitting back down “oh yeah, so Mel just flat out said you’re a bad mother” I am of course telling on this, I need other points of views. Mel is still my friend and always will be, she is my ride or die but I am hurt. They do say kids can change a lot; it’s happening.

Tina is so invested in this Mel situation “I am biting all my nails here so how does the whole her living here work out then?” good question actually “I am not going to kick her out, that is wrong. I said to Chris that I will move on but I won’t forget because it’s a big thing, I mean come on. If Melody had that issue, I wouldn’t stand there with a baby in my arms, I trusted Mel. I swear I do, that is my sister and she does that, I just don’t know but I will move on but let’s just say I will not forget and I realised that I need a nanny, I need someone that will be there for me and sadly I have to pay for it because I thought my family would be it, it’s like what the hell. Thinking on it, they don’t be around for my kids at all. I mean if we being real, they only come when I am here, when I wasn’t here did they come? No, they should have. But whatever, I am getting over it now, we move on. I have too but yeah, so we got nannies, how many?” looking at Tina, I lowered to three. Which should be turning up soon, they all know who it is for and I like them all, they are good. I mean they are middled aged women that don’t want kids of their own, one of them worked with Bey actually, the only reason she stopped because she had cancer and she needed that break” nodding my head “cool, you think it is too much if we all be in the room?” I questioned “oh just do it personally” Jen said, she has a point, it will be too much.

I am a good judge of character, and I will like the person as soon as I see them and the first two I don’t like, they was perfect though. I don’t know “you know when I said middled aged, the last one is twenty six, she is Spanish” my eyes widened “I mean she better be not pretty” Tina cringed and walked off “I really told her to not get anyone pretty and what does she do?” Tina is so stupid “you said you didn’t like the other ones, they seemed old and boring” Jah is right “this person has to fit to my daughters, I know them. I want this person to gel with my daughters too, I mean she must have the skillset because Tina wouldn’t just get anyone” I huffed out, let’s see the last girl then. I can hear Tina speaking to her, I sighed out heavily “I can’t be bothered to leave so I am staying” Jah said “come in” I have my back up against the wall already, I just don’t know. You don’t know these young girls; they could do anything to my family. It can destroy a family; she is pretty of course. Getting up from the couch “hi” she did a little wave laughing “hello, welcome to my home boo” she doesn’t have that Spanish accent there “you from Spain?” I had to question, shaking her hand “yes I mean I moved to New York when I was eight with my dad and my three brothers” letting out an oh “my mom she left us but I am Sara, hi” she did a little run to Jah “sorry to hear that girl” sitting back down next to Jah.

This girl seems fitting to me, I don’t know “as you know my daughter, this is really mainly for my youngest daughter. She struggles at times, I need someone there for her. Of course the older two but mainly her. Tina of course, wanted someone that can handle that” she better know how too “I have a phycological degree, specifically in children. I know you’re going to ask; you have a degree so why nanny, well it’s not a sob story but then again it’s going to sound like one but my dad didn’t know how to look after us four, including my brother, he was a new-born, my mother up and left us, out of nowhere too. So me, I played that role to my brothers, to this day my brothers call to me, every time, and it’s a warm feeling but it’s life, it happened. Then I also lost my womb, I mean I am not even crying about it, this is why my hair is short still which honestly is growing but you gave me that inner strength when you would have your hair short, so my life is all fun and games. I originally started of with Beyonce but then I got cancer, so yeah. In my little twenty six years I have been through it all, but I understand your situation” my mouth is open, I am shook “girl” Jah said “I am so sorry to hear all of that, I am so glad you are with us still, like honestly” she just smiled “how would you feel if you was to live with us or have to come with us to places?” this girl has been through the trenches “you know what, you have a very pretty face. The short hair suits you” she put her head down “thank you” I am stunned by it all, she has been through a lot “love how open and honest you are" she has a good vibe too “I am happy with that, you want me to clean too” shaking my head “no, I think mostly I would want it for when they come home from school, but mostly when we go away, they are all in school, so there is no reason for you to be here, it’s wrong of me to have you here for nothing, we have cleaners you see” some people go through so much and still smile “girl you are strong, I got to say it” Jah said what we all feel “how about we have a trial run and then you see if it is something you would want? See how the girls are like, Tina can draw up contracts for you, I think you will make a great member to the Fenty family” she cooed out “yes of course, where do I sign” I think a trial run will be the best thing.

I have never been on a photoshoot for myself for a magazine, I find it so surreal because they are talking about me, they want to know me just me. As soon as I got to Hawaii and then met Dennis we came to this villa where the crew from Blank magazine are already here waiting for us to do this photoshoot. I have already done a few pictures, but their stylist is just fixing the tuxedo to how they want it “nigga looks bougie as hell, you too high end now. They are putting make up on him too, shit. You are too classy my nigga” Herbo joked shaking his head “man be quiet” it’s so weird that they keep putting this powder thing on my face “just open two more buttons from his shirt, have his bow just hanging, Chris arm on the side. Want you to look at me like you just had a long day, and you see a sexy woman. Any woman, we went the sex appeal” Dennis is making me laugh “I got that now, come on. I always got that” rest my arm on the edge of the counter, the stylist has touched my chest several times now “is that ok?” she asked Dennis “yes, Chris just lean onto your arm a little and have this hand hold this, showing the watch off. Just look at me, then” clearing my throat and following his orders, looking at the camera as Dennis started taking several pictures “yes Chris, perfect. Keep going, now rest your face” I don’t know how Robyn does it, all these tasks and shouting orders, shit is crazy to me.

Placing the blunt between my lips, as they are taking the photos they are also asking me questions, Dennis is still taking pictures anyways “you ever though you would be alone taking pictures like this? I don’t get why you never did this? You didn’t need Robyn” Dennis stood to the side of me “I don’t know really, I just been with the girls, I think my kids became the priority in my life, I put my kids first you know that” he nodded his head knowing full well what happened “Chris what is next for you?” the interviewer asked, blowing the smoke from my lips “be bigger then Jay Z” laughing “but I would like to thank Roc Nation for believing in me but what is next for me is collaborating with Fenty, we are looking to bring Fenty back but bigger than ever and I have so many ideas” she nodded her head “do you ever feel like you are drowning in the name Rihanna, because I can imagine that is what you are used to hearing?” I knew that was coming out “it’s hard, you know what. I always thought Rihanna had it easy, she got money what does she got to worry about but being in the position to see how the rich work, they work hard. I am talking about the people that worked hard to make it, the ones that made it from nothing, the authentic talent. She works so hard, I admire her, and she is doing it for the family, I won’t ever disrespect the famous again thinking they had is easy, it’s hard out there” I like this interview, this is the first time they asked about Rihanna “funny question, what is your daughters favourite Rihanna song?” I laughed out “well Imani is Only Girl; Tianna is Pour it Up and Rylee now she is hard. She doesn’t actually have one, or she just hides it. She is hard to figure sometimes” I laughed.

I am tired, I don’t know how Robyn does this. I am only changing clothes but imagine having to change your make up “ah so you’re just asking random questions and you’re going to put it together? I was thinking that I was so confused like why are you asking random things, I got you” I was so confused “would you class yourself as famous?” licking my top lip “no, I am just a guy from VA. I ain’t famous, my wife is. And besides why would I want to be famous when it’s depressing, lonely. Being famous ain’t fun, people change too. I lost all my friends, all the people I grew up with I lost so everyone becomes fake” I shrugged “but you gain new peers so that is good” smiling at G and Herb “we will take ten” thank god some rest, Herb slowly made his way over to me “are we staying here or going back straight away?” G asked, I shrugged “how about we stay, get to know Hawaii a little?” They both smiled “club?” I mean I knew that was coming “you know he got to ask the wife, he is getting old as shit. My nigga got a whole ten year old now” G joked “and I can still get bitches bro, don’t push me. But I will have to ask my wife” they both laughed out, I wish I could prove a point and not have to call Robyn but I am, I ain’t doing shit with her saying yes, if it’s a no then we ain’t doing shit but a meal.

#Chrianna #Chrianna FF #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Chrianna Fanfic #Chrianna Fanfiction

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calypsoff · 3 years

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Ninety one.

I am not making no mistakes with this; I am making sure Robyn is back in bed with me. I mean of course I have been waking up with a lot of boners, horrendous, painful ones too but to have Robyn in my bed feels euphoric. She just makes me so happy; we woke up in each other’s arms and then she realised and mushed my face away from her, she is playing hard to get and I rather that then her hate me, she doesn’t hate me at all. She just wants to make me suffer but I love the chase, we have been getting on so well actually, even though she got me running around like a dog, but I take that, and she is getting me in shape, meaning she is making me work for it and I deserve it to be honest but I have got it sorted, the bedroom is how it should be. New sheets, everything cleaned, all the clothes put away, the bathroom smells like lemons. It cost a little though, the pool is clean too, but I rather do this then Robyn be angry with me “I see you listened?” looking behind me “can you tell?” I chuckled “my shoes are squeaky against the flooring, not an ounce of dust” turning to Mel laughing “I am uhm, I need to please her Mel and her home is a sanctuary and I messed that up so I had to do this for her and as you can see, this room looks great” I grinned, Mel nodded her head in agreement “I am glad you both are getting along, my sister is happy and that is all I want for her. Also I was sick of hearing that bottle machine going off too, I missed a lot of dick appointments too” I laughed out “I can imagine, those midnight feeds and stuff but I know this ain’t enough for her, she needs more. She ain’t going to let me lay the pipe with just clean sheets and I am ok with that, she is worth it. I think being at the hospital together we have spoken more then we ever had I think, it’s been every day pillow talk and talking about our feelings, in a weird way we probably missed out on that but this home needed to be done” licking my lips laughing “it did, I came actually because you’re driving me to the hospital Robyn said you was going” she is right I am “yeah, I just came to check on the home. I am happy with that” proud of it actually.

My parents are also staying at the house, it’s rather hectic here but not in a bad way. Robyn’ family or mine aren’t going to go until Rylee is out of the hospital “son” my dad put his arm around me “dad, mom” kissing my mom’ cheek “Monica, hey” they are all staring at me “oh yeah sorry, so Rylee they are doing the test again. Taken all her tubes out, got Robyn to feed her and then put her down for a nap, they want to see if she will be ok this time, fingers crossed. She was very grumpy, a little unhappy when she woke up this morning. I kind of stayed back, too many faces. The nurse was there too, I left it to Robyn to do. She fed her the bottle and put her down carefully, with the monitor on her foot to not get caught. She uhm started fussing, very unhappy. Started crying and stuff, Robyn was great she was on it, started talking to her touching her, speaking to her. She fell asleep with Robyn singing to her, she seems to like that a lot, but fingers crossed she is ok when she wakes up. I think honestly it will be maybe another day there and home, I hope but it’s good” all the family is all smiled “I am just wanting her home, I want Robyn to think of Rylee first. She needs to not flaunt her around, this could have been so much worse” Monica said in a huff, not happy about it “that is my fault though, I wasn’t there” I can’t let Robyn take the blame for it “I let Robyn and Rylee down, I wasn’t there to support her Monica. She doesn’t deserve this, she is a great mother, and any mother would take their daughter with them” Monica is not happy, I mean why would they be happy that their daughter was left “also I could have taken care of her, but I was busy, but she came first” looking over at Mel also piping up to stick by her “I understand” Monica turned her away, my dad squeezed my shoulder as for reassurance.

Everyone dispersed from the kitchen, and I think it’s my part to speak to Monica on my own, to say what I said I have let her daughter down when I promised I wouldn’t “can I talk to you?” I asked, I have the utmost respect for her, I do “of course” she stopped cleaning the counter “I uhm, I said what I said to you, and this more then likely has hurt you because I promised I wouldn’t hurt or upset your daughter, that I would be there for her, in the vows we did. That was promised, she was alone and looking after Rylee on her own, like a single mother if we are being real. Robyn wouldn’t ever come to anyone for help, I know her. I let you down, I let her down, I let my own daughter down and I am going to make that right. I will never forget seeing Robyn the way I did, she was broken because she was doing it alone, and that hurts, she felt she had nobody and I just think there is no need to be harsh on her, she tries” I am trying to put things into words but it’s hard “do you see Ronald here?” shaking my head “this is my daughter’ life, he will come when he wants money or something. An empty void that that he leaves when he constantly comes in and out, in and out of her life. He knows about Rylee, but he is busy, I am hard on her because I don’t want her to rely on man. She relies on man and then she gets weak, she sees dad she gets weak, she sees you she gets weak. I understand she was trying but she needed to reach out to me, to her brothers or anyone to help her. As much as you admit to your wrong doings you got to understand you need to be her rock and not her issue instead, I believe in chances, and I hope you can rise from this. I think you’re well suited for my family, I see good in you so don’t let me down. I don’t want no conversation like this again” I will be scared if we do, Monica is strict.

Dapping Rorrey “just woke up?” he looks like he has “yeah, I fell asleep on the couch. Mom was driving me crazy about waking up and stuff but here we are, I am awake” I can imagine Monica drive him crazy about waking up too “I am going to see Rylee now, see how she is. See how Robyn is, catch you there later if you have time” Mel is ready finally “always, I will be there. Is she awake and well? I know Robyn did text me saying she is ok, but she may be busy” nodding my head “yeah yeah, she is awake. They are trying it again, see if she is ok to be home and is breathing well. They woke her up and she was so upset, they were using this suction shit to clear her nose and Rylee was not having it, I feel useless because I just stayed back, Rylee seems to want Robyn more, so I didn’t want to be all there in their face, you know but hope she is ok this time when she wakes up” Rorrey got his hand out, dapping him again “hope so, need my niece back. I wanted to ask, has your dad even asked about my daughter?” he paused a little “erm, well. Not really, I mean he did ask and say is she ok but didn’t seem concerned. Said she will be good” nodding my head, sounds about right with him “cool, catch you later. Let’s go Forde” I better get back going to see my wife “buying me starbucks?” Mel asked, I snorted laughing.

I am not like that, I thought I would get Mel Starbucks, I know she asked as a joke but she asked so I paid and got Robyn something “look at you buying Robyn something too” grabbing the iced latte’s “have too, she would be looking at yours and then judging me for not getting her anything” passing Mel her drink and then putting Robyn’ in the cup holder “thank you ma’am” I said to the lady “and you” she smiled, furrowing my eyebrows as I drove off. I don’t know why she said thank you to me, I did nothing “you know you’re good looking don’t you?” frowning at her “I do?” I questioned “yeah, you were sat there chewing your bottom lip watching her make the drink and she got all shy when she gave them” letting out an oh laughing “your light skinned with tattoos, you will of course attract the ladies” I shrugged not saying a word “so is Robyn light skinned though” I added “a very loyal one” looking over at Mel “what does that mean?” I questioned “not a in a bad way, what I meant by that is whenever she gets into a relationship she puts her all into it. She’s always wanted love, me on the other hand, I just wanted fun” she chuckled “and she got that now, like I know I fucked up. I know my mouth runs with me, but I love Robyn with my whole heart” I defended myself “I know you do, trust me. At times when I am seeing you both I am jealous, you just need to correct yourself with that, it’s a learning curb but I love my sister, I will always ride for my sister” nodding my head “I like that though, loyalty” I like that about them both.

Gesturing for Mel to go in first “thank you, hey girl” Mel said, walking in behind Mel. Let me taste this shit, I don’t get why women always buying this thing “oh hey, nice to see your face here” Robyn shot up and hugged Mel, I gagged at the iced Latte. I prefer the regular normal Latte, why have it cold “oh you both been Starbucks? Didn’t remember me?” I know Robyn so well, I laughed lifting the drink up “this is yours, I just wanted a taste” Robyn cooed out “aww thank you” she came over to me to take the drink “what do you say now?” my hand still on the drink “I said thank you?” Robyn huffed out, poking my lips out “mhmm cheek” rolling my eyes “but you can kiss me? You are playing too much right now” Robyn turned her face “my cheek awaits” I rather not “I decline” Robyn turned to me “fine, lips then” my smile grew, leaning down to kiss her lips but then she turned her face “oh my god” mushing her face with mine “I swear to god, have the damn drink woman” Robyn giggled “thank you poppa” she calls me poppa so this is a win for me “you know what Rylee looks well within herself, like she was looking very pale” walking over to the bed “she’s lost weight don’t you think?” I hate my pookie has, her chunky thighs were adorable “she really has, she can gain it again, but she looks very well. I have a good feeling about this time around” nodding my head, I have amy fingers crossed.

I am sat on the other side of the bed across from Robyn, they are both talking amongst each other, and I am just sat here waiting on Rylee to wake up. She is sleeping for longer, but I think it’s because she exhausted and I don’t blame her, dragging my eyes away from Rylee and to Robyn. I need to do something for Robyn’ birthday, she missed out on it, and I need to make up for that. Once everything is back how it is, meaning Rylee then I will have to do something because she does deserve something and to celebrate her birthday “finished staring?” Robyn said, shaking my head “I have just started to be honest” tilting my head to the side “chile, you both need a room. That is all I am getting from you both right now” Mel got up from the chair “not from me, it’s him” Robyn is such a liar “no babe, you’re doing the teasing to him. Don’t give me that” Mel went to the bathroom “see, it’s you. You can’t help but flirt with me” I shrugged sitting back on the chair smirking “you? Yeah right, you’re the one humping my leg with your pencil” I snorted laughing “you’re annoying, you actually are” god I want her so bad “you love me don’t you?” She said while raising her eyebrow “more than anything” Robyn winked at me, more like blinked but it was something.

While and Mel and Robyn sit there and gossip I thought I would talk to TJ for a while “so when are you coming to VA? I miss you over here, I know with Rylee and everything but after? VA misses you” that is funny to hear “I don’t think they do bro but soon, I will visit because I need to speak to you about the business so it’s sooner then you think” Staring at Robyn waving me to go into the bed “uhm, I will call you back. Barbados wants me” Robyn side eyed as I watched her go into the bedroom and then put a finger up at me “aight cool, call me again and I am praying for little ry ry bro” getting up from the chair “thanks bro, give Cam a hug from me. Bye” disconnecting the call “you know why she want me?” I asked Mel as I tapped on the message from Deja “something about cutting your balls off” I sniggered, Deja just be texting just because. Locking the phone as I got into the bedroom “oh man, I was expecting you to be naked on the bed with your perky boobs out, oh man. I am so let down” Robyn rested back on her hands “well you got me all clothed, but I wanted to speak to you about earlier, you know with Rylee. You seemed a little taken aback by it all, I want you to be not scared to go near her. She is in that mood, and she is clingy, but I want you to be there, be close for me also. I need you there” Robyn noticed “uh yeah, I am sorry. I kind of just felt I was getting in the way, you know? I didn’t want to juust be in your space when you’re trying to calm her down” Robyn shook her head never “Robyn, hey. Robyn or Chris. Rylee is awake” looking behind me and then the loudest cry came out.

Rylee is much more her, I am so emotional. She is sitting up with Robyn’ hand behind her of course but she is sitting up, not as emotional this time anyways “this is good news isn’t it? From the results and hearing her chest, she seems to be ok, honestly really happy with this. She is wanting to sit up and see everyone, I mean of course she has been through an ordeal, so we just need to be slow with Rylee and just support her through this, what I want to do is another night. I am tacking everything off her, even the monitors on her foot. Just let’s see how she is with tonight and then tomorrow discharge, what you think to that Rylee?” Myriam said, smiling at Rylee. She is busy touching her foot, she seems happy to see her feet “this is the best news I can hear; I am just over the moon to have my daughter back. To have her like this, alert. So can we give her a bath and everything? Just be normal?” Robyn asked, Myriam nodded her head “normal routine, just so you have the support of us here. Anything changed then we are at hand so just do your normal routine” it’s so crazy how much Rylee looks like Robyn; I had no say in this child at all. She has been hanging with Robyn for too long because she has become her twin, I got problems with this. Rylee looked up from her foot and her eyes laid on me and I felt so nervous, I mean she is a child, but I felt judged because I haven’t been around like that, Rylee blew raspberries at me. I laughed putting my head down, I think my daughter is back “awww my niece, that is my niece” Mel cheered “she is back” Robyn wiped her mouth with her hand.

Robyn yelped out as she picked up Rylee from the bed finally, after not being able to hold her for all this time “oh my god, my baby” Robyn held her close “I missed you so so much, oh my god. Thank you god, thank you” getting up from the chair and making my way over to them both “thank you god, you came back to me” Robyn’ voice broke, she lifted her up so I can see Rylee better “she is back with us” smiling at Rylee placing my hand behind her head, she is wanting to touch Robyn’ face then looking at me, she is making all these noises now too “I love you pookie” pressing a kiss to the side of her head, this has to be the best moment for us. We really could have lost Rylee “you want to go to daddy, go to dad” Robyn pressed kisses to Robyn’ forehead before turning to me, taking Rylee from Robyn “my big girl, you’re so strong” wiping her nose with my thumb “I missed you” Rylee is cheerful, I can tell how happy she is “boogers” walking over to the window, Rylee scrunches her face up and then turned to my shoulder and rested her head on my shoulder “I am going to be there for you forever, I promise” lightly touching the back of her head.

#chrianna fanfiction #chrianna #chriannaff #chrianna ff #fanfic #fanfiction

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maskydoolovesmasseffect · 4 years

Text

Mass Effect Tag

Wellio, I’ve been tagged by @berryshiara. Passing this on to @grummel83

Gunna answer my questions now. Y’all feel free to tell me what you think of these answers.

I’m a fan since: 2008. I was just out of high school and still not over KoTOR. I was fresh in the army and got to talking to some other dude fresh to the army about video games. He asked me if I played Mass Effect. I said no. By the next day I just about totally forgot about him, then he suddenly appeared out of nowhere sat in front of me in the chow hall and pulled a copy of ME1 for Xbox 360 out his pocket like he was a magician doing a magic trick (ACU pockets are huge.)

Anyway turns out that guy was a romance option and I must have picked the right dialogue options. I’m still with him, too.

Favorite game of the series:

Mass Effect 2. It seemed like that’s the one where choices mattered most and you really got to know your squaddies. Also MAJOR gameplay improvements over the first game. And that game gave me the most freedom to do basically whatever I wanted and wasnt afraid to give me consequences for it.

MShep or FShep:

FShep. Nothing against MShep, but for me the real Shep is FShep. Can’t beat Jennifer Hale’s voice.

Earthborn, Colonist, or Spacer:

Colonist. I like having the background of knowing just how dangerous the galaxy can be and how the Alliance can’t be everywhere at once so sometimes you need to manage your best on your own.

Biotics or Tech:

Both.

Paragon or Renegade:

Paragon, mostly. I tried being renegade but some of the actions are just so pointlessly dickish, or even outright unhinged in a way that would make it impossible to believe the Alliance would ever promote Shepard as an officer or even keep her in the Alliance at all, especially in the first game.

That said, there are times where a renegade action is more expedient and practical than a paragon one, like in 2 when you stab a dude in the back to prevent him from repairing an enemy gunship, so even with a paragon playthrough, my Shepard will have no issues taking that opportunity. She’s already seconds away from betraying all those guys anyway.

Paragon in treatment of others, renegade in combat pragmatism.

Favorite Class:

I play as infiltrator and vanguard.

Infiltrator is great for using a sniping and opening loot, and then for going invisible, and if I remember right AI hacking too. That’s cool and I wish there were more genuine opportunities for stealth.

Nowadays I play as Vanguard in my playthroughs mainly just so my Shepard can be canonically biotic for story reasons. From 2 on when looting no longer needs a special skill and I get to charge around the map. I don’t really care much about using biotics (that’s what the squadies are for) but the movement is super useful (when Shepard actually does the thing instead of just standing out in the open soaking up bullets until the ability decides to actually work.)

Favorite Companion:

Garrus. I like to set him up in sniper positions. When he actually STAYS where I put him instead of running straight up to enemies to try to snipe them at point blank, he’s great.

Also his quips in 2 on are pretty entertaining.

Least Favorite Companion:

Garrus, Oh my god. Go back to the sniper position where I put you. Leave tanking to krogan; you do not have the HP for this.

Also Kaidan in ME1. He can not shoot to save his life - literally.

My Squad Selection:

For all ME1 playthroughs after my first one, Ashley and Kaidan, just of their comments and because... well... I only have so much time with them.

Apart from that I mainly just pick my team based on who’s likely to have the most interesting commentary on whatever the mission happens to be, squad balance be damned.

Favorite In-Game Romance:

Garrus X Shepard is my favorite love story. They are just so adorable together and always supportive even when they disagree.

But my cannon romance is Kaidan X Shepard for the drama and angst.

Favorite NPC:

In ME1 there’s this random Turian on Noveria who randomly has like a New York accent and I absolutely adore him. He plays basically no part in the story other than some minor information but he’s just so pleasant to speak to.

“If you need anything, I’ll be here.”

Favorite Antagonist:

Morinth, the Ardat-Yakshi daughter of Samara. Yes, she’s a murderous vampire who will absolutely kill you given the chance... but like, it’s a medical condition. And I really can’t help but feel for ardat-yakshi in general when their only options are to spend their whole lives on the run from justicars out to execute them, or waste their entire 1000 year lifespan imprisoned in a monetary unable to experience the world at all. Yeah, Morinth is evil, but Ardat-Yakshi don’t exactly have a good deal.

Favorite Loyalty Mission:

Grunt’s loyalty mission is the best. I get to help my baby boy, reunite with Wrex, enjoy krogan society being fleshed out, have a kickass battle against a thresher maw, and get a breeding request. It’s nice to have a quest that isn’t about family drama and genuinely gets a happy end.

Favorite Mission:

Despite Citadel DLC requiring everyone to have a deathgrip on an idiot ball, and also basically gloss over some really dark stuff, the whole clone storyline with the whole crew is an absolute ride all the way though, with lots of interesting and unique scenarios, a ton of replay-value, and funny party banter that feels like it came straight out of a Marvel movie.

Favorite DLC:

Again, Citadel DLC. Not only did it come with the story above, it also had all those interactions with past and present crewmates, including a memorial for Thane (finally!), a cool apartment to hang out in, a party, an arcade, and an awesome battle arena. It really added a TON. Also, it’s nice to see Bioware figure out that DLC needs characters - I’m remembering back in the DLC to ME 1 the party never had a single thing to say, no matter what was going on. The fun and wacky Citadel DLC is a far cry from the serious and somewhat dark space opera Mass Effect started as, but as the final DLC capping off the end of the series, it gets to do a silly victory lap (and get the taste of the ending out of our mouths.)

Control, Synthesis, Or Destroy:

No.

Favorite Weapon:

Sniper rifles, whatever I have that’s fast and has high damage output. Also that one pistol that shoots tiny energy grenades. Pew pew.

Yeah I wasn’t really big into the weapons so much. I’m here to get my story on.

Favorite Place:

The presidium on the Citadel. It bothered me a lot when I couldn’t explore it in the second game. I know it would have been terribly impractical, but as the presidium is just a huge ring, it would have been cool to be able to explore the whole thing, going past all the little park areas, shops, monuments and so on until you loop aaaaall the way back around to where you started. Like, how cool would it be if the ring had a running track? Maybe C-sec academy trainees would be spotted jogging together along it in formation. And can you imagine grabbing a coffee (I was going to make up a space-related name for Starbucks but it’s already STARbucks...) and taking a nice stroll along the water before finding a nice bench to alien-watch from? Other locations in the game are like great places to explore and do gameplay stuff, but the presidium seems like a nice place to just be.

Favorite Quote:

"Stand in the ashes of a trillion dead souls and ask the ghosts if honor matters. The silence is your answer." - Javik.

This is such a fucking raw damn line. It makes me think a lot about Cerberus. When ME3 wasn’t out yet, I thought maybe the plan was Shepard would at some point choose a side, Alliance for paragons and Cerberus for renegades. It would have been so cool to have morality not merely be good vs evil, but idealism vs that ruthless calculus Garrus mentioned. How fucking raw would it be if Cerberus wasn’t just generically evil for no reason and suddenly indoctrinated but really were embodying that ruthless calculus, determined to defeat the reapers at any and all cost. Maybe Cerberus actions’ were more likely to do terrible things for the sake of ultimate victory, doing whatever it took, whereas the Alliance would be less willing to make the terrible choices and ultimately be less likely to succeed.

Now obviously, that’s not what happened, as it would have required Bioware to basically make two entirely separate games. But that line from Javik makes me think of that concept, and a universe where like Dragon Age party members can approve or disapprove of actions not merely as good or evil but along the lines of their personal values. I think Javik would sit at victory at all cost.

Also that one mission in 2 where some random NPC catches Shepard sneaking around and is all like ‘what are you doing here?’ and Shepard is like ‘What am I doing here? What are you doing here? Get out here before it blows!’ and the guy’s freaking out like WTF and she says ‘RUN!’ then laughs to herself as he flees from an imaginary bomb. Shep you troll.

The thing I like the least about the entire franchise:

The misogyny and objectification that crept its way in, epically from the second game on. Really didn’t like those ass-shot camera angles, or female characters being slut-shamed in-universe for the clothes the designers made them wear. Yikes.

But the biggest yikes for me in that regard is actually the reveal in 3 that the prothians guided asari development. That was fine and all, but the part that bothered me was the characters commenting “ooooh, so that’s why asari are so advanced,” as it was ever any kind of mystery before that exact moment. For one thing, asari aren’t really shown as being more advanced than anyone else, apart from having discovered the citadel first, and for second, why wouldn’t asari be advanced? All the way from ME1 it’s established that 1: Asari live for a really long time, and 2: can instant transmit information directly from brain to brain. That means they have long lifetime in which to accumulate knowledge and experience, and also can easily spread and preserve that knowledge without even the need for books. That ALONE should put them ahead. And even with all that, they only barely beat the salarians to discovering the Citadel first. But no one asks for an explanation for why salarians, who live only a few decades and can’t do mental data-transfer, are so advanced. No, only the success of the all-women race needs explaining. It was just one moment but it still bugs me.

Also the general loss of realism after the second game. First game everyone gets armor, including full-face helmets automatically on in environments that need it. After that, people can apparently just wander the battlefield half-naked and even somehow survive in a total vacuum if they just put a plastic cup (that isn’t even connected to anything) over their mouth and nose. In the first game they at least made up some reasonable-sounding science fiction explanation for things, but after that it’s like F-it everything is just space magic now.

Oh, and those repetitive unlocking stuff minigames. I use a mod to just skip those.

#mass effect #tag

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overdrivels · 4 years

Text

Even more unsolicited resume advice

Corona has probably hit a lot of people hard and it has been a tough time for everyone, especially people who just left college to enter the work force or have been out of a job and had been looking to get back into the force. While this might not solve much, I want to provide some additional advice piggy-backing off a previous post.

Again, Your Mileage May Vary (YMMV) since this is entirely subjective and very US-centric. A lot of the resumes that come across my desk are for specialized jobs and higher-levels, so I’ve had a bit of a disconnect with entry-level and recent grad-level resumes. Regardless, I still want to help answer some questions that people have and hopefully give a bit of a push to help you into the jobs you want.

There’s more of this sort of stuff under the tag: ‘adult drivels’.

"What do I write for my Objectives/Summary of Qualifications?"

To be very honest, I only ever see Objectives from people trying to switch careers or from internship/entry-level resumes. At least 98% of the time, we know what your objective is. It's money. I don't care if the objective is to help save the world--believe me, I've seen enough resumes that say something along those lines (worked at a place that kind of championed that and boy is the reality nasty).

Anyway. Write a short paragraph (usually 2-3 sentences, but no longer than a full paragraph) about your skillset. Give me enough detail to want to read the rest of your resume.

Examples:

Finance student with 2 years volunteer experience in business accounting, correspondences with the Federal Reserve, and federal financial law. Specializes in XYZ, etc.

I couldn't make this any more detailed, but you get the gist of it. If not, here's another one.

Recent college graduate with experience in freelance computer repairs for Windows, Mac, and RedHat Linux. Customer-oriented from # years in customer service, and willing to learn new things especially more about network infrastructure and engineering. Currently studying to pass Network and looking to pass Security+ within the next year.

This is just a personal nitpick, but be careful with very subjective character traits like ‘loyal’ or ‘hard-working’ or ‘effective leader’. Anyone can put that on a resume, but I need you to prove it in your resume. Some industries like this sort of self-description/self-evaluation, but I really don’t trust when people write that stuff down.

(Ex. Someone wrote they were detail-orientated and their resume was littered with typos. Mm, don’t trust like that.)

"I don't know what to write for my job experience. I don't have sales numbers or percentages like these websites are telling me."

You do. You have them, just not consciously.

You worked at Starbucks and trained newcomers? Fine.

"Trained ## new hires on all store procedures, safety, and customer service, and one was promoted to store manager with # months/one new hire won Employee of the Month/and I received formal recognition from corporate."

"Created new training plan/procedures/whatever and implemented it over the course of # months, reducing the time needed for training and increasing effectiveness."

Didn't work at Starbucks? Just joined a club and helped organize a bake sale? Cool.

"Sold $# worth of merchandise for [school club] [sale] which contributed to #% increase in funding for the year's activities, allowing the club to do XYZ.

Don't have the percentage? Do a reasonable guess, or ask. Or just say it helped you guys earn your field trip to wherever. Whatever it helped do.

Didn’t do anything involving cash or numbers? No problem.

“Tutored # students at least # times a week in [subject], working with them using different teaching methods such as [example] and [example]; # students were able to pass their courses with satisfactory grades (insert grades somewhere, if you’re proud of that).”

The point is: [Action] --> [Result].

What did you do, specifically? And what was the direct result? That’s what I’m looking for.

“But I’ve never held a job. This’ll be my first one. How do I write my resume?”

That’s always tough. In this case, you’ll have to play on anything you do have. Volunteer work, school activities, extracurricular activities, personal projects, awards, personal achievements, etc. Sometimes people go for a skills-oriented resume which I don’t actually see a lot.

Basically, standard resumes have your regular stuff:

Personal Information

Summary of Qualifications/Objectives

Education

Job Experiences in chronological order

Extracurricular Activities

Skills

Awards/Certifications

Whatever else

A skills based resume usually replaces the ‘Jobs’ section with a huge-ass ‘Skills Set’ section which contains several main skills you want to highlight for the job and examples of how you demonstrated these skills.

Communication

- Corresponded and tutored students struggling in [subject] class, restructuring and explaining lessons using easy-to-understand anecdotes, resulting in students passing the class with scores of no less than a B. (This is lengthy as fuck, but you get the idea.)

- Successfully led one 24-person raid a month for 2 years in an online game where quick and clear communication and timing was vital.

So, that but multiple times until it fills out your resume.

This goes against my personal opinion about subjective traits, but if it works, it works.

“Anything else?”

I turn my entire Word document into a table for formatting and then just hide all borders when I’m done.

Always, always export to PDF and do a test print. You never know how it’ll look on someone else’s screen or program. (Especially if you have LibreOffice or something, that really messed up the formatting sometimes.)

I kind of like Google’s resumes, the one they have in Google doc templates.

To make different things stand out, I mess with fonts. Like sans serif for section titles and with serif for body text. Sometimes I just start going nuts with them, but not too nuts because again, it might not be a font on someone else’s computer.

To test the visual appeal of my resume, I’d usually print it out, paste it on a wall, walk away, turn around, and try to see if I can spot my name and the different section breaks instantly from a distance. If I can’t, I know I fucked up. If I can, great, formatting is clean. One thing I hate as an interviewer is searching through walls of text for important info or section breaks.

If you can, only submit as PDF. I swear, half the time, the Word doc gets mangled by the application platform that people send them through (you know, the automatic uploading thing?) It had definitely cost a few good candidates a job simply because the program mangled the resume’s formatting.

Following these steps still won’t necessarily get you the job. This is cruel, but reality. It could be your resume. It could be just because the role is meant for someone else with a different skillset. It’s not personal. You have to keep trying.

For the last time, TAILOR, TAILOR, TAILOR. You’re fighting with about 30 other people who have put in a hell of a lot of effort to get jobs. They also want the job and have been searching just as long or longer than you. You have to give yourself an edge by not blasting a generic version of your resume at the recruiter. That’s wasting our time and your own time.

Again, all of these opinions are my own and should be taken with a handful of salt and two handfuls of personal judgement.

Good luck on your searches and may the job you want be yours.

#adult drivels

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glassbangtan · 5 years

Text

Jungkook is Typing... {Jungkook x Reader}

Words: 21.1k

Summary: You and Jungkook met online when you were only fourteen years old. Neither of you thought meeting up would be a possibility, until you’re hired as Big Hit’s new editor.

Genre: mild smut, angst, fluff.

Warning: sexual scenes (but nothing graphic)

Notes: masterlist

---

You and Jungkook met online.

This is where most people roll their eyes, close the book and move on. It's this little pinprick of information that makes people turn a blind eye and assume the absolute worst.

In truth, you never really blamed them for this mindset.

You were only fourteen when you started getting into online gaming, and it wasn't like it was some massive deal at the time. Everyone was doing it; World of Warcraft, Dungeons and Dragons, Minecraft Online were all common topics of conversation amongst your year ten class, with people sharing server pins and usernames in a similar way to how they used to share sweets when the teacher wasn't looking. It was no surprise to you �� or anyone else – when you asked your parents for a computer for Christmas, and quickly got hooked on the game Prisons of Terror.

It was all you ever talked about, because – in truth – it was all you ever did. You got home from school, threw your bag on the floor and darted to your room. Some days, you didn't even bother saying hello to your mother in fear of someone logging onto the online server before you and getting all the weaponry you'd stashed away in an unlocked chest. You simply could not let that happen. Over one hundred and twenty five hours of hard work were not going to waste just so you could make idle chat with the woman who lived downstairs.

Your parents never questioned it – as stated, this wasn't some new phenomenon, and you didn't have a problem. You were quite capable of logging out of the game when the server was quiet, and you only spoke about it when someone else was willing to engage in conversation. Other than that, most people saw you as a fairly capable, intelligent fourteen year old – normal.

But this little passing fling with Prisons of Terror grew when GoldenJeon entered the server for the very first time. You remembered the date, remembered flicking your eyes up from your homework with the game still running in the background – hardly anyone was playing, so you'd decided to at least be a little bit productive as you waited for some of your other friends to come online. Never before had you seen GoldenJeon written across the bottom of the screen.

You narrowed your eyes, leaned forward and quickly typed into the chat: Who are you?

He didn't reply. You left it at that. He was probably just there to try it out, too nervous to speak to anyone until he found his footing in the game and was finally able to open up a little bit more.

A few days later, he appeared again.

You were quicker with your curiosity this time, barely letting his name disappear from the chat before you were repeating your previous question.

GoldenJeon is typing...

But then he stopped, and there was no response given.

Maybe it was this constant game of back and forth that piqued your interest, that had you pondering over the person behind the strange username. His characters skin consisted of the gear of prisoners, which has always been a strange thing to pick when playing this game. Most people are drawn to the powerful looking players, the guards, the people with swords and crossbows slung across their backs – your own was a person in a guards uniform, your weapon consisting of two circular blades strapped to your shoulders.

Your curiosity heightened to levels you could no longer control, and you opened up a new, private chat with GoldenJeon and started texting.

Innocent questions at first; asking him who he was, how long he'd been playing the game, who the hell gave him the password for the server you were so familiar with at this point.

And he texted back.

He gave you answers, the conversation flowing so much easier than you'd ever expected it to. His silence in the beginning had unsettled you to the point where you'd ridiculously convinced yourself he didn't like you – even before he'd spoken to you. He was ignoring everything you said, so what else were you supposed to believe?

But the two of you texted like best friends outside of the ring of the game you'd grown so addicted to. He sent emojis, and after a few months of constant back and forth, he started sending you little pictures of his dog and the doodles he did during class, and you granted him the same thing. You were never much of an artist, but you put a lot of effort into the drawings you sent him, and also put a lot of effort into making them look effortless, just like he did.

GoldenJeon: got bored in class again. Teacher nearly caught me this time. {ATTACHED IMAGE}

He was talented. There was no denying that. Even at fourteen, there wasn't a sense of jealousy that came with this acknowledgement, but a simple sense of pride. You often tilted the phone to your friend, Yul, and let him see the fresh, simplistic art work GoldenJeon had sent you that day, and Yul would hum and compliment him, and you'd sit there smugly as if to say yep, he's my friend.

After a few weeks, GoldenJeon became somebody else. He became Jeon Jungkook, a student in Busan – miles away from where you lived, but close enough to startle you. Both of you lived in Korea – that had to count for something.

The start of it all was a bumpy road, but looking down at your phone now, you can't help but grin at the realisation that it really was all worth it. Though you and Jungkook are yet to meet in person, not a day has gone by in the past four years where he hasn't sent you some bizarre song, or some scribbled doodle on the back of his notebook. Not a day has gone by where he hasn't sent you a good morning text and asked you how you are, what you've eaten, what your plans are for the day.

He's your best friend, but telling people that earns you a few confused glances, so you tend to refrain as far from that conversation as humanly possible.

Jungkook: I'm bored. Please cheer me up before I walk out and fail this entire class.

Y/N: tough day?

Jungkook: The worst day. I forgot we had a test.

Y/N: what a Jungkook thing to do.

Jungkook: Fuck off and cheer me up. I'm keeping you around for one thing and one thing only.

Y/N: to cheer you up?

Jungkook: Exactly.

Challenge accepted. Standing in line at Starbucks, you shamelessly lift your phone high above your head and take a selfie, sticking your tongue out and throwing up the peace sign for added effect. You hit 'send' to Jungkook and stuff your phone back in your pocket, turning round to retrieve your coffee and head back to work.

Jungkook goes to a weekend performance club in Seoul. This much you know, as you get updates from him on the daily about how his classes are going and how life is now that he's basically an independent man who can do whatever the hell he wants; as well as being a student, he's also a trainee.

He told you about his dreams of becoming an idol on multiple occasions, but you'd heard it all before. Growing up, every single person in your class wanted to be an idol at some point; rising stars like Big Bang and EXO inspired the youth to strive to become as rich and famous as possible – but it always died away, and that's what you thought was going to happen with Jungkook.

You really should have known better.

He was only fifteen when he texted you saying he'd passed his audition. Confused, you'd asked him what he meant, only for him to send you a picture – “photo credit to my mum!” - of him standing in front of a sign with the words Big Hit plastered across it. You leaped out of your chair, squealing with happiness, immediately pressing 'CALL' to continue your freak out with him on the line; he'd started crying, you'd started crying, and that phone call will forever go down as the one that cost you the most money as it lasted for over four hours.

He was still working hard. You got the updates. You comforted him when it all got too much. You helped each other out.

Your phone chimes, signalling Jungkook's response.

Jungkook: Okay good. I think I can push through now. Wish me luck. Love you loads and all that.

You grin.

Y/N: love you too. Don't kill anyone. Xx

The conversation disappears and you are finally able to sink yourself back into reality – work.

Whilst Jungkook is a thriving trainee, you're an intern at a publishing house. Whilst Jungkook spends his days singing and dancing, you spend your days going through unedited manuscripts and marking them up with red pen.

Your boss, Mr Grey, is standing by your desk when you walk in, which is already the first bad sign of the morning. His arms are folded, his grey (yes, grey) moustache freshly waxed. You swallow back a laugh, giving him your best grin as you walk past him to your desk, pretending that his presence in your office is a normal, everyday occurrence.

You already know you're in Big Trouble. Mr Grey never steps foot outside of his office unless someone is in Big Trouble.

“Are you sure you need that caffeine this morning?” is the first thing he asks, as it usually is. Mr Grey is on a health kick. Even though you know it's temporary and he's been through this with you a million different times before, he will still chastise you for any and all unhealthy lifestyle choices you make in his presence whilst he is trying to slim down.

You take a small sip of your hot beverage, clap your lips together and say, “Definitely.” You set your folder down on your desk before turning to him fully. “How may I help you this morning, sir?”

“I need to speak with you about an important matter,” he replies. You pause, waiting for him to elaborate, but his eyes have suddenly turned shifty and there is not a single hint in his posture to reveal whatever riddle he has just spoken.

You look around cautiously, half expecting Soobin from the next office to jump out and spray you with Silly String, or perhaps throw a can of paint in your face. You honestly wouldn't put it past Mr Grey to want to poison you somehow.

When nothing seems out of place, you turn back to your boss and say, “Okay. Do you want to sit down?” You gesture towards the seat he is stiffly standing behind, and he nods before slowly lowering himself onto the worn out cushion. You follow his lead, shuffling a few papers around because that's often all you need to do to look busy around here. You then intertwine your fingers over a thick folder and glance at him, waiting for him to usher the conversation along.

He inhales and rubs a single finger along one of his bushy grey eyebrows. “There has been an opportunity given to me recently that I unfortunately cannot take for myself, so I've come here to ask if you would like to take the chance in my place.”

He says it just like that. The previous silence, the drawn out dramatics just look stupid now, and you can't help but stare at him blankly as the words settle in. You haven't been there for very long, and you're still barely full-time. You're still considered an intern by most people, and still have a lot to learn – so why is he offering you something like this when there's hundreds of other worthy colleagues who would know what to do with this opportunity so much better than you?

“Right,” you say slowly. “I'm gonna need a few more details, I think.”

“It requires travel.”

“I don't really think I can aff-”

“All expenses will be paid by the agency. They'll organise a flat and transport when it's needed. They've been very generous with this offer, which is why I think it would be a shame to let it go to waste.”

Your heart is thumping. This is real. This is serious.

“What is this offer?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady but failing miserably.

“A well-known company is writing up a catalogue for future employees and they want an editor flown out to make corrections on hand if they need it.”

You blink. “That's . . . Unheard of. Why don't they just send the manuscript out?”

“Because that takes too long, and they don't have that amount of time,” Mr Grey explains. “Plus, they're already in partnership with another editing agency, but this agency doesn't have enough staff free at the moment to take on the job. That's why they came to me.”

“So you'll be shipping me off to another editing agency? I'll become part of another team?” You raise your brows, slowly lean back in your chair. “You could have just sacked me, Mr Grey. It would have done the same thing.”

Mr Grey rolls his eyes – he never has any time for comments like these. It's part of the reason you find it so difficult to find even ground with him. “You'll be coming back eventually. This is just a temporary job, a favour for a friend.”

You sigh. “This is a lot to take in, sir.”

“I understand,” he replies, before he starts standing up. “I'll give you time to think about it, and when you-”

You launch yourself over the desk, grabbing his wrist and dragging him back into his seat before he can get much further. “Jesus, Mr Grey, slow down. I never said I wouldn't take the bloody offer.” You grab a pen from the Worlds Worst Drinker mug on the corner of your desk. “What do I sign and when do I leave?”

---

The train station is bustling with people, but you had been expecting nothing different when you were told you'd be shipped off to Seoul.

Seoul, South Korea. A place you'd once only dreamed about stepping foot in. As you'd grown older, the idea of visiting the capital became more and more intimidating, and you've since grown quite fond of your tiny little area. You'd heard the stories, seen the pictures of the crowded streets and the smoke that always fills the air, but hearing about these details and being amongst them are two very, very different experiences.

You step off the train at long last, shoulder immediately shoved by a passer-by who is too busy looking down at his phone to notice you standing right in front of him. You frown, quickly pull your timetable out of your pocket and look down – you're meant to be meeting your colleague. According to the timetable, this mystery person was meant to pick you up in their car and drive you straight to the building you'd be working at – which, at this moment in time, you have not yet heard the name of.

You look around for any sign of somebody professional looking – sadly, that seems to be the majority of Seoul. You're surprised to see that half of the people bustling around look like they're on their way to work, wearing nice suits or long coats that hide whatever professional gear they're wearing underneath.

“Y/N L/N?”

Your eyes shoot up, heartbeat thumping because you know, just from the sound of the unfamiliar voice, that things are finally starting. There is no backing out of this. You can't just turn around and get back on the train – you've taken the offer, and you're stuck.

You turn on your heel, placing your professional grin on your face. Standing behind you is a fairly small man with a tiny black moustache, wearing an oversized grey hoodie and a beanie. Little black hairs trickle from the edge of his hat and poke him in the eyes, but he does nothing to shift them out the way.

He certainly wasn't what you had been expecting. He's shorter than you by a few inches. He's wearing casual clothes, even on a Wednesday afternoon. He looks like any normal human being, even a little laid back.

“Mr Son!” you exclaim. “It's a pleasure to meet you.”

“Please, call me Sungdeuk,” he says. “I hope the train ride wasn't too bad? I know they can get a little crowded and uncomfortable.”

As he speaks, he grabs for your suitcase and starts down the platform. You blink, ponder over whether or not to follow him before you're nearly tripping over your own feet trying to catch up.

“Uh, yeah. It was a – uh – experience,” you reply. “I'm just glad I got here on time.”

“I assume you know all about the kind of work you'll be doing?”

“Mhm!”

You cringe even as the noise leaves your lips, because in truth, you have absolutely no idea what it is you'll be doing. What little you've been told barely seems to cover the surface, and you're still carrying around many questions in which you know will need answered eventually – when you get to that point, you'll make sure to ask, but for now, it's safer to just pretend you're prepared.

You and Sungdeuk make your way into a large Range Rover that is parked outside the station. Sungdeuk gets in the front seat whilst you clamber into the back, and immediately a cold bottle of water is passed to you over the back of Sungdeuk's seat.

“Kept chilled, just for you,” he says, winking in the rear view mirror.

You smile and grab for the drink, but your stomach is reeling with nerves and you know for a fact you won't be able to keep anything down, liquid or not. And so, you mess with the lid, curling your fingers around it until the clasp bites into your palm, until the condensation is sinking into your jeans and making the leather seats damp.

Neither of you speak for the majority of the drive, and Sungdeuk seems perfectly fine with that. He barely even glances at you, too busy leaning his head against the headrest with his eyes closed, like he's living in his own fantasy world. Even the driver is perfectly content with the silence, but it itches at your skin. You should be talking. You want your first impression to be chipper, friendly, curious. You want your new boss to think you're actually interested in whatever it is you've been signed up for.

Cautiously, you lean forward and poke your head between the passenger and driver seat. “Uh, hi.”

Sungdeuk creaks open one eye. “You alright?”

“I was just – uh – I have a question.” You may as well slip a question in now.

Sungdeuk turns to look at you. “Go ahead. I thought you were told everything.”

“I was told most things,” you lie. “Except for – you know – who I'll actually be working for.”

Sungdeuk stares at you, waiting for the non-existent punch line. You suddenly want to curl up in a ball, perhaps throw yourself out the window.

He purses his lips when you stay silent, features completely straight. “You don't know who you're working for?”

“I'm sure it was in the contract,” you hasten to say. “I might have just missed it. You know what, sorry for bothering you.” You wave a dismissive hand, already leaning back in your seat and pretending you didn't even speak up in the first place. “You carry on doing what you're doing, and I'll just sit back here and-”

“We're here anyway,” he says, grinning at your sudden flustered state. You don't even have a chance to be embarrassed, as you lurch forward and look out the window, just as the massive gates open into the car park behind a large grey building. Lights are on in almost every single room, and there's a sign on the door that reads, in big, bold letters:

BIG HIT ENTERTAINMENT.

And you want to scream.

There's no way. There's absolutely no way this is real life. You've decided. You've come to the conclusion that maybe you hit your head on the train and now you're actually dreaming this entire thing. You're in a coma somewhere. A doctor is poking at you this very minute, but you won't wake up because-

“Y/N?”

Your eyes snap up. “Hm?”

“We going in?”

You swallow thickly and gather your wits, trying to calm the race of your heartbeat. Your phone burns a hole in your pocket – you want to text Jungkook so bad, because you can already guess his reaction. He's going to be mortified. The safe little friendship the two of you have is going to be destroyed as soon as he sees you walk in them doors, because he can no longer hide behind the distance that was always such a comfort blanket between the two of you. Sure, it was a pain in the ass sometimes. Sometimes Jungkook would just go on huge rants about wanting to cuddle you because he couldn't sleep, and its them moments where the distance can honestly just fuck off – but at the same time, you have a pimple growing on your forehead that Jungkook would never be able to see.

Not until now.

Nonetheless, you know you can't just set up camp in the back of the Range Rover, so you gather your bags and follow Sungdeuk into the lobby of the building. He's chatting away, giving you a brief tour of the area you can see, but you're not even paying attention.

On the wall, the posters glare at you.

“Who is Bangtan Sonyeondan?” you ask, not even realising you're cutting the man off.

He lowers his hand and follows your gaze to the poster you're currently inspecting; it consists of seven men, all of whom you recognise because Jungkook idolises each and every one. He texts you about their daily runnings almost every single day, and you find it kind of strange that you know Namjoon's favourite cereal to have in the morning, as well as the fact that Seokjin shrunk his favourite pink socks the other day.

But it's Jungkook who your focus is trained upon, because you recognise him immediately. The brown hair, the dumpling cheeks and the baggy clothes. He's staring into the camera with such a serious look on his face, and half of you wants to burst into a fit of giggles whilst the other half of you wants to burst into flames.

“They're the group,” Sungdeuk says.

You raise a brow. “The group?”

“The only group Big Hit is representing at the minute,” he confirms. “They've been together for a few years now. I'm surprised you haven't heard of them.”

You swallow. You have heard of them – probably on a much deeper level than Sungdeuk can even begin to comprehend.

He moves on with the tour, leading you through winding hallways, explaining each and every detail as he does so. You meet a few people on the way past; a few producers, a few choreographers, a few people who are messing with broken cameras and lights. The building just seems to get more and more complex the longer you walk, and it isn't long until Sungdeuk is leading you directly to the training room.

Thankfully, it's empty for now.

“And this is my place,” he says, stretching his arms out. The room is only small, but it's brightly lit and there's a glowing neon sign in the corner that reads BTS. Beneath it are a pair of shoes that look as if they had been discarded not long ago; with your limited knowledge of fashion, you're able to identify them as Balenciagas.

“This is where the boys come to learn their choreographies and practice some of their old stuff,” Sungdeuk continues to explain. “I sent them on their break so I could come and get you.”

You smile warily. “So what is it you actually do around here?”

“I'm the production manager,” he replies. “But I'm also the lead choreographer. I come up with the dances, teach them to the boys and send them on their way. They're quite independent that way – they don't need me holding their hand through everything.”

You chuckle. “I heard Hoseok does a lot of the training. He tends to just take over.”

Sungdeuk laughs. “Yeah, he's a really good-” He freezes. You glance at him over your shoulder. His eyes are narrowed, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Wait. How do you know about Hoseok?”

Aaaaaand, you've already fucked up.

Your brain runs at a million miles per hour, because there's a legible answer there somewhere. You can lie. You can come up with something – anything - but god, your hands are now sweaty and he's staring at you with his head tilted and he probably thinks you're such a crazed stalker.

You open your mouth to reply, to say anything, but the words are cut off by the sound of booming laughter and the door opening. It squeaks, and you make a mental note to bring some WD40 with you next time you're here.

But until then, you have to calm down, because Jungkook is there and he's taller than you imagined, and he's captured your eye already meaning there's absolutely no getting out of this mess.

Sungdeuk greets the other boys – all six of them, fuck sake – but Jungkook stays rooted to the floor. In his hand is a coffee. In his other hand is a water. He's wearing a bandanna and an oversized hoodie, and it takes everything in you not to melt into the floorboards right here and now.

“Everyone, meet Y/N L/N,” Sungdeuk announces, one arm wrapped around Namjoon's waist, the other pushed towards you. “They're the new editor for the Big Hit catalogue.”

“Ay, you found someone!” Taehyung exclaims, walking towards you with those long, intimidating legs that are neatly covered by a pair of striped trousers. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and tugs you tight against him. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I'm Taehyung.”

“Nice to meet you,” you mumble.

“Awk look; they're already nervous,” Seokjin teases, peeling his jacket off his very, very broad shoulders.

“Don't worry. We don't mind a few typos,” Yoongi chimes in.

You try to laugh, but it sounds forced and honestly not worth the effort. Even the boys seem to notice the dry, false side to the giggle as they all turn to look at you, a crowd of raised eyebrows turning to look at you all at once – but again, you can't take your eyes off of Jungkook for even a second.

This is the person you've been talking to since you were fourteen. This is the person who calls you in the middle of the night because he doesn't know what to get from the fridge. This is the person who sends you countless videos on Snapchat of him trying to figure out how to fit the sheet back on his bed in the morning, most of which end with him saying, “Seokjin will do it.”

He's standing in front of you, and he's real, and you're still not entirely convinced you're not dreaming.

Until he speaks.

“D-don't be nervous,” he says. “You'll do a great job. I know you will.”

Oh yeah. You're definitely going to melt into the floorboards at any given moment.

---

“I can't believe this-”

“I swear to god I didn't know it was Big Hit I was gonna be working for.”

“You're here. How are you here?”

“I took a train, Jungkook. A train! Do you know how terrified I am of fast moving vehicles?”

Jungkook closes his eyes, tilts his head back against the wall you've accidentally pushed him against in your panic. You aren't even sure how you've done it, but in your hectic panic, you've ended up basically shoving him against the wall as soon as the two of you are away from the large group of excited, older men.

You take a step back and awkwardly rub the back of your neck. “Look, I'm being serious. I didn't even know what company had hired me until Sungdeuk pulled up outside the Big Hit building. I wasn't searching for you or anything.”

Jungkook cracks an eye open. “You know I'm not even meant to be in contact with you.”

This draws you up short. “What?”

“After I joined Big Hit to be a trainee, they made me sign this massive contract thing. It said I had to cut all ties with certain people, and I signed it and said I would.” He bites his lip and looks away, as if confessing to his crimes makes him somehow not worthy to look into your eyes. “And then I texted you the same day about going online for a few hours.”

Your chest hurts. Physically aches. “You were meant to cut ties with me?”

“I didn't take it seriously!” he hisses, tugging at his hair. “I was fifteen, for gods sake. It wasn't until Hoseok started telling me all the things he had to do to make up his contract that I started realising I should probably be – you know – paying attention, too, but I liked texting you. It became kind of routine, so I never stopped.”

You hollow out your cheeks. Not even a full day into business and already Jeon Jungkook is overwhelming you; you're not even surprised.

“Okay, so we just don't tell anyone that we know each other,” you say, as if the two of you haven't already put suspicion in people's heads by basically handling each other with bubble wrap the entire afternoon.

“But I was gonna – I was gonna ask if you wanted to go get dinner tonight,” he says. You raise a brow. He rolls his eyes, shakes his head. “As friends, you sleez.”

“Okay, okay, I was kidding,” you chuckle. “We can still go to dinner, Jungkook. You can just tell the guys you're going somewhere else, and then we'll meet up. Although, I don't really know my way around Seoul just yet so...”

“Do you know where you're staying?” he asks.

You pull a piece of paper from your back pocket and shove it in his hands; written in almost unintelligible handwriting is your new, temporary address. Jungkook's eyes light up when he reads it.

“Hey, that's not far from the dorms!” he says. “I can come and pick you up if that makes it easier. Then we can finally . . . you know . . . discuss what's going on here.”

The way he says it makes your spine tingle, like being friends is some kind of scandal. Apparently it kind of is, considering Jungkook was meant to cut all ties with you over three years ago and just casually decided not to, as if it was no big deal. Part of you wants to be flattered by it. The other part of you wants to slap him up side the head for thinking his friendship with you was more important than living his dreams.

“How long are you staying?” he asks, voice suddenly quiet.

“However long it takes for the catalogue to be made,” you reply, before awkwardly stepping forward. “Jungkook, I just want you to know that I'm not here for a holiday. I have work to do.”

Jungkook's head snaps up, eyes alert. “What? Of course. I know that. I was just – I mean, we've been friends for a long time, Y/N. I think it's about time I take you for dinner.” He raises a brow. “Unless you think this is weird. 'Cause we can always just go back to texting and sending each other stupid videos.”

You chuckle, glancing down at the floor where your toes are very nearly hitting against his. You don't step back, simply kick a rock up onto his shoe which he kicks back onto yours almost immediately. “No. I think this is good. It's like fate, isn't it? Even the universe can't keep us apart kind of thing.”

Jungkook scoffs. “Is this another one of them astrology things you always send to me?”

You roll your eyes, nudging Jungkook with your elbow. “I was trying to be sweet, you idiot.”

“You don't need to be sweet. I've seen you make a fake Instagram account to get a look at your ex-boyfriend's new page.”

“I was fifteen-”

He starts walking back towards the building. “I've seen it.”

“Jungkook, I swear to-”

“I've seen it, Y/N!”

---

You shouldn't feel nervous, but you do.

As you look at yourself in the mirror and try desperately to fix your travel-hair, you remind yourself that this is Jungkook. GoldenJeon. The boy you've known for years, the boy who knows you better than any of your real life friends do. There will be no awkward silences, because there is so much to talk about. There will be no flustered glances, because there is no reason to be flustered. There will be absolutely no tension during this dinner, because you and Jungkook have been friends for years. Just because he is now a physical form changes nothing.

These are the rules you set out for yourself as you slip on your shoes and head for the door of your new apartment. It's small, one bedroom, a tiny kitchen and a sofa. There's a generously sized television hung up on the far wall, and a picture of a house plant hung beside it; you're half tempted to take it down and replace it with a family picture, but something about that makes this place seem a little too permanent. You don't want to be getting attached when you know full well you'll be heading home in a matter of months.

Jungkook texts you to tell you he's outside at exactly seven pm. He's on time, something you weren't expecting considering he has a habit of being late to almost every single meeting he's invited to – he tells you these things on a daily basis, claiming he slept in or he forgot, or he got too caught up in his games.

But he's not lying. You step outside into the chilly night air of Seoul and are greeted by the sight of his warm smile and fluffy brown hair. He's wearing an oversized coat, his hands tucked into the pockets, his shoulders bunched around his ears. When he sees you exit through the front door, he picks up his pace to a penguin-like jog before jumping in front of you and bundling you into a hug you most definitely were not expecting.

“Do you see how early I am?” he asks. You can feel his lips moving against the crown of your head, and your face heats up.

“You're on time,” you correct. “And apparently in a very good mood.”

He pulls away, holds you at arms length. His brown eyes look so light beneath the yellow glow of the street lamps. It's a doe-like look, and it makes your spine tingle when it's trained on you.

“Of course I'm in a good mood,” he says. “I've already picked out the restaurant we're going to. It's called Frapuls.”

You raise a brow, letting Jungkook slip his hand into your own as he starts to lead you down the pavement. “Frapuls? I don't think I've ever heard of that before.”

“It's good. All sorts of food – burgers, kimchi, stir-fry – anything you want, they have it.” He looks over his shoulder. “I wasn't sure what kind of food you liked, so I just picked the one that had the most options.”

You smile. “Frapuls sounds perfect.”

The restaurant itself is small, sparcely populated. Part of you thinks Jungkook's decision to eat here had more to do with the fact that it isn't busy than because he was unsure of your food preferences – nonetheless, you're not complaining. Jungkook leads you into the tiny restaurant, mutters something to the man at the front desk before the two of you are led towards a table on the far side of the restaurant.

It's dimly lit, tiny little lanterns placed all around the room being the only source of light. It makes Jungkook's eyes a little darker, making you want to rip his bucket hat off his head just so you can be given better access to the doe-like brown eyes you had seen earlier on. However, when Jungkook looks at you from across the table, there is no more wondering; you can see his eyes perfectly fine, bright and round and questioning. He looks so curious, tracing your features, trying to figure you out – you can see it in his expression. He has questions, so many questions, but he says none of them until you cough and meet his gaze.

“You can ask me anything you want.” It's a bold statement, but you mean it.

Jungkook pulls back, spreading his fingers across his untouched menu. He licks his bottom lip and sighs. “There's just so many things that don't make sense.”

“Like?”

“Like how you're here. How I didn't know you were going to be here. How we managed to meet up after years of just texting online, and it wasn't even planned.” He shakes his head. “People in our situation literally go through hell to see each other, and it just fell into our laps.”

You bite your lip. “Would you say it's luck?”

“I don't really believe in luck.” Jungkook leans forward, folding his arms in front of him. “But I can't really put my finger on what else it could be.”

“A coincidence,” you suggest. “I mean, it's insane that the people from Big Hit decided to choose the publishing agency I work for to edit their catalogue. It's insane that my boss decided I'd be a good replacement for him.”

Jungkook raises a brow. “It's not insane. You're brilliant at what you do. I've been subject to plenty of late night distressed phone calls to be able to vouch for that.”

You scoff. “You of all people are not allowed to talk about late night distressed phone calls. I think I received at least one a week from you – I marked them on my calender.”

“I'm not that bad!”

“You definitely are. I have the receipts-”

Jungkook's hand snaps out and curls around your wrist before you can grab your phone.

“Alright, I believe you,” he says. “But that's not the point.”

You grin, twisting your hand out of his grip. “Look, maybe it's better if we don't question why we were lucky enough for this to happen. Neither of us know how long we've got together, so we might as well focus our attention on other things.”

Jungkook nods, looking down at his menu. “I agree. For example, you never told me how short you are.”

You very nearly choke on the air you're breathing.

Your eyes snap open, darting across the table to where Jungkook is now grinning down at his menu, pretending like this conversation starter is oh-so-normal, and not at all totally ludicrous.

“I'm average!” you argue. “It's not my fault you're a complete skyscraper of a human being.”

Jungkook raises a brow, still yet to look up from his menu. “I'm not even that tall. You're just taking the piss.”

“Is this your way of charming me?”

“I didn't know you wanted me to charm you in the first place.”

You grit your teeth, shifting your eyes back to your menu.

Jungkook, however, is on a roll. “Did you notice that I could put my chin on your head when I hugged you earlier? Is that not adorable?”

“I'm average,” you repeat.

“You're small. The sooner you realise it, the better. Then I can give you more chin-to-head hugs.”

It sounds promising. That single hug outside your apartment had been enough to fill you with so many butterflies that you were convinced you would float off like a balloon pumped with helium. His arms had been warm. You had convinced yourself that he'd hidden hot packs in the front of his coat, because nobody's chest could be that warm and welcoming in two degree weather. He'd even gone as far as to press his lips into the crown of your head, and you remember that vividly, because it was that very movement that-

“Can I take your order?”

You look up, cheeks heating up with the realisation that you had just completely zoned out, remembering Jungkook hugging you. Looking over, you can see Jungkook staring at you, his cheeks a vivid red colour and his eyebrows furrowed. You bite your lip, looking back up at the smiling waitress who is waiting patiently at your table with a notebook in her hands.

You order the pasta carbonara and a water, whilst Jungkook orders the steak and rice with an iced Coke to go along with it. The two of you don't mention the lack of alcohol – you don't trust yourself to get drunk in front of him yet, and if your thoughts are anything to go by, you need to keep your brain in check tonight.

Jungkook's look of confusion does not leave his face throughout the meal, even as the conversation develops a life of its own. The two of you bicker like an old married couple, Jungkook complaining about the amount of times he has to revive your character in Overwatch and you complaining that you always have to give him extra supplies in Minecraft, even though you've totally, one hundred percent outgrown Minecraft and only play it because Jungkook still likes it, and his character would definitely die if you were not there to make sure he keeps his inventory full.

You're not even surprised with how easy the conversation flows; it's like your texting, but with your mouths. The banter, the teasing, the sly jabs that are always so present in your text conversations do not take the back seat even when you are in front of each other – the only difference now is that you can see his expressions, can hear his laughter, can hear his scoffs of disbelief, and it makes your insides melt with each and every thing he says.

It's so much better than texting. It's so much better than patchy Skype calls. It's so much better than you could have ever imagined.

You speak for hours even after your meal has finished. You place your napkin over your empty meal, place your bag in your lap but neither of you move from the table; you just keep talking, shifting into a debate on whether Billie Eilish or Justin Bieber have the best new song out – Jungkook admits that he's taken a liking to Billie Eilish, but hastens to insist that Justin Bieber is, and forever will be, his ride-or-die.

You only leave the restaurant when the shy waitress glides over to you and tells you that the table you've been over-occupying for hours is needed. Jungkook has paid for the entire meal (plus a tip) before you even have a chance to find your purse.

You shoot him a glare once the two of you are finally outside again, subject to the cold winter air and the surprisingly busy streets of Seoul – back in your home town, the streets were basically empty at this time, but Seoul is different. Seoul is always alive, always bustling with people and chatter and entertainment. Even at this time of night, there are buskers seated on the pavement and dancers twirling through the streets, lights on in every household. It vibrates with an energy you've never known before, and it sends a ripple of excitement coursing through you.

Jungkook ignores your glare and continues walking, a dull smile playing on his features that you find difficult to miss.

“I don't wanna go back to the dorms yet,” he says without turning to look at you. You are forced to pick up your pace just to catch up with him, and when you do, you latch onto his arm so you don't lose him amongst the ever-thickening crowd. If it bothers him, he says nothing.

“What else can we do?” you ask. “It's getting late.”

“So?”

“So all the shops are closed.”

Jungkook raises a brow, glancing down at you as if your logic is extremely flawed. “Again, so?”

“Jungkook, we can't just-”

“Watch this.” He shrugs out of your grip and marches towards a nearby busker before you have a chance to even register what he is doing. You pause in the middle of the street, pulling your coat tighter to your body and watching as Jungkook and the young man with the guitar talk in hushed tones. The busker's eyes eventually light up and he shakes Jungkook's hand before the song he was previously playing is forgotten and replaced by a soft, melodic tone that you've never heard before.

When Jungkook turns back around to face the crowd, he looks nervous. You immediately know what he's going to do, and your heart races at the idea of it; you've heard him sing before. Some mornings he'll call you just so you can keep him company as he goes through his daily routine, and you sit back and listen to him hum as he brushes his teeth, belts out solos as he picks out his outfit for the day. You've heard him sing, but never like this, and you aren't sure why the idea of it excites you so much.

He doesn't bother with an introduction to the song. He just looks at you once, closes his eyes and starts singing, and suddenly the rest of the crowd no longer exists.

The little girl crying over her fallen ice cream no longer exists. The bickering couple beside you no longer exists. The dog barking in impatience no longer exists, and the only sound you can hear is Jungkook's soft voice flittering through the busy crowd, meeting your ears as if he's singing for you and only you.

The lights bring it all together. They shine behind him, illuminating the gold streaks in his hair, the outline of his jaw that has absolutely no right to be as sharp as it is. His body sways back and forth, and even though he's wearing the worlds biggest coat, zipped right up to his chin, you can still imagine his Adams apple bobbing every time he stops for a breath.

This is Jungkook in his natural element. This is where he's meant to be, where he worked so hard to be. For years, the both of you had always joked that he was a video game obsessive, that he was most comfortable in front of the computer, or PlayStation, or xBox just losing himself in a world that wasn't this one – but now you feel ridiculous even pondering over such a crazy idea. This is where he belongs.

Your throat closes over as the song does. Jungkook's voice fades away, and the eruption of cheers brings you back down to Earth. Everyone fizzles back into place, and you're suddenly overwhelmed with the unexplainable urge to break down into tears.

Jungkook's eyes meet your own almost as soon as he opens them. You grin brightly, clapping along with the crowd and he blushes before he turns, thanks the busker and makes his way over to you. Almost as soon as he is in front of you, he takes your hands in his and pulls you close.

“You look freezing. I should have kept us moving.”

“What song was that?” you ask, pulling away to look up at him.

He frowns. “You liked it?”

“I loved it,” you reply. “What song was it?”

“It's called Promise. My friend Jimin wrote it.”

“It was beautiful,” you say before you can stop yourself. Jungkook's blush grows more prominent, looking down to the floor in his attempts to hide it, but you can see right through it. You grin, place a hand on his neck and say, “I'd like to hear you sing some more.”

His eyes meet your own. For a moment, you think you've gone too far. His brows are furrowed, and he's silent for a moment longer than you're comfortable with, but he eventually grins and nods. “Of course.”

---

The first day of work is a hectic one.

The first few pages of the catalogue arrive on your doorstep at seven am sharp, followed shortly by a frantic phone call from Mr Bang Shi Hyuk, who you met a week ago and have still yet to hear talk in a normal tone. He's always busy, always bustling round his office, and you're certain you've never gotten through a phone call without him having to put you on hold to scold someone. This morning, his frantic call has an undertone of desperation to it as he asks you to get the freshly edited pages back to him by five pm – definitely not an impossible goal, but you know you won't be taking any breaks today.

And so, you set up camp at your kitchen table and get to work as soon as the coffee kicks in. Bundled in your fluffy dressing gown and a pair of slippers, you sip idly on different beverages, red pen in hand, glasses perched on the end of your nose. You order some food from a nearby delivery place, dig into it with one hand whilst the other continues to glide across the pages, correcting typos and sentences until everything sounds smooth.

You reach an area of the catalogue that describes Bangtan Sonyeondan, and put it to the side for later. You don't want to think about Jungkook right now – well, you do, but it probably won't be for the best. Any time you see something that reminds you of him, you want to stop, snap a picture of it and send it to him via your stupid little Whatsapp group – that is time wasted, and you can't afford it right now.

Seven am turns into four pm, turns into five pm, and you're stuffing the catalogue pages into the return envelope at the same time you're pulling your jacket on over your shoulders and sprinting out the door. You don't bother saying hello to the friendly door lady at the reception desk. You don't bother to check both ways before sprinting out the door and barrelling up the street towards the Big Hit building. The only thing you can focus on is the time slowly trickling away, and by the time you've crashed into the lobby of the Big Hit building, the time reads 5:01pm and you're already planning out your new CV in your head.

You groan, sprinting up to the front desk and slapping the envelope onto it. “Here. It's here. I wasn't late. I was just -” You pant, trailing your fingers over your rain soaked hair. “Please tell Mr Bang the pages are finished.”

The lady at the desk eyes the envelope and raises her brows, before slowly reaching forward and slipping it into the delivery bin beside her. “Thank you, Y/N. I'll email him now.”

“Like, right now?” you push. You stand on your tip toes and try to see over the desk. “Can I see what you write? Please tell him I was on time, I was just-”

Hands gently grip your elbow, startling you. Jungkook is grinning down at the receptionist as he pushes you away from the desk. “Don't mind us, Gertrude. We're leaving now.”

You shrug out of his grip, spinning around when he pushes you into a nearby hallway and closes the door. He turns back to you, raising a brow that holds so many questions, but your only concern at the minute is whether or not Bang Shi Hyuk is going to receive those pages on time.

You try to look over his shoulder. “Do you think he'll be mad at me?”

“You weren't even late,” Jungkook replies.

You pull your sleeve up and shove your watch in his face. “Can you see that? Five. Oh. One. He wanted them back by five, but I lost track and-”

Jungkook reaches up and tugs on your bottom lip. The action is so unexpected that you don't even continue speaking once his hand drops back to his side – you just watch his arm swing, eyes slowly narrowing.

“What did you just do?”

“Tried to calm you down,” he replies. “Or shut you up. Whichever way you wanna look at it.”

You frown, shifting your eyes to his. “I think I'm delirious. I've been sat at my kitchen table since seven this morning.”

“So I thought,” he says. “You weren't answering my texts, or my single phone call that I so kindly wasted my lunch break to make.”

You wince. “Sorry. I was busy.”

He waves a dismissive hand, but the guilt is still there; Jungkook always makes time for you, no matter how busy his life gets, and you can guarantee that his schedule is a lot busier than yours on days like this. You can see it in the way the sweat clings to his baggy black shirt, the way the ends of his hair are damp.

“Did you eat anything good today?” he asks.

“I had some Chinese takeout.”

“Gross. That's not good at all.”

“It was good.” You pat your stomach for added affect. “I had fried rice, chips, egg noodles – the whole damn heap. Ate it straight out of the bag, too.��

Jungkook crinkles his nose, and it's the most adorable thing you've ever seen. “I swear to god, I'm going to have to keep an eye on you 24/7. You're gonna end up giving yourself a heart attack.”

“I was stress eating,” you say. “I was burning the calories by stressing. It's like I haven't even eaten.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, loops his arm through yours and starts down the hallway. You follow him, a new-found skip in your step that it seems only Jungkook can rattle into your system.

He leads you right to the training room, where the rest of Bangtan are busy doing absolutely nothing. They lounge around, some of them laying on the floor, others sitting on spinny chairs that have absolutely no reason to be there. Namjoon is leaned against the wall; if you weren't careful enough, you'd mistake him for a house lamp.

“Look who arrived,” Jungkook announces, shoving you into the room. The other boys chorus out a “Hi Y/N,” before going back to their exhausted scrollings of social media. “One minute late.”

Jimin fake gasps. “Fired!”

“Don't even joke,” you grunt, slumping down next to Taehyung on the floor. He leans over and shows you his phone screen, and you immediately take over his game of Angry Birds. He lets his head drop back to the floor and his eyes promptly close, as if he had just been waiting for someone to take over his game so he could go to sleep.

“Hard day?” Namjoon asks.

You shrug. “Stressful day.”

“But at least you made it. Did you edit the pages Mr Bang sent you?” Seokjin asks.

“Barely,” you reply, and Jungkook scoffs, kicking your foot.

“You're being too hard on yourself. One minute late isn't a big deal – Mr Bang probably won't even get to reading them before he goes home tonight.”

“So why did the little bastard make me run down here to get them to him by five?” You raise a brow at Jungkook. “Answer me that, Oh Great One.”

“Because.” Jungkook sits down beside you, crossing his legs. “Having a deadline looks more professional than just telling you to get them in by the end of the day.”

“Can someone tell him that I don't care about professional?”

Seokjin sighs. “I've been trying to tell him that for years, Y/N. So far, no luck.”

You groan, the sound mingling with the angry chipper of a bird who has just failed to knock down a house full of tiny green piglets.

“It's done now, anyway,” Hoseok chimes in. He's barefoot again, his Balenciagas thrown carelessly to the side. “I say you celebrate.”

“Mm. I could always order more Chinese food-”

“Nope!” Jungkook exclaims. “Nope, nope, no. No more Chinese food.”

You frown. “Who made you the devil incarnate this evening?”

“You're gonna make yourself sick,” he says. “Celebrate some other way.”

“I wish we could join you, but I'm exhausted,” says Yoongi.

You wave a dismissive hand. “Don't worry. I am too, buddy. I'll probably just go home and get an early night.” You shoot Jungkook a glance. “Play a bit of Minecraft.”

His eyes light up, a tiny smile twitching on his face that he tries to hide by ducking his head down and messing idly with the drawstrings of your grey sweatpants; you didn't even realise you were wearing them. You were too busy trying to leave the house to actually pay attention to your appearance.

“Sounds like a night made for an elderly person,” says Jimin. “Right up your alley.”

You throw Hoseok's Balenciaga at him.

---

GoldenJeon is active, and you're ready to absolutely destroy him.

Gathering snacks and a drink of water (healthy), you settle by your laptop and start playing. The two of you agreed to meet up on a server called The Hunger Games, in which the players are put against each other until there is only one remaining player – for years, you and Jungkook have squabbled over this game, making it much more dramatic than it needs to be, but it's all for the right reasons. Jungkook will call you in the middle of the game, speaking through gritted teeth, warning you not to jump out at him because he knows you're prowling around the corner, just waiting for him to drop his guard. Neither of you even pay attention to the other players; if another player kills you, Jungkook kills them. It's how it works. You're Jungkook's only goal, and he is yours.

Jungkook calls you after the ten minute mark. Whilst he speaks through clenched teeth, you speak through a mouthful of marshmallow.

“Just tell me where you are, you piece of shit,” he demands.

“Ask me nicely.” On your screen, his tiny block player is busy scrambling through some chests. It would be so easy to sneak up on him, stab him whilst he's too busy looting for gear, but you stay back.

“Y/N, I swear to god, you're giving me anxiety,” he replies. “Just tell me where you are. I promise I won't kill you.”

“Aren't you sweet.”

“So?”

“I'm not telling you where I am.” You equip your player with your new weapon. “But I just want you to know that I've just found a diamond sword with full strength still on it, so I'd watch out.”

Jungkook groans. “I hate you. I hate this game. I hate that you're so good at this fucking game.”

“You spend too much time worrying,” you say. “As soon as the map loads, you're trying to get away from me. Why don't you actually try and figure out where I'm going before you run off in the other direction?”

“Because if I stay close to you, you'll kill me!”

“That's the point!”

Jungkook groans again, and you can imagine him tugging on the blanket he always has wrapped round his shoulders when he's on his laptop. “You need to cut me some slack.”

“You've been looting plenty of chests recently, Mr JK. It'll be easy for you to just find me and kill me.”

Jungkook pauses. “How did you know I was looting chests?”

You grin. “A hunch?”

“You son of a bitch.” His character spins around and looks directly at you. You let out a squeak of surprise at the same time Jungkook gasps, but you don't give him mercy. You dive out of your hiding place and slam the space button so many times your finger starts to hurt from the pressure; your character bashes Jungkook's character with their fancy new diamond sword until eventually the words GoldenJeon has left the server appear on the bottom of the screen.

“Y/N!” he cries out. “You didn't even-”

“I won, is what I did,” you holler, throwing your arms in the air, doing a little dance on your mattress. “I won again, I won again, I won again.” You put your hands back to the keyboard. “Another game before we go to sleep?”

“No, you know what?” He sounds stern, and you're no longer sure whether to continue the teasing. “No. This is totally unfair. I'm on my way over.”

You freeze, not sure whether you heard him right. “You're what, sorry?”

You can already hear him shuffling around on the other side of the phone, probably grabbing his coat, or maybe a baseball bat. “I'm coming over. Get the kettle on, by the way. I have to walk, and it's fucking freezing.”

“Jungkook, it's twelve am,” you hiss. “Stay where you are or so help me-”

“See you in five minutes, you little traitor!” And then he hangs up, leaving you in a sudden state of panic.

Whatever triumph you'd felt at winning the game has melted away and been replaced by an immediate sense of urgency. You jump out of bed, blankets flying left, right and centre. You don't bother going for your wardrobe – Jungkook has seen you in your pyjamas plenty of times before (thank you, Skype). Instead, you head directly for the kitchen, slapping the kettle on on your way past before you busy yourself with tidying up the mess you'd made this afternoon. Broken pens and pencils scatter the table; old takeout boxes litter the counter; your washing up basket is filled to the brim. You quickly toss a pair of underwear under the fridge and hope to God Jungkook doesn't decide to go snooping.

You've barely emptied the bin before the door to your apartment is opening and Jungkook is suddenly there, in all of his fucking glory, with the most hard expression you've ever seen. You swivel up, drop the bag and say, “If you're here to kill me, I want you to know that it was all fun.” You pause. “But I still beat your ass in that game.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, and before you can process what is going on, he's crossed the threshold of your living room and is standing right in front of you. He wraps his arms around your waist and tugs you into him, startling you enough for a squeak to escape your throat.

Jungkook leans down, his lips so close to your ear, your throat, the hinge of your jaw and suddenly you want to drag him into you and lose yourself in that warmth you were lusting over only a few weeks prior.

“I've never been able to do this before,” he says, voice gruff.

“D-do what? Kill me?”

He nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, and Jesus take the wheel, you've had it.

“I've never been able to just come over to your house when I want to.” If it's possible, his voice is even lower. “Never been able to call you a son of a bitch to your face, because you should have told me where you were.” He nips your collar bone. If the world wasn't spinning fast enough already, it sure is now.

You grip the counter behind you, breathing heavy. You want to continue the teasing, to make light of this situation, but your head is running at a thousand miles per hour and holy fuck is this really GoldenJeon holding you like this?

“Jungkook, what are you doing?” you ask, breathless.

He stops, detaching his teeth from your throat but he doesn't move away. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” You're eager, and that much is clear in your words. “No, please don't. I just want to know why.”

“As I said,” he says, leaning down to bare his teeth against your flesh again, “I've never been able to do this before.”

“I didn't know you wanted to.”

“Then you're very, very oblivious.”

“Not as oblivious as you. That's probably why I was able to kill you fifteen minutes into the first match.”

He growls. His hand snaps down and grabs the back of your thigh, hitching your leg onto his hip. You squeal, tossing your head back just as he lifts you up and props you up on the counter. You bang your head against the cupboard. Jungkook pulls back, eyes wide with that concern you know so well, but you don't let him spoil the moment. You grab onto the back of his neck and drag him forward, slamming your lips against his before you lose your god damn mind.

Because that's what it feels like. All of this is so sudden, so unexplainable and strange, but you're going to be driven absolutely insane if it doesn't continue. Your stomach clenches. You swallow his breathy pants, acknowledge how his lips twist, how his hands hesitate before he finally clamps them on your thighs and slowly drags them up until they're teasing the waistband of your unflattering pyjama trousers.

“Shy little Jungkook,” you whisper into his mouth. “So confident a few seconds ago, and now you can barely touch me.”

“Where do you want me to touch you?” he asks.

The question hits you like a ton of bricks. Your eyes flutter closed. His mouth trails hot, open mouthed kisses along your jaw as he waits for your reply, but you're not sure you can gather enough air to give him one at this moment in time.

His grip tightens on your thighs. Your legs jerk, but he holds you down. “Tell me where you want me to touch you, Y/N.”

“Everywhere,” is your reply, because you can't think of one specific body part this is burning hotter than the others. “Just – Just stop messing around.”

Jungkook chuckles. His tongue darts out, dabs at the hinge of your jaw before disappearing, and you want to scream with how slow he's taking this, like he's savouring every moment even though you're trying to scoot closer to him, trying to capture his lips with yours again.

“Do you want me to touch you here?” He curls his fingers around your leg, his fingertips moulding into the flesh on your inner thigh.

You shake your head, pursing your lips. “Somewhere else.”

He raises a brow, slowly lifts his hand to your mouth. His thumb scrapes along your lower lip, and you resist the urge to do that thing you've seen in movies where the girl sucks the mans thumb into their mouth – is that even considered attractive in real life?

“What about here?”

“Not good enough.”

He tilts his head, starts to smirk. His hand drops from your lips, glides along your chin and disappears into the front of your pyjama top. “Here?”

He's not close enough. Your only response is a strangled groan, to which Jungkook laughs and slips his hand lower, lower, lower until his fingers are moulding the area you need to him to be.

You groan, tilting your head back when his hand traces the underside of your breasts. “Fucking hell, Jungkook, took you long enough.”

He leans forward and kisses you. It's desperate. Now that he's heard your response to his hands, he can't get enough. He wants to please you. He wants to take this as far as he can, and he shows this by hitching both your legs around his waist, picking you up and stumbling from the kitchen.

“Where's the bedroom?” he asks, breathless.

You point in the general direction he's referring to before pressing your lips to his. No more talking. He could stumble into the bathroom for all you cared, and you'd have him in the bathtub with absolutely no complaints.

It's your luck that he kicks open the bedroom door and presses you into the mattress. His lips detach from yours for only a second as he strips off his shirt and you strip off yours; he gawks down at your exposed chest, shakes his head and says, “No bra?”

“It's midnight,” you say. “I haven't had a bra on since seven pm.” You grab his shoulders and pull him on top of you. “Now please stop talking.”

He laughs, peppering kisses along your jaw that leave you squirming and warm and satisfied. If he were to just spend the entire night kissing you, you'd go to sleep in bliss. His lips work like electric shocks, startling you every time he makes contact, every time his tongue slips from his mouth and joins with your flesh. You feel hickeys burn into your skin, but you don't worry about them now because God, you're too far gone. Tomorrow doesn't exist. It's tonight and only tonight, and it's you and Jungkook and everyone else can go the fuck to hell for all you care.

He whispers in your ear. His voice is rough. The soft spoken, excitable boy you used to talk to on the phone every night has melted away into something ravenous and hungry, and his hips are grinding into yours with only his jeans and your pyjama trousers as a barrier, until there is no longer a barrier and it's just bare skin against bare skin.

He asks if you're ready. You say you are. He asks if you're sure, and you say you've never been more sure about anything in your entire life, and in that moment, you mean it. He kisses you, and it isn't the kiss you give someone on a one-night-stand. It's soft, holding memories and feelings and his body slides against your own and your groans contaminate each others mouths. You get loud; Jungkook gets greedy. You beg for more, and Jungkook tells you you're doing so well, so, so well. You unravel in each others arms. Jungkook falls to the side of you, nuzzles his head in your sweaty neck and you hold him so close because you don't want this moment to end.

“Tomorrow isn't real,” you whisper into his hair. He nods his agreement, panting against your flesh. His breath tickles your new hickeys. You reach up, press your fingers into the forming bruise.

Jungkook presses a soft kiss to the skin. He's loopy. You look down and see that tired smile playing on his face, the sweat drenched ends of his bangs hanging in his eyes. He shuffles up the pillows, wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest.

You don't think he realises what he's saying when he whispers “I love you,” into your hair.

You look up. His eyes are closed, his breathing even. Jungkook is peaceful, but his words play on a loop in your head for the rest of the night.

---

When you wake up, Jungkook is nowhere to be found.

Your heart immediately lurches into your throat; this can't be happening. You know Jungkook well enough to know that he would never just use someone like that before taking off – so he's either parading around your house, or he's dead.

You slowly sit up, tucking the quilt under your arms in a pointless attempt at sparing your dignity. The sheets are stained with sweat and . . . other stuff, and you internally groan at the idea of having to wash them; your new washing machine is complicated enough with clothes.

You make a promise that you'll deal with them later before slipping out of bed and tugging your dressing gown on. You slip into a pair of slippers and head downstairs.

Immediately you are greeted by the welcoming scent of cooking bacon. It's only when you walk into the kitchen and glance at the clock do you realise what time it is.

“Six am?” you mutter, startling Jungkook. He stands by the hob, swaying his hips to a song that is playing softly from his phone.

He spins around, face lighting up at the sight of you, even though you're certain you look nothing short of bedraggled right now. Whilst he looks fresh as a daisy in a black shirt that is tucked lazily into a pair of belted blue jeans, your hair is knotted and your breath stinks, and you have absolutely no qualms about any of it.

“Apparently,” Jungkook replies. “I was hoping to make you breakfast in bed.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” you say. “But also, you're a guest. You shouldn't have to make breakfast.” To prove your point, you grab the tongs out of his hand and nudge him with your hip. He chuckles, giving you the benefit of the doubt by over dramatically stumbling out of your way. You roll your eyes and start poking at the mostly cooked bacon.

“At least now you'll be able to say you helped,” Jungkook says.

You grin. “I'm nothing if not completely useless.”

“Only sometimes.” He presses a kiss to the back of your neck, and it is this movement that brings you back to last night; the kissing, the sex, sharing a bed.

The I love you.

You'll be damned if you bring that up to him, though, because judging by the look on his face, he doesn't even remember saying it. He sways around the kitchen like he's lived there his whole life, a goofy smile on his face that has your chest constricting, because you're fairly certain it's you that has put that smile on his face. He grabs two plates from the cupboard above your head and lays them on the counter, before he goes back to watching as you poke the bacon.

“How do you know when it's done?” you ask.

Jungkook blinks. “It's been done for a good two minutes. I thought you just liked yours crispy.”

You hiss, quickly turning the hob off. “You could have said something!”

“Give it here.” He takes the pan from you and starts scooping the bacon onto the plate. You follow suit, grabbing the bowl of scrambled eggs he'd prepared earlier and adding a decent amount to each plate. Jungkook then spoons the beans and adds the toast to the side, and the two of you are prepared.

You eat on the sofa, because of course you do.

Jungkook eats bent over his plate. You don't know why you notice this, or why you're so intrigued by something so small, but you struggle to take your eyes off him. He presses the edge of the plate into his chest and bends forward, his eyes not leaving the TV as he struggles to rip a bit of fat from his bacon.

You watch his Adams apple bob, remembering the feel of it beneath your lips. You regret not trailing your fingers along the column of his throat. You regret not unravelling him, completely taking over in the way you so desperately want to now; you had been so caught up in the logistics of what was happening that you didn't take a moment to focus on what you wanted to do; you realise now that you want to watch his eyes roll into the back of his head. You want to see him come apart.

You swallow thickly and turn back to the TV, cheeks burning. You need to remind yourself that you have other things to worry about besides what happened last night; the work hasn't just stopped because Jungkook decided it was a good time to show up and completely ravish you.

Jungkook finishes his breakfast before you. As he nibbles on the last remaining bites of his toast, he turns and glances down at your plate; it's nearly empty, and yet he still raises a brow. “You feeling okay?”

Your eyes shoot up. “Yes. Why wouldn't I be?”

Jungkook stares at you for a moment longer, urging you to tell him the truth. When you look back down at your plate and ignore his seemingly endless gaze, he sighs, sets his plate down on the coffee table before shuffling closer to you. “Is this about last night?”

You let out a breath. “I really thought you weren't gonna bring that up.”

“Do you want me to leave it?”

“No!” You grab his arm. “No, Jungkook, of course not. I really think we need to talk about it, but I just . . . I wanna know your feelings on it first.”

Jungkook narrows his eyes, tracing the lines of your face, the same trail he traced with his fingers last night. “I thought I made my feelings pretty obvious, considering I was the one who initiated it in the first place.”

“That doesn't mean anything,” you murmur, looking down. “I could have been bad at it, you know.”

A noise not unlike a croak escapes Jungkook's throat. It slowly morphs into a laugh, his hand coming down upon your knee and squeezing.

When you don't join the laughter, his smile fades and he stares at you. “Wait. You're not serious, are you?”

You throw your hands up in frustration. You hadn't even realised this train of thought was so prominent in the back of your head, but there's no denying it now. “Look, all of it was very unexpected. I didn't have time to – like – practice my strategy or anything.”

“You didn't need to-”

“Yes, I know that, but it would have helped,” you hiss, before groaning and slumping back against the plush sofa cushions. Your plate remains abandoned on the coffee table. Jungkook looks down at it, picks up a piece of bacon and takes a bite.

“I definitely came.”

He says it so casually that you very nearly miss what he's said at all. Your eyes burst open, cheeks burning with this news that isn't really news because you know what happened – you were there. You made it happen.

“You made it happen,” Jungkook continues, as if reading your mind. “And you definitely came.”

“Oh god.”

Jungkook grins. “I think I have the qualifications to vouch for that.”

“You're a dick.”

His grin only grows. He leans over and presses a kiss to the space just below your ear; you hiss and pull away, hand snapping up to trace the edge of the hickey you'd forgotten was there. Jungkook pushes the hair from your shoulder and lightly touches it, biting his bottom lip to fight off the smile that is surely threatening to show on his face.

“Lovely,” he says.

“I'm gonna have to cover this now,” you grumble. “Do you know how difficult it is covering a hickey?”

“No, considering you didn't give me any.” He shakes his head. “I feel like I'm missing out.”

“Poor baby.”

He shrugs, swings his legs round and stands up. He grabs the plates off the coffee table and starts towards the kitchen, but not before saying a casual, “We'll try again next time,” that hangs in the air even as the sound of the tap water shatters the delicate silence.

You grin, biting down on your bottom lip. Butterflies are attacking your stomach. Memories of last night are lodged in your brain, and you know for a fact that there is absolutely no way in hell you'll be getting any decent work done today.

---

Jungkook leaves for the dorms at seven. On his way out the door, he bends down and picks up a thick yellow envelope, handing it to you.

“I think that might be the new catalogue pages,” he says.

You hollow out you cheeks, taking the envelope from him and tossing it carelessly over your shoulder. “Tell Mr Bang I'll get it to him as soon as possible.”

“Mm, no,” he says, pressing a kiss to your lips. “Then the old man will know I've been here overnight, and that is awfully suspicious.”

Despite knowing this would be the case, your heart still quivers a little. You hide it by rolling your eyes and ushering him out the door. “Fine then. Leave the hard work to me. You go and prance around your practice room for a few hours, and call me as soon as you get a chance.”

Jungkook spins, planting his hands on the door frame. “One more kiss?”

You narrow your eyes. “You're gonna be that guy.”

“I believe this is called the Honeymoon Phase.” He kisses you, small and soft but it ignites something in you you've never felt before. Jungkook feels it, grins against your mouth before slowly pulling away and clicking his forehead against your own. “I'll see you later, yeah?”

“We'll see,” you whisper, before you grip his waist and spin him round. “Now go! I'm not being the reason you're late.”

“Alright, alright. Tell me how you really feel.” His voice and laughter fade into nothingness as he disappears down the hallway. You watch him leave, gripping the collar of your dressing gown like some kind of wife sending their husband off to war. You only turn and head back into your apartment when you hear the lift ding closed.

---

You love your job. You really do. There is a power that comes with correcting other peoples mistakes, and you are not ashamed to admit that you have been thriving off it from the moment you picked up that red pen and started slashing marks into the pages.

But this is a whole different ball game.

You're hunched over your kitchen table, your third cup of coffee half-empty beside you, doing nothing to help the exhaustion. Your body is slowly beginning to realise that you were not made for being woken up at six am. Your muscles are sore, and your eyes are getting tired before you've even gotten through the fifth page of edits.

You lean back, scraping a hand through your unwashed hair that is still sweaty from last nights mishaps. You told yourself you would take a break to clean up and pull yourself together, because going another day in this state is going to drive you to breaking point, and yet three pm is rolling around and you have yet to move from your kitchen table.

The pages are littered with images of Jungkook. With Bangtan being the only group involved with Big Hit at the minute, they're using their maknae's adorable smile and doe eyes to the best of their abilities. It makes your job ten times more difficult, as you have to stop every few seconds to send a picture of Jungkook's face to your Whatsapp group with a teasing caption that Jungkook always chooses to ignore in favour of asking you how you're getting on.

Not good, you want to tell him, but you don't. He's working just as hard as you; it would be cruel to distract him with your own pointless stresses.

And so you lose yourself in the world of literature for a few more hours, until the last page is glaring up at you and your hand is cramping, and you're refilling the ink on your sixth red pen. Five pm rolls around, and once again you're shrugging your jacket on and bolting down the street towards the Big Hit building.

Mr Bang is standing in the lobby.

You freeze, one hand braced against the glass door, the other clutching the envelope tight to your chest; well, this is most unexpected. Though you and Mr Bang have spoken on numerous occasions these past few weeks, most of those conversations were had via phone call. You had convinced yourself that the small man in front of you lived in his office.

He turns when you enter, immediately smiling an oddly cute smile that lights up his whole face and crinkles his dark brown eyes. He nudges his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and steps towards you.

“I was just about to call and ask where you were,” he says.

You shove the envelope in his direction. “All done!”

“Great, great.” He tucks the envelope into his coat pocket. You resist the need to wince; he better not crinkle those god damn pages, or so help you- “The edits aren't the only reason I was looking for you, though.”

Your brain short circuits, and you aren't even sure why.

Today has honestly been the day from hell. Your head aches, and your hand is cramped, and all you want to do right now is curl up on your sofa with a glass of wine and drink everything away. Instead, you place a smile on your face and say, “Oh?”

Mr Bang sighs, looks around as if checking for anyone eavesdropping before he steps closer to you and lowers his voice. “Have you and Jungkook fallen out?”

Okay. That certainly wasn't what you'd been expecting.

You raise a brow, flicking a glance over the big boss's shoulder. Gertrude quickly lowers her head, pretending she hasn't heard anything, but it's obvious in the tilt of her head and the shy little smile on her face that she knows exactly what Mr Bang is asking about.

You look back at him. “I don't – I don't think so. Why?”

“Well, I told him I was going to offer you a job in one of the offices here so you don't have to keep running back and forth from your apartment,” he says. “Jungkook told me not to.”

It takes a minute for you to untangle what all of this means. It's the most absurd thing you've ever heard. It doesn't make any sense, because you and Jungkook slept together and he held you, and he said he loved you and there's no way in hell all of that changed in the space of a few hours.

But Mr Bang is serious. His eyes shift to the floor when you stay silent, and you watch as he slowly sucks in a breath.

“I don't like it when my employees go against each other,” he says. “I asked Jungkook if everything was alright and he refused to tell me anything. He's young, so I didn't push him, figured I'd let him figure it all out on his own. But I just want you to know that whatever this feud is – you can't let it get in the way of your work.”

“There is no feud,” you burst out. “I mean, not really. Nothing you need to be worrying yourself with, anyway.”

Mr Bang's eyes light up. “Really? That's fantastic, Y/N. How about you come and join us for dinner then?”

Before, the idea would have lit something inside you. The idea of sitting beside Jungkook and laughing with your friends would have excited you to no end, but you replay Mr Bang's words on a continuous loop and find yourself unable to gather that same excitement.

You stuff your hands into the pockets of your jacket and say, “I think I'm gonna have to pass. I'm exhausted.”

Mr Bang nods as if he understands. “Of course. I'll send the next few pages over tomorrow, then. Get some rest, Y/N.”

You turn on your heel and exit the building. It feels permanent. You want it to be permanent. You want to walk to your apartment, pack up your stuff and never come back. You feel like a teenager, moping over some boy, suddenly willing to change the directory of life just because this certain someone slipped up and hurt your feelings.

But that emotion is there. You grip the material of your pockets and inhale the cold air of Seoul, ducking your head down in case anyone were to notice your gritted teeth.

---

It's nearly eleven when the knock echoes through your apartment.

You're draped across the sofa, a glass of wine in your hand, the TV blaring re-runs of Friends. You've been sneering at Ross Geller for the past three hours, and quite frankly, you are in no mood to be disrupted.

You stay silent and hope the visitor takes the hint.

It's never that easy, though.

The knock sounds again. And again. On repeat until you eventually throw your head back and push yourself off the sofa. You slam your glass of wine down and barrel towards the door, throwing it open to reveal GoldenJeon in all his glory.

Your drunken state wants to spit on him.

He's grinning from ear to ear, hands in his pockets, hair a tussled mess. Even in your state of tipsiness, you still reach out and flatten a strand against his temple; you pull your hand back just as quick, tucking it under your armpit as if to restrain yourself from touching him further.

He frowns when he sees the state you're in. You have no idea what you look like, but you're purposefully scowling to the best of your ability, arms folded, the glass of wine bright and full on your coffee table – it wouldn't take a genius to figure out just what is going through your mind right now.

“Are you okay?”

“Why are you here?” you demand. “I didn't invite you.”

Jungkook's frown deepens. A crease forms between his eyebrows. “Since when did I need an invite?”

“Since you started showing up uninvited and interrupting my relaxation time.” You try to slam the door on his face, but he wedges his foot between the frame and pushes it open again.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says, poking his head through the tiny gap he's created. “Are you gonna explain to me what the hell is going on?”

“No. Go away.”

“I'm not leaving until you tell me why you're mad.”

“I'll literally call the police.”

“No you won't.”

You purse your lips, turn on your heel and B-Line towards your cell phone. Jungkook shoves the door open and follows after you. You pick up the phone, but Jungkook is quicker; his fingers curl around your wrist and it is with barely any effort that he plucks the phone from your hand and tosses it onto the couch. He keeps your wrist in his grip, staring down at you with a set of eyes that – any other day – would have you pouncing on him in two seconds flat.

“Let go of me,” you say.

He does.

“And get out.”

“I'm so confused right now. I thought we were okay.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Is this about last night?”

You groan. “For crying out loud, Jungkook, I'm drunk. Why can't you just take the hint and piss off?”

He flinches. There's a tiny glimmer inside you that wants to apologise, wrap your arms around him and tell him you didn't mean it, but then you hear Mr Bang's voice in your head and your senses draw back to you.

“You didn't join us for dinner,” he says. It's almost a subject change. Again, you want to spit on him.

“I don't think you'd have been too happy if I showed up,” you reply. You take another swig of your wine. “Apparently you only really like me when I'm underneath you.”

Jungkook's eyes widen. His hands twitch by his side, and he reaches up to deftly rub at this throat. “What are you talking about? You know that's not true.”

“So why don't you want me working in the same building as you?”

There is no way to make that sentence sound intimidating, no way to get your anger across without sounding childish and needy; you and Jungkook spent one night together. If he thought it was a mistake, you would respect that – but he didn't need to cut you off from your work, didn't need to come crawling back when he was in the mood. If he found regret in last nights endeavours, it would be so much more merciful if he just left you alone.

His face softens. It's an expression of realisation, the fact that he's been caught out dawning on him. It's enough to make tears rise to the surface, and you blame the wine but it builds in your chest, grabs at your throat. Jungkook sees it – he lurches forward. You don't even fight when he wraps his arms around your waist and tugs you into his chest, his chin taking perch on the top of your head.

“No,” he says. “No, I didn't mean it like that. Y/N, I didn't mean it like that. I said it to protect you.”

“Protect me?” You jump away from him, stumbling but managing to catch yourself on the sofa at the last moment. “How could that protect me?”

“We're not meant to have what we have,” he says, running his hands through his hair. He's trying not to touch you. You're trying not to throw yourself into his arms.

“What is that, Jungkook?” you ask. “What do we have that is so special? Because last time I checked, all we've done is slept together and played a few rounds of Minecraft.”

“That's not true. We've got more than that. You're more than that.”

You grit your teeth, turning on your heel. Your wine sloshes, drenches your wrist but you don't even care. It triggers you to take another swig, then another, and another until the glass is empty. “You know what? I don't think I wanna play this game. I've never let a man dictate how a relationship works, and I'm not about to do it now.”

Jungkook groans. “I'm not dictating-”

“Telling your boss to keep me off the fucking premises so you can keep our friends-with-benefits subtle-”

“And we're not friends-with-benefits!” Jungkook steps forward, grabbing your wrist before you can reach for the bottle of wine. You glare at him, hoping and praying that your eyes look menacing enough right now; you want him to know how angry you are. You want him to see how bad he's hurt you.

His eyes trace your own. He's looking for forgiveness, but you won't give it to him. His lower lip trembles and he sucks it between his teeth.

“I don't want us to be friends-with-benefits,” he whispers, fingers still curled round wrist. “I got carried away last night, but I didn't show up just to have a quickie and then leave. I want – I want more.”

You stare back at him, unsure of what to say. There are so many responses that are playing on the tip of your tongue, but none of them seem right. Not when his eyes look like that. Not when he slowly leans forward and presses a kiss to the flesh just beneath your ear – right over a hickey he sucked into your skin the night before.

You shiver, wrist sliding out of his suddenly slack grip.

“Tell me if you want more,” he whispers.

You close your eyes, tilting your head to the side. Your drunk and angry and turned on, and at this point it's too late to turn back. You do want more – you want it all. You want everything he is offering, but you know better.

You step away from him. He looks at you, analyses the way you're standing, the way you fold your arms over your chest because you're so scared you'll crack again, so scared you'll reach out and touch him and lose yourself entirely.

“I want you to leave,” you croak out. The words are acidic. They're a betrayal, but you have to say them.

Jungkook's features harden. He looks down at the ground, brushes his foot against the carpet only once before he nods and says, “So that's it then? There's nothing I can do to make this better.”

“You can't expect me to like this arrangement,” you reply. “I'm not sneaking around with you. I've got too much going on as it is without stressing over being caught with you.”

Jungkook nods, but you're not entirely sure he understands. Maybe he hides a ton of stuff from Mr Bang. Maybe sneaking around is his forte, but you haven't had as much experience as him in this line of work. You're not ready to put your entire career on the line to be with someone who clearly doesn't care about you enough to want a real relationship.

And god the thought hurts. The realisation hurts. Before, you failed to realise just how much of an integral role Jungkook played in your life, but looking at him now and knowing it will be the last time you'll ever be able to talk to him like a normal human being – it breaks something inside you. Little fourteen year old Y/N L/N is screaming in the back of your head, asking you what the hell you're doing.

You push them away.

Jungkook says nothing when he turns and walks out the door. He doesn't look back at you, barely utters a goodbye. He certainly doesn't apologise. He leaves you numb, watching the door swing closed behind him. You listen to the lift opening, closing, going down. You force yourself to stay rooted to the spot, resisting the urge to scramble to the window so you can watch him cross the car park.

You have to let yourself believe that he is nothing more than another chapter in your life – necessary for your story, but you have to move on to know the conclusion.

---

The pages are getting few and far between.

Months have passed. You still see Jungkook everyday, but it's not how it was. He doesn't smile when he sees you. He doesn't text you to find out if you got home safe. If he can avoid looking at you at all, that is exactly what he does.

In the beginning, you didn't want things to be awkward. You smiled at him, asked Yoongi if he was okay, made sure to check up on him when you could, but it got tiring after a while and you lost the motivation eventually. Jungkook wasn't giving you the same enthusiasm, so you no longer saw a point in trying.

It's your last few days in Seoul. You can feel the end approaching, even though none of the Bangtan boys nor Mr Bang himself wants to admit it. Mr Bang lengthens the deadlines on your edits just to keep you around that little bit longer. The Bangtan boys invite you out for dinner, but you decline because you know Jungkook will be there and you don't want that kind of hassle.

All in all, you are disappointed to say your last few months in Seoul have been terrible. Full of stress and avoidance, life truly did not give you an easy time of it.

But your days are coming to an end. You stand by your bed now, looking at the packed bags. A lump grows in your throat; you swallow it down, swiping a hand beneath your eye in any attempt to hide the tears that are threatening to rise to the surface. No one is with you – it would be easy to just break down, because God only knows when you'll next get a chance, but you don't want to. Not even within the comfort of your own company. Crying means admitting you've been affected by the sudden shift in your life. Crying means admitting you got attached.

Stupidly, obsessively attached.

To a boy who was meant to be nothing more than a few texts on your phone screen.

You busy yourself by reorganising everything yet again. It's the fifth time you've done it, and each time has been completely unnecessary. Your clothes are folded beautifully, your toiletries packed away, your sheets and work gear all tucked away neatly; you just need to do something. You finished the last few pages of the catalogue yesterday evening, sent them out and fled the Big Hit building before Mr Bang could make you emotional with any kind of farewell speech. You just needed out of there. Once you get back to your actual office, back home, you'll be fine. You'll be able to start over.

It's as your reorganising that you realise you've missed something.

How you missed it is completely beyond you, considering you've been through this five times already. You shoot up, spin around and glimpse your laptop on your desk, untouched for three days now. You've been too busy to even think about logging on and catching up with your gaming; besides, you didn't want to game. Not if Jungkook wasn't on the phone, yelling at you for the most trivial of things.

But now seems a good a time as any.

You slowly open it up, press your password in and wait for the Minecraft game to load up. It's ten at night, so nobody you talk to will be active; the game will be full of complete strangers, will be no fun. You'll sign out of it in a few minutes and go back to moping round your apartment, but at least you can say you've tried. It's a step in the right direction, a sign that maybe the spell Jungkook cast over you has melted away a little bit.

You click on the server you so frequently play on, and look through the list of people active.

GoldenJeon.

You should delete it. The whole game, just get rid of it. It's no fun without Jungkook, but after the fight you had, it's no fun with him either. You don't want to play at all, so what's the point of even having it on your laptop?

Despite these thoughts, the sense of them, you're unable to do anything but stare at his name. Your little character waits for the timer to start, signalling the beginning of the game, but you're not even preparing yourself for it. You're just staring at his name, blinking in gold letters.

And then your phone chimes.

Even though he hasn't texted you in weeks, you know it's him. You glance over, catch sight of his name, and you ask yourself why you even kept his number in the first place.

Jungkook: Please don't surprise me this time.

You bite your lip. That son of a bitch; he knows exactly what he's doing. He's prodding at your competitive side just to get a reaction out of you.

But he's done it now.

The timer counts down from three. As soon as the sirens go off, your hands are glued to the mouse and keyboard, and you're latching your view on Jungkook as his tiny little box character makes a dash directly for the woods; fool. He has no weaponry. Whilst everyone else headed straight for the chests in the centre of the map, Jungkook turned the other direction, thinking he would be doing something good by getting away whilst everyone else was distracted.

However, you are not one of them distracted people.

You sprint after him, even as your brain screams at you to just turn the bloody thing off and get back to being an Adult.

You follow him deeply into the match, your phone chiming away at the side of you; it's Jungkook having a crisis, begging you to not follow him this time. You know he's only saying this because you will – you'll follow him, you'll kill his character and then you'll be reminded of the last time you did it, when Jungkook realised he could come over and yell at you in person if he so pleased.

His character sprints through the map, gathering supplies and you follow him until he finally comes to a stop and you calculate your chances of survival if you were to just whack his head off now. You make your character crouch, duck behind a door frame as he shuffles around an abandoned house made out of bedrock (bedrock!).

Your phone rings. You click ACCEPT without even thinking.

“Where are you?” His voice his gravelly. It hurts to hear it.

“Now why would I tell you that?” you ask.

“I don't know why I never learn,” he grumbles. “You do this to me, you know. You make my head go somewhere else, and I can't use my common sense.”

Your heart thunders. “It works in my favour, so I don't really mind.”

“Are you gonna pop up out of nowhere again?”

“Would you like me to?”

Jungkook pauses. “I would. I really would.”

“But then you'll be out of the game,” you tease. “Poor little Jungkook, losing another round of Hunger Games because he can't think straight.”

He growls. It startles you, distracting you for a moment too long. Your eyes snap down to your phone, and you're positive it's only for a brief second, but by the time you look back up at the laptop screen, your character is being beaten bloody by GoldenJeon's stone pickaxe.

Y/N has left the game.

Jungkook doesn't laugh, doesn't yell in victory like you do every time you win. There's a single breath of humour-filled air before he says, “Got you.” And then he hangs up.

You sit there, staring at the end credits and trying desperately to catch your breath; what the hell just happened? What the hell just happened?!

He called you, is what happened. He had the nerve to pick up the phone and call you as if nothing had been going on these past few weeks, as if he hadn't ignored you, as if he hadn't completely ripped your heart from your chest and forced you to end things with him.

You grit your teeth. This is what he wants. He wants you to play right into his hands so he can get the control back, and you're not about to let him get away with it.

So you stand up, grab your coat and march right out the door.

You know where the dorms are. You've been invited over more times than you can count, have broken Taehyung's heart by declining these invites, but you can't think of a better reason to make an appearance now. You shrug your coat on as you march down the street, turn the corner and head straight for the front desk.

You're recognised and let inside almost immediately. You don't realise your relief until you're halfway up the stairs, heart thundering in your ears – this scene is so familiar. It's been reversed, but it's so familiar, and it makes your heart rate speed up to a rate you're pretty sure is considered unhealthy.

You had won the game last time. Jungkook has marched into your apartment.

Jungkook won the game this time. It's only fair for you to give him the same courtesy.

You rack your knuckles against the door and wait for someone to answer. It takes two seconds, and there is nothing but undeniable relief when it's Jungkook's grinning face that appears in the doorway and nobody elses.

You slam your hands into his shoulders and push him backwards. “You son of a bitch. I wasn't even ready!”

Jungkook loops his arms round your waist and tugs you into him. You're so lost. You're so worked up and he looks so good, and he's just beaten you at a game you prided yourself on winning each and every time. He did it to tease you. He did it so this would happen, and you've walked right into his trap.

But god, he smells so good, and his hair is slightly damp from a shower, and you're honestly prepared to make a fool of yourself if it means getting a glimpse of his toned torso one more time.

“Sorry,” he says. “But I believe I won that round fair and square.”

“You used a distraction tactic,” you hiss. “We never use a distraction tactic!”

Jungkook raises a brow, tilting his head to the side. “I don't remember distracting you.”

“You being on the phone at all was distracting enough.” You bundle your fists in his shirt, debate pulling him closer. You eventually decide against it and instead flatten your palms against his chest. “And then you kept making that stupid fucking noise, and I couldn't . . . I couldn't concentrate.”

Jungkook's eyes flare. “I can't help it if you get distracted just by my voice.”

“It wasn't your – Stop that!” You slap his chest and groan. “The point is, we need a rematch. That game wasn't fair, and you know it.”

His hands tighten on your hips. You want to scream.

“I really didn't take you as a sore loser,” he says.

You scoff. “Don't act like you didn't come marching into my apartment when I won the last round.”

That does it. The reminder settles between you, and you don't pull away even though you know you should. Jungkook's eyes – if possible – turn darker. Your breath hitches. The world is spinning too fast. You just want him to kiss you. You don't want any of this back and forth, teasing, talking in low voices – you just want him.

You knot your hands in his shirt again. This time, you do pull him closer, but not by much. It's a little jerk that has his chest hitting lightly against your own, but he still isn't close enough for your liking.

He inhales deeply. “I can't believe you're here after what I did.”

You close your eyes. “We don't have to talk about that.”

“I don't want to just sleep with you, Y/N.” He pulls away then, rakes his hands through his hair as if trying to restrain himself. “I told you on the day we argued that I don't just want to be friends-with-benefits. I want to be able to talk about things with you.”

There are cotton balls in your mouth. It's hard to speak, so you just stare at him, hope that gets your point across.

He bites his lip. “Is that what you want, too? Is that why you're here?”

Is that what you want?

On that first night, the first night Jungkook slept with you, you thought that was what you had. You'd never taken Jungkook as the type to have sex with someone and then just . . . leave, and that isn't what he did. Waking up to him cooking breakfast and his scent on your pillows felt almost natural.

So of course you want it. You want him – not his body, but him. All of him.

You swallow thickly and step closer. “If we're gonna make this work, we have to sort a few things out.”

He nods too quickly, too enthusiastically. It rips your heart out of your chest. “Of course.”

“I'm going back home in a few days,” you say, and Jungkook's hopeful expression fades. “I don't know – I don't know what that means for you. I don't know if that will make things easier. I don't know if me not physically being here will suddenly make Mr Bang let you date me, but-”

Jungkook groans low in his throat. “I don't care about Mr Bang. I care about you.” He steps forward and cups your face with one large hand. “I made a mistake. I was so caught up in my contract that I didn't even stop to think about how Mr Bang would take my own feelings into consideration.”

Your jaw drops, eyes snapping up. “What are you talking about?”

“Mr Bang knows we – we talk,” Jungkook stammers.

You step out of his grip. “He knows you went against the contract?”

“In the beginning,” Jungkook says. “He was disappointed, but he's known me since I was fifteen. I guess he took pity on me, because I was a mess when I went into work that day and told him. I'd just reached my breaking point.”

“And he was okay with it?”

“As I said, he was disappointed. Thought he could trust me and all that.” Jungkook winces. You place a comforting hand on his arm, knowing how hard it must have been for him to have disappointed one of the people he looks up to. “I said I was sorry, and then he – he asked me how things between you and I were going, and I got really confused. He said it as if we were together.”

You bite your lip. “Okay...”

“I turned round and told him you'd ended things because you didn't want to be sneaking around, and he just looked at me like I was insane. He asked me what I was doing, told me to talk to you and then he let me have the day off.”

You swallow the golf ball sized lump in your throat, not sure what to say but knowing for a fact that you are really gonna have to thank Mr Bang for this.

Jungkook rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “So I went home, logged onto Minecraft to see if you were there – you weren't, but I waited.”

“You waited.”

“And then you came online and I took my chance.”

“You did indeed.”

Jungkook lowers his voice to a whisper. “And now you're here.” It's almost like he's talking to himself, even though his eyes are burning holes in your own. “You're here and you're not saying anything.”

You don't need to say anything. There are no words that can possible portray what you're feeling right now, so you do the next best thing. It's straight out of a cheesy romance movie, but you've learned from the best and you launch yourself into his arms, kissing him with the need and desperation that has been building in your system for weeks now.

Jungkook grunts into your mouth, his hands gripping your waist. The two of you stumble until the back of Jungkook's knees are hitting against the arm of the sofa and he's falling backwards into the plush cushions; he doesn't let go of you, and your body ends up right on top of his own.

You kiss him again, and again, and again. Not just on the lips, but everywhere. Peppered kisses behind his ear, the tip of his nose, the corner of his mouth, his chin, his cheeks. Everywhere until he's giggling and trying to push you away from him.

“You still played unfairly today,” you pant, exaggerating each word with a kiss to his forehead. “I want revenge.”

“I'm excited to – hey! - find out how you get that revenge,” he replies, crinkling his nose up when you go to press yet another kiss there.

His fingers are just starting to grip onto your belt loops when the door behind him opens. Jungkook's head snaps up, his hands tightening to keep you in place. Taehyung and Namjoon walk in, side-by-side, but immediately stop and raise their brows when they see the position you are currently in.

Jungkook wriggles beneath you. You shoot upright, struggling to find your footing again. Jungkook grunts when you're forced to shove against his chest to get off the sofa. You turn to the two members of Bangtan and grin as Jungkook flops back onto the sofa and groans.

Namjoon is the first to speak. “Hey Y/N. . . I see you took Taehyung's invitation.”

“I did!” you exclaim, and then quieter, “I did. It's a lovely place you've got here.”

“Apparently we've also got a lovely maknae,” Taehyung says, wriggling his brows, and Jungkook buries his head in the sofa pillows. “I always knew something was going on with you two; you're the only person I know who can distract Jungkook long enough to break him away from his work.”

You raise a brow, flicking your eyes down to the boy in question. He peeks at you with one eye, half of his face still pressed into the cushions, and grins an embarrassed grin. You smile right back, pushing down a laugh.

“Come on, Tae,” Namjoon chuckles. “Let's leave them alone for a bit. I think they have a lot of catching up to do.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, mouths Use protection before he and Namjoon turn and leave the room. You glance back at Jungkook, raise a brow.

“He's totally lying, of course,” he assures, voice muffled.

You chuckle and bound back onto the sofa, circling your arms round his torso and going back to pressing loving little kisses to every part of his face you can think of.

---

Jungkook presses his chin into the crown of your head and sighs yet again. “You're still so tiny.”

“I'll literally start walking home now.”

He groans, pulling you closer to his chest. “Don't say home. You're home is meant to be with me.”

You close your eyes and tilt your head back. It rests in the hollow of his throat. You want to live there.

“I'll visit you,” you say, even though it's not enough. It'll never be enough. “We managed to keep in touch since we were fourteen – this isn't anything new.”

He sighs again. “I know. We'll make it work, just like we always do.” His arms tighten on your waist. “I'm just gonna miss this, that's all. I'm gonna miss you – you in your physical form.”

“In what way do you mean physical form, Jeon Jungkook?”

He leans down and nips your earlobe with his teeth. “Whatever form you're offering.”

You chuckle and shake your head, beckoning him away. He goes back to resting his chin atop your head, the two of you looking out for the train that will soon be pulling up to take you home. Your bag is packed, but Jungkook placed it a few feet away because he didn't want to admit that all of your stuff was in there – that means permanent, apparently. Packing up your stuff means there's no option to come back. Looking at your suitcase, filled to the brim with the clothes he's seen you in, the clothes he's ripped off of you, made him uncomfortable.

“I feel like adults are meant to handle this type of thing a lot better,” he says suddenly.

You look up; his chin slides to your forehead as he refuses to move. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “Like – relationships. Love. Stuff like that. I should have grown out of my mine, mine, mine phase, but the idea of you just . . . walking away is literally ripping me open.”

You bite your lip. “Jungkook...”

“I get it if you don't feel the same way. I'm not asking you to.” He shrugs again, grabbing your chin and tilting your head back so he can put his chin back where he is most comfortable. “It's only been a few months and I already feel like you should just be by my side all the time.”

“I wish I could be.”

“You do?”

“I don't think I've ever clicked with someone like I click with you, Jungkook. I feel just as awful about leaving.”

He sighs. Again. If you made this into a drinking game – drink any time Jungkook sighs – you would be falling head first into the train tracks by now.

He hugs you impossibly closer, and the two of you fall into a thoughtful silence. In the distance, the whistle of the train sounds and you close your eyes, as if in doing so, you can somehow transport somewhere far, far away, with only Jungkook to keep you company.

But reality is a bitch, and it slaps you in the face when the train pulls up and people start piling onto the carriages.

You turn, quickly wrapping your arms around his shoulders and kissing him, putting everything you can into the way your lips mould against his. He groans against your mouth – he always does – and he tightens his grip and you hope to God he just refuses to let go. You two can just live here, in this underground station, tangled in each others arms forever. You'll become statues, a part of the structure and nobody will bother you again.

But the conductor calls a warning,and you know you have to go.

You pull away. Jungkook's face falls, and his thumbs swipe beneath your eye. You didn't even realise you were crying until he shakes his head and says, “Soon. We'll see each other soon.”

You nod, biting your bottom lip. You say the first thing that comes to mind, which might not be the best strategy considering this is the last thing you'll get to say for quite a while, but nonetheless, it's a perfect parting confession.

“I love you, GoldenJeon.”

His eyes widen. You panic, because that was certainly not what you planned on saying. He reaches towards you, but you press a final kiss to his lips, grab your suitcase and dart off towards the train only seconds before the doors close behind you.

As the train speeds off, you turn in your seat. Jungkook is still stood on the platform, one hand raised to his lips and his eyes lowered to the floor.

---

You're in your pyjamas again. Boring, stupid old pyjamas. You'd left them behind for a reason – you're wearing them now because you're trying to get back into routine. You have to be at the office tomorrow. You have to look Mr Grey in the eyes and thank him for the opportunity even though he was the one who ordered you home. You shouldn't feel angry, but you do.

You press PLAY on your movie once again, having paused it to go and gather some ice cream and your laptop. You and Jungkook have only texted the odd time since you got home, with him claiming he wants to give you time to rest and you promising him that you were definitely, one hundred percent in bed and only seconds away from falling asleep.

Turns out, falling asleep without Jungkook's arms around you is a lot more difficult than you'd originally anticipated.

It's so weird. It's a phenomenon, considering you fell asleep without him your entire life. But now that you'd got a taste of just how luxurious sleep can actually feel, it's difficult to go back to square one.

You click on the tiny little Minecraft icon and watch the screen load. It's almost instinctive when you log onto the all-too-familiar server. Again, it's much too late for Jungkook to be online – he told you he was doing some late night editing for one of his Golden Closet Videos, and you've seen him when he starts editing; he won't be looking away from that complicated editing screen for another few hours at least. His attention will be nowhere near Minecraft.

It loads up, and of course, the little shit has lied to you.

GoldenJeon is online.

You narrow your eyes, hoping and praying he doesn't notice the little Y/N is online that appears in the corner.

But he's GoldenJeon. He notices everything.

Your phone chimes. You wince, cautiously looking over as Jungkook's name flashes on screen.

Jungkook: You weren't asleep for very long.

Y/N: you weren't editing for very long.

Jungkook: It's gonna be very difficult for me to come over and have sex if you win this match, you know. You didn't think this through.

Y/N: i'm sure phone sex will be just as sexy.

Jungkook: Let's give it a go.

The match begins, and you win. It's no surprise – at this point, you're fairly certain Jungkook is just letting you win because he wants an excuse to come over.

Or in this case, an excuse to call you.

You pick up before the first ring is even over. Jungkook laughs at your eagerness before saying, “Miss me?”

“More than anything. Now talk dirty.”

“I love you.”

You freeze.

“Oh, did you like that one?” he teases. You can hear him grinning. You want to smother him – or kiss him. Either way, you can do neither. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“Jungkook-”

“I've loved you since I was fourteen years old and you were just a weird little character on a shit, low budget game.”

“I don't want you to talk dirty any more. Please keep making fun of me before I combust.”

Jungkook chuckles. “Tell me you love me back.”

“I said it first. You know I-”

“Say it again. We're having phone sex, remember?”

You bite your lip. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

He inhales shakily. You can hear it, the rattle in his chest, the way he bites his bottom lip. You can imagine him tilting his head back in that way he does so often when you insist on walking downstairs in one of his shirts, or nothing at all if you're feeling particularly playful that day.

“You're right, you know,” he whispers.

“About?”

“Phone sex really is just as sexy as the real thing.”

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thegeminisage · 4 years

Text

the south is like another country

i have an entire essay on how the current radicalism and steep political divide in this country can be traced directly back to the civil war - rural white southerners here playing the part pre-ww2 germany, the part of a resentful, conquered nation assimilated into the nation that conquered them, because if you think about it the south/the confederacy WAS its own nation for a time, that lost a very bloody war, and paid very steeply for it (not that slavers didn’t deserve every bit of misery the “carpetbaggers” threw at them), and the bitterness from that loss/the lost capital from having their slaves freed has been handed down through the generations, to people who now live in abject poverty while their livelihoods are destroyed by late stage capitalism, and their schools are so broke a lot of people here don’t even know how to read, and their towns are eaten alive with meth, and they’re still looked down upon by most of the country for being racist uneducated backwater hicks (to be clear, we should always look down on racism and racists, but it’s not making them any less bitter/ripe for being drawn into the cult of tr*mp’s america and f*cism).

but anyway this post isn’t about that! this post is about how when i go up north and i say “y’all it really is like i’m living in a different country” NOBODY BELIEVES ME. we speak the same language, we’re all americans, right? PFFFFFT. this amazon van thing just drives it home (pun intended). here’s a list of differences from the deep south* to the rest of the country*:

*the deep south here meaning the RURAL deep south. sorry to everyone who lives in cities/the suburbs and/or in border states like maryland and virginia. i’ve been to maryland and virginia and they are technically southern and some of this applies to them but it is not quite as extreme as it is here. the rest of the country includes the other states i’ve been to (california, washington state, new york, etc), which are in mostly every area except the midwest. i cannot personally vouch for the midwest. sorry, midwesterners! rural midwest probably has a lot of things in common with the deep south because rural life is different and also how easily people move around this country, but whatever

this is a long-ass post get ready

difference #1: DRIVING. driving & pedestrians are entirely different un rural areas vs urban areas. for starters, southern towns often do not even have sidewalks. this is because of 1. budget and 2. racism.

budget: rural towns are very spread out, and it costs major $$$ to put sidewalks in. it’s just not worth the trouble, financially, to put a sidewalk where only 12 people are ever going to use it, AND spend the money to maintain it. never gonna happen. racism: initially, suburbs especially in the south were seen as safe havens where people could get away from the stress of living in “urban” (re: integrated) areas. that the neighborhoods were only accessible by car and NOT by people who were too poor (black) to afford automobiles were just an added bonus.

as such, the first time i left the southeast, i was SHOCKED to see people walking and biking WITH (or indifferent to) the flow of traffic. down here we are taught that if you are walking along the road (or biking, because bikers get lumped in with pedestrians down here), it is very very very crucial that you walk against the flow of traffic, because you cannot expect drivers to see you and not mow you down. the onus is on YOU to get out of THEIR way. additionally, walking in knee-high grass along the side of the road sucks, and because there aren’t many people here, the roads are usually totally empty. so oftentimes pedestrians just straight up walk ON the road. and if you do that you absolutely have to be able to see a car coming from a long way away, because rural drivers on completely empty roads tend to take them at extremely high speeds just for fun. the people who live diagonally across from me have had to replace their mailbox four times because folks take that blind curve at 90mph. i had a cat get hit by a car on that road. (they all live indoors now.) i even witnessed a car accident happen there when i was just outside minding my own business. ever see a tire fly 12 feet into the air and come down into someone’s windshield? that’s what happens when you hit power line pole driving like that.

the first time i ever encountered one of those pedestrian crossing buttons was in california in the early 2010s. i had literally never seen one before because we simply don’t have them here. they’re not very self-explanatory if you have been jaywalking your whole entire life because all you’re taught to do is look both ways and make sure the street is empty before you cross. northern/urban roadways are made so that pedestrians and drivers can both get to where they’re going. in rural/southern areas pedestrians might as well not bother.

interestingly, while not an entirely southern problem, there’s a loose correlation between rural areas and more problems with drunk drivers.

on the driving side, driving in a city is batshit insane. it’s both faster and slower. there is NO space and you’re expected to go whenever you have so much as an inch to worm your way in. there’s more traffic, and the traffic totally dictates your speed. in the south you can change lanes if you want to drive faster or slower and weave around traffic or let it weave around you, but in a city there’s no other lane to change to and if you don’t drive at the speed of the people ahead of and behind you you will die. you turn fast, you brake fast, etc. whenever i come back from driving in a city the people who ride with me think i’m insane. you don’t PULL ONTO A ROAD if you can SEE ANOTHER CAR THERE, what the fuck? meanwhile i’m like “lol that is six miles of space i have plenty of time” and give everyone in my vicinity heart palpitations until i readjust.

tailgating in a rural area is something only assholes do (done by people on a two-lane road to encourage the person in front of them to go faster because the only other lane is for oncoming traffic), and if someone gets within one car length of me on a two-lane road i can very passively aggressively slow my vehicle to a crawl until they back the fuck off. in a city you’re lucky if you have a twelve inches between your bumper and the next car’s hood ornament.

difference #2: LANGUAGE. this is a small one, but the southern dialect combined with the lack of literacy means i am learning certain things late in life. phrases i have heard verbally with my ears but had never seen written out include: “chest of drawers” which i thought was “chester drawers” - “seven year itch” which i thought was “seven year each” - “albeit” which i thought was “i’ll be it.” i’ve made a deliberate effort to unlearn mine own accent/dialect but i run into weird shit all the time. remotes are mashers, shopping carts are buggies, you put stuff up instead of putting it away, i fix you a drink instead of pouring you one, we shoot the game instead of play it. my mom LITERALLY can’t understand me if i speak too quickly - she has to remind me all the time to slow down and put on my southern.

difference #3: TECHNOLOGY. issue of whether or not you personally have the creepy amazon vans aside, the rural south is behind the rest of the country on technology. things in cities are AUTOMATED. things like the little button you press to cross the street, tickets you take at parking garages, even the parking meters you find in cities, that’s just the beginning of it. one time i came across a little computer touch screen in a MCDONALDS where you put your order in. you didn’t even go up to the counter. you just put your order on the screen and swiped your card and then they got it ready for you and you never had to speak to a human person. self-checkouts, gas pumps where you can swipe your card and not go in and pay at first...the south got those YEARS behind everybody else. in the mid-2010s i went to DC and visited a target for maybe the 5th time ever and i was BAFFLED by the self-checkout. i had no idea how to use it! it was like less than ten years ago and i was IN MY TWENTIES and i had never seen one before! when we send a package we have to talk to a human person. when we order food we usually have to talk to a human person. apps for places like dominos and subway have not been in use here for very long. my county just got doordash LAST YEAR.

because i am 31, and because the south is so technologically behind, i am actually old enough to remember how when you used to go to a gas station an attendant would not only pump your gas but wash your windshield for you while you just SAT IN THE CAR. that seems like something from the 50s but it actually was a thing here in my childhood IN the 90s. i wish i was making this up.

difference #4: INFRASTRUCTURE. this sort of goes hand-in-hand w/ the last point because so much of our infrastructure is made of technology, and it’s also more of a rural/urban thing than a south/north thing. but just for fun here’s a non-exhaustive list of things i don’t have in my town:

starbucks* - the first time i went to a starbucks i was in my 20s

a public pool - we used to, but now the only pool here requires a YMCA membership. the only baseball diamond in this county is also at the Y.

walmart

in fact, ANYWHERE to buy clothes that is not a goodwill or other secondhand store. i cannot buy clothing unless i order it online or LEAVE MY TOWN. almost all of the clothing i own is from walmart because it’s one of the only places in my entire county where you can actually PURCHASE clothing.

grocery store chains? pffft. my town has two entire stores and both are small southern chains. i didn’t go into a publix for the first time until two years ago when i went to florida. i’ve NEVER entered a whole foods.

food delivery? yeah, no. like i said, we got doordash last year, but before that the only place you could get delivery from was a pizza chain. we only have two pizza places in my town that deliver, and one is a local place, not attached to any chain, so i can’t spend my loyalty points there. (it’s very expensive there too.) last year it was CLOSED for six months because the manager got caught dealing meth. every last one of the delivery drivers was trafficking it for him. they all got fired and had to restart from the ground up. for that short time, it was not possible to get any food delivered to your house whatsoever.

a hospital/ambulance services - if someone is sick, we have to take them to the hospital in laurens, the town next door (about 15-20 minutes by car). the town i live in lucky - we have our own police and fire departments. (acab but you know what i mean.) joanna is a smaller town next to mine that isn’t a real town - it’s been demoted to a census designated area because only 2000 people live there. if they have an emergency, they have to use OUR fire and police departments, and LAURENS’s ambulance/hospital system

after-school places kids can go to keep from getting into trouble. we have the Y, if you have money (no one here has money), and we have churches, but mostly schools can’t afford to run too many extracurriculars. there’s nothing to do here but church and meth.

food banks: zero. we have food DRIVES sometimes where people will come from further away and bring free food, but if you’re hungry, there’s nowhere you can go for help - you have to wait for help to come to you.

libraries: we don’t have our own library. we have a branch of the county library that’s physically located in our town. but we share books with the rest of the entire county, so everything is always checked out or at the other branch.

*we technically have a starbucks that’s in the local college campus, but only college students are allowed to be there. they’ll still serve people without a college ID because no one gives a fuck, but you can’t linger and loiter and hang out like you do in a normal starbucks. we also have one in the barnes and noble in greenville, which is about an hour away by car, but again, it’s a mini starbucks that serves a limited menu and none of that weird Starbucks Culture™

here’s a few things i don’t have in my ENTIRE COUNTY:

movie theaters - technically. we have a Historial™ one-screen theater in laurens that shows one movie for two weeks a month after it hits regular theaters and then switches to another, and if you miss it, too bad. this is a VERY recent addition - it wasn’t restores until i was in my 20s as a kid and a teenager i had to ride in a car an hour or more to go to the movies.

target. only commies and yankees have target. down here we do walmart.

malls

arcades

skate parks/skating rinks

bowling

museums

zoos/aquariums

campgrounds

fairs. our county fairground got razed a decade ago because there just werent enough people showing up to justify the expense. so no more fairs. you have to have people to fund things and down here there just aren’t enough people anywhere.

you get the idea. we don’t have entertainment. like i said, nothing to do but church and meth.

CLASSES FOR STUFF: knitting classes, dancing classes, driving classes? nope. gymnastics, karate dojos, golf, knitting groups, books clubs, cooking classes? [GAMESHOW BUZZER]. you can’t even hire a clown for a birthday party out here. we do have a shooting range. ONE. in the entire county. and a race track. and a rather infamous former kkk memorabilia store. they made a movie about that (serious tw for this trailer - they’ve got white hoods, burning crosses, pepper spray, the whole nine), which, yes, takes place in laurens, aka right next door to me. i used to walk by that place all the time when i was playing pokemon go. haven’t seen the movie but the shooting locations in the trailer make laurens look a lot bigger and prettier than it really is in real life - especially the racetrack, which, in the trailer, is actually PAVED. (this is inaccurate to real life.)

EDUCATION: lots of people can’t read. we have two schools for illiterate adults, one religious college, and one branch of one of the state colleges that has a skeleton staff and a fuck ton of computers (you basically just go there to distance learn/e-learn - if you want to take real classes from this college, you have to drive at least an hour.)

support groups/group therapy: almost none. we have al-anon and weight watchers, but that’s about it. there’s only half a dozen therapists in my entire county, and none that operate from my town. mental healthcare down here is bullshit.

on food: we don’t have many sit-down restaurants, where servers bring you your menu and your food. if you don’t count waffle houses, my town has 4. my county has 9. in and out, 5 guys, applebees, ruby tuesday, red lobster, olive garden, panda epxress? forget it. those places were and still are rare treats. i’ve only been to an olive garden twice. red lobster once. whenever i leave my county i BEG for chinese because there’s only two chinese restaurants in our entire county and one of them is crazy expensive and the other one sucks.

we also don’t have the more important stores you need to like, live. if we need to exchange our router at a charter store? yeah, we don’t have one. need to visit the sprint store to get your phone repaired? nuh-uh, we don’t have any phone stores either. my family recently switched to at&t because it was the only company that had a physical location in our county. before that, we had to drive an hour for even the smallest repair.

on a grimer note: we don’t have homeless shelters! homeless in laurens county? too bad for you. we do have homeless PEOPLE. they just have nowhere to go except the churches

hospitals? only kind of. like i said, our county has one, but it’s not equipped to take seriously sick people. when my mom had a heart attack she had to be driven straight to greenwood, which is 45 minutes away if you’re not in an ambulance. they obviously made it faster than that, but still. that was scary. it took them a long time to get here. i had a distant relative of mine die before the ambulance made it because they were SO far out in the sticks, even further than me.

we also don’t have any specialty stores. sporting goods, gamestops, shoe stores, florists, craft stores, bookstores, best buys...forget it. if you can’t buy it at walmart, you just can’t buy it. the exceptions: my TOWN has one jewelry store, two hardware stores, and two auto repair stores. my COUNTY has three clothing stores, none of which are in my town, one place that sells used TVs, and one movie rental place. thrilling, right? i can rent a movie if i drive out of town. (i know streaming killed the rental business, but we also only had two places when i was a kid, if you counted the rental section in the grocery store.)

so, yeah. i know the term “shithole” is really loaded these days, but rural areas are just plain less developed, and often in seriously poor repair because nobody fucking uses them. there USED to be more stuff here - my mom was on a bowling league, and as a kid i had a birthday party at a skating rink - but late stage capitalism and drugs destroyed it all. people ran out of money to do things like skate and bowl and so those places closed. the south is full of empty store fronts and deserted strip malls slowly being eaten by kudzu. my brother got out of this town and whenever he winds up back here (not often) he remarks on how completely and utterly dead everything feels. “my friends who live in greenwood now think they’re all rural,” he said once. “they complain constantly about how remote it is. but they have no idea. they wouldn’t make it five minutes out here.” greenwood has its own movie theater, mall, starbucks, homeless shelter, food bank, and hospital.

so, yeah! if you were wondering what rural white southerners are so fucking mad about, that’s part of it. propaganda and xenophobia and racism has their anger directed ENTIRELY at the wrong people, but it’s hard to argue that the anger itself isn’t just a little bit justified.

difference #5: CULTURE. specifically culture around food, and the culture around the civil war. i could write an entire other essay about the culture of the church being everything because the church IS the only semblance of infrastructure we have and this is why the south is so homophobic, but we’ll skip that for now.

food: this is a quickie, because i sort of touched on it already, but there are like, almost NO vegetarian options here. there’s very limited choices of cuisine. it’s ALL waffle house and soul food. we have a lot of mexican places because we’re physically close to the mexican border, but aside from that, forget finding like indian or thai or japanese or anything like that. no sushi. forget finding a menu that has meals that are halal or kosher. there’s just. no culture here. no variety. you know? like i said, our entire county doesn’t even hit double-digits for proper sit-down restaurants.

civil war: i’m not going to go into the big stuff since i sort of covered it at the top and also this post is getting way too long, but to other white rural southerners there is legitimate baggage around the fact that my mom married a yankee and that i am half-yankee. and he’s not even a real yankee! he was born up north but raised in southern florida. (florida is weird. the further south you go geographically, the less southern you are culturally.) yet: my family makes jokes that are sometimes not jokes about this. when i drop this information in casual conversation people get that look on their faces like: ah, that explains it. it being that i am not religious and don’t laugh at racist jokes and maybe i am queer?? (strangers tend to be unsure about this last part, even when i’m wearing rainbows.) it’s because i’m half-yank! that explains everything! the xenophobia is SO strong here that white people are even xenophobic at OTHER WHITE PEOPLE.

so in conclusion when i say the north is like another country, it’s because the people who raised me think of it like another country. and culturally! it is buck wild! the differences that there are! when i leave this town i feel like i step into fucking star trek! if you are not from the rural south, and you have never been to the rural south, please do not come here! i’ve been to a few different places now and this is definitely my least favorite one.

#personal #i guess #it's ok to rb if you want to though??? tbh i don't think most people will even get to the end lol #anyway here's my college lecture about the south it's not very good or college level actually lmao #this is AIRQUOTE FIELD STUDY AIRQUOTE #the experiences u have as a half-yank white person in the rural south are crazy #bc other white people think you're okay to listen to them say what they REALLY think #and then backtrack rapidly when they realize you aren't #now that i'm grown and woke i can't believe half-yankee is even a thing.#anyway this post brought to you by the maddening realization of how technologically far behind we are #WE DON'T EVEN HAVE THE CREEPY AMAZON VANS #the automated package sending...what i wouldn't give not to have to talk to people to mail stuff #rip. :/

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confusedhost-archive · 4 years

Text

Coffeeshop Au

She-Ra coffeeshop au because I said so:

Everyone works at one of two shops: Hoard or Princess Alliance

At the very beginning, it shows Adora, a normal human, and her friend Catra (everyone looks the same, has the same powers) in the breakroom chatting, and then they switch shifts with Kyle, Rogilio and whatever her name is- I can’t remember-

Yay! You get to meet Shadow Weaver, who is being very rude to the girls because her coffee was too hot (and also because Catra made it and no one is allowed to make her coffee except Adora)

Adora ends up missing a day and gets fired, which is immediately met with distaste from Shadow Weaver

Adora gets a new job at The Princess Alliance

Quickly becomes friends with Glimmer and Bow, but Glimmer’s mom, the owner of the cute shop, is less happy with her, as she looks like a gangster

Catra has mixed feelings about Adora not being at work, as she is now able to get promoted to manager beside Scorpia, but also she doesn’t see Adora like, ever, anymore

Adora’s aunt, Mara, died recently, and LightHope, Mara’s wife, came over to give Adora a charm with the words She-Ra carved in the side.

Adora promises to visit the farm and see LightHope soon

With the knowledge that she has a bit of her mother figure still with her, Adora throws herself into baking, creating her newest pastry: She-Ra

Was named after the charm!

It is the best thing anyone has ever tasted. They sell out quick, and become Adora’s special (All the princess’ have specials, they’re at the bottom of the post)

Aight, so Entrapta misses a couple days, didn’t call in sick, and was fired

Immediately picked up by Hoard and now has a new job! Stuck with Catra and Scorpia until Catra got promoted

Afterwards she met Hordak, and they started talking

and then they started flirting in their cute roundabout way

Hordak had to leave for a few days because Imp needed to go to the hospital, he left Catra in charge (She’s manager anyway, but now she had free reign)

With Double Trouble’s help, Catra made a fake resigning form for Entrapta while firing her

While this is going on, everyone gets word about Prime Restaurant chain wanting to set up in the area. Hordak would like to sell his shop for them, but first he needs to get another place to set up (He only decides this after he comes back, and he needs something to do after learning that someone he thought he had a connection with just left)

Entrapta hasn’t really let it sink in that she’s unemployed. Goes to get a coffee from a starbucks nearby, name and coffee get mixed up with someone named Micah. (Think when she stole his bug)

Start talking, then bow and Adora just speed walk into the shop like, “Hey Entrapta, would you like to be hired for Princess Alliance again?”

(Bow is also kinda like “Hey wtf, is that you, Micah?” And Micah’s like, “Hey, Bow, is that you?”)

And Entrapta’s like, “Hired? Oh, uh sorry, I have to- oh.” and its suddenly sinking in that she doesn’t work at Hoard anymore and (excuse me if this isn’t what would actually happen but it happened not to long ago so I’m just giving it to Entrapta rn) she is kinda just moving around and kinda just trying to get away from anything touching her because it all just feels horrible against her skin and shiz

and she just kinda goes “Yes, I’d like to be hired, but please leave me alone right now, I’d like to not be touched,” and so Bow and Adora kind of hesitantly go away and Micah stays walking her through her (I don’t know what this is. Touch aversion? A mild panic attack? A depressive episode?)

Anyway, cut away, and now we see Adora and Bow sitting on the roof of the cafe. Talking, thinking about life, doing a bit of college homework. Adora is playing with her charm, and then she drops it and it shatters. Obviously, she’s freaking out, that’s the only thing she has of Mara and it means so freaking much to her

Bow is trying to help and is gathering up the shards, and finds a little piece of paper among it all. Adora reads it and completely breaks down crying. No one knows what it says but her (which is to say I don’t know what it says)

Takes a break for a couple days, going to LightHope, her aunt, and

(In this time, Entrapta has reluctantly gone back to work, Micah has procrastinated around seeing his ex-wife and daughter, Angela has packed up for a plane trip, Hordak is having trouble finding another place to set up shop, and Prime restaurant chain is moving in)

Adora comes back with a new fire and an upgrade to her She-ra pastry, tastes even better now

Micah finally got the courage to go see his family, only to find out that Angela had just left for a trip that morning. (They get the news that the plane had an accident and Angela didn’t survive later in the evening)

Afterwards, Glimmer moves out of the cafe, finding it to be too empty. This leaves the top floor of the cafe completely open. She’s living with Bow and Adora now!

Scorpia, a panicking second manager of Hoard cafe, is juggling running the cafe, keeping Catra in check and finding a new place

Double Trouble, as is their job for the owner, finally fills out their form on what had happened while Hordak was away. He finally learns that Entrapta didn’t leave him.

Scorpia goes to the Princess Alliance and tells them that she heard their top floor was open. She’s desperate

It takes a few times to get them to agree, but the Princess Alliance realize that there’s no point in fighting like this. After a few more hours of haggling with the cost, Scorpia turns to leave

She comes back after a couple seconds. “Um, actually, is Entrapta here?”

Scorpia and Entrapta come back into Hoard cafe, chatting. Hordak walks out of the back, holding Imp. Entrapta looks over and sees him. She just jumps him, helping both of them stay up and holding Imp with her hair.

“Did you hear the news?” She laughs

Scorpia jumps in, telling Hordak how they found a place for the shop to go; right above the Princess Alliance. Entrapta is really helping Scorpia sell it, but Catra is getting upset.

“No! We’re enemies or whatever, right? We shouldn’t be sharing space with them!”

Hordak has already given his okay. “I’m sure we’ll be able to become closer, Catra, it should be alright.”

Catra is extremely reluctant about all of this, but while they’re setting up in the top area, she’s beginning to rekindle her friendship with Adora. (And also maybe feeling like at some point her feelings had stopped being just platonic. She has no clue when this happened.)

Scorpia is doing pretty well with taking boxes of stuff up, and after a while they figure out that the dark aesthetic won’t be working well side by side with the pastel fluff that is the Princess Alliance. So Scorpia says they change it up a bit. So she goes downstairs and, “Is anyone free right now?”

It’s Perfuma that looks over. “Oh! Yes, I am!”

Scorpia gives a little smile. “Great! We need some design help and we were wondering..”

With a happy gasp, Perfuma hangs up her apron and walks upstairs. Perfuma is made for this. After being told that they’d like to keep the general dark aesthetic, she says that giving it that certain quiet feel, very unlike the loud chatter that comes from downstairs, students will likely want to come by to study

It’s a hit. A few plants with calming aromas, gifted by Perfuma herself, and some teas that help with stress made by Scorpia, students are running in. It’s generally very quiet here, and it’s really helping the stress that the employees go under too!

Scorpia and Perfuma may or may not have gotten closer in a romantic sense because of this-

Catra and Adora are also getting closer, friends first, then girlfriends. It’s quite the trip for everyone else in the shop.

Entrapta and Hordak are basically just parents to Imp now, and Imp’s only job at this point is to make fun of Hordak for having a crush. It is a romantic relationship, yes

At some point the the Hoard and Princess Alliance become one place with two names. Menu is the same on both floors and anyone can be a waiter at whichever floor they like.

Just a few things that exist but aren’t really plot relevant:

Hordak has anger issues and trouble understanding his feelings

Hordak has weak bones in his arms specifically

Imp is Hordak’s nephew who he ended up adopting after Imp’s parents died

Hordak and Entrapta both like working with robotics

Entrapta is making a project to support Hordak’s weak arms in order to help him do things. Talking with his doctor to figure out what’s safe and such

Frosta is Glimmer’s cousin who has been given the okay to volunteer at the cafe. She comes and goes as she pleases and whether or not you get a Frosta special depends on whether she’s in or not

Time for the specials!

Entrapta’s: Donut holes. Her special is a pack of donut holes that are literally the best you’ve ever tasted. Your pack has one of each flavor and they are made with such care- just- No special drink for her though

Perfuma: Mango hibiscus clementine cold tea. I have had it before. It tastes really freaking good. She always grows a little flower for you to eat and puts it on top. The texture of the flower is nice, and the petals are sweet. The food portion is a fruit salad with flower petals sprinkled on top!

Frosta: Icecream sunday! And slushie! No one knows what exactly goes into the flavoring on top, but it tastes really good and Frosta promises it’s safe for all allergies she knows of. Makes sure to ask about any allergies though, just in case!

Mermista: It’s a small cake. Has this general water/beach vibe! Drink changes from day to day. Always an iced coffee though!

Glimmer: Cupcakes!! The inside of the cupcake has a small portion of sprinkles. Very sweet, too sweet for some. Pastel smoothie too! Family recipe, shared between Angela and Glimmer. Has sprinkles littered on top of a nice helping of whipped cream! Very glittery

Angela: Called the heart of Etheria. Not one single person knows what it’s classified as, and only Glimmer and Angela know how to make it. It’s heavenly

No more specials (Scorpia doesn’t work at Princess Alliance)

Micah and Angela had a divorce when Glimmer was young. It wasn’t because they disliked each other or anything, just, Micah learned that he was aromantic and felt a little bit uncomfortable with the marriage. They broke it off as friends and lived under the same house- like, it was all exactly the same, except they didn’t have the title of husband and wife

Then Micah had to go away because he found a job somewhere else and they ended up loosing contact

Swiftwind lives on the farm with LightHope

Catra and Adora are childhood friends who had the same Preschool teacher: Shadow Weaver

Angela lives on the second floor of the cafe with Glimmer

Entrapta has a roomba and she’s taken to it the way tumblr has

Entrapta has a tiny Emily that she made with Hordak’s help at a robotics workshop

Adora lived with Catra and moved to share an apartment with Bow afterwards

Shadow Weaver may or may not have died shoving Catra and Adora out of the way of a car that was driving on the sidewalk

There are fricking huge windows looking out on the street for both floors and on the other side of the street is a grassy park, so it’s really nice.

#death tw #shera #car accident

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lovemesomesurveys · 4 years

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Have you ever sold anything online either on Craigslist, eBay, Amazon, etc.? If not, what is your website of choice like any of the above for buying things? No, I’ve never sold anything. I like shopping on Amazon, Etsy, and Ebay as far as those kinds of websites go. If the opportunity arose, would you ever go to a nude beach? Do you think you’d be comfortable enough, being naked among others like that? Absolutely not. I’m not comfortable naked, and I most definitely wouldn’t be naked in public. I’m waaaaaay too self-conscious. I don’t even wear bikinis or any kind of swimsuit. I also have no interest in seeing other people naked. You do you, boo, but it’s not my thing. What was the last book you read? What about the book drew you to want to read it (plot, title, cover…)? Did you end up liking it? I recently finished a trilogy (The Jack Ryder Mystery Series). Well, what I thought was a trilogy but I discovered there’s actually 3 more. I’m about to start the 4th. I read a few other books by the author and enjoyed them and the description of the first book caught my interest. I was hooked after the first one and had to keep going to see what happened. Have you ever considered keeping a dream journal? If you have one, have you ever looked back on it at all of the odd/interesting dreams you used to have? I thought about it before, but I’ve never done it. I very rarely remember my dreams. I generally forget them soon after I wake up or just remember random bits of it. Do you think regifting is cheap, or is it okay? Have you ever regifted before? I mean, I’ve been given gifts that weren’t really my thing, but I knew someone else would really enjoy them so I gave it to them. I’ll tell them, though. I’ll be like, “Hey, so I got this but I already have it/it’s not really my thing, personally, but I know you like them so I thought you might be interested” or something like that.

How often do you wash your hair? What do you think when you hear of some people not washing their hair for weeks at a time? Is it healthier, as they claim? I wash my hair 3-4 times a week. Weeks would be too long, but I think a few times a week is fine. I also dye my hair, so it’s best not to wash it too often. Do you think President Obama should stay in office, or is it time for a new president? It’s time for our current president to be out of office. In general, do you like/get along with your mother’s or your father’s side of the family more? I get along well with both sides. Have you ever seen an animal give birth? Have you ever had a pet give birth before? Not in person, no. What do your plans usually consist of on Christmas morning? Are they the same this year? We get up early and sit in the living room while my brother passes out the presents and then when they’ve all been passed out we start opening them. We like showing each other what we got as we go. When we’re done, we mess around with some of the stuff for awhile. Christmastime this year is going to be weird given how this year has been. :( Do you like iPads/tablets or laptops more? E-readers or books? Laptops. I do a lot of my reading on the Kindle app on my phone, honestly. I have access to tons of books and it’s just really convenient. If you don’t get much snow where you live, do you wish you did get more snow? If you do get snow where you live, do you get a lot? Do you like snow? It doesn’t snow here at all, but I wish it did. If men could get pregnant too, would abortion still be as big an issue as it is? Yes. It’s still abortion and people have strong opinions about it. What is something you want to try to accomplish within the next year? I don’t know. Have you ever had to “come out” to your parents about anything (sexual orientation, change in religion, etc.)? How did it go? No. Do you ever get drunk by yourself? No. I don’t drink. Has there ever been a time where you’ve forgotten something extremely important? Yeah. What’s the most unusual kind of pizza you’ve ever tried? Nothing unusual. If you were given the chance to decorate an entire house the way you wanted, with no limit to cost, how would you decorate it? I don’t have the creativity for that. Like, I’d have some ideas and certain things I’d definitely want to have, but I wouldn’t know how to go about decorating an entire house. If you could have any kind of lava lamp, what kind would you have? Nah. What movie do you know by heart? There’s several. Has there ever been a time where you thought you were going to be great friends with someone, but it just never happened? Yes. What’s one of your favorite things to touch/feel? Something soft or furry, like my faux fur throw blanket. How often do you wear tights? I haven’t worn tights in years. I wear leggings everyday, though. If you had to choose, what’s the most important thing in your life at the moment? My faith, family, and health. Do you have Netflix? Yep. Has there ever been anything you’ve become interested in much later than other people? Yeah. Like with TV shows or movies, for example. Why is your favorite TV show your favorite? I have a lot of favorite TV shows. Describe your favorite picture of yourself, or post it. My baby photos. Is there a genre of music that some people would be surprised that you enjoy? I don’t think so. Assuming you have a Facebook, if one of your friends posted things that annoyed you, would you be more likely to delete them as a friend, hide their statuses, or just put up with it? I’d just hide their posts. I think you can like “mute” people or something like that on Facebook. Have you ever had a veggie burger? I had one once several years ago. Do you like candles? I wish I were into them cause they’re aesthetically pleasing and relaxing, but I’m not. What’s your favorite video game? Mario Bros everythijng. What was something you liked about today? It’s only 4:43 in the morning. Ask me later. When was the last time you passed out? Never. Do you think “friends with benefits” relationships could ever possibly work without anyone getting hurt? Not from my experience and many stories I’ve heard from other people. Someone catches feelings or you’re not on the same page and someone/both get hurt. It’s just too messy. Do you wear more sweatshirts or jackets? Sweatshirts. What was the last thing you had to drink? Starbucks Doubleshot energy drink. When was the last time you wore a sports bra? Never. When was the last time you went to a waterpark? I don’t do waterparks. Does your best friend live close to you? My best friend is my mom, who I live with. Have you ever rode a train? Nope. Where did you get the shirt you’re currently wearing? The UC I went to. When was the last time you played Rock Band? With whom? I’ve never played Rock Band, but I loved playing Guitar Hero back in the day. I want to play! What was the last thing that you ate? Ramen. Who last messaged you on Facebook? My aunt. What were you doing Saturday at 1:30 pm? Sleeping. The last time you were intoxicated, what were you drinking? I think it was Jack and Coke. It was 7 yeas ago, so *shrug* Who last walked you home? When I was 19-early 20s I had a friend who lived like 10-15 minutes away walking distance and she and I walked around a lot to nearby coffeeshops and restaurants before she got her license. And to each other’s houses. Anyway, there were times she walked me home. What do you do to help your face from breaking out? I don’t do anything, honestly. Thankfully, acne just stopped being an issue for me when I got older. Apart from a couple pimples every now and then. Did you make any new friends lately? If so, what are their names and how did you meet them? Nope. Would you rather see your favourite band/artist in concert with 2 other people or have a free $20,000 shopping spree to Walmart? I’d take the concert for sure. I haven’t been to one in over 10 years, I miss concerts! Who knows when we’ll have any concerts again now. :( When was the last time you went out to eat? Back in early February. On a scale of 1-10, how anxious are you currently? At this current moment, like a 4. What kind of music do you listen to? I like variety. Various genres and artists across decades. What does your perfect day consist of? A day at the beach. Do you have any online friends? We have an awesome little survey community on here. I read your survey answers and I root for you. I want the best for you guys. Would you dye your hair red? I do. I’ve been dyeing my hair red for 5 years. If your ex wanted to take you back, would you say yes? Nope. How is the weather? Right now it’s 57 F.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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purplesurveys · 4 years

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694

What song are you listening to right now? I’m not listening to anything but the last song I played was Violet by Daniel Caesar; I don’t actually know the song but it was part of a playlist on Spotify. Admit it -- you want a Snuggie. What design/color? I don’t even know what that is, but if it came in pink I’d want one. Do you prefer movies at home or movies at the theatre? Home is cozier and costs much less, haha. How many songs does your iTunes have? Ooh, I haven’t used my iTunes in like half a decade buuuut I think it peaked with around 400-500 songs? Idk, I didn’t explore much as a kid and I liked to stick with my favorite singers/bands. Do you take a shower in the morning or the night before? When I’m off school I like to shower at night - much more comfy that way, and I fall asleep faster. But when I have to leave the house whether to go to school, the mall, to crash at someone’s place, etc. I always bathe a few hours before. Always. I hateeeeee not feeling fresh when I go outside.

What's your academic niche? (History, math, science, etc.) History for sure, but there are some science topics I’m also okay in. Who's your youngest teacher? They’re all already pretty seasoned lol I can’t actually tell. I think it’s Ma’am Cai; welp, at least among my current professors, she’s the one that acts the youngest. Have you ever had the samples people offer you at Costco? I’ve never been in a Costco but I typically don’t get samples from our local groceries because idk, they just look nasty :/ The only samples I get are the free ones they hand over at Starbucks and Coffee Bean, haha. If you had to name your kid after a food, what would his/her name be? I’d take olives and turn it to Olivia, which was always my choice for a girl anyway. But if it really had to be food-inspired I’d go with... Brie for a girl, or Sage for a boy. Miley Cyrus: Inspirational role model or a ho? Get with the times, 2009 survey. This question won’t get away with that word today. Anyway, Miley is a badass. I never changed my mind about her, maybe except for that time she did that performance with Robin Thicke. Are you stressed about anything? Right now no. I’m on a six-week break, I wanna enjoy it without thinking about the stuff that would typically stress me out. When's the last time you had a rock, paper, scissors match? It’s been a few months. What's your favorite anime? I don’t watch anime... the only show I got into was Pokemon. Did you cry when Ash let his Butterfree go with the other Butterfrees? I vaguely remember that but I probably got sad over it when I was younger. Don't you hate it when Facebook auto-corrects your smiley faces and hearts? I don’t mind it. Skinny, flared, ripped, or faded jeans? Ugh I hate all of these. I have a lot of skinny jeans in my closet but they’re always a last resort - my go-to these days is mom jeans. What are you excited for? Meh, nothing in particular. I wanna say my birthday? but who knows what the world is gonna come to be by then. Are you part of the Farmville cult? No I never played. I wasn’t allowed to make a Facebook account at the time when games like that and Petville and Plants vs. Zombies were big. What were you for Halloween? Last year I went as Dora. AND IT WAS SO ANNOYING because the party we were invited to prohibited shorts??? And 1) Dora wore shorts and 2) I searched far and wide for a pair of orange shorts? It was the first time I heard of a dress code that strict for a college party lmao I couldn’t believe it. Thankfully Rita had just bought a pair of orange jeans so she let me borrow those. Have you ever had braces? Back in high school. What year of high school are you in? I am not. What's your favorite flower? Peonies. Would you ever bleach your hair? Probably not. My hair has faced enough damage. Have you ever stood on a frozen solid body of water? No. That sounds scary though. I’ve heard and watched people fall through ice :/ Would you ever take up smoking or drinking? I’m already doing both. Thanks, college and peer pressure! Do those girls with 1,000 friends on Facebook REALLY have that many? I dunno, who knows? It’s always possible. I have a bigger problem with the fact that this question just singled out girls lmao. What holiday is your birthday closest to? Uhh Earth Hour, if it counts? If not, we have Araw ng Kagitingan on April 9 which commemorates the Fall of Bataan during WWII. Are you cyberdyslexic? Is this even a thing? I’ve never heard of this until today. Are you regular dyslexic? No. Is there irregular dyslexia? :((( What would your name be if you were a boy? I don’t know. My parents didn’t think about this either I think. Which person from way back when would you love to hang out with? My great grandpa. Either him or his cousin who wrote a book on history. What color are your eyes? Dark brownnnnnnn ugh this will FOREVER be in surveys won’t it. The forever on-going question: Is Twilight stupid or actually brilliant? It’s so stupid. BUT I LOVE IT ok. Did you carve pumpkins for Halloween this year? No. We don’t do that here. Does your family use a real pine tree or a plastic one for Christmas? I think most households here use artificial trees. I was already a little old when I found out other countries would use real trees. Do you know anyone with a play-on name? (Chris P. Bacon, Justin Case, etc.) Not personally but super recently someone named their kid COVID BRYANT and it was all over social media for a few days. Covid Bryant. Let that shit sink in. Only Filipinos, man. Do you have any foreign exchange students at your school? Yeah, mostly Koreans and Japanese people. If you had a week to live, what would you do? I don’t have much of a choice, do I... I’m gonna be stuck at home and do the stuff I’ve already been doing in the last three weeks, and just hope I had fun.

Are you good at brain teasers? Some, but I don’t enjoy doing them in general. Is your handwriting nice? I can handle a pen pretty well, if I do say so myself. I have a neater penmanship than most people I know. What's your second language? English. Is it uncomfortable for you to take showers in glass stalls w/out curtains? Not really but the door has to be locked. Finish the sentence: Remember, remember... The fifth of November? I dunno why I know about that though. Did you understand Shakespeare? No. I always bought the No Fear Shakespeare editions cos I had absolutely no patience to try and understand the original text. What do you want to be when you're older? Rich. What's your favorite dog breed? Golden retriever or pitbull. Are you one of those people who take like, 50 Facebook quizzes at a time? I’ve never taken a Facebook quiz. What was the last shot you got? It was at the roof of my mouth, back when I had a tooth extraction. Ever gotten cavities? A few times. Can you differentiate between the words "your" and "you're?" Yes. Do you use hair ties as bracelets? Lmao always. Don’t most girls do this? What was the last school project you did that you couldn't wait to turn in? My book report for my business journalism class. After I proofread it like 6 times and triple-checked the word count, I couldn’t waitttt to get rid of it. Have you ever graded papers? Sure. I’ve said it in past surveys, but my org hosts journalism workshops to interested schools, whether they’re in elementary, high school, or college. At the end of the day they have to come up with their own articles, and then we check each of them, correct the mistakes, grade them, and give it back to them with our comments. What was your favorite year of school up to this point? Third year of high school. I don’t really have a favorite year of college... I had lows in each of them. What's the latest you've ever woken up? 11 AM. Can you recite the alphabet backwards? For a time I did cos Angela taught me. Then I just never sang it again so I ended up forgetting. If you could master one language in thirty minutes, what would it be? Korean. Are you a sucker for foreign accents? No. Sometimes I find it hard to understand. Where were you born? Is it the same place you live currently? I was born somewhere in Manila, and I live faaar away from there now. How often do you remember your dreams? What did you last dream about? Only if I note them down on my phone. The last dream I remember having was too lengthy for me to want to type it all down, but it involved me and Gabie being exes, and she had her own kid hahaha. When did you learn the ninja turtles were named after Renaissance artists? Pretty early, I guess. I’ve never seen the show though. Do you do yoga? Nope.

#survey #surveys

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hazardville · 5 years

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Fuck You Facebook

So, in case anyone’s seeing this without coming here from my Facebook: Facebook removed this post because it was flagged as spam. I’m preserving it here because this information should be shared and Facebook’s attempts to obscure the sharing of health information should be condemned, widely and publicly. Enjoy. This is a long post addressing two underlying issues with the current response to the pandemic that leave me concerned. It’s the longest post I’ve ever written. The Medium version of this post (link below) has been viewed 1.2M in less than the last 24 hours as of 3/17/20. For those of you not taking action, or believing the pandemic to be “over hyped”, you can make fun of me as much as you want now or when this is over. You can make me the subject of memes and post it everywhere. I will pose for the picture. I am not trying to convince you, but I do feel compelled to share information that I deem critical to all of us, which is why I am posting this at all. WHY YOU SHOULD TAKE 5 MINUTES TO READ AND CONSIDER THE INFORMATION I AM SHARING: As of 3/15/20 at 9 am PST this post has been shared over 50k times since it was posted 2 days ago. So a lot of people find value in the post and although it's a long read, I believe you will find this information valuable too. For those of you who don’t know me well, I am analytical and metered. I don’t freak out nor do I respond emotionally. I also don’t post a bunch of bullshit or political or controversial stuff on Facebook. I founded and am CEO of a successful software company that provides SaaS based data, analytics, and dashboards to recruiting departments at companies we all know. As you would expect, I am data driven and fact based. Before founding my company I held executive roles leading very large recruiting teams at some of the world's fastest growing companies such as Starbucks and Google. At Google I was fortunate enough to report to Sheryl Sandberg before she took the Facebook COO role. I was a Chemical Engineering major in college and have a business degree from a top undergraduate business school. I am not one for hyperbole or histrionics. My bullshit factor is close to zero. I share all this personal information only to help solidify that this post may be worth reading and sharing with others. I would encourage you to forward or share this post at your discretion. Many people do not understand what is happening with the pandemic to the degree required which is why I took the time to write this and share this on Facebook. Now that I've gotten the introduction out of the way, here are two issues I want to bring to everyone’s attention. ISSUE ONE: SOCIAL NORMS ARE POWERFUL MOTIVATORS AND GETTING IN THE WAY OF PEOPLE TAKING THE RIGHT STEPS IN RESPONSE TO THE PANDEMIC: One of the current problems with addressing the pandemic is the social pressures of taking action today. It's awkward, and feels like an over-reaction. The reason it feels like an overreaction is that most people OVERWEIGHT the currently reported cases and inherently UNDERWEIGHT the mathematics of how the virus is spreading and what will happen in about 30 days time. This is because our brains tend to think linearly as opposed to logarithmically. It’s the same reason many people don’t save for retirement or understand compound interest. To create a new social norm, human beings like to see behavior modeled. This serves as a signal that says, “oh, someone else is doing it so I should do it also.” SO HERE IS A SOCIAL BENCHMARK FOR REFERENCE - THIS IS WHAT I’VE DONE FOR MY FAMILY TO DATE: I have already isolated my family. We have canceled EVERYTHING. We have canceled previously scheduled doctor visits. Social get togethers. No play dates. Normal routine meetings. Everything has been canceled. It's difficult and socially awkward. Some of you think I’m crazy, but I’m doing it not because I am afraid, but because I am good at math (more on that in part 2). I had to have my 16 year old daughter quit her job coaching junior gymnasts at the local gym, with one day’s notice and also tell my kids they can't attend youth group at church. Both of those were tough discussions. I told a very close friend he shouldn’t stay at my house this weekend even though he was planning to and had booked his flight from the Bay Area. I canceled another dear friend’s visit for later this month to go snowboarding on Mt Bachelor. We are not eating out. Our kids are already doing online school so we don’t have to make changes there. I would not send my kids to school even if they were in public or private school. We have eliminated all non-essential contact with other people. We will only venture out to grocery shop when required. We will still go outside to parks, go mountain biking, hiking, and recreate to keep ourselves sane and do other things as a family, just not with other people. We have stocked up on food and have a supply for ~2 months. We have stocked up on other goods that if depleted would create hardship, like medicines and feminine hygiene products. We have planned for shortages of essential items. THE REASON I HAVE CHOSEN THIS ROUTE FOR MY FAMILY IS MULTI FACETED: 1. Although my family is considered low risk (I’m 49 in good health, Angi is 46 and in good health, and our kids are 14 and 16), we must assume that the healthcare system cannot help us, because the hospitals will become overwhelmed very quickly. Most American hospitals will become overwhelmed in approximately 30 days unless something changes. More on this in part 2 below. So although we are in great health and unlikely to become gravely ill, the risk is greater if you do not have access to the medical care that you need. This is something for everyone to consider. As a society we are accustomed to having access to the best medical care available. Our medical system will be overwhelmed unless we practice social distancing at scale. That said, the medical teams in Italy are seeing an alarming number of cases from people in their 40s and 50s. Triage tents are already going up in the parking lots at many hospitals close to the epicenters in the United States. 2. It’s not a matter of if social distancing will take place, it’s a matter of when. This is because social distancing is the only way to stop the virus today. As I will explain in part 2 below, starting now is FAR more effective than starting even 2 days from now or tomorrow. This has been proven by Italy and China (and soon to be France and other European countries who have been slow to respond.) [updated as of 3/14 France is now on lockdown mandated by the government]. Wuhan went on lockdown after roughly 400 cases were identified (and they had access to testing that America has systematically failed to do well to date). The US already has more than 4 times this number of known infected cases as Wuhan did when it was shut down, and our citizens are far more mobile and therefore spreading the virus more broadly when compared to Wuhan. Yet our response is tepid at best. If hand washing and “being smart” were sufficient Italy would not be in crisis. So I pray the draconian measures are coming from our government, because they are required to stop the spread of the virus. It’s better to start sooner than later as the cost is actually far greater if we wait. I pray they close all schools and non-essential services the way that Italy and China have done. 3. Spreading the virus puts those in the high-risk category at much greater risk. This is the moral argument. It’s a strong argument because there are only two ways, as of today, that the virus can be stopped: let it run its course and infect 100s of millions of people, or social distancing. There is no other way today. If you don’t practice social distancing, people downstream from you that you transmit the virus to will die, and many will suffer. 4. The risk of infection is increasing exponentially, because the quantity of infected people, most who will not show symptoms, is doubling every three days. So the longer you wait to self-isolate, the greater the chance of you or someone you love becoming infected and then you infecting others because more of the population is becoming infected. There are twice as many infected people today as there was on Tuesday. 5. The virus is already in your town. It’s everywhere. Cases are typically only discovered when someone gets sick enough to seek medical attention. This is important as it typically takes ~5 days to START showing ANY symptoms. Here’s the math: For every known case there are approximately 50 unknown cases. This is because if I become sick, I infect several people today, and they infect a few people each tomorrow (as do I), and the total count of infected people doubles every 3 days until I get so sick I get hospitalized or get tested and become a “known case”. But in the time it takes me to figure out I am sick 50 others downline from me now have the virus. So every third day the infection rate doubles until I get so sick that I realize I have the virus an am hospitalized or otherwise tested. Harvard and Massachusetts General Hospital estimate that there are 50x more infections than known infections as reported (citation below). The implication of this is that the virus is already “everywhere” and spreading regardless if your city has zero, few or many reported cases. So instead of the 1573 reported known cases today there are likely 78,650 cases, at least, in the United States. Which will double to 157,300 by this Sunday. And this will double to 314,600 cases by this coming Wednesday. So in less than 1 week the number of total infected in the United States will quadruple. This is the nature of exponential math. It’s actually unfortunate that we are publishing the figures for known cases as it diverts attention away from more important numbers (like the range of estimated actual cases). [Update as of 3/15/20 - I've been sent more research that may add clarity to the ACTUAL cases vs CONFIRMED cases and will update this post with any conclusions] 6. Some people cannot, or will not, practice social distancing for a variety of reasons and will continue to spread the virus to many people. So everyone else must start today. The reasons above are why I have begun to practice social distancing. It’s not easy. But you should do it too. The hospitals will be at capacity and there are not enough ventilators. You will hear a lot about this issue in the coming few weeks... the shortage of ventilators. ISSUE TWO: MANY PEOPLE ARE FOCUSED ON THE WRONG NUMBERS: Yes, the virus only kills a small percentage of those afflicted. Yes, the flu kills 10s of thousands of people annually. Yes, 80% of people will experience lightweight symptoms with COVID19. Yes the mortality rate of COVID19 is relatively low (1-2%). All of this true, but is immaterial. They are the wrong numbers to focus on... The nature of exponential math is that the infection rates start slowly, and then goes off like a bomb and overwhelms the hospitals. You will understand this math clearly in the next section if you do the short math exercise. Evergreen hospital in Seattle is already in triage. I have heard credible reports from people on the ground that they are already becoming overwhelmed. And the bomb won't really go off for a few more days. Probably by Wednesday, March 18th (next week). In just a few days from now we will hear grave reports from Seattle hospitals. [update as of 3/15/20 - see the comments section below for an update from a staff member at Evergreen Hospital in Kirkland, WA] You should assume the virus is everywhere at this point, even if you have no confirmed cases in your area. YOU SHOULD DO THIS SIMPLE 2 MINUTE MATH EXERCISE (NO REALLY TAKE TWO MINUTES AND DO IT): To further understand exponential growth, take the number of confirmed cases in your area and multiply by 10 (or 50 if you believe Harvard and Massachusetts General estimations) to account for the cases that are not yet confirmed. If you have no confirmed cases choose a small number. I’d suggest 10 cases in your city, if no cases are yet reported. But you can use whatever number you like. This number of infected people doubles every ~3 days as the infection spreads. So literally take your number, and multiply by 2. Then do it again. Then do it again. Then do it again. Do this multiplication exercise 10 times in total. 2 x 2 x 2 x 2 x 2 x 2 x 2 x 2 x 2 x 2 x (the number of estimated infections in your city today (not just the reported cases)). This result is the estimate for the actual cases in your area 30 days from now. The math will take 30 seconds to complete with a calculator and it’s worth doing the math to see how it grows. This end number is the number of cases in your city 30 days from today if a large percentage of the population do not practice social distancing. 2 to the 10th power is 1024. When something doubles 10 times, it's the same as multiplying by 1024. The infection rate of the virus doubles every 3 days. In thirty days there will be 1,024 times the number of infected people in your area as there is today if your community does not immediately put social distancing into practice. One thousand and twenty four times as many infected people as there is today, in just 30 days. Next, divide the final number (the scary big one) you just calculated by the current population of your city and you will be able to get the percentage of people THAT YOU KNOW PERSONALLY who will be infected 30 days from now. Next take 15% (multiply by 0.15) of that final 30 day number of total infected people (the number you calculated by multiplying by 2 ten times). This will provide an estimate of the serious cases which will require hospitalization, and compare it to the number of beds and ventilators available at your local hospital. Google the "number of beds" and the name of your local hospital now. It takes 2 seconds and the number of beds is easy to find. 65% of beds are already occupied by patients unrelated to the coronavirus. St Charles in Bend, Oregon where I live, has 226 beds and the town is roughly 100,000 people. Most hospitals have on average, 40 or fewer ventilators. 5% of patients require ICU treatment. There are very few ICU beds compared to regular beds in hospitals. There are very few negative pressure areas in any hospital to deal with the containment of airborne diseases. These numbers you just calculated are the Big Problem: Too many patients, not enough beds, and a serious shortage of ventilators (the biggest problem) if we don't immediately begin social distancing. More on this biggest problem related to the insufficient quantity of ventilators is below. COUNTRIES THAT GET OVERWHELMED WILL HAVE A MUCH GREATER MORTALITY RATE BECAUSE THEY WON’T BE ABLE TO ADEQUATELY CARE FOR THE SICK. And by sick I mean not just coronavirus patients. Your son or daughter that needs acute care surgery this May for his badly broken leg will be attended to by an orthopedic doctor that has been working at maximum capacity and working 18 hour shifts for 7 days every week for 6 weeks because it was required to care for all the coronavirus patients at her hospital. Or the orthopedic surgeon will be sick with the virus and your son or daughter will be operated on in a tent in the hospital parking lot by a non-expert or a member of the National Guard. Your elderly Mom that has diabetes and goes into acute distress next month may not receive ANY medical care because the doctors are consumed and have to prioritize patients based on triage guidelines based on success rate probabilities. Your sibling’s family that are all injured in a terrible car crash in June will have diminished care. If one of them needs a ventilator there will be none available because all of them will be in use by critical coronavirus patients. Your young friend with cancer and a compromised immune system from treatment will succumb even though the cancer was curable and the treatment was working, because their body was too fragile to combat the coronavirus due to the chemotherapy and they couldn't receive the customized, acute care required due to the hospital being overwhelmed. All of the above is currently happening in Italy, who had the same number of infections we have today just 2 weeks ago. You must start social distancing today. The count of actual virus infections doubles every ~3 days. The news and government agencies are lagging in their response. So we hear that the US only has 1573 cases today (3/12/20) [update as of 3/15/20: 3115 confirmed cases), ( see https://www.worldometers.info/coronavirus/) and it doesn't seem like a lot. It would be better to report the estimated actual cases, since reported cases don’t tell us much. However, we know from China that the actual number of cases are at least an order of magnitude greater than the reported cases, because people get infected and do not display symptoms. In math, an "order of magnitude" means ten times difference, or put another way, a factor of 10. 100 is 10 times greater than 10, so it's an order of magnitude greater. Harvard Medical School / Massachusetts General Hospital just released their estimate (recording is here: https://externalmediasite.partners.org/Mediasite/Play/53a4003de5ab4b4da5902f078744435a1d) that the actual cases are 50x greater than the reported cases. So we likely have 75,000 cases in the United States already. The number of reported cases is not that important. But let’s assume the current number of cases is only 10,000 ACTUAL cases in the United States just to be conservative and model out what will happen: If we don’t stop the virus from spreading, in 30 days we will have 2 to the 10th power more cases of infected people because the infection count doubles every 3 days (the virus doubles every 3 days and there are 10, 3 day periods in 30 days). The math: 2 to the 10th power means 1,024 times as many cases as we have today (2 times 2 repeated 10 times). This number is a catastrophically big problem for all of us: We will have 10 million+ actual cases (10,000 actual cases today x 1,024) in the United States in just 30 days’ time if we continue without extreme social distancing. 10 million people with the virus. And it will keep doubling every 3 days unless we practice social distancing. 15% of cases require significant medical attention, which means that 1.5 million people will require significant medical attention if 10 million people get infected (15% of 10 Million total infections = 1.5 million people requiring hospitalization). 1.5 million hospitalizations is way more than we have beds for at hospitals in the United States. And 65% of all beds are already occupied in our hospitals. But many patients (5%) with the virus need ICU beds, not just any old hospital bed. Only about 10% of hospital beds are considered intensive care beds. So we will have a huge bed shortage, but that is not the biggest problem, as we can erect temporary ICU shelters and bring in more temporary beds, as Italy has already done, and California and Washington hospitals have already done. Evergreen Hospital in Seattle has already erected temporary triage tents in the parking lot as of 3/13/20. All regular beds are full at Evergreen Hospital as of yesterday. Once the government of China, Norway, and Italy came to understand this math, they reacted accordingly and shut EVERYTHING down. [update as of 3/15/20 now France has done the same lockdown]. Extreme social distancing is the only response available to stop the virus today. The United States is not responding well nor are other countries like the UK. Countries that do not respond well will pay a much larger, catastrophic price. But hospital beds are not the big problem. The lack of ventilators is the big problem. Most estimates peg the ventilators in the United States at roughly 100,000 to 150,000 units. See the study from last month: http://www.centerforhealthsecurity.org/resources/COVID-19/200214-VentilatorAvailability-factsheet.pdf The primary and most serious comorbid (comorbid is a medical term that means co-existing or happening at the same time) condition brought on by the Coronavirus is something called bilateral interstitial pneumonia which requires ventilators for treatment of seriously ill patients. So if 1.5M people of the 10 million infected 30 days from now require hospital care (15% of the 10M estimated total infections), 1.3M may not get the care that they need because we don’t have enough ventilators, beds, and ICU beds in the United States. And remember, this is only if ALL OF US EFFECTIVELY start social distancing by April 11th (30 days from today). This increases the mortality rate significantly. BUT IF WE START EXTREME SOCIAL DISTANCING BY MARCH 23 (12 days from original writing), WE AVOID OVER 1.4 MILLION PEOPLE GETTING CRITICALLY ILL AND OVERWHELMING THE HOSPITALS: If everyone takes extreme measures to social distance, and the United States can dramatically reduce the spread of the virus 12 days from now, the math is very different, as the exponential growth will only be 2 to the 4th power (12 days divided by the doubling rate of every 3 days equals the exponent of 4): 2 x 2 x 2 x 2 = 16 So instead of 10 Million cases in the United States if we wait 30 days, if we act 18 days sooner, we will have only 160,000 cases (16 times the estimated 10,000 actual cases as of today), of which 15% are likely to require hospitalization. This is 24,000 critical patients (a huge difference compared to 1.5 million acute patients). The difference between taking extreme measures now, versus waiting even a few days, is very large due to how exponents work in math. THE OUTCOME IS EVEN BETTER IF WE TAKE ACTION IN THE NEXT 6 DAYS: If the vast majority of the population self isolates and implements social distancing in only 6 days from now the exponential math is 2 to the 2nd power (6 days divided by the 3 days it takes the virus to double means the exponent is only 2). In math this is "two squared". 2 x 2 = 4 Multiplied by the estimated 10,000 ACTUAL cases as of today (3/12/20) that means only 40,000 total cases will develop, 15% of which may be critical which is 6,000 critical patients. This is why you should share this post broadly. If people begin social distancing in the next 6 days it will greatly reduce the impact on all of us. It's why they say a "post goes viral". SOCIAL DISTANCING WILL REDUCE THE FINANCIAL IMPACT TO YOU AND YOUR FAMILY: Finally, the longer everyone waits to practice significant social distancing the greater the economic hardship will be on all of us. Lost jobs. Mortgage defaults. Closed businesses. Bankruptcies. All will be minimized if you start social distancing today. Some of the reasons the economic impacts will be reduced are worth mentioning: If we stop the virus now the overall duration of the outbreak will be far shorter. The stock market will normalize more quickly and recover more quickly. Businesses and people will be able to survive a shorter duration outbreak vs a longer duration outbreak. More companies will avoid bankruptcy if we begin to practice social distancing now. This is a big financial reason to begin social distancing if you are employed by any company: if companies see that the virus is being slowed, they will be less likely to conduct layoffs. You will be more likely to be laid off or experience a job-related event if we don’t practice social distancing immediately. As an HR executive, I’ve been involved in many, many layoffs. It’s the last thing companies want to do. But if they see that the pandemic will be shorter lived vs long and drawn out, they are less likely to make the permanent decision of laying off staff. The overall economic impact that hits your bank account will be greater if you wait or you don’t practice social distancing. This is why Norway acted now, because it’s less economic impact to take drastic measures early than to do them later, and it saves a lot of lives and suffering by doing so. And Norway has only one confirmed death as of this writing. Many people have suggested they want to support local restaurants and other businesses, who have seen sales drop by 50-90%. Stopping by and visiting them won't save them. What will save them is social distancing and what you do after the pandemic is over. If you are concerned, call them and buy a gift certificate over the phone. START TODAY. I CAN’T STRESS THIS ENOUGH. YOU MUST START TODAY. Finally, the article that I posted yesterday written by Tomas Pueyo has been read 30M times in the last few days and has been updated with new information. It’s worth reading again. Here’s that link. https://medium.com/@tomaspueyo/coronavirus-act-today-or-people-will-die-f4d3d9cd99ca Other up to date data I frequently consult regarding the pandemic is here: https://www.worldometers.info/coronavirus/ I hope this is helpful and useful. My brain focuses on the math and I try and be fact based in my analysis and interpretation of how I should respond. THERE IS MORE INFORMATION IN THE COMMENTS BELOW WORTH READING AND I WILL BE UPDATING THIS POST, AND THE COMMENTS, WITH MORE INFORMATION, (AS OPPOSED TO CREATING NEW POSTS). MY FINAL PARTING THOUGHT: Please share or forward this post at your discretion. If everyone shares this post and two of your friends share this post and so on, we use the power of exponential math to work in our favor, which seems appropriate given the virus is using that same exponential math against us. HOW YOU CAN REALLY HELP: If you know people who have large numbers of followers, or people in the media, please leverage your personal relationship with them and ask them to amplify this post by sharing it or the Medium Post (link below) For people not on Facebook you can email or text the link. It would be useful to get the post on Twitter and LinkedIn by sharing the Medium post. If you know people in government this fact-based post may help inform them to make the best decisions. It's time for us humans to go on the offensive against the virus. We must fight back. There is only one way to do so: Social Distancing. Do it today. NOTE: Anyone, including the media, is free to use this post, any related content, in all or in part, for any purpose, in any format, with no attribution required. Please direct message me if you have other ideas for how to raise awareness. Finally, I can no longer keep up with friend requests given how much this post has been shared. To receive updates or follow me, please use the "Follow" button on Facebook. 3/16/20: I am preparing a second post, now that 4 days have gone by since the first post. To receive it please follow me on FB. I can not keep up with the friend requests. https://medium.com/@Jason_Scott_Warner/the-sober-math-everyone-must-understand-about-the-pandemic-2b0145881993 https://www.facebook.com/jason.scott.warner/posts/10163742243430144

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