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holycow99 · 4 years ago

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石田お寿司 12/9/21 stream translation Part 1

This is not the full translation of the stream. I only translated the parts I could understand & interpret or parts I found interesting/important. I’m still a beginner in Japanese, so the translations may not be accurate. If you want to repost, please repost at your own risk.

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I: Hello. Can you hear me? Good night. (t/n: He’s replying to a comment.) You can hear me? Hello. Welcome.

I: My tone sounds great today, ***-kun? (t/n: OP commented that his tone sounds great.) Of course I’ll be excited in the beginning of the stream. But only in the beginning.

C: Your voice somehow sounds young.

I: It’s because I just slept.

*Typing on twitter

I: I finally did it. This is a simultaneous worldwide stream. Do you understand it? Ah, I’m so tired. I’m tired of sleeping.

I: I’ll be drinking my coffee. Itadakimasu.

I: It was a long vacation, wasn’t it? When was the last time you guys heard from me? On September…Well, it doesn’t matter.

I: I don’t have anything particular to do for this stream. I just felt like it.

C: I’ve been listening to your streams repeatedly during holiday.

I: Thank you.

C: We last heard from you at the end of August.

I: I see. Thanks.

C: Thank you for your hard work on the manuscript!

I: I did the rough sketches first. I was brainstorming.

*Someone commented on Animal Rap.

I: Animal rap? I actually wanna try this. Actually, I’ve done recording for one video, but won’t it be scary if suddenly in the middle of the stream, animal rap video is uploaded. Without saying anything, suddenly there’s a new animal rap video being uploaded. Won’t it be scary stream?

(t/n: I’m not sure if the translations for this part is correct. He said something more but I haven’t reached this level of Japanese understanding skill. Forgive me.)

C: Animal rap itself is scary, so it’s okay.

I: What a hilarious thing to say. Are you actually afraid of animal then?

C: Have you got vaccinated?

I: Nope, since I’ve been locked up in my house. I want to though. I want to get injected a lot. Around 10 times.

C: Sensei, did you read Berserk chapter 364?

I: Is it the final chapter?

Y****: Let’s inject the head.

I: Nice one, Y****. Well, since Y**** is an introvert at school, he must be a non-popular kid. Because he doesn’t have any friends, he can’t wait to meet me. Is it like that? Hahahaha.

I: I’m not even aware of the things happening around me. I don’t even know when the exhibition in Osaka will open. I want you guys to tell me about me.

C: I’m aiming to be a mangaka, but having someone that can be a mentor for me to learn from is better, as expected?

I: I don’t think so. It depends. In some degree, it’s better to do it by yourself. If you really wanna write a manga and you wanna create an environment that allows you to do so, if there’s a chance to be an assistant, I think it’s better for you to grab it. Because you’re still not familiar with how these things work. I think it’s better to be an assistant first. You don’t have to be one for a long time though.

C: I want to diet. Where should I start?

I: Record your weight. Measure your weight and record it in calendar. Doing that makes you feel conscious about your weight. You’ll probably can lose weight that way.

C: Are you still eating oatmeal?

I: I’ve been eating Onigiri only.

C: I wanna change job, but I’m anxious to because of the economic situation. Please encourage me!

I: It’s better for you to change job, since you said you wanted to. I think everyone is anxious. There’s no one who isn’t.

C: I’m happy that the JJ illustration that you posted on twitter will be made into goods!

I: Yeah, without my permission. Hahaha. When the illustration was made into goods without my permission, I was like “Eh? This is…”. I’ll stop talking about this. Hahaha. I won’t talk about this.

*Someone commented about Kingdom exhibition.

I: I wanna go to the Kingdom exhibition.

I: What I said just now (about JJ illustration) was a lie. Please forget about it. Are there companies like that? Of course not. I was just joking. If that’s the case, then anybody can freely turn my illustrations into goods. Though there’s a person who sent me the PugMax t-shirt.

C: I wanted to be a mangaka when I was small. As I got older, I only immersed myself in the real world. I’ll be a civil servant starting from next year. I don’t have the courage to challenge myself, so I want to give my unconditional support to those who are.

I: I don’t know how old you are, but you can still draw even if you become a civil servant. Just draw one if you really want to.

C: You have to collect royalty.

I: I do get royalty. I get 5 yen in total.

C: How old will you be this year?

I: 250,000 years old.

C: How are you?

I: Like usual. But I made progress on the manuscript, so I’m relieved. I kinda forgot how to draw it.

C: I thought you were in your 30s.

I: Nope, I’m far older.

C: You haven’t started game streaming?

I: I’m haven’t decided yet for today.

*People were discussing about his age.

I: Doesn’t matter how old I am.

C: Do you prefer women with long hair or short hair?

I: Short hair.

*People commented about Heavy Rain.

I: Oh, you want to see me playing Heavy Rain? I’m okay with that. I’m okay with playing games or anything. I’ll be a yes-man for today. Everyone’s yes-man & toy, Ishida Osushi.

*Someone commented about Animal Rap again.

I: I wanted to say something about this. I’ve done the animal rap video. I only upload videos I’ve received from the animal themselves, not me. But I was afraid to upload it, so I refrained from doing so. I wanna try uploading the video while streaming. That’s what I wanted to say. Well, it doesn’t really matter. I just upload it after I finish streaming. I don’t understand the need to upload the video and streaming at the same time.

(t/n: He said something more, but again, info on Animal rap is hard for me to decipher. I’m really sorry.)

C: What did you watch recently?

I: Movies.

C: There were people who got scared by the fact that Ishida Sui raps.

I: No, you’re wrong. Ishida Sui doesn’t rap. Ishida Sui doesn’t do streaming as well.

C: Do mangakas have the chance to meet women?

I: It depends on the person. The ones who’re locked up in the house won’t. But…That’s right. You might if the workplace has mixed genders. You also have the chance to meet people during party or some sort. I’ll always be at the corner every time I go to parties. It’d be nice if the party was fun and the staffs could enjoy themselves. I also said that I went to parties to take a break, but I hated it.

C: You’re not going to parties?

I: Nope, I won’t. The company doesn’t hold them as well because of the current situation. Even if I did, I wouldn’t know what to do. I don’t really eat the food, and introducing myself to people is tiresome.

I: S****** is here.

S******: Ishida Osushi can become a pro mangaka.

I: I’m aiming for it.

C: Fukuoka suits you, sensei.

I: Somehow, I feel grateful. It’s like you’re telling me that it’s okay for me to live in Kyushu.

(t/n: Kyushu is an island where Fukuoka is located.)

C: Sir Osushi, what do you think of Sir Sui?

I: I have a murderous intent towards him.

C: Does the thumbnail hold any meaning?

I: It does. Look forward to it.

C: Being a streamer suits you (Osushi) better than being a mangaka.

I: Hahaha.

C: The drawings of Neji (JJ character) by Ms. Towada were wonderful!

I: That’s right. Neji drawn by Ms. Towada. I want you guys to tell me something like this. I want you guys to tell me about my current situation. Things like, “would you retweet this?”, “This is JJ’s…”, “The CD’s also…”. Let me change my twitter account. First is Ms. Towada, right? Let’s retweet Ms. Towada’s tweets. I thought of drawing something like this. She drew quite a lot. She drew him more than me. I feel bad having her to draw it. I feel grateful rather than feeling bad. She drew a lot of them. Yonaga’s illustration looks nice. I see… There’s like an incomplete rough drawing. I thought of copying and drawing that illustration. I’ll just retweet this. Tell me what should I retweet next.

C: Is Ms.Towada doing well as well?

I: I talked to her a few days ago.

I: Do read Fool Night.

C: Do you like Aespa? (t/n: Aespa is a kpop girl group. Ishida had drawn one of the members.)

I: The girl caught my attention. I thought she was beautiful.

*Someone commented about his illustration of Ano-chan. (t/n: Ano-chan is a Japanese singer. Ishida had come to her radio programme once, and he did the album cover for her latest album.)

I: Ano-chan! What happened to that? Have you seen the album cover? It’s already out?

*Someone commented about Fool Night.

I: The world in Fool Night is super amazing. It was quite a while ago, the person in charge of the Superior magazine watched one of my streams and asked me if I could write some comments. I was like “Don’t tell me that!” (referring to watching his stream). I hate being seen. But then, I was like “whatever.” I usually turned it down, but I just wrote for this one.

*Someone commented about Wooma (t/n: an illustrator.)

I: Who’s Wooma? Let me check it.

C: Sensei, I’m a good child. So, is it okay for me to sleep?

I: Yes, of course.

C: Sensei, do you smoke?

I: No.

I: Ah, Wooma is the illustrator for the song ‘Usseewa’. Sorry for the lack of knowledge.

C: Do you watch Christopher Nolan’s works?

I: I’m not that familiar with movies, but I may or may not watch it. I’ve been getting into movies lately. I searched for the movies Takahashi Kunimitsu told me about. You tend to watch anything when you’re obsessed with movies, right? I was also obsessed with history for a while after I learned how fun it was from Takahashi Kunimitsu. I’ve been reading 2-3 books on history a day lately.

C: Until what time are you gonna stream?

I: Today is infinite as well. We have another 12 minutes left. Haha. I’ll keep on streaming today. I won’t end the stream today. It may end tomorrow. (t/n: He definitely kept his words.)

C: Sensei, do you like itzy? (t/n: Itzy is another kpop girl group, and Ishida had also drawn one of the members.)

I: Yes.

I: Tomorrow is a holiday? There are people who are not working tomorrow.

C: What are you drinking?

I: Coffee.

C: You only need another 800 people to reach 30,000 subscribers.

I: Yeah. It’s gonna reach 30,000. I have to make an appreciation stream or video for 30,000 subscribers. A lot of youtubers are doing this, so I have to do it too. I wanna do it. Feels like a youtuber. Isn’t it fun? I wonder what should I do for it? What would be fun? Let’s go with this concern first. I get lost if I don’t go one-by-one. It’s one of my bad habits.

*They’re planning on what Ishida should do when he reaches 30,000 subscribers.

C: Show your nails.

I: I don’t do manicure.

C: Heavy Rain.

I: Wanna play Heavy Rain as well.

C: Please let us hear your sneeze.

I: There is such person sometimes. Creepy.

C: Why don’t you play Ghosts n Goblins for now?

I: After the stream, I felt like playing the game. They had something like magical clock, though I forgot the name. The one that double the speed of the game. I really wanted to play that, honestly. Though, it wasn’t suitable for streaming. I thought of playing it in my own time. I really like that kind of games.

C: Will you sing when you reach 30,000?

I: During the previous silent stream, Queen Bee’s song was playing. Those who watched may know. I thought of appearing for a moment and sing and then end the stream. I wouldn’t do it, but I just thought about it. At that time, I wanted to try having just an illustration stream.

C: I’m waiting for an autograph session after the Corona ends.

I: The pandemic probably won’t end for at least 2-3 years.

*Someone wanted him to sing Gaston’s song.

I: Gaston. Singing, huh? Hahaha, why am I having second thoughts? I thought I’m okay with anything.

C: how about a karaoke battle?

I: Karaoke battle, huh?

C: Do you have any piercings?

I: I’m not wearing one right now, but I do have it. (t/n: I didn’t expect him to have a piercing. He’s really different than what I imagined a mangaka to be. XD)

C: I’m hoping for JJ’s song covers!

I: JJ? JJ’s songs are difficult. It was super hard during the time I did the covers. Seriously, when I heard it back…The cover for the opening theme was scary. I thought my singing ability had increased since I recorded this one the last. A few months ago, I listened to it after a long time, it was…what should I call it? A sutra, no, a curse. Me and JJ’s opening theme. I forgot the title of the song. Jack and something. There were parts in the songs where the female and male characters had to harmonise. To convey that part, I had to cover the song multiple times. I multiplied into 7 people, since I had to record as Kisa as well. When I was recording Kisa’s part, the other version of me at the back, probably Kai, was harmonising with me. I was told to deepen my voice by Mr.Kasama. So embarrassing. The voice was really low. I was drawn by Mr. Kasama’s voice. His voice was really good when he said ‘Broccoli’ for the cm.

*Ishida imitating Mr. Kasama.

I: It’s cooler than this.

*Imitating him once again.

I: I was like “So cool!”

C: Invite the animals that appeared in Animal rap as guests.

I: That’s a good idea. But what would the guests be doing? It’s absolutely hard to do that. It’s hard to invite the animals because of corona.

C: The title is “Jack & Jeanne of Quartz”.

I: Right. Thank you.

C: Won’t you invite Hanae?

I: I won’t. That’s impossible. (t/n: I want to see him playing horror games with Hanae Natsuki.)

Part 2

#ishida sui #tokyo ghoul #jack jeanne #choujin x #chojin x #ishida sushi channel

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amaya-chwan · 4 years ago

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Therapy Game Restart Discussion: Who is Onodera?

Hello everyone! Hope you are all well~ ❤️💛💜 I've had a headscratcher of an ask/message regarding Onodera, so I figured I'll make it into one big post!

Before I begin this Q&A/discussion post (feel free to comment below if you have any thoughts), I have looked through past chapters to gather the information I will put into this post to support my predictions. Not all chapters are readily available for everyone at the moment as only one volume of TGR is out right now, so I shall put the chapter numbers for your future reference! ⚠️ Also, just a note! These opinions are my personal thoughts, conjectures, and opinions, so please don't think I am saying one idea or speculation is wrong--this is just how I see it, and of course I could very well be wrong! And I also am not fluent in Japanese, so I may have some translation errors!

⚠️ Also, a warning, this will be a long post! Keep reading if you're interested and please let me know your own thoughts!

First, in an earlier ask, I was directed to a translation group that said Onodera is a man. With the help of Google and Google Translate (because I don't understand/speak Spanish), I found that post (dated April this year) and the origin of the picture they used in that post. The image is from Hinohara-sensei's 13th August 2020 tweet here and is also below for reference:

Now, all I can remember from first seeing that image is "Woow, so pretty! A female character? A love rival? A threat? OH it's the infamous director they're all talking about???"

This image was released around the time chapter 8 was released, i.e. the first chapter we see Onodera in full.

Looking at the image again, I can see how Onodera could be seen as a female or a male. Onodera has long hair, yet no visible breasts. There is no evidence of an Adam's apple, but that could just be because of the turtleneck as part of their outfit. Furthermore, in chapter 13, we see a view of Onodera from behind. There are no "womanly curves" visible in this view of Onodera.

After searching some Japanese blogs, some fans also had the same thoughts: no breasts = possible male, the shape of the face etc. Here are the blogs I found: [1] [2] [3] but most of these are from around chapter 8.

Just about the breast argument: there are a lot of different shapes for breasts. I learnt that when working at a department store selling bras during university. It is possible that Onodera is really flat chested or just has very little breast tissue. Not sure if that's getting too technical now, ahah, but what I want to say is that the lack of breasts isn't a definite yes to Onodera being a man.

Hinohara-sensei also has not explicitly stated throughout TGR so far (ch1-13) that Onodera is male or female.

From chapters 8-12, Onodera is always referred to as 院長 (director) by Shizuma and the nurses at the clinic. No gender-specific pronouns have been used in the story nor by any characters to refer to Onodera when speaking so far (that I have read). So confirming Onodera's gender is just misleading at the present moment.

We do find out in chapter 9 that Onodera's first name is 昌 akira. Akira is a gender neutral name in Japan. It is often given to males, but it is not uncommon for females to have this name. Which, I think, is genius on Sensei's part. It leaves us all thinking!

Q: So Amaya-chwan, what do you think Onodera's gender is?

Just for me as I've been reading TGR the past 1.5 years, I see Onodera as a woman as I have been "encouraged" to see Onodera as one by the little subtleties in the story, and Minato sees Onodera as a female, so I probably am viewing Onodera in Minato's POV.

(Please keep reading on for more insights and answers to questions! Really, this post is long! 😅)

In chapter 9, Onodera's older brother, who is also Shizuma's university professor (and his last name is not Onodera), makes small talk with Shizuma regarding the staff at his placement:

Shizuma's professor says: By the way, Shizuma-kun, how've you been!? You haven't been bullied, have you!? // The female team here is scary, right~ You know, Nakajou-kun and I were in the same grade...

So here, I'm made to think Onodera's clinic is pretty much all female, including Onodera too.

Fun fact: His professor uses the suffix -kun for Nakajou-sensei, yet Nakajou-sensei is a female and -kun is commonly used for males these days. But, it is also used for females in very specific situations. I'm not too sure what the situations are, but I have heard them used for females before.

In the same chapter (9), while Shizuma is changing out of his scrubs in the men's locker (?) room, Onodera walks in. He is slightly flustered, and kindly reminds her that she's walked into the men's locker room. Her reaction is "Huh? Ahh..." So here, again, I am made to believe Onodera is female.

While no gender-specific pronouns have been used to address Onodera, Minato and Itsuki have referred to Onodera as a female in chapter 13.

The kanji for "female/woman" is 女. In these two images, Minato refers to Onodera as 上司の女 female superior, and from Minato's story, Itsuki hence calls her 職場の女の人 female from (Shizuma's) workplace. This is the only time Onodera has been referred to as a female.

⚠️ Just a note going forward in this discussion, I will now call Onodera "she/her" as that is what I believe Onodera's gender is at the present moment!

Now, I did get a second ask from an Anon! Here they are below with my responses:

This one is about what's behind Onodera. I think she's a pretty interesting character. I actually think she's a trans woman or a non-binary trans woman. Sensei has been dropping so many hints to that... The name her brother calls her might be her dead name. He complains about her hair and what their father would say. She's designed to have flat breasts, perhaps she's not under hormone therapy, perhaps her "trips" and "days off" have something to do with reassignment surgeries...

She most definitely is an interesting character. I wouldn't say Onodera being transgender is out of the realm of possibility because the story is still ongoing. But regarding her name, I don't know if I'd call it a dead name since it is gender neutral already. Perhaps the kanji for a male Akira name would be different to a female one though?

About the hair comment (ch10), I just thought it was unruly? I honestly didn't think too much of it! What I will add is that the kanji for hair (髪) is used, but the reading is あたま head. Not sure why just yet, so I'll just leave that here as some extra information for the moment.

Not sure what I really think about a) her flat-chestedness and b) her insanely long business trips yet! I figured a) might be a character design, and b) she really is a top-notch veterinarian so she's probably in high demand. But I could be completely off the mark!

Also, I don't know where to add this random bit in from the story, but in chapter 12, we find out that Onodera has been calling one of the staff the wrong name for more than 10 years now. Not sure if this new piece of info affects anything?

But again, that is a very interesting prediction/thought you have about Onodera, and I wouldn't say it's not possible!

She's kind of a female Minato, psychologicallly and in appearance, which brings some challenges. And one more thing that I think hints to that: "I'll make it so your body can never be satisfied by any woman", Minato says to Shizuma. As the last chapter leaves it at that, we don't know exactly what he is talking about. [spoiler?] I haven't seen the Japanese text yet to be sure if he's clear about topping Shizuma.

That was exactly my thought when she was first introduced! That's part of the reason why I think Minato sees her as a threat, especially when he saw her for the first time and was told she is a 美人beautiful person (both in chapter 12). She and Minato definitely share some characteristics, but I find she's a bit more socially-awkward than Minato given her background (Chapter 9 & 10).

For the dialogue, the Japanese lines and the most literal translations I can give are:

今から　静真くんを抱く From now, (I'll) hold/embrace you, Shizuma-kun.

どんな女に出会っても　絶対満足できない体にしてあげる No matter the women you encounter, I will make it so your body definitely cannot be satisfied (by any of them).

Hopefully we'll find out what Minato means by that exactly in the next chapter, which I hope comes to me this week!

But if that's what he's talking about, it's 1. poor Minato being transphobic (besides being biphobic towards his own boyfriend)* 2. poor Minato probably foreshadowing his own fall. If Onodera happens to be a woman with a d**k, she can do whatever Minato thinks a cis man only can do. That's not what will make Shizuma stay by his side. Shizuma will stay by his side because he loves Minato. And that's that. Debunks biphobic myths, debunks transphobic myths. *He's not a bad person, he's got issues

Okay, this is probably as straight-forward as I can say this, but I just want to say that I don't know enough about the issues faced by the LGBTQI+ community. My friends have kindly answered all my questions so far as I don't want to be ignorant or rude when learning more about my friends and the community. I don't want to give off the air that I'm assuming anything since I don't want any misunderstandings. And I am fully aware that I need to educate myself more regarding this!

So about Minato, I'm not completely sure what you mean by number 2. But he definitely has his share of trauma, insecurities, and fears regarding his relationship with Shizuma. Having Onodera as a threat in this story really helps drive Minato's growth. The story is titled Therapy Game Restart, so what I gather from the title is that Minato is going to face another fear/insecurity he has, something deeply-rooted in him, and it's going to get really heavy and complicated, but he will eventually get through it and it will help him heal and grow as a character, and hopefully strengthen his faith in his relationship with Shizuma.

So far, I believe this "fear" is carrying on from +Play More, that Shizuma can be whisked away by a female at any moment.

But yes, Minato has to realise for himself that his and Shizuma's love, relationship, and bond is strong enough for him to not worry about Shizuma leaving him so abruptly. He has to learn to trust in Shizuma more, and TGR is slowly revealing that, especially in chapter 13.

I'll stop here. I have already written long analyses on this series and I think about making them public at some point. But it would be nice to hear from you! Maybe I'm completely wrong in my interpretations! I'm really sorry for being so annoying and maybe using inappropriate language. I really didn't mean to bother you. But I never see anyone making these points. I just want to know if I'm thinking unreasonably...

I love reading different analyses, opinions, story predictions, the whole lot!! So please feel free to ask me or post your own ideas. It's always a welcome thing for me to discuss stories and learn new things! Don't be sorry that you're being a bother or annoying, because it's not a bother at all!

We're all allowed to have our own ideas and opinions about stories, and these ideas will change once something is canon in the story, and ultimately is something we will have to accept too.

So yeah, just my two cents. Thank you for being so patient with my response, dear Anon!

To anyone reading at this point, thank you for reading this far! ❤️💛💜

I shall see you in our next set of takeaways~ As always, stay safe and take care of yourselves and your loved ones! 💜

(2021-05-17: Speedy proofreading is done ahah! And yes, my brain is still so full of 山河令/Word of Honor right now, so I have been VERY distracted! Highly recommend this drama, guys! It's up for free on the official Youku Youtube page! Totally not an endorsement, but I love this drama! AHHHHH!! Gong Jun [Simon] be living on my mind rent free~)

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prorevenge · 6 years ago

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Coworker tried to get me fired over breast implants, so I pulled a reverse uno card.

4 years ago now, when I was 24, my mum died of breast cancer, and as both my grandmothers had also died of it I saw a specialist for a screening. I found out I had some cells in one of my breasts that could have turned cancerous at any given moment.

I was told I had a few options:

I could have regular screenings every 3 or 4 months until it does develop into cancer (I was told the risk of the cells becoming cancerous was very high due to family history) but it could also potentially never could turn so I'd just be getting these screenings for no reason

I could get a single mastectomy on the breast with the bad cells, but they'd need to keep an eye on the other one, so I'd still need regular checkups for the other breast

I could get a bilateral mastectomy and remove all of my breast tissue, basically eliminating the risk.

I went for the bilateral mastectomy. It was admittedly the most drastic option but after seeing what cancer did to my mum and grandmothers I didn't want to risk it.

I was warned about scarring but told it should be fairly minor. It wasn't and I was left with 2 huge, pink, jagged scars on either side of my chest, each about an inch long and half an inch wide, and it caused me to go into a severe depression, where it got to the stage of me not even leaving my flat because I didn't want people to see me, throwing out my mirrors, and getting physically sick looking at myself.

I went to a therapist, who suggested a plastic surgeon. The therapist said they'd never normally do that but it was clearly something I was struggling with and I might never get over it, and the therapist could see why I struggle with it. Although I'll admit the therapist did send me to ask about scar reduction. The plastic surgeon suggested a cream, a laser or implants. The cream didn't work, and the laser was both expensive and risky, so I went with the implants. My natural boobs were an F cup so I went with a slightly smaller DD. Since then my mental health has improved and I feel a lot better about the way I look. My confidence has gone up, as has my self esteem. I know I shouldn't put so much into my appearance but I wasn't exaggerating about these scars. Huge, bright pink, jagged, raised, just really awful to look at and I hated seeing myself, and they are now nicely hidden away and you can barely feel them.

In the present day, I'm 28 years old and working in an office. I'm doing a lot better than I was. My coworker, Jill, found out I'd had a boob job (but not about the cancer thing), when myself and my friend from years before the mastectomy were planning a holiday and she made a joke about me going on a plane with my implants, and Jill overheard. By the end of the day, the entire office knew I'd had a boob job, but not why, and half a dozen people confirmed Jill had told them.

Over the next few months Jill made many "jokes" and comments about my chest to coworkers when I was in earshot, at one point saying I had "more plastic than Barbie" and calling me "fake in two ways". I didn't hear this one myself but a friend in the office told me that Jill had at one point referred to me as a "sack of silicone".

IDK what her problem was exactly but at one point she mentioned the NHS so I assume Jill thought that I'd got my tits done for free on taxpayer money (I'd gotten the mastectomy on NHS but gone private for therapy and implants).

I asked her to stop more than once, but unfortunately the places I'd talked to her were places like the lift and the women's bathroom, where there weren't any cameras, and Jill just kept making comments no matter how often I asked her not to. I wouldn't say it was every single day, but I heard at least 3 comments per week for 3 months.

I hit my breaking point when me, Jill and a few other coworkers were having lunch, I referred to something as being shallow and Jill said "you'd know all about being shallow" while gesturing to my chest. I snapped.

I said "do you know why I have these? A few years ago the doctors found potentially cancerous cells in my breast tissue, I was advised to get a mastectomy and was left with huge ugly scars on my chest. I went to see a therapist who sent me to a cosmetic surgeon, who advised me to get implants to hide the scars, and I did just so I could look at myself in the mirror without crying. So maybe next time you want to judge someone for having cosmetic surgery, you should ask them why they had it first". And feeling like that was a mic drop moment I picked up my food and left.

For the rest of the day I had about 1/3 of my office come up to me and offer support, and the rest tell me that Jill was just joking around and I was being a bitch. I replied that Jill was being a bitch long before I was.

I then got an email from HR saying they wanted to talk to me the following day, and when I called for clarification they mentioned a "hostile work environment" (note: this is apparently an American term and holds little weight in England but it's what was said over the phone). I knew the person who signed off the email and I'd spoken to. Her name was Debbie, and she was Jill's friend in HR so I was fairly confident on who had reported me.

I realised that if this was already being sent to HR, I needed as much ammunition as possible, so I went about collecting my information.

As Debbie had dealt with me so far, it was safe to assume she would be the person reviewing the complaint with me, and if that was true I was fucked. However, I vaguely remembered a section on complaints that was in my contract when I first signed with the company. I flicked through the contract and there was a part in complaints section that said I was contractually allowed to request a change of reviewer if I felt my allocated reviewer was biased. It was called an "impartial overseer". I photocopied the page and highlighted that part.

Then I messaged the people who had offered their support over facebook, and said basically "HR have asked to see me. Do any of you remember Jill insulting me to your face and are you willing to write and sign something saying what you heard and when?". Not everyone was willing to help as Jill is somewhat feared in the office due to her befriending HR and management but about 20 people were willing to help me.

I guessed roughly when I'd asked Jill to stop previously (the 4 asks over the last few months, some timings were easy to guess as they'd happened on my break or when I'd first arrived at work) and I wrote them all down, along with a rough time of when the lunchroom confrontation happened and a list of names of who was there for the lunchroom confrontation.

I got to work slightly early the next morning. I went round everyone who had messaged me and most of them managed to give me a printed and signed letter (some didn't manage to write one but nbd). This isn't exact words as there's 16 letters to sum up here but the gist was:

"My name is [their name]. I work with Jill Lastname and OP. On [date] at [time] (approx), I spoke with Jill Lastname, during which she referred to OP as [quoted insult]. I felt this was inappropriate as it directly related to OP's appearance and am willing to go on record further to establish that Jill Lastname has been discussing OP in the workplace in the same manner for 3 months now, causing me discomfort and creating what I feel is a hostile work environment. Signed [their name]"

I wound up with about 16 letters, all from different people, and one of them was in the lunchroom for my conversation with Jill. Some even had bulletpointed lists of everything Jill had said to them about me or other people, as it turns out Jill has issues with a lot of people's appearances. She apparently made comments about one coworker's weight, and something antisemitic about a different coworker's nose, all of which were put in these letters. There are about 45 people in the office so while 16 wasn't a majority, it's still a decent amount. The letters weren't hugely long, most were only a paragraph, but they had all the necessary information.

I was asked to come to HR at 10am. I took the letters from coworkers, the photocopy of the page in my contract, and my dates and times in a little folder with me.

I got there and Debbie was the one overseeing the interview. She got up from her desk, ready to lead me into another room.

I immediately turned to the other HR worker that was currently there and said "so is my meeting with you, then?"

Debbie said "no, you're with me."

I replied that this wouldn't sit well with me, as "my contract states I have a right to an impartial overseer" and as I said this I took the contract page out of my folder. Debbie read it (I wouldn't let her take the paper when there was a shredder so close by) and said she could be impartial. I replied that I really didn't mean to be a pain, but I had it on good authority that the person on the other end of this complaint is her friend, and my contract does say I'm allowed an impartial overseer.

Debbie stomped off to get Supervisor. Supervisor asks how I know she can't be impartial and I tell him that I have it on good authority that the Jill, who was on the other end of this complaint, is a close friend of Debbie. He asked Debbie if this was true, to which she only replied "I can be impartial".

Supervisor took a deep breath, asked the other HR rep to come with him, and the four of us all went to review the complaint. I thanked them for being so accommodating (I was worried I'd annoyed them), Debbie took out the complaint and all 3 of them went through it with me. Debbie looked homicidal the whole time the interview was happening, as she had clearly anticipated firing me (or at least recommending me being fired).

The interview went something like this. It took like over half an hour and they kept asking me the same questions but phrased different ways so this is a really drastically condensed version.

Q: You said outside that you think Jill Lastname reported you. Why is this?

A: Jill has had an issue with me for about 3 months now

Q: Why didn't you come to us when you realised Jill had an issue?

A: I had no issue with her

Q: What issue does Jill have with you?

A: Four years ago a specialist identified potentially cancerous cells in my breast tissue. I had surgery to remove my breast tissue, thereby removing the cells and the risk. After the surgery I was left with large scars on my chest. I went to a therapist for low self esteem and depression. The therapist suggested a plastic surgeon who suggested breast implants to cover my scars. All of this is in my medical history which you have a copy of in my file and my full permission to review. Jill found out about my breast implants but didn't know about the cancer. Jill had a problem with my breast implants, and decided to communicate this problem to our coworkers.

Q: Why do you feel this is true?

A: Here's 16 signed statements all from different coworkers, all testifying that Jill told the entire office I'd had breast implants on the day she found out and has since made comments about these implants frequently. They have quotes of what Jill said to them about it and rough dates and times.

Q: Rough dates and times?

A: No one knew this would be escalated to such an extent so no one really took notes as and when it happened.

Q: What event or events do you think directly led to this complaint of harassment?

A: For me harassment began when Jill told everyone about my breast implants without my consent, but as to the complaint placed against me, it would probably be what happened at about [time] yesterday in the lunch room. Jill made a comment about me being shallow while gesturing to my breasts and I replied by giving her an abridged version of my relevant medical history and ending with a comment about the importance of getting the full story. There are cameras in the lunch room, so I'm sure you'll be able to find that conversation. I'll admit I could have handled the situation better, but after 3 months I felt I had to put my foot down. Here's a list of names of people who were also present. There were 6 people at the table, including myself and Jill. One of these people is also in those letters, and has written their account of the conversation and signed it.

Q: Had you had a conversation with Jill prior to this regarding her comments about you?

A: Several, spaced out over the last 3 months. Each time I communicated to her that I felt uncomfortable and upset with these comments she was making and would appreciate it if she were to stop.

Q: To your knowledge, was Jill made aware of your former cancer at any point in this time?

A: No. It wasn't mentioned in the conversation with my friend she overheard and I didn't tell her because frankly it's none of her business and I did not feel the need to detail my medical history to a coworker in order to avoid further sexual harassment.

Supervisor stands up and says "well I think we're done here". He shakes my hand and sends me back to my desk saying that I'd hear from them after they reviewed the evidence (letters, CCTV, medical history and anything they had already) and made a decision on the case.

I got back to my desk, pulled up my CV, and prepared to start the job search again.

About an hour goes by, then the person who wrote the letter and was there for the lunchroom conversation gets called for a meeting with HR. They come back 10ish minutes later.

The other people who were also there for the lunchroom conversation get called one by one, except Jill. All of them are gone for about 10 minutes then come back, find a coworker, and say that HR wants to see them.

Then the people who wrote letters but weren't there yesterday are also called one by one and are each gone for about 10 minutes each, some longer, some shorter. By about 3:30 it looks like everyone who wrote a letter or was there in the lunch room has been interviewed.

Then, finally, Jill gets called in. She's gone for about 30 minutes and comes back fuming. She glares at me while I work, but I ignore her.

4:30ish, Jill gets called into HR again. 5 pm rolls around, everyone is either leaving or getting ready to leave, when Jill storms back into the office. She glares at me the whole time she packs up her desk. She then starts telling anyone who will listen that I got her fired before shoving her way onto the lift.

An email comes in from HR. My case is closed.

(source) story by (/u/3240278189)

#prorevenge #by /u/3240278189 #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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fleckcmscott · 5 years ago

Text

Another Decade

Summary: Arthur discovers Y/N's fortieth is just around the corner. He hopes to get the occasion right.

Warnings: Swearing

Words: 5,044

A/N: This request comes from @hhandley80, who is an absolute sweetheart! Funnily enough, I got the request for this story and Another Year within a couple days of each other. Thank you so much for it! It was great to write.

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

This morning's therapy appointment had boosted Arthur's spirit. Left him refreshed instead of worn. Dr. Ludlow had given him a break from discussing his negative thoughts and various neuroses. Rather, she'd asked him what he wanted to talk about. What was foremost on his mind. And he'd spent close to the entire hour diving into what it was like to live with Y/N.

Having a person who cared about him was fulfilling. Beautiful. Challenging. Struggles inevitably happened but she attempted to help him through them. (A stark difference from when he’d been on his own.) The faith she'd placed in him by inviting him into her home was exciting.

Fears he'd never be worthy of that trust or such a good, intelligent woman did tend to eat at him. Especially when he couldn’t sleep or suspected he was slipping. But he was trying. Doing his best to learn every day, every hour, every minute. To alter his view of himself to include intimate partner alongside mentally ill loner. “I- I thought it would fix me,” he’d said. “It’s hard. But I don’t feel so bad all the time anymore.”

The doctor had complimented his resolve. Said he was dealing with all the changes as well as could be expected. If he followed his treatment plan, she anticipated he'd continue to do so. Appreciating the recognition, Arthur had wondered how to keep her praises close.

And now here he was. Experiencing the ordinariness of sitting in a diner with his girlfriend. Talking about their respective mornings. Sharing a meal. The crinkle fry he grabbed from the blue-plate special in the center of the table was soggy. The corner of his mouth quirked up as he dunked it in ketchup, a possible punchline coming to mind. If he could just figure out the right-

An inviting caress to the back of his hand brought him back to the present. He hadn't meant to tune out Y/N. With an apologetic grin, he pressed back into the booth's plastic cushions and took another drag off his cigarette.

“I was saying I need to head back to work,” she told him. A smile slowly spread across her face, until it nearly blinded him. “And that I can’t believe we’ve been shacked up for almost two months. I know it’s been an adjustment-“

“A good one,” he interrupted gently, interlocking their fingers.

"I’m proud of you.” The pink on her cheeks was faint. “I wouldn’t have taken the leap with anyone else. I can’t seem to get enough of your company, Mr. Fleck.” With that, she signaled for the waitress, retrieved her wallet from her purse, and got out some cash. Rising, she turned to Arthur. “Get the change for me,” she said, heading towards the back.

Her suede billfold was open on the table, her Gotham City ID card in view. He tentatively picked it up to examine the photo. Her hair was uncharacteristically flat, shorter than it was now. The flash had turned her lovely eyes red, and her lips were agape, as though she was in the middle of a sentence. A giggle escaped him. Frumpy. She was frumpy.

Reading her details, his brow quirked at her full name: “Y/N M/N L/N.” There was a nice rhythm to it, one that would also work with “Fleck,” if they got as far as he daydreamed. Then he saw her date of birth and stilled.

Her fortieth was in less than two weeks: 4/6/1942. April sixth. Shit.

He’d learned so many facts about her: the names of her nephews and niece; which college she’d attended; her favorite bands. She’d told him her birthday was in the spring. How the hell had he neglected to ask her the specific date? Awash with embarrassment, a hiccup left him and he covered his mouth.

The waitress returned with a dubious look, a receipt, and coins. As he counted out the tip, he calculated what he had in his own wallet and checking account. He’d scrimped and saved to cover the electric and water bills (though he knew he’d have to pay them in secret to avoid Y/N’s finding a way to repay him). Could he afford a decent gift, too?

Arm in arm, they walked back to Y/N’s workplace. She chatted about that afternoon’s court process, and he puffed away as if he was going to Hoyt’s office for an impromptu scolding. When they reached the steps in front of her building, she tugged at him until he stepped closer. “You’re so stiff.”

Putting on a half-grin, he leaned into her. “Don’t worry about me.” He stole a chaste kiss, one she tried to turn into more before he backed off. “I’ll see you later.”

When he got home, he didn’t bother to change into his thermal shirt and pajama bottoms. Relaxing wasn’t an option. Stretching and pacing the kitchen, he breathed in and out, in and out. He needed to focus instead of letting himself be thrown off. Like a good partner would.

Plans. He had to make plans. And not the vagaries floating around in his head of what boyfriends were supposed to do. Special ones. Personal ones. Ones that demonstrated the depths of his love for her. This was important. The start of a new decade. And her first birthday with him.

Unable to conjure other options, he grabbed the phone from the wall and dialed Y/N’s office. His leg bounced harder with every ring. He hadn’t yet spoken with Patricia, Y/N’s friend and co-worker. But he’d heard she was nice. Any suggestions she could offer were welcome.

Thank goodness she answered before he lost his nerve. “Shaw and Associates. Patricia speaking.”

“Hi,” he pushed out, fiddling with the phone cord. “Um, this is Arthur. Arthur Fleck. Y/N’s boyfriend?”

A smile lingered in her professional lilt. “It’s nice to talk to you, finally. But she isn’t here. I can take a message.”

“No, I know.” If he hesitated too long, he'd reveal his awkwardness. So he went for it. “Do you know what Y/N’s favorite cake is?” That question commenced a conversation that gradually became easier. Each sentence soothed. Consoled the irritation he’d aimed at himself.

Y/N liked hummingbird cake, a mix of pineapple, banana, and cinnamon. It sounded intricate and expensive. There was a bakery that sold it by the slice, according to Patricia. Y/N hadn’t disclosed what gifts she would fancy, but had said she didn’t need any knick-knacks, mugs, or other such trifles. As for activities, she was uncomplicated. She liked going to the movies and restaurants. Conversations and walks. The mundanity of domestic life, especially since becoming involved with him.

That lovely sentiment caused his eyelids to shut, an ember to glow in his heart. But it only confirmed what he already knew. “I want to make her happy,” he breathed. “I’m new at this.”

“We all were once,” she said, brushing his concerns off. “Arthur, she’ll love anything you do. Because you’re the one doing it.”

The kindness she was extending to him felt surreal. Not yet used to it, he tried to believe it wasn't a trick. He thanked her quietly, for her ideas and for listening to him. But as he was about to hang up, she gave him one last piece of advice. “Wear your button-up with the blue flowers. And your yellow vest.”

Blinking, he frowned. “But those are for work.”

Patricia laughed softly. “Yeah, well. She likes them. What was it she said? ‘They accentuate his sexy waist?’”

A burn rushed across his face and he rubbed his forehead. “...Oh.”

Well, that was a request he could handle.

~~~~~

It seemed as though newspaper adverts, television commercials, and even the damned billboards plastered around Gotham had an ax to grind. They all declared the same thing. Women needed to “mold their faces back to youth!” “Guard against aging skin!” Learn they could “look young again!” To be someone other than themselves.

Rolling her eyes, Y/N dropped the magazine she’d been reading in the trash can next to her desk. She’d be crossing into the “Fatal Forties” in a week. While she did use lotion before bed to prevent the formation of wrinkles, and the prospect of gray hair wasn’t one she relished, turning the big 4-0 bothered her less than she’d anticipated. Her looks were minor concerns compared to what she’d gained over the years.

The hardships she’d endured had mostly strengthened her. Allowed her, mercifully, to grow into a person who was comfortable with herself. It was said women were supposed to be set in their ways by now. And in many respects, that was true. She enjoyed her routines. She liked her career. She loved participating in life amidst millions of other people.

But meeting Arthur had changed her path. Started her on an adventure she treasured. A journey into actual partnership, rather than her earlier attempts to please and meet other’s expectations. Attempts she had failed at. Miserably.

He hadn’t cared she was five years his senior. Hadn’t hinted that he’d considered her a “spinster.” Never joked that she was an “old maid.” If she stood in front of the cosmetic counter at the pharmacy while he got his prescriptions, he’d slink up behind her and say, “You’re already pretty.” She’d never expected him to make her feel more desirable now than she’d ever felt in her twenties, stretch marks, moderately saggy breasts, and all.

During the past few days, she’d tried to piece together what he could have planned for her birthday. He hadn’t left any clues, though one night he had hurriedly tucked something under a couch cushion. He’d been a bit out of sorts, though. Biting his nails more than usual. Seeking greater reassurance.

She’d had plenty of good birthdays. There’d been parties and games. Presents. Hugs and well wishes. When she’d taken care of her father it had mostly been forgotten, apart from the cards she’d received from her ex-husband and sister. The passage of time had been marked by worsening dementia. And she had been fine with not caring.

In contrast, Arthur had stated he’d never known what it was like to matter to someone. Not until her. He’d told her he’d given Penny a blouse for her birthday once or twice. That had been years ago, however, before his mother’s reactions to him had gradually reduced to requests to send letters. Before her health had declined when he was a child and he’d had to take over every basic task. Before he’d become too exhausted to try.

Would it be fair to expect him to take much notice?

At the end of a long workday, she’d be satisfied with a quiet evening at home. Cooking dinner together. Drinking wine until she felt warm and fuzzy. Kisses exchanged here and there. Maybe some fooling around before she nodded off on the sofa with her feet in his lap. Such basic joys would be plenty.

~~~~~

The page in Arthur’s journal taken up by Y/N’s special day wasn’t atypical. He’d been writing about her since the grocery store. (“I wonder what her name tastes like. Less bitter than mine, I bet.”) Since they’d shared donuts. (“I shud have given Sara my number.”) Since she’d stared at him, then smiled at him, and he’d felt the whole world change. (“I hope Y/N likes the joke I rote for her. I practised it 100 times! Maybe she’ll let me touch her again. Shit. I’m nervos.”)

With it a mere four days away, there wasn’t much time left for gift hunting. So he pulled on his trusty tan jacket and headed out. He was unsatisfied with what his search had turned up so far. Flowers. Candy. Nylons. It had all been mediocre when she was beyond compare.

On the verge of desperation and distress, he finally managed to stumble upon the right shop. The name above the entrance, Nice Twice, was catchy. And there was a sign: “Personalization available!” Following a quick glance through the streaked shop window, he flicked his cigarette to the ground and opened the wooden door.

As he stepped inside a shopkeeper bell rang. The stench of sandalwood incense and mothballs was thick, causing him to wince. The place was overstuffed, filled with circular clothing racks, shelves of home decor and appliances, and furniture from the sixties. He tread along the faded, orange parquet floor. Squeezed between displays of bell bottoms and coats to reach a large jewelry counter by the cash register.

A man Arthur assumed was the owner popped out from behind a nearby shoe rack. He appeared to be what Penny had disdainfully referred to as a “hippie,” with his beaded headband and light blue jeans. When asked if he’d found anything he liked, Arthur answered, “Not yet.”

His shoulders tilted, drew together as he scanned the contents of the glass cabinet. Being able to get Y/N diamond earrings or a bracelet would have been ideal. He’d heard they were supposed to be symbols of commitment. Show her how important she was to him. But they’d never be affordable, even in a thrift store. There were some lovely brooches but they weren’t her style. She didn’t wear pins, anyway.

About fifteen minutes had passed when, at last, he spotted a suitable piece. The owner gave it to him to inspect. The heart, hanging from a long, silver chain, was a tad smaller than the end of his thumb. Purple, blue, and gold flowers, faded with age, were pressed under the pendant’s rounded, glass front. It was lovely, like her. And picturing her wearing it made his chest tighten.

The necklace was twelve dollars. For two dollars more, the heart’s silver back could be engraved. Arthur could definitely swing that. It took only seconds for him to choose what should be etched into it, having had his imagination sparked by a recent fifties sit-com. It would be ready Monday, the day before her birthday.

While Arthur retrieved his wallet, the owner asked, ”Hey, what’s your sign?”

Forehead furrowed, he tried to decipher the man’s meaning. He was sure he’d heard the question on television and in films. “My sign?” The man clarified and Arthur provided both his and Y/N’s birthdays.

The owner laughed. “Woo wee! That’s a powerful match.” He indicated a collection of astrology scrolls next to the register. “Your lady friend might like one of these.”

Waving dismissively, Arthur shook his head. “I don’t believe in that.” Seemingly determined, the hippie held out a rolled-up scroll. It was about the length of a cigarette, its title printed in a faux-ancient font: “Aries & Scorpio: Love & Romance.” Curiosity piqued, he pressed his lips together. “What does it say?”

“Only good things, man.” This was obviously a well-practiced pitch. And it was working The man retrieved a keyring full of unrolled, laminated scrolls. After flipping through the collection, he handed one to Arthur. He wasn’t the fastest reader, having had difficulties with it since he was a kid. But he scanned the page.

According to “the stars,” palpable chemistry existed between Aries and Scorpio. They were fun, passionate, and explosive in the bedroom. Snorting, he brought the scroll closer. “Your attraction to each other defies logic. Aries has a tough demeanor, but Scorpio brings out the compassion and love hiding underneath. Scorpio has an inner strength Aries finds irresistible.” Hm. What it said about Y/N was true. And she’d told him he was strong (which he didn’t really believe). He smiled, pleased this silly tract paid him such compliments.

He kept going. “As a pair, you are inhalation and exhalation in one. Two sides of the same coin. Aries is the sun to Scorpio’s moon.” Y/N was all those things to him. Even on days he wasn’t sure he wanted to feel better. Even on days it was easier to sink into the familiarity of misery than to strive for the unfamiliarity of feeling good.

It was after reading the final line that he nodded and dug into his pocket for two quarters: “You will be together for decades, even into the next life.”

~~~~~

Though she was standing in an overcrowded subway, squished between a man holding a dog and a woman using her as a vertical bed, Y/N felt giddy. Albeit tired. The day had been brimming with paperwork, phone calls, and running around. But it had started off well, and she was certain its upward trajectory would continue the rest of the night.

When she’d awoken, she’d discovered a pink envelope in Arthur’s place, laying haphazardly on his pillow. She’d boosted herself up on her forearm, ran her fingertips over her handwritten name, and taken out the yellow card.

There was a drawing of a man holding a woman by the waist. Lifting her until her hair touched the cheery, red “Happy Birthday.” The couple appeared thrilled. Taken with each other. And straight out of the forties. It wasn’t quite them, but it did reflect Arthur’s old fashioned romanticism.

No preprinted poem was inside. No famous quotes. Arthur had written a message instead. One which made her ache. “What do you get when you cross chocolat with something that goes thump-thump? A sweetheart. (That’s you.) My life is nicer with you in it. Even Gotham. I’m happy you talked to me. I love you a lot. -Arthur.”

He’d returned to the bedroom. Caught her mid-giggle as she’d wiggled out of her nightgown, hidden between the sheets. He was holding a mug. The same one they’d shared after the first of many lovemaking sessions.

Greedily, she’d ogled his damp hair and slender musculature. Light green eyes soft and serene, he’d sat next to her and pecked her cheek. At the flick of his gaze to her mouth, she’d flung her arms around his shoulders. Stubble burned her skin, her kisses to his dimples urgent.

“Wait,” he’d chuckled, putting the drink on the nightstand. “I made pancakes.” Even as he’d protested, he’d splayed his hand on the small of her back.

“To hell with pancakes,” she’d purred, pulling him under the blankets.

Work had been sentimental, which she’d neither expected nor wanted. Her new job would be starting in a week and a half. The small celebration they’d squeezed in served as both a goodbye and “Over the Hill” party, black balloons and grey streamers included.

Matt had been downcast as he’d shoveled red velvet cake into his mouth. “I’m sorry it turned out this way.”

A lame attempt to lighten the atmosphere had been needed. No one was going to start blubbering on her account. “You could come with me. Follow the conscience I know you have hidden somewhere.” He’d looked askance, turned towards his office. Trying to soften her joke, she’d patted his arm. “Don’t feel too bad. You could still lose the case.”

Settled on the windowsill, she’d gazed out at the streets of the city she’d grown to love. The city she called home, despite having spent only five percent of her existence in it. It was fitting to start this phase of her life here. The only period in which she’d felt whole, both professionally and personally.

A sheen had been in Patricia’s eyes when she’d joined her in the tight space, nudging her with her hip. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you here, accelerating Matt’s hair loss.”

“You’ll have to add it to your list of duties.” Elbowing her gently, Y/N continued. “I’ll only be a couple blocks away. We’ll meet for lunch. And you have my phone number.” Before her own eyes could water, she’d gone to her desk to cut another slice.

Patricia raised her hand. “You’re going to ruin your appetite.”

“Oh? Should I be expecting something?”

Finishing her own piece, Patricia crossed her ankles. “Arthur called for tips while you were in court. He decided I was an expert on you.” Y/N’s brows shooting up prompted a chuckle. “I didn’t give away all your secrets. Just some of your favorite sweets.”

The clench of Y/N’s throat was instant. And shame washed over her for assuming he wouldn’t plan much, if anything at all. He’d been considerate, even during tough times. Like at Christmas, which had been hard for him but turned out well in the end. He’d made it clear that what he coveted most, besides love and validation, was to be treated normally. Normal expectations were a part of that. She’d sought to give him a break when the benefit of the doubt had been what he deserved.

Y/N thought a bit. Surveyed the ornate woodwork in the corners of the room. Then she'd met her friend’s gaze. “Patricia, I want to spend the rest of my life with him.”

“Because he’s getting you cake?”

“I’m not that easy.” Laughing, Y/N sat on the corner of her desk. “Do you remember when I said I was almost forty and was going to grab what I want? Well, I’m forty and he’s what I want.”

Caution and kindness had softened Patricia’s concerns. “I don’t mean to be indelicate. But you’re his first relationship. Is he ready for that?”

Y/N sucked the frosting off her fork. “Our sixth month is soon. I’ll drop a hint. When he’s ready - if he’s ready - he’ll know I am, too.”

She’d been floating since that realization. Since admitting her devotion to Arthur aloud and thereby making it concrete. Since getting a supportive hug from Patricia. And reassurance from Matt, of all people, that she hadn’t entered a mid-life crisis.

That headiness continued as she fumbled with her keys. Upon entering their apartment, music reached her ears. Music with a faster tempo than the classics Arthur usually played. Hanging up her coat and slipping off her shoes, she recognized it as one of her “Best of Soul and Disco” LPs. She braced herself on the wall separating the kitchen from the living room, her cheeks breaking wide open.

Arthur had moved the television and its stand to the side of the coffee table. A blanket, folded into a square, lay in front of the windows. Two plates and two wine glasses were on it. As she approached, she saw sandwiches on a platter. There was pasta salad and potato salad, both covered in plastic wrap, from the deli around the corner. In the center of it all sat an empty vase.

When he came out of the bedroom, magic wand in hand, he stilled. “Oh. Hi. You’re back already?”

A giggle. “I ran.” Biting her bottom lip, she admired his tousled brown curls, feathery, light, and attractive as hell. His face was unobscured by make-up, allowing her to revel in his handsomeness. The top button of his white shirt was undone. And his yellow vest outlined his lean frame in all the right ways. He wore his usual trousers. “Did you have a gig today?”

“No.” He smoothed a palm down his chest and stomach, and she noticed he’d rolled up his sleeves. “Um, I heard you like it.”

She felt herself blush and nodded eagerly. Thank you, Patricia.

With a flick of his wrist, flowers sprouted from the end of the wand. “I wanted to do this outside. On the fire escape. But it’s too cold.” He knelt on the blanket to put the flowers in the vase.

Y/N cocked her head. The juxtaposition of him wearing his “Carnival Casual” outfit, the cutesy charm of the picnic he’d arranged with the music that was playing was ridiculous. The song went on repeatedly about miracles, need, and “sexy things.” She snorted.

As Arthur removed the cellophane from the salads, his shoulders tensed. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like,” he breathed. “I got too much.”

“No,” she replied, sitting next to him, laying a hand on his thigh. “This is wonderful.” When their eyes met, she found his look at once bashful and flirtatious.

She served the sandwiches and salads while he poured the wine, following her request to fill the glasses to the top. Mostly potato salad ended up on her plate, the mix of mayonnaise, pepper, and egg just right. A majority of the pasta wound up on his - he liked the vinegary flavor. The red wine did not pair with the turkeys on rye he’d prepared, so she saved most of it for dessert.

When Arthur held out an orange roll of paper, she was dabbing her mouth with a cloth napkin. The title made her laugh. She never would have suspected he put stock in the zodiac; she certainly didn’t. Gingerly, she opened the scroll and squinted down at it.

It described her as determined, confident, and extroverted. And called Arthur a curious, emotional introvert. While mostly true, it wasn’t quite accurate. Arthur was only introverted in personal situations, while having the courage to perform as a clown and a stand-up. Those traits could belong to anyone, depending on the situation.

But the next paragraph clued her in as to why he’d bought the horoscope. And given it to her. “You were made for each other. There are times when it’s hard to know how you both managed to ever exist apart. The bond between you is unbreakable. You have much to learn from one another.” A lump formed in her throat when she read the last line, that they’d be together until the next life. She didn’t believe in that, yet longed for it all the same. “Thank you, Arthur.”

The scroll would have been enough. Dinner would have been enough. He would have been enough. But he placed a pink, velvet necklace box on her lap. She blinked at it, hoping he hadn’t spent too much on her. Then she forced that notion from her brain - he was a grown man who could buy what he chose - and cracked it open. Her breath caught.

The heart with pressed flowers was obviously vintage. The size was demure, like her other, few pieces of jewelry. And it was exactly her style: feminine and practical. She was grateful he hadn’t gotten her diamonds or other flashy gems. Her eyes darted to his as she took it out. “This is...” Gently, he turned it over in her palm, and she saw the engraving on the back: A+S.

A+S. Arthur and Y/N. It was a bold move from him. A welcome one.

“I think that’s usually done on trees,” he said. “But there aren’t that many in Gotham.”

Chuckling, she sniffed back her tears and shoved it at him. “Here.” She turned her back towards him. His fingertips dragged along her collarbone as she lifted her hair and he latched the chain. The kiss he placed above the clasp made her shiver. Wanting him to see how the pendant rested right above her cleavage, she unbuttoned the top of her blouse.

“It’s beautiful.” She pulled him in for a kiss. Traced his crow's feet. Let her thumbs wander to the slight puffiness underneath. The wine, along with her earlier confession to Patricia, was making it easier to open up. “You have my whole heart, Arthur,” she sighed into his mouth.

His palm went to her chest as he tilted his head, his other holding the nape of her neck. The tip of his tongue slipped between her lips and warmth enveloped her. She felt his fingers play with the necklace. Heard his ragged inhalation. Knew that pride and pleasure were emboldening him, because she was wearing what he’d gifted.

Eventually, he broke their connection, told her to close her eyes and pecked her nose. She concentrated on his steps to the kitchen. The clatter of him going through the silverware drawer. And then the chill breeze of the glass door being opened.

When she was allowed to peek, she stood and followed him onto the fire escape. A lit cigarette was already between his lips, and he was lighting a candle on a gigantic slice of cake. “You’re supposed to make a wish,” he said, smoke escaping his nostrils.

She snuggled his side, snaked an arm around him as he slung his across her shoulders. After eyeing the flame a moment, she sucked in a deep breath, pursed her lips, and bent closer...

Just in time for a split-second gust of wind to blow out the candle.

Arthur groaned and started to let go of her but she stopped him. “It counts.” She lifted the fork and fed him a bite, grinning at his pleased hum. “You won’t mind me turning grey, will you?”

“No. I won’t be the only one looking old.”

She nuzzled his temple. “You don’t look old. You’re refined.”

“Sure,” he scoffed. They ate silently for a bit, but then he squeezed her tighter. “What did you...” Trepidation lurked behind his question, even after their steamy picnic. “What did you wish for?”

“That we’ll keep loving each other, even through tough times.” She lowered the fork, already full. “That I’ll like my new job.” Letting go of him, she set the plate on the metal stairs, next to his ashtray. “That you’ll be healthy.”

He huffed. “You shouldn’t have wasted any on me.”

“You’re worth all of them.” She kissed his bicep, laid her head on his shoulder. The record playing in the background turned over, switched to a slower song, and she grinned. “Now,” she said, “may I have this dance?”

Delight in his eyes, he bowed. She giggled as he grabbed her around the middle and pulled her flush against his solid frame. He led beautifully, gazing at her as if she was the only woman in the world, guiding her to the beat she was deaf to. He even dared to raise her hand for a modest twirl, and she trusted him enough for it to work.

As they spun slowly, rotating in the lights of their living room and the city, he kissed her hairline. “Happy birthday. I hope you liked it.”

“I loved it.” She captured his thin lips with her own. “Promise you’ll be here for the next twenty.”

“The next forty.” He bumped their noses and lay his cheek on hers. Y/N cuddled deeper into his embrace, feeling more cherished than she had in years.

~~~~~

Hot Chocolate - You Sexy Thing

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @howdylilflower @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @octopus-plasma @tsukiakarinobara @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile @another-day-in-chuckletown @hhandley80 @jokerownsmysoul @mrscarnival

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x ofc #arthur fleck x female reader #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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thedreadvampy · 5 years ago

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So this was sent to me by @atiredpan weeks ago when the White Jon conversation was very live and I'm posting it (belatedly) with their blessing (they didn't want to put it up publicly and have it seem like an attack which I really very much appreciate but wouldn't have minded) and I percolated for a few days and then got very busy for a few weeks. Response follows.

So I feel weird about how I'm responding to this stuff, I'm launching rapidly into taking about/explaining my own experience in a way I'm worried maybe comes across as a direct comparison. It kind of feels like I'm talking in a way that's like brushing off your experience and saying OK BUT HERE'S WHY I'M RIGHT and that's not what I'm trying to do, it's just that there's not much I can usefully add to what you've said - you know your experience better than I do, and I'm not gonna go around trying to read into it or reexplain it. So I'm going to talk about where I am/have been coming from, but not with the intention of countering your points, all of which I think really resonate.

First off, the post where I was like "Jon is white and if you disagree you're Wrong" was, unreservedly, just a shitty post and I'm not suprised it upset a lot of people. I'm really very sorry about that, it was thoughtlessly written and pretty stupidly posted.

I totally get that my whiteness has fed into how I hced Jon (and as I think I've said before I saw Jon a certain way well before I engaged with any fanworks, just as you did). There's a lot of reasons I imagined Jon as white from pretty early on, a non-negligible one of which was like...That's Jonny. This is a podcast by Jonny, about a character with the same name and mannerisms as Jonny, and Jonny is extremely white. It would have felt weird, when I was listening to TMA as a Friend Podcast, to stick a brown face onto what at least appeared at the time to basically be a self-insert character of my white friend. Now that's a really personal thing informed less by the story and more by the circumstances under which I've interacted with it, but it certainly laid a baseline. I didn't really have a clear mental picture of Jon (or most of the characters) for a looooooong time (for an artist I'm really not a very visual thinker) but I had a few sort of mental sketches (Jon is short white balding and awkward, Martin is tall biracial and scruffy Basira is fat and somali Melanie is my friend from work etc) which I developed a long time before I encountered fanworks.

I saw the alienation you mentioned and I connected it to class and gender, not race, because I’ve met a lot of cis men, white and otherwise, who interpolate trauma, class insecurity, insecurity about their own abilities, and so on into withdrawal, denial and snappiness. So for me I had an interpretation of that element of his personality which was pretty much race-neutral, and then I had these existing cues leading me to assuming he was white (largely that Jonny is white, but also wee stuff in the story that...it’s not like anything substantial enough to remember, let alone justify, but there were certainly interactions that pinged whiteness for me personally)

There are actually iirc a few throwaway references to Jon being promoted above more qualified candidates throughout (or at least I thought I knew that before s5), but the time I decided I thought White Jon was an obvious conclusion was of course the conversation where Sasha expresses frustration about it. and the context of that conclusion (at least as far as I can see) wasn't "people of colour can only exist in subservient positions/defined by oppression" but was informed by two things that were going on with my life around the time that episode aired

I had been having several conversations with friends of mine (and largely friends of Jonny's) who work in London in the museums/archiving sector and who are the only women of colour in whole departments or even whole museums, and who experience so little career mobility compared to their less-qualified white counterparts (we're talking about women graduating top of their class at Oxbridge with anthropology or library science masters and stellar original research, with a decade or more of impeccable work experience and acting up, being left in internship and low-grade positions, while white men who "fit the culture" but have 0 museums experience sail into upper management positions and then stay there until they retire). So I'd come almost directly from these conversations into what to me sounded like exactly the same gripe in TMA.

I'd been at that point working for about a year and a half on co-coordinating the anti-oppression committee in my workplace, which was a very Good Progressive Activist Charity with Good Lefty Principles, and over the course of experience sharing and discussions both with colleagues of colour and along lines of wealth, disability, class etc, I was very much confronted with the realisation of how much 'being adequately qualified' meant different things for middle-class good-university white men vs much more highly skilled and hardworking women of colour or people of different class and wealth backgrounds. Obviously I'd known that before in principle, but not really having been in Salaried Workplaces (as opposed to like. service and retail hourlies) I hadn’t got so up close and personal with it. So that was also very fresh in my mind, this like...big substantial experience of how Good, Well-Meaning, Caring, Thoughtful, Woke white men just........did not need to think about this. at all. and were startled and discomforted to face it. and that this was also true of most white middle-class women. and these conversations were really carved down the middle between white middle-class European women saying ‘this is such a surprise when we have such an equitable hiring policy and diverse staff, that there’s this gender gap’ and women of colour in the room wearily saying ‘yeah, there’s a gender gap, there’s always a gender gap and it is always a racialised gender gap’ so yeah I was definitely thinking about the intersection between being passed over at work because of gender and because of race.

The point about Tim is interesting because I think for me what’s getting lost is that I don’t think Jon is entitled as like...a Character Trait. He’s not like...Toxic Masculinity Man. He is very anxious about boundaries and about his own capacity to do harm. But it has to be pointed out to him where he’s doing harm. He doesn’t notice where he’s been unfairly advantaged, and that’s to me much more reflective of most people’s relationship to white or male entitlement.

As I say, that exchange with Tim and Sasha cemented the Jon Is White hc in my head specifically because it was so reflective of conversations I had had with women of colour working in similar workplaces, about white men, usually about white men they generally liked or at least didn’t have beef with beyond their unfair advantages.

It seems odd to me to frame ‘bitching about your boss on your friend’s behalf to make her feel better’ as more similar to white entitlement/white privilege than any of that tbh? That’s just...being friends with someone?

Anyway I recognise that it’s not white entitlement to accept a job. Obviously it’s not, it’s just sensible under the circumstances, you get lucky and you grab it. For me my sense of Jon as white-because-of-this is not “he took a job he shouldn’t have taken,” it’s more about his obliviousness to the impact he has on others, and also primarily how people react to him. The interaction between Sasha and Tim is saturated with the of course it would be him I mentioned above, but even before that he walks through the world not expecting to have to think about anything but his conscious decisions, and he’s caught aback when people see him as out of place or as having power above his station.

I think it’s impossible to extricate ‘this is where my head was at’ from that interpretation, and also like obviously my own whiteness is a big factor. And not just my own personal whiteness but the place I grew up (which was 98.3% white) and the world which reflects back whiteness. So this is in no way intended as a bolshy This Is The Correct Headcanon the way my Bad Post was bc examining it I’m like...yeah I mean this is about how I personally interpreted this based on where I was at at the time. But I do feel like there’s some communication gap in what it is about this unqualified promotion thing that pinged me - it’s not that All Bosses Must Be White And All Brown People Must Be Downtrod, it’s something quite specific about the tone and tenor of the interactions around the getting-a-job.

But also? Idk. Kind of unrelatedly, and people obviously should feel free to disagree with me on this, it feels kind of off to frame this as defaulting to a white Jon? I sort of think that my idea of Jon as white is very much not ‘white until proven otherwise’ - part of the reason for my original strident tone was that I felt that I was being expected to drop a headcanon I had for specific reasons and default to the fanon version of Jon without actually having any reason other than ‘this is how the community thinks he should look,’ and without really understanding anything about what that means, and while obviously defaulting to a non-white headcanon isn’t like...entrenched in the way that defaulting to a white headcanon is, it does seem to me like this is perhaps part of why white fans slap brown skin onto a character without thinking into what that means or why they’re doing it.

The thing I’m struggling with as regards my personal headcanon here is that I could decide to only ever draw Jon as Fanon Jon, but it wouldn’t be because I had strong reasons to see him that way, it wouldn’t be the same as why you see Jon as brown, or why I see like...Melanie as Indian, it would literally be Default To Standard in a way it isn’t for you. And I don’t feel that I have Defaulted To Whiteness, or where I have it is for reasons specifically to do with Jon (I visualised Jon as white because I visualised him as Jonny, who is white), not because I think every character is White Until Proven Otherwise. Like, my reasons for understanding Jon as white may be bad reasons, but they are reasons, not post-hoc excuses (I can’t like...prove that. but I know it to be true at least on a conscious level). I didn’t go Oh Jon Is White Because Everyone Is Unless I Have Reason To Think They Aren’t, Hooray, Here Is A Post-Hoc Justification For Why It Isn’t Racist To Think That. So while I am totally on board with the idea that it may be shitty, harmful or poorly thought through to hc Jon as white, I’m not sure I can fully see it in myself as being default. But I do understand that that isn’t necessarily what came across in my original short post.

Honestly, the reason I took issue with Fanon Jon and Fanon Martin in such a bolshy way in the first place was that I didn’t get why these characters were universally seen as Asian and white, respectively, and had such strong and consistent fanon images, when none of the other characters did, and when I was seeing people drawing people like Sasha and Melanie and Tim as white way more when in my mind there was no reason to assume they were white. On an emotional level I guess I think either there’s Fanon As Lore, or there’s no fanon (and I prefer the latter) and my discomfort came from the place that the one character I absolutely saw as coded as white in the core cast had this one really specific Ambiguously Brown Fanon Look (which from what I’d seen at the time didn’t seem to be like...backed with anything or coming from any personal interpretation for most of the white fans I was seeing on like Twitter and Tumblr) but white headcanons are everywhere for characters like Melanie or Sasha or Georgie, who seemed to me to be unambiguously people of colour, or characters like Tim or Martin (who could perfectly reasonably be people of colour and who I hc as Rroma and biracial respectively)? I don’t know, it’s difficult to express, but I find it frustrating.

#tma #White Jon #idk sorry to post this so separate from the rest of the conversation I have been Busy

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girl-next-door-writes · 4 years ago

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Mistaken Identity

This is an entry from my eldest for my writing Bingo.

Mistaken Identity - ‘Parksborn’ + Peter x Eddie

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

This was not what he wanted to see on the front page of the paper. Yes, at least it wasn’t his pictures of Spiderman being used to bash his image but Peter witnessing him and his best friend on the first page described as ‘lovers’ wasn’t any better. His images were still used on the 3rd page to ruin Spiderman’s reputation anyway. The two of them weren’t a thing, of course they weren’t. They were just friend’s that happened to be roommates. Peter had a girlfriend god dammit… that being in the past tense of course since they’d broken up the evening before. Peter had been away for too many evenings and MJ felt things wouldn’t work so they ended things on mutual terms. So how could he and Harry be dating? Oh, but what caught him even more off guard was the apparent anonymous witnesses. This was ridiculous. Who apparently saw the two guys kissing? They’d never kissed, not even in private!

There was another sense of panic that came to Peter with thoughts about this. No, it was not the fact people might start thinking Peter may be gay, he could deal with that. He wasn’t of course, he definitely preferred girls over guys, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like men in that way at all. But it was the fact people might think Harry was gay. Including his father. Both boys didn’t think Norman Osborn would be the accepting type for something like that so if he found out then they were probably screwed. And not just getting their rent being paid cancelled. As the last line says, what could a scandal like this do?

The name beneath the image was of course recognisable to Pete. Edward Brock, or Eddie as he was better known, was basically his photographer rival at The Bugle. Of course he was going to find a way to ruin Peter and apparently taking Harry down too wasn’t an issue. That’s what pissed him off the most, the fact Eddie didn’t seem to care that this could destroy Harry’s life in a way just for an opportunity to get at Peter. Try to steal his job? Sure, he could go ahead, but this? This was too far. He had to do something about this and he was about to.

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

“Hey Eddie!” Peter seemed to call out almost instantly as he entered the room to see the rest of the workers at The Bugle looking over their own copies of the paper. Guess not everyone was aware of what would hit the front page either. Ted, Robbie and Betty were among these workers, the latter of the trio looking up from the page when noticing Peter's appearance at the workplace. “You wouldn’t mind explaining a few things to me?”

“Ah, Parker, I just wanted to congratulate you on coming out!” The amount of sarcasm in Eddie’s voice could be sensed from a mile away and the smirk plastered on his face just showed what he thought of the situation. He thought he won, destroyed Peter's esteem maybe and got him to back down. Boy was he wrong though. “Pulling Osborn is really impressive too, don’t mind me asking how for my own resea---”

Soon enough Eddie was pinned against the wall as Peter held him up. “He’s not my boyfriend Eds. He doesn't even swing that way. Do you know what this could do for him?” He wasn’t shouting at this time like he had been before but instead there was a growl in his voice. Eddie, on the other hand, actually looked confused. The anger? Somewhat expected. But it was more either something like ‘oh, you’ve ruined my relationship’ or rantings along that line. But apparently not. “This isn’t about me anymore, oh no, we’re way past that…”

“Pete, maybe you should calm down a bit,” Betty tried her best to intervene as she watched the boys, standing up from her desk and looking between the two. “It might be good if you could explain what’s going on from your point of view… especially since this is about you and your apparent boyfriend.”

“He isn’t… he isn’t my boyfriend…” Peter still held Ed up to the wall but eventually lowered him and let go as he thought about things. Of course he’d have to think of what to say, there was so much… or at least it felt like so much.

“We’ve been friends for years and are planning on starting something together once we finish college, that’s why we live together. Everything else though is a lie. We’re not dating, we’ve never kissed, and hell as I claimed he wouldn’t even swing my way. If it’s coming out now though, yes I'm bI but honestly I like women way better. But the whole of New York doesn't need to know my preference in a partner, nor Harry’s preference. Especially when framed like this! How much fake news do you have to put out there? First the whole spiderman being a menace and now this alleged ‘scandal’ happening according to you… Jesus, how many people do you have to put down before you’re satisfied?” Peter of course had to let things out about this as his glances occasionally went to Eddie but something he did notice was a few more confused looks back off of Peter. “What is it now Brock? Going to contradict me with something?”

“Well duh, I wouldn’t have claimed that you guys were dating without a bit of evidence… literally I was only taking the photo and giving the story idea because I was going to out you...” Eddie claimed which definitely caught Peter by surprise. There was a voice telling Pete that the other photographer was lying, how could he be telling the truth? “Like, congrats seriously this time on the actual coming out though, as a fellow bI I have to give you that… prefer men though so guess that makes us slightly different… but seriously, from hearing about people claiming to witness that Osborn guy kissing some other dude I just assumed it was you…?”

“What’s going on there, I don’t pay you lot to stand around doing nothing!” It appeared before Peter had another chance to question Brock that the head man himself, J. J. Jamison, had left the comforts of his office to go off at his workers. This of course got people back to work whilst Jamison laid his eyes upon the two photographers. “Ah, Parker, Brock, the two men I need to see. My office, now!” Seemed to be the simple words that left the man’s mouth, quick and sharp like usual as he returned to his office whilst expecting the boys to follow soon after to which they did. You don’t just piss off Jamison, he’d fire you in an instant… then probably rehire you unless you'd royally screwed yourself. An example for this could be the stunt Eddie pulled for the front page news. If he found out, his head was on the chopping block.

“Parker, I wanted to discuss this newest story about you and Osborn. At first I was going to fire you but then I thought it could be useful to get some information from the source itself of this relationship. Things like how long it’s been going, the father’s opinion, all of that. We’d be the best newspaper in New York with a scoop like this!” The part of Pete almost getting fired definitely concerned him for many reasons, even after it was glossed over and he didn’t end up fired. “Now though Parker, we can have Brock here take all your pictures as a happy couple… better yet, an unhappy couple! It’s more relatable and celebrity drama always attracts the masses”

“Well Sir, actually---” Peter had begun to speak, about to come out to the head in terms of the truth about how he and Harry weren’t a thing and how this was all a rumour created by Eddie to bring him down a notch… But then he noticed some pleading in Eddie’s eyes. This wasn’t acting, and he could tell. He dated an actor. This was Eddie actually begging him to not tell and even considering what something like this front page could do to Harry and himself, he also knew that if he told then not only would Ed get fired but there was a chance he’d never get a job again. So he decided on a compromise that may either ruin both of them or save both of them. “Brock was miss informed by his sources, his research was all correct but the man allegedly said to be kissing Mr Osborn and myself are not one in the same. Harry and I are just roommates but since there’s been numerous sources as proven by Brock, I could attempt to get the inside scoop on who this man is?”

The next few seconds were spent with Eddie and Peter just waiting to get thrashed at by Jamison but to their relief something else happened as a blessing it appeared. “Well why didn’t you say something sooner!?!? Parker, I want you to find out as much as you can about your roommate’s relationship. Brock, try to get a better description of this mystery man so we may be able to find him and print a follow up. In fact, I'll pay extra than usual for whoever can get me a perfect shot of these two men kissing. Extra pay and a small cheese basket for christmas as a bonus. Now what are you doing I said go!” Jamieson seemed to go one as he gestured for the two photographers to get out of his sight, which both gladly and swiftly moved to do.

Soon enough from this exchange, Eddie and Peter found themselves outside of The Bugle together and sighing as an awkward silence formed only broken with the city life roaring around them. Can’t really have silence in the streets of New York. The silence between the men though happened to be broken by Eddie’s voice as he took a quick glance to Peter before gazing back at the floor with a quiet “Thanks Parker… You’re a real lifesaver…”

“This is a one time thing Eddie…” Peter reasoned, stilled sounding a little ticked off at the whole incident. There was of course something he had to figure out. Who is this person who’s apparently kissing his best friend? Or even better, who are these two people that people think are him and Harry? It can’t actually be Harry right? Of course it can’t be, he would know if it is. “Especially if you pull another stunt like that again…”

“Don’t worry man, I went too far, I get it… was just.. Jealous, you know?” Eddie raised his hands in defence as he took a step away from Peter. The confession had Peter raising an eyebrow in this moment though, ever expecting a guy like Edward Brock to apologize for anything. Especially this. “It’s just you seem so popular, you know? Everyone at The Bugle loves you, I bet even Jamison though he doesn't say it. Then apparently you’re best mates with Spiderman or something where he’ll just pose for you without any argument whilst he avoids me all the time… and then… Well I heard the rumours and saw you with that Harry guy so I just assumed I shouldn’t have. It was kind of like the final point you know? I thought you had this perfect relationship and I wish I had something like that but like… obviously I don’t so maybe if I outed both of you it would do something and i’d feel better…”

“I'm guessing you feel like a lemon or something now?” Peter added on in a slight joking tone only to see the look on Eddie's face. He actually looked kind of hurt. He really did think Peter and Harry had this perfect thing and he just felt jealous over everything Peter had. Guilt filled the brunette slightly as he thought about the circumstances. He had been the one to come off as cold to Eddie first, not vice versa. This was both as spiderman and as himself. “I forgive you Eds… This is all stupid anyway, we’re supposed to be working together at The Bugle, not competing. Jesus, to be honest I'm sorry for acting so arrogant. I understand wanting some perfect relationship, it was me all the way through school until I got with MJ. Even then things don’t work out though… she dumped my ass yesterday…” With that sentence it seemed it may be cheering Eddie up a bit because a genuine laugh escaped the taller man. This put a small smile on Pete’s face as he thought of a few more words for the other guy. “Some point you’ll find the perfect girl… or guy. Us bisexuals gotta stick together or something right?”

“Couldn’t have said things any better myself Pete…” Eddie seemed to turn his eyes to look at the shorter brunette in front of him as he ran a hand through his dirty blonde locks. A small smile tugged his lips as he ended up wrapping his arms around Pete, just really needing a hug at the present moment. It may have taken a few seconds but eventually Peter was also hugging the taller man back. “If we’re going to have a rivalry then it’s going to be a healthy one. The only destroying of each other being by playful banter… how about it?”

“That would be perfect Eds.” Peter couldn’t help but chuckle a bit himself as the two soon separated from the hug. As silence took over them again, leaving only the city life, Pete came up with something else he needed. “I was just thinking since you’re seeing those witnesses again about the guy kissing Harry, maybe we could have a talk about it over a coffee some time?”

Eddie actually didn’t expect the offer but soon enough his smile turned to a playful smirk as he got his phone out. “Wouldn’t mind me getting your number first parker? I know we just made up but you don’t have to start coming onto me like that…” Of course he was going to start making jokes about this but to hell were the two got going to have some fun with this new found ‘friendship’ between them.

Peter gave an eye roll but kept coming out with a few laughs at the teasing, getting his own phone out to exchange numbers. “Better not accidentally butt dial me a bunch of times now that you have my number because I will block you if it happens at least three times…”

“For you it’s probably a Booty call love.” Eddie cemented his win with a wink at the brunette, slipping his phone into his pocket once the exchange was done. And from Peter’s now red face, it was definitely a win for Mr Edward Brock Jr. Soon enough though he passed Pete and began to walk away, parting with just a few more words. “Will message you any details I get later… but I'll only send mine if you send yours. Later Parker.”

Peter was still taking in a few of the other words from before but of course watched Eddie walk away, a small shake of his head at the dirty blonde’s parting words. “Talk later then Brock… talk later…”

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

If he thought that heading back to the apartment to question Harry couldn’t get any worse than Peter was definitely wrong. When noticing the amount of looks he was getting off people as he walked the streets there was a temptation to duck into an alley and change into spiderman just to go the rest of the way home. Hell, he looked around to see if there was anywhere he could sneak into so he could quickly get changed but of course with not looking where you’re going there is the chance you’d bump right into someone, especially if you’re the clumsy Peter Parker. Thus, just as the brunette turned to face the front, he’d ended up knocked down by another man. Just his luck to get decked in one way or another.

“So sorry about that man,” The guy appeared to say whilst the girls he happened to be with stopped walking, one of the blondes offering a hand to help pull Peter off the floor. When Pete stood up again he could of course recognise the group. The man who had knocked him down happened to bet his boss’s son, one John Jamison or as his father seemed to call him more as if to brag ‘My son, the astronaut.’ One of the two blondes in the group being the one to have helped him to his feet was a girl known as Ursual Ditkovich, knowing the girl from when he and Harry were looking for apartments before Norman offered to pay for their living space. She was nice enough to bake and offer out cookies for the boy’s but her father seemed to be too focused on getting the rent any occasion he could. The apartment really wasn’t worth as much as he was pricing it, especially with a broken door. Eyes moving to the lighter haired blonde was a girl from his class with Dr Connor’s, Gwen Stacy, who'd worked on a few projects with him or he would help her sometimes when it came to the harder work. That and he’d saved her a few occasions as Spiderman of course. Then was the final girl in the group and obviously Pete would recognise those fiery red locks in an instant. It was MJ.

“Oh Pete! Didn’t recognise you for a moment!” Ursula was of course the first to say anything when noticning who’d they’d take out, a small smile forming on her face. The only other person with a smile on their face at this moment seemed to be John but his was a slight more awkward as he looked at Peter. “I heard what people were saying then saw the paper. Is it really true what’s happening between you and Harry? My father is going on about how he called it from the start so it’s mostly he wants it confirmed… sorry if I'm coming off as a bit intrusive on things…”

“No… Intrusive is good…” MJ cutted in at the end as she crossed her arms and looked Peter dead in the eyes. Yes, they’d both ended on good terms the other evening but with this newfound information she was reasonably pissed at him. She’d spend many nights alone when he’d agreed to come over, wanted for him to show up to many dates only to have him late or blow her off completely and then you had him miss out on seeing a few of her shows. Pieced together with this morning’s main headline then it was obvious what had been happening for months now. “You want to explain everything now after the fact?”

“MJ, it’s not what you think. Honestly…” Peter let go of Ursual’s hand as he brushed it through his hair, his teeth clutching to his bottom lip slightly as he thought of the best way to explain things. It was definitely easier to disprove and go off about this stuff to a bunch of people at work but your ex and friends? That’s a different story. “Me and Harry haven’t done anything together. The whole thing’s a massive misunderstandi---”

“Then where were you last week on Tuesday when you’d apparently promised to take her out on a date?” Gwen happened to come into thing’s as she backed up MJ’s court. Ever since Peter had introduced the two of them it appeared as if they’d instantly become besties and now was proving it. “Apparently you told her that you had to go to a surprise lecture by Dr Connors but both of us know he was ill sunday till thursday the other week so how would that work?” Shoot, he did tell her that, didn’t he? The honest answer was that he’d been stopping a robbery and hostage situation as Spiderman downtown and was there instead but could he tell MJ that? Of course he couldn’t. He couldn’t tell anyone of his identity.

“Don’t worry, we’re not trying to come at you because of who you like and stuff dude, it’s not my thing really but I support it, love who you love, you know?” John ended up adding in incase things were taken the wrong way on Peter's behalf, honestly being really understanding on how Peter was most likely relieved with the break up because he didn’t swing MJ’s way anymore. “But it’s just a little bit of an asshole move to juggle around two people like that, especially if you’re close friends. Why didn’t you just say something sooner?”

“Because, geez, I'm not gay. Guess I'm having to come out to a lot of people today about this but I bi, I still like women way more though MJ. I wasn’t not there because I didn’t love you and I wasn't cheating!” Peter tried his best to explain once again, messing himself up there with a double negative to twist his tongue. He was trying his best in all honesty but it felt like MJ wasn’t taking it as she moved her eyes away from the brunette, turning as she prepared to leave.

“Well at least you’ve been honest about something… and I hope you and Harry enjoy being together… tell him I said hi…” Mary Jane ended up finishing as she took a few steps away, the others turning to follow. This was swiftly stopped by Peter’s words sounding out to them though.

“MJ… I'm not the best, and you deserve way better than me. Someone who can be there for you… and I can’t be there for you. Yes, i’ve been lying about where i’ve been but I'm not lying when I tell you there’s nothing between me and Harry…” Peter didn’t want to come out about being spiderman, especially not in a public place like this. Now would be the worst time… but he had to, didn’t he? Maybe not… “The reason I've not been there and haven’t been truthful is because… because I've taken pictures of spiderman. And I know you know I do this but I just haven’t wanted to tell you every time because I knew you’d get worried about me. I can’t stay away from the dangoure every time when trying to get a good shot and if you don’t believe I'm there then just compare the dates and times said in the newspaper for spiderman with my photo… or sometimes eddie’s… last Tuesday at 3:50pm spiderman stopped a bank robbery. What’s on the front page? A picture taken by me… so yes i’ve been lying but I swear that’s the only thing i’ve been lying about. I don’t want things to be strained between us so know that I loved you MJ and would have never cheated like that. Especially with someone we’re both close to…”

As before, there was silence between the group or as silent as you could get in the open like this. MJ was the first to stop walking as she stopped still in her tacks, taking in what her ex had to tell her. Even before they’d broken up she’d felt Peter might have been cheating but the sound in Peter's voice right now just hit her. She could trust it. She could trust he was being completely honest with her and even if he didn’t specify that he was spiderman, none of what he said was a lie. Everytime he wasn’t there he was taking a picture of himself as he was close to danger and didn’t tell her because she’d worry. It was honesty. Her turn back to him was slow and still it hadn’t been whole as she looked to the brunette man. “...I trust you… but… I wished you’d told me sooner.” She’d turned away once more, about to step away before ending with “Just at least call me up later though… I need to take it all in and maybe having you run through things would be easier… promise me…?”

“I promise…” Pete’s voice was quiet but could still be heard as MJ finally let a small yet weak smile form on her face, nodding whilst she began to walk again. This was followed by a small wave from Gwen, still being suspicious of the circumstances, a thumbs up from John as he walked behind the girls and some parting words from Ursual.

“I'm sure things will be alright between you and Mary Jane but… Well done for coming out like that. I'm sorry it was over stressful circumstances but… just know you’re valid no matter Pete. Hopefully see you around some tim---” Midway through her words it appeared Peter’s phone began to go off, startling the girl a bit as she stopped talking and looked at the man’s pocket. “You should probably take that… but good luck with hopefully sorting things out with the paper if you’re going to try to fix it.”

Peter let himself give off a weak smile at the girl whilst he waved, his other hand moving to his pocket to fetch his phone as he turned to head off to the apartment again. Upon seeing who was calling he noticed it was Eddie. Did he really sort things so soon? He answered as he decided he’d continue the rest of the way on foot. It wasn’t that far and if he was going to be on call with Eddie then it might be better to do it as just Peter and not Spiderman. “Hey Eds, what’s up?”

“Well Parker, guess I got you some good news and some bad news. Or at least the bad news being news to prove you wrong on that Osborn guy you hang around.” Eddie went right into the news then, or at least stayed on topic as he messed around on what he may or may not have discovered on his end with this mystery. “So which you want first Petey?”

“Don’t call me that please…” Peter shook his head as he took a short cut down an alley he’d finally found, keeping the phone close to his ear before thinking a bit about what the other photographer had to say. “What do you mean it’s going to prove me wrong about Harry? We’ve known each other for years, he’s my best friend and we know everything about each other…” That was definitely a lie, Harry had no idea about Peter being spiderman. Of course it wasn’t farfetch for Pete to not know everything about Harry.

“Well Petey,” If they were talking in person Peter could just see the smirk creeping onto Ed's face in this moment. He wasn’t going to stop with the new nickname. “It seems that you want the bad news first. Sorry to burst your bubble but your best mate isn’t the completely heterosexal dude you think he is. Definitely was the main guy everyone saw in this sheared kiss, happened in a coffee shop downtown in the light of day. You can blame me on assuming the other guy was you again since I never asked for a description until now. Fair play though you are strong and your hair looks black in certain lighting, but to hell with looking like you could lift weights… definitely not you. Not to say I wouldn’t appreciate you giving me a few piggyback rides, then you might not need any flagpoles to get picks of your guy spiderman.”

Peter stayed silent as he stopped still just outside the alley. “but… no… people were thinking it was me so obviously they just assumed the other guy was Harry right? It’s not actually him, you’re kidding me Ed… seriously?”

“As I said, I was the only one who thought it was you cause I wasn't there but the place let me look over some security footage and that’s definitely your best mate… mate.” Eddie began to reason with the brunette over the phone, just wanting to help him out with this mystery. Somehow even with the drama to come from it between the two, they were definitely getting along better than usual. He could see it now, forget Sherlock and John Watson, it’s Eddie Brock and his side man Petey Parker. “Oh, but i’ve also got the name of the other guy, don’t know if you might know him or not…”

“You have to tell me who it i---” Peter was invested now but couldn’t help being betrayed slightly. If it really was Harry, as in definitely his best friend Harry Osborn then why didn’t he tell him he had a boyfriend or something? He was interrupted in his line of questioning though when he was almost hit by a familiar looking car, having to jump out the way quickly. Thank god for his spider sense. “Sorry!” Pete called to the driver as the vehicle continued before he managed to recognise it and realised exactly where it was heading. “Oh no… might have to call you back Eddie…”

“What do you mean? You need back up on something cause I'm your man for the job.” Eddie claimed on the other line as he started to sound concerned for the other guy, that or concerned about the fact he might be missing out on getting some great shots of spiderman. Maybe a mix of the two.

“No, just know that the daddy issues have dropped by and we might be in for a few problems…” Peter was slightly quieter as he spoke about to hang up.

“Awww, we?”

“As in me and Harry… I'll update you once things have gone down.”

“Ah okay then Parker. Love you.”

“Love you t--- wait a second”

“Caught you out there didn’t I? But seriously, s---”

With that small exchange Peter hung up, slightly red in the face, using one hand to massaurse in between his eyes and continuing back to his apartment just awaiting the screaming match that could go down, all for different reasons. But there was still one thing on his mind. Who was this guy and why wouldn’t Harry say anything?

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

Reaching the apartment complex, Peter saw the car finally park up outside. He didn’t have time to sneak into the place without Norman noticing so either he was going to get stopped by the older man or walk in on Harry getting absolutely chewed up. Even with feeling betrayed by Harry in this moment though, he didn’t think he deserved to get completely bashed. As his Uncle Ben would say ‘With great power comes great responsibility’ which is why just before Mr Osborn himself could leave the vehicle, Pete stepped forward and started to move towards the door. Just like he’d thought though, he was stopped before he could enter as he heard the voice of man call out for him. “Ah, Peter, just the guy I wanted to see.” The voice seemed extremely smooth and relaxed, putting the young Parker off slightly. Of course he was going to start off all nice and fatherly or something, they were still outside and people would automatically bash the older gentleman if he started going at the guy right here and now. Once Peter had slowly turned around to face the man though he was slightly surprised at things. Norman appeared to be dressed a bit more casual than he usually would be for something like a routine apartment inspection that he’d usually do. Had he not been to work that day? Peter didn’t really know the man to take days off… like… ever. The guy appeared like a complete workaholic so things continued to put him more off, feeling for the worst of the man in the black button up. Then came an item in his hands… Was that a bottle of wine? That threw a spanner in the works as he continued to look Norman up and down in silence. Of course this was quickly noticed as Norman spoke up again. “I doubted it would be too much to drop by like this unexpectedly.”

“Um… yeah, no, it’s fine. I just got back from work anyway and...um…?” Peter was making a fool of himself right down as he stayed put, looking for any words he could use. Apparently they didn’t feel like forming. Inevitably he had to ask the dreaded question so he thought he’d get things out of the way as soon as he could then maybe turn the man away before things got out of hand. “You didn’t… happen to read the paper this morning?”

“Parker, it was impossible to avoid it when I'm having different members of the board calling me up to question it.” The answer happened to be a yes then, he’d definitely seen it. Guess he was going to have to explain this as quickly as he could with more lying than before. Just tell him Harry hasn’t kissed anyone, they’re both straight, then get him to leave. Pete didn’t even get a chance to open his mouth before Norman continued though. “That’s why I took the day off, it just gets unbearable having others question your son’s sexuality every second and just uncivilised for this age. We’re supposed to be more mature than this but apparently it has to be everyone’s business on who someone is dating. I’m mostly disappointed in your place of work. I have to admit. They can slander me all they want though I may not take kindly to that of course, but dragging Harry into this? That’s too far for me.”

Peter had to pause for a second to listen to part of the ranting of the older gentleman, expecting him to go off about how it was wrong what he and Harry were doing - said to be doing. Rather he was more pissed at the media but managing to keep up a calm facade. Inside, of course, he was probably going to do something to the editors who approved of publishing this and especially Jamison. Maybe even that Eddie guy who took the main image to apparently support the claims. That was going to be a problem Spiderman will have to deal with some other time. “Wait, so you’re not pissed with us?”

“Why would I have a problem with you two? Harry’s my son and even if I seem distant I love him… And Harry loves you, it’s obvious. Of course it’s obvious to you, you’re dating!” Norman was definerty averting Peter’s expectations, hell, when Harry finds out about this he was probably going to flip. Just like how Peter was internally flipping about everything he’s learning about a guy he’s seen as a brother for years and a man he sees as a father. “I’m honestly happy the two of you realised things early unlike myself, which is another reason I've taken the day off to visit. A time for us to all come out and maybe make a celebration of it. As you’ve noticed I've brought a bottle as a present for the occasion.”

There wasn’t anything he could really say, nothing at all. Peter was still wrapping things around his brain. Norman was acting as if Harry and Peter being in a relationship was an obvious thing to people even though for the fiftieth time they weren’t a thing. That was only the start of course. If the brunette’s ears were working properly, did the older man just say ‘all come out’ or was it just him? Was he seriously suggesting what he was suggesting? Wow… Peter felt like he himself was coming off as more prejudiced than Norman in this moment but that’s because he couldn’t see any of this. They didn’t act like they could really b--- no Peter, that’s assuming based on stereotypes. The whole thing is supposed to be verbatim. If you like the same gender then you’re homo, if you like the oppisit then you’re hetero, it’s not hard to understand and there’s not any specific criteria you have to meet. Thanks to his dumbass explaining this to himself now and standing around like an idiot though, it had definitely concerned Norman slightly.

“Right then Parker, are you going to show me in or do you need a moment?” Norman seemed to chuckle a bit as he looked to the younger boy standing by his side. Peter did end up coming to the situation a few seconds after and gave a few quick nods as he started to open the door for the two of them to go in. He knew he should have just explained the situation then and there but maybe with Norman in the room he could get Harry to explain what’s actually going on to him. To both of them. Thus, once getting out of the elevator and reaching the door of the apartment, there was a few seconds of hesitation on Peter’s behalf to open the door. Soon enough of course, he’d reached for the handle and held out the door to allow the other man through first.

Upon entering the apartment it could be seen that Harry hadn’t been able to get anything done. Yes, some of his collage work was strewn across the table but it was barely touched as the newspaper lay out on top of it. Harry himself could be seen sitting on the staircase as he talked into the phone, his last few words having been “Shit, call you up later, don’t worry though.” before hanging up, definitely somewhat whispered into the phone in his best attempts to keep his father and roommate hearing. Too bad the two have amazing hearing because on both ends the suspicions went up. Nevertheless Harry stood from his place on the stairs and moved around to see exactly who’d arrived, freezing a bit at the sight of his dad and having a similar reaction to Peter outside. The young Osborn, on the other hand, was quicker than Peter when it came to the denial as instead of greeting the two back he’d gone straight into “Whatever you heard it’s completely wrong, a hoax even. Me and Peter are both completely into women, just women, and that’s in. Peter has a girlfriend too as proof if you don’t believe me…”

Norman had to take a few seconds to just look at his son as he placed the bottle of wine on the kitchen table, then looking back to Pete before glancing between the two. “You don’t sound sure at all of that Harry.” He openly observed as he could easily tell from the pace his son talked that there was definitely something bothering him. And from how Peter was acting before, it of course wasn’t hard for the older man to place two and two together. “I completely approve of things if that’s what you’re worrying about, I could see when you may think I wouldn’t be. I haven’t always been there for you… I know that. Not the type of father you could really come to for something like this. But just know i’m here now and i accept things, okay? Opposed to what the paper say, who you date will not affect the company in any way. I’ll make sure of that. So if it’s anything like that you can relax yourself, both of you, and maybe get changed. I took the day off and I'm going to make the most out of that by taking the two of you out for dinner, just the three of us. Have a gay evening in both of the terms.”

Once more like Peter before, Harry fell into complete silence at his father’s words and tried to take in the whole meaning of this. Of course you had the fact he was still assuming the two of them were dating which would need to be corrected again, but he approved? He was actually accepting of the prospect that his son liked men? The processing period seemed to take a while on his behalf, so much so that Peter was the first to speak up again with a small “Never say that again… please…” in reference to the small ending sentence. It wasn’t the best. “And you really don’t need to do that…”

“Of course I do. I will agree it’s the worst thing to be outed by the media which of course I can’t relate to since I myself haven’t had my love life displayed to the public in such a way, but I’m at least proud to see the two of you haven’t taken things too hard… assuming Harry hasn’t been locked in the apartment the whole day of course?” Norman raised an eyebrow at his son as he crossed his arms a bit, hoping the outcome wasn’t going to be a yes but easily telling it most likely would end that way.

“What Pete’s trying to say,” Harry seemed to avoid the question, something he always seemed to be great at doing, but rather coming back to the main issue Peter and himself were having. “Is that we’re not dating. I understand where they get the idea from but the two of us have never done anything together. And I wasn't lying that Peter has a girlfriend either, MJ. Is she doing okay with the news?”

“We broke up last night for different reasons actually, don’t worry about it… though I’m pretty sure her and Gwen almost killed me over the paper… managed to explain well enough but will need to phone her up later…” Pete added with a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his head as he looked to Harry for a moment or two then toward Norman. “But yeah, the media took a couple of things out of context and… well… now it seems the whole of New York assumes we’re dating?”

“Wait… so neither of you are actually homosexual?” Norman raised an eyebrow at the boys whilst he lay the bottle of wine down on the kitchen side, appearing somewhat disappointed but accepting of this fact. “Well i’m sorry for assuming, guess the media can also get to an old man like myself. Can’t blame me though, I’d be lying if I didn’t say I felt a strong connection between the two of you. Guess it is just as brothers then. At least we can celebrate for one of us coming out, still take you boys out for dinner as a present to myself.”

“Mr Osborn… um… I actually don’t think you’re off about a few things…” Peter beginned to continue as Harry looked somewhat unsure of the situation. He didn’t know right? Peter probably assumed the kissing thing was all a rumour… didn’t he? “I, myself, am a bisexual… first it was only Aunt May knowing and i’d thought she’d be the easiest to come out to but as today appares to keep proving, guess i’ve been wrong… and guess i’ve been wrong about Harry.” The smaller of the brunettes didn;t look at the other but kept his eyes on the older Osborns. “You want to come clean about who you were snogging or are we just going to leave it at some mystery man?”

“Peter, you don’t actually think i’ve gone out kissing different men right?” Harry let a nervous laugh out as he tensed a bit on getting caught out. As for leaning on his best friend’s and even his father’s own views, he wasn’t avoiding things to stop himself from coming out. No… it was to stop on coming out about who he was seeing since he felt that may cause more problems. So the best way to avoid this question? Avoid coming out all together.

“Harry, they have witnesses. Actual witnesses. That part wasn’t a lie. And apparently none of them had claimed it was me specifically you were with, that was assumed by Eds…” Peter sighed whilst Norman looked between the boys, invested in these discoveries. It was a mystery that would hopefully be revealed soon… but not without a few more misunderstandings.

“I’d like to quickly clarify that this Eds refers to Edward Brock, or is he perhaps a partner of yours? Not to say they aren’t mutually exclusive.” Norman began to point out as he leaned back against the counter, causing Peter to go slightly red as he avoided Norman’s gase by moving his own to Harry.

“First, as i said earlier i’d only broke up with MJ last evening… second is the fact we’re, being me and Eddie, rivals…” Peter did end up clarifying but only got a smirk and nod from Norman as if he knew something the younger men didn’t. To be honest he probably did know a lot the two didn’t. “But Harry… It’s completely fine if you like guys, i mean i feel we’ve been discussing that side of things ever since we got inside… and i even understand the whole you not coming out thing.. But why won’t you tell us who this guy i--” Before Pete could finish his sentence his phone seemed to vibrate in his pocket. He was not going to check the message at first but eventually decided to take a peak before he continued. And did the reasoning for Harry avoiding discussing this in front of Pete make sense as he read the short message from Eddie.

‘Hey Petey ~ Forgot to tell you before you hung up that guy’s name. It’s Eugene Thompson, or Flash as he’s apparently better known. No idea if this will mean anything to you but hope it helps xxx’

“Him!” Peter immediately looked to Harry once reading the message and it was obvious to Harry that Pete had just found out. God dammit Eddie and dramatic timing. But Harry was dating, or a least kissing, their bully from high school? Forget that, it was MJ’s ex boyfriend too. Since when? When did they even start hanging out, they hated each other in school. “Just… okay, i’m not mad, i understand not telling me now.. But… why?”

“Wait a moment, who do you mean with ‘Him’ if you’d both be willing to allabirat…” Norman was definitely invested if he hadn’t been before, slightly hypocritical to his saying before that people shouldn’t really care too much on who his son is dating. Guess he was the only exception to this.

“Flash Thompson… That’s the guy I've been seeing the last few months.” Harry finally threw in the towel as he crossed his arms and looked to the floor, slightly dejected. “Pete, I honestly didn’t think i’d ever like the guy but… geez… whilst you and my father were talking at graduation i witnessed his and MJ’s break up and i kind of felt for the guy. It was weird. I kind of went up to him and at first he thought I'd come to gloat about MJ leaving him but somehow the conversation ended up as me offering to get coffee with him sometime to talk. Use the occasion of leaving school as a way to start over. Act like adults instead of a bunch of kids. After the first meet up we learned we surprisingly had a lot in common and then we just kept seeing each other more and more after that. He asks about you, you know? Keeps apologising for things that happened and honestly hoped you and MJ were doing better than he had with her. I think it might have been four or five months back that he may have came out to be, Bisexual. And if you’re going to keep insisting to know then yes… I’m gay, no big deal.. No need for a special dinner… I didn’t want to tell you cause I felt you’d flip… but also just because i felt i might be able to not tell people things for once. It’s usually ‘don't tell Harry this’ or ‘don't tell Harry that’ or something, isn’t it? Flash didn’t keep things from me...”

Silence filled the room, and unlike out on the streets it was actual silence this time. Just two men staring at the third. Peter felt a twinge of guilt in himself. Harry wasn’t wrong. On so many occasions things were being kept from Harry, and he really did deserve someone who wouldn’t keep anything from him. And the way he went about talking with Flash. ‘Act like adults’ as he put it. Peter should have tried that himself but even if he was smart, he also had the ability to be a complete dumbass. “Harry… I completely understand… and if Flash or Eugene or whatever he’s getting called nowadays makes you happy then i’m here for you… you’re like a brother to me, so i’ll be a brother to you…”

With this, Peter wrapped his arms around Harry and brought him into an embrace which the other man hadn’t expected. This didn’t stop him from returning the hug of course as his own arms came over Peter's shoulders and held him close. This was followed by a third pair of arms, of course having to be Norman, as he held onto his boys. He could keep his inner demons down for now. For his sons. The hug may have not lasted long but felt like hours before they separated, a smile finally coming to Harry’s face and a genuine one at that. “I know you said no special dinner… but please Harry, let me treat you. All of you. Invite over this Flash guy whilst Parker hears invite’s Brock.” Norman offered once more to which eventually Harry nodded his head with a small laugh.

“I’ve already said, me and Eddie aren’t a thing…” Peter was red as he defended himself, beginning a facepalm after an eye roll before feeling Harry put an arm around him.

“Even if you’re not I think he probably wants to see the truth he’s been helping you look for?” Harry raised an eyebrow to Peter before both boys ended up laughing whilst Norman excused himself from the room, moving out to the hallway. “Caused this mess as well so maybe he can see things come to an end. Both seemed to be getting along with our so called rivals lately, don’t we Pete?”

“Okay, okay... '' Peter finally agreed himself to the proposal at hand, shrugging Harry’s arm off of himself as his laughter still continued onwards. “Guess after this morning me and Eds have decided to act like adults… You better not say anything embarrassing about me though. It’s healthy but still a rivalry. We’re not you and Flash, but who knows what the future holds.”

#nuggets writing #NOT MY FIC #posting for my eldest #Make Me Feel Bingo

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mwolf0epsilon · 5 years ago

Note

Norman finds out Joey abuses Sammy. How? And what does he do ?

Warning for Joey Drew being a verbally and physically abusive dickhead, Norman being a little voyeuristic, and canon typical violence.

Summary: Despite his imposing size and general weirdness, Norman Polk had a very soft heart...

---

Growing up with a militaristic family had shaped Norman Polk into one of the most capable people to ever work at Joey Drew Studios. He had a variety of skill sets that could cover a lot of general tasks in the studio itself, from handyman to mechanic work, to a bit of plumbing and a lot of heavy lifting. On days he didn't have anything to record, Norman would either find himself organizing the projector storage area, or carrying boxes full of reels, as well as lugging around those damn soup vending machines Drew had splurged large sums of money on (what a waste, he'd seen Grant's notes, he felt for the poor accountant).

In the earlier days of the studio, when Henry was still around, he'd been akin to a godsend in Joey's eyes. Cheap labour and little to no care about the workload.

Now that he had a more set position he helped where he could when asked. Yet, for all his usefulness, everyone in the studio considered him to be a bit of a creep.

Granted, he had done that to himself. His dear ma had always told him he had a bad habit of sticking his nose where he shouldn't, and his older sister had flicked his ears whenever he'd snuck up on her to eevesdrop on her conversations with that boy from across the street she clearly fancied.

"Quiet as a hunting jaguar and twice as observant", his pop would say with pride. His sisters all used to scoff and say he was just a snoop trying to get them in trouble.

Of course he never told on any of them, because that wasn't his intention. No, he simply had an insatiable curiosity that lead to him creeping about in the dark places, where none could see him.

It was something that followed him into adulthood and into the studio.

Quiet as a mouse he got around and saw things. Things no one could even dream he knew about them. Like the contents of Grant's locked filing cabinets, the bottle of whiskey Lacie hid in her toolbox, Thomas Connor's favourite sandwich (peanut butter and jelly, cut in triangle shapes), the conversations Susie had with herself in different voices to warm up for recordings, the rather interesting discussions between Jack and Sammy, Wally's frustration with his memory issues, even the few times he'd caught sight of Bertrum Piedmont being less than appropriate in a workplace bathroom (for his age, Norman had to say the man had restraint and stamina to be able to fiddle with himself for so long unnoticed). Info he could easily use to humiliate or even bribe a few people. But he wouldn't of course... Despite his imposing size and general weirdness, Norman Polk had a very soft heart. One that could fit all these misfits.

Which is why it physically hurt him when he noticed things changing. And not for the better either.

The studio was a mess from day one due to Joey clearly having poor management skills. Things tended to go a little haywire at times, and throwing money at something until it worked didn't solve anything in the end. When the war propaganda started popping up, stuff got way worse. More than half the staff enlisted, leaving Joey to hire women to cover for his losses. And god did Joey Drew hate women.

Norman had been repulsed by all the things he caught his boss saying and doing in the presence of the female staff. The looks of discomfort and masked anger left a bitter taste in his mouth and he cursed his own sneakiness for leaving him without a reasonable way to tell him off for it. How could he know if he wasn't in the room to witness it? How could he just come out and say he was in the walls watching his peers like some creep?

The few who caught on to him observing them often looked at him in disgust. An entire studio of angry women turned against him wouldn't do his sanity no good.

Conflicted mind aside, the new hires weren't the only changes. The few who remained weren't doing any better. If anything there was a decline in behavioral patterns due to an influx of work.

Grant became quieter, more anxious. He saw less of the man on lunch breaks and found him chugging coffee in his office just mumbling numbers to himself like his life depended on it.

Wally's hostility towards Thomas was escalating to the point he'd dragged Shawn Flynn into the mess. A stolen tool belt, a match of the blame game, and an irate Irishman were not good things.

Susie had been replaced, and her subsequent upset at losing a spot she'd adored was affecting her side character voice work. She also acted outright hostile towards the replacement and to Sammy of all people.

Speaking of which, both Sammy and Jack looked tired and had constant migraines from working with the band all day. While he saw little of Jack, he noted that Sammy was behaving in a rather aggressive manner to anyone who so much as inconvenienced him (Buddy had only been trying to be nice and immediately he'd gotten Sammy's full fury on day one of knowing him).

Lacie was murmuring paranoid mambo jumbo about that one creepy bendy robot thing moving and watching her (he'd never seen it do such a thing, and he'd spent a good part of a morning staring at it).

Bertrum's mood had darkened after an argument with Joey, and even the damn dancer they'd hired a month or so ago was going about hiding stuff behind toilets. If that wasn't disgusting Norman didn't know what was... Some of these people lacked the decency to clean after themselves so there was no way he'd take a peek himself.

The studio was, for a lack of better words, becoming a bit of a circus act.

So really, it shouldn't have surprised him when he'd stumbled upon an alarming sight in Drew's office.

There was a particular vent that lead to a nice and big crawlspace between the ceiling of Joey's office and the floor of the room above. Norman liked to eat lunch there, nice and quiet and with a vantage point to look down at Joey's desk, where he'd be writing the most pitiful letters to his investors.

It was fun to watch the bastard degrade himself when he often degraded those around them instead. That day Norman had expected to find just that, not Joey holding Sammy by the neck and squeezing it tight while the poor music director squirmed uselessly in his grasp.

Naturally de'd frozen in shock, staring through the crack he used to observe his less than favourite protagonist, watching the scene unfolding like something out of them novels his wife liked to read. Murder mystery stuff.

Joey Drew was choking the life out of one of his first employees, while hissing the most cruel and deplorable things imaginable. Once in a while he'd release his grasp when Sammy's face would start turning a horrid shade of blue, then continue to choke him and verbally assault him once the guy reinflated his lungs. The process carried on for at least five minutes before Norman could take no more.

Food abandoned to the mice, he crawled all the way back out and made his way to Drew's office. He slammed his fist on the door before opening it, refusing to wait for an answer.

Joey had released Sammy in the time it took for Norman to get out and back. The blond just barely composing himself while Joey played the part of a saintly boss, sitting behind his desk with a calm and peacefully look on his face.

"Is everything alright, Mr. Polk?" The devil of a man asked, with that false sweet tone he used when addressing his more naive employees. Sammy refused to look at anyone, instead fixing the creases on his shirt and pinning his loosened hair into a messy ponytail.

Caught red-handed, Norman didn't know what to say. Thankfully Wally was a saving grace in that respect.

"FIRE IN THE BAND ROOM! THE DANG PROJECTOR EXPLODED!"

"The music sheets!" Sammy practically shoved past them both to run to the aid of the few pieces that had survived any encounters with the faulty ink pipes. Wally followed, leaving Norman to stare at Joey.

The look in Drew's eyes told him he knew perfectly well why Norman had come here.

"Best be less obvious about your hobbies Mr. Polk..."

"Why Mr. Drew, I haven't a faintest clue what yous is on about... Just comin' ta tell ya the projector was no good no more."

"Right... The projector. Hopefully the projectionist doesn't end up the same. There's only so much a soft heart can take, hm?" The implications of his words were a little unsettling, but thus far Drew was more bark than talk.

"Resortin' to threats now, are we? Can ya really afford ta lose anyone else?" Not to mention it'd be odd to just let him go after years of working at the studio. People would ask questions.

"If I could afford to lose the best damn artist this studio ever saw, I can definitely afford to lose a nosy projectionist." He meant those words. He really did. Norman could sense the malice behind them. So he hit back harder.

"Henry did the right thing leavin' your sorry ass behind."

He got out as soon as the paperweight flew his way. He'd definitely pay for that later, but it felt good to at least spare Sammy from Joey's wrath.

Soft heart and all that...

A soft heart that would inevitable have an axe buried in it, brandished by the very same person he'd been trying to help.

Life didn't much care for soft people, it seemed.

#Eps Writes:#Fanfic #Bendy and the Ink Machine #BATIM #Norman Polk #Sammy Lawrence #Joey Drew

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grrlinthefireplace · 6 years ago

Note

Hey so I’ve been seeing you post a lot about La Casa de Papel recently. What exactly is it? It looks kinda interesting.

Thank you so much for asking!

I am delighted beyond reason to have the opportunity to tell you - and by extension the entire world - why this show has cleared my skin, watered my crops, and legitimately healed my soul after this particularly soul-crushing season of Grimdark White Man Television almost broke me as a human being.

I will attempt to keep this as spoiler-free as I possibly can, because this is a show that should be experienced in the moment, but in a nutshell, La Casa de Papel is a heist show set in present-day Madrid which follows both a found family of thieves who rob the Royal Mint of Spain, and the law enforcement officials on the outside who are chasing them.

If that is enough for you, go right to your TV or computer, fire up the ol’ Netflix, and don’t waste any more time.

If, however, you need a little more, here are the top five things I flail about to every single person in my life to convince them they need to start watching this show like immediately and then come back and tell me all about it.

For visual flair, we’ll intersperse them with some gifs of ladies, because I know my audience.

5. character driving plot > plot driving character.

You know that infuriating thing lazy TV writers do where, in order to to hurry up and get to the big explosion or battle scene or dragon attack or whatever, which is the only bit they really care about, they handwave away the whole concept of motivation and make some character do something that any halfway-attentive viewer will immediately clock that they would never actually do?

There is none of that bullshit here.

In its simplest form, the plot of La Casa de Papel is as follows: a brilliant criminal mastermind devises a heist which cannot possibly go wrong, and then we proceed to watch all the ways in which it goes wrong.

This is a fantastic setup for an action story, made even more breathlessly exciting by strategic use of my favorite heist movie plot device (as perfected by Ocean’s Eleven): namely, “scene where it looks like our crime heroes have been outsmarted and are now threatened by a completely unforeseen disaster” immediately followed by “flashback to the team prepping for the heist where we learn that of course they prepared for this exact scenario.”

But from time to time, things do actually go wrong (as they must, or else there would be no story); and, when they do, it is never because you can tell a writer just wanted to write a scene where bullets go flying, and didn’t care how he got there. These characters are so clear, their behavior so consistent, that when gasp-worthy plot twists happen, they happen because of course that character, in this exact scenario, would do that exact thing.

I’m telling you, I came to this show for a ship (more on that in a minute) and I stayed for a swooning, heart-eyes writer crush on the impeccably-designed plot structure and characterization.

4. High stakes, low gore.

Tone-wise, on a sliding scale of Heist Film Intensity where a really fluffy episode of Leverage is a 1, Reservoir Dogs is a 10, and the Ocean’s franchise is somewhere in the 3-4 range, I would place La Casa at a 5 or a 6, which is perfect for me. I love action, suspense, drama and adventure, but I hate gratuitous violence (especially when it’s pointless and masturbatory and doesn’t contribute anything to the plot) and have a very low tolerance for blood and gore. So I kept waiting for the story to eventually take a hard left turn into Tarantino Land, until eventually it was all just one huge pile of dead bodies, and was genuinely surprised when it didn’t.

This is how I learned just how badly my brain has been fucked up by lazy showrunners who think shock deaths are the only way to raise stakes. During the first season of this show, before I had figured out that it was a Flawless Gem of Television Which So Far Has Not Once Disappointed Me, there were probably a dozen moments where I was absolutely convinced that some character was about to be gruesomely killed for shock value … and I was wrong every single time.

Reader, it was fucking wild.

Every single time I was convinced that person A was going to shoot person B in the head because blah blah maximum angst over here in this part of the story and then it will motivate person C to do this other thing, the show did the hard work of finding a smarter, more unexpected direction to take that character’s story. That means that when deaths do come along - and there are a couple - they feel genuinely earned, and they matter deeply to the story and to us.

3. I would die for these women.

This show loves women. Like it truly, authentically, uncompromisingly loves women in all our fucked-up messy glorious complexity. There are no “types” or cliches here; no one is forced to be only one thing. Fuck your one-dimensional Strong Female Characters, lazy writers.

For one thing, on many shows you might be lucky if you get maybe one mom who is given a personality and a story outside of motherhood. Often, on shows written by men, the fact of her motherhood diminishes her strength or her agency. On this show, nearly every one of the central female characters is both a mom and an action hero simultaneously. Seriously. By season 3 there are four different battle moms. They’re all different, they’re not all on the same side, they have different perspectives, and their role as mother impacts the story differently, but that’s the joy of having a whole lot of different kinds of women - no one has to be everything to everyone.

These women are complicated. They laugh, they cry, they crack dirty jokes, they get laid, they have babies, they fight, they make mistakes, they fall in love, they grow. Men pull sexist shit and they shut it the fuck down. Some of them have love stories, some of them don’t, but they are never defined by or triangulated around relationships with men. They get to have relationships with each other. All of them are excellent at their jobs.

Tokyo is the kind of hot mess antihero protagonist we’ve been watching middle-aged white men play for decades.

Allison is such a realistic teenage girl it’s genuinely painful to watch.

Monica has one of the best arcs I’ve ever seen on television, this is not a drill.

Alicia is terrifying. (A pregnant black ops interrogator! ON WHAT OTHER FUCKING SHOW!?!??)

Nairobi is unlike any other character you’ve seen on TV before; she’s got a little bit of Parker from Leverage, a little bit of Raven Reyes from The 100, but she’s entirely her own creature and you will fall in love with her instantly.

And Raquel. Oh, my love, my angel, my hero, Inspector Raquel Murillo. Love of my goddamn life. A fierce, kickass hostage negotiator swimming upstream against a tide of workplace misogyny who sometimes has to make the frustrating little male-appeasing compromises we all have to make to get through the workday. A beautiful, sexy, powerful heroine over 40 whose femininity isn’t diminished based on some bullshit notion that, for example, pairing your tough-bitch suit and gun holster with red toenails and a lacy blouse detracts from your strength. A loving mom and daughter who has to juggle raising a small child and caring for an aging parent with the stress of, you know, trying to stop the biggest robbery in the history of Spain. A domestic violence survivor (TW for those who need it; nothing is ever shown onscreen, but it’s discussed several times) who is given the space to discuss the things that have happened to her and how she has worked through them with such dignity, accuracy and respect that you can tell the writers did their homework.

This is a show where you can tell there are women in the writers’ room.

2. The Professor and Raquel. I don’t want to spoil a single thing for you here except to say that I myself was lured into this show by the promise of electric sexual chemistry between a criminal mastermind and the police inspector hunting him down, and my God I was not disappointed.

1. Love.

This show came into my life at a period where I was so weary of cynicism on television - so fucking furious at showrunners who dangle hope in front of us and then crush it, who only care about building anything if they can tear it down later, who treat love and fun and joy and hope and family and happiness like they’re intellectually lesser than grimdark nihilism with no soul - that I was honestly kind of broken by it. I was just so. fucking. tired. Tired of “the way we show this heroine is strong is to kill off her love interest.” Tired of “sorry but all this rape and murder is NECESSARY because of REALISM” (particularly rich when coming from shows featuring evil A.I.’s or dragons and ice zombies). Tired of getting invested in relationships - whether ships or friends or found families - only to realize that the show I was watching was always going to sacrifice character to force plot mechanics into place, and those relationships were never going to get the kind of care and focus I wanted them to get.

But that is not this show.

The single most revolutionary thing, to me, about La Casa de Papel - the thing that sets it apart from every other rollercoaster action thrill ride on television - is that every single thread of the plot is tied to love.

Every.

Single.

One.

Love of all different shapes and sizes - parents and children, friendships, doomed crushes (straight and queer), toxic exes, blossoming romances, siblings - and over it all, a deep, deep love for humanity.

The thing I said before, about how when things go wrong they go wrong in character-driven ways? It’s this. Love is why everything on this show happens. Love is what makes children want to live up to their parents and what makes parents fight to leave a better world for their children. Love is why deaths have stakes. Love is why we spend so much screentime lingering on small moments another show might ignore, like all the thieves at heist camp sitting down every night to have dinner together and argue about paella techniques. Love is what causes chaos in the middle of the heist; when there’s one person in the room you care about more than the others, you can get distracted and take your eye off the ball. Love is how your enemies can get to you, by leveraging or blackmailing the people who matter most, knowing that you’ll crack if they’re in danger. Love, gone wrong, causes toxic men to develop possessive and controlling behavior towards women. Love is how the Professor gets the idea for the heist in the first place. The plan is flawless on paper, but it doesn’t account for the human variable, and over and over again we see that relationships and connection and sex and family and love cause people to behave in unpredictable ways and throw the whole plan into chaos, which is what makes for a dynamic and compelling story.

How refreshing to see a show simply refuse to grant the oft-repeated premise that a show cannot have both high-octane thrills, and a big soft squishy heart, at the same time.

ANYWAY, I’VE TAKEN UP ENOUGH OF YOUR VALUABLE TV-WATCHING TIME, GO JUMP ON BOARD THIS TRAIN AND COME SCREAM ABOUT IDEALISTIC SPANISH ROBIN HOODS WITH ME, AND LET THE GOOD SHIP SERQUEL INTO YOUR LIFE, YOU WON’T BE SORRY

THANKS FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK

#lannister-slings-and-arrows #la casa de papel #money heist #from the inbox #i have a lot of feelings about this show #is this entire post just one long subtweet of 'the 100'#listen #maybe #i'm still pissed about kabby and will be for awhile #but legit this show was HEALING and CATHARTIC in some unexpected ways #yes virginia you CAN have functional loving stable relationships and high-stakes drama at the same time

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fightevilandthengetblownup · 5 years ago

Text

FIC: Light In The Crack

---

Her back ached something fierce sitting in on the bar stool, but leaning over the sticky, wooden surface, Jo mentally added new bar stools to her list for things she should think about updating in the bar going forward.

“Hey, did you get my list for new orders?” The brunette girl’s voice cut through, and blinking blearily as she lifted her eyes from the laptop screen to the god send of a barmaid, Jo found herself nodding towards Sophie. “Oh good. I know I added a few new things on there-”

“You’re thinkin’ it’d be good for the younger crowd comin’ in now, right?” “Exactly.” “Why am I even botherin’ to do the paperwork myself any more?”

That got a laugh from the other as Sophie quickly swiped over the bar top with a cleaning rag to pick up that sticky factor, before the other shrugged. “Easy. You’re off from your travels for a few months with the little one on the way, so best you do something to keep yourself occupied.”

“You better not get used to it,” she quipped back, sitting up a bit straighter and one hand going to rub her aching back and the other to settle on top of the shifting movement inside her extended stomach. The little brat was in an excited mood today it seemed. “You’re back on the books as soon as the little bastard gets out.”

Sophie laughed again, nodding as she grinned and moved back to restocking the fridge.

“Who are you calling that, cupckae. Is i- the baby misbehaving?”

Jo found herself smiling as she shifted on her seat with a groan to turn out towards the rest of the bar as the shadow settled on the stool beside her. The dark haired woman was dressed far more relaxed than usual, but that didn’t particularly surprise her. She’d noticed the other woman knew better than to dress too well whenever they’d be meeting at the bar - even though they never did when too many unfriendly types may be around, it just made the other stand out. And Shada had quipped once that a man smelling of fish or a college kid without a proper beard were not the type she wanted to stand out for.

“He’s bein’ a brat today, so yeah,” Jo found herself chuckling and then letting out an audible groan as she felt a foot hit out at her in a way that was still so surreal. “He gets to be one when he acts like it.”

As she looked over at the other woman again from where she was massaging the sore point from the constant running practice that morning the baby was doing, Jo was surprised to see the look of confused wonder and uncertainty crossing the other woman’s face.

“Is he... What was that you reacted to?” Shada’s voice was almost quiet as the natural sound of her real Voice, but held nothing but surprise in it’s tone. “Why... How do you know if he’s misbehaving?”

As another harsh kick started, Jo rolled her eyes and grabbed the shadow woman’s hand to place over the space. “Give it a sec and you’ll know how I know he deserves a goddamn motherfuckin’- ow! - time out today.” The hard kick came again followed by a second and then the strange bumping that Jo took to mean he’d decided he was bored and spinning around for some reason. The loud squeal that cut over Jo’s own pained reaction was loud, surprised and made Jo want to laugh a little as she growled darkly to herself as she could feel the mass under their hands moving about restlessly before settling again. “Bloody little brat, that’s right go to sleep you dick.”

There was a long pause before she realised the other hadn’t moved her hand back yet, and releasing her hold, the blonde found herself frowning slightly at the way the other woman moved her hand back slowly and kept twitching her fingers. Neither said a word for a moment, before they were interrupted by a loud shout of greeting from the stairs at the other end of the room.

“Hey! You two are early,” Harry beamed towards them as he moved across the room. “When’d you get here? Jo, why are you working?”

“Got bored at home, and Grey’s goin’ to be another half hour dealin’ with his stuff.” Jo replied gently as she turned back to her laptop and began shutting the system down once she’d finished sending her last email. Clicking the top down, she was surprised to see a hand held out by Harry to help her off of her perch. “What? You think I’m goin’ to fall flat on my face?”

“Not my fault you’d be easy to topple over these days.” “You calling me fat, Potter?” “Nah, just calling you front heavy. Balance out the back.” “Oi!”

Jo laughed as she hit out at the other gently once she was back on her feet, and smiled as Harry picked up her laptop for her. “Didn’t want to go upstairs until I knew you were ‘bout. Be a shitty landlord who just barged on in all the time unannounced.” She smiled brightly at the researcher as he shifted her laptop to the other hand and offered the same help out of friendliness and appreciation to the fact Shada usually wore much higher heels that she was right then. “Besides.. who knows if you’d’ve had a girl over for once.”

Harry’s cheeks went a little red at that, and if the way his eyes darted across the top of the bar in the direction of the brunette woman spinning about to some Broadway tune with a case of beers to unpack, Jo figured she’d have to have a look at how sexual harassment in the workplace worked if they finally got their shit together.

“Heh, funny Jo.” Harry replied sharply after a moment, smiling at her as she made to waddle towards the stairs after the other two. The researcher bent at the entry to the stairs and unlatched the protective iron bar he and Jo had devised to work as an alternative protection, and waved both women up as he moved to set it against the wall so the stairway would remain open for either friendly shadow when Grey would arrive. “You two get settled-”

“Harry, could you come help with the keg?” “Sure thing.” “Thanks sugarpie!”

Jo found herself raising a brow, before smirking as Shada let out her own giggle at how red Harry’s cheeks and neck had gone as he waved them up. He’d be along later, and if the way Sophie glanced over with a wink to the departing women, it wouldn’t be until Grey himself showed up likely. Jo would really need to look into if Harry not being an on a contract made it her issue or not.

As soon as they got upstairs, Jo practically flung herself onto the couch and lifted her aching, swollen ankles up onto the arm rest with a welcome sigh. She was barely six months along and already she was exhausted and aching constantly. Every muscle groaned constantly and it had been a battle for the last few weeks not to scream in frustration and pain frequently. Rubbing her belly again with a quiet whimper, she fumbled for a throw cushion to rest under her head as well as her lower back before foregoing the head support when she only found one cushion in arms reach.

“You, uh, need this?”

Jo looked up in surprise to see Shada holding out another cushion towards her, and smiling gratefully, she stuffed the pillow under her head with a happy sigh.

“God bless, fuck me I hate this so much.” Jo let out a quiet chuckle with the words, a self-deprecating tone running through the words filled with amusement as she continued to gently rub her stomach where she could feel the baby shifting but thankfully not kicking out. She didn’t think her bladder or liver could handle another kick right now. “I can’t wait ‘til he’s out and I don’t have to ever do this ‘gain.”

“Oh?” The other’s voice was quiet, quieter than usual, and took Jo by surprise with the tone inside of it. Something sad and pained, and maybe even a little bit longing if Jo could pick it right. Shada’s face betrayed none of that though as she perched on the coffee table where Jo could see her easily without having to turn her head or sit up, knees crossed and fingers picking at her perfect manicure that the hunter envied so much. “You, uh, that is, you’re not planning more afterwards?”

Her brow jumped sharply and high at that, and if her back didn’t hurt so much and she had any energy left, Jo would have jolted up at that. Instead she had to settle for a surprised noise and a brow raise to hopefully deliver the surprise for her.

“Um, fuck no?” She replied, confusion bleeding into her tone. “I don’t particularly suspect I’m goin’ to be sleepin’ with anyone other than your brother, so I’m pretty sure that there’s not going to be another one happening.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that-” “Well it’s kinda the only way that’d happen.”

“I just meant,” Shada’s fingers worked more slowly at her nails, twisting and examining them rather than meeting Jo’s eye, and watching that Jo knew the other was thinking something that was likely to upset or be confusing all over again. There was a beat before the other finished her sentence, tone shifting from affronted to curiosity easily. “I know brother is... well, we all know what’s happened. And he’s so happy about the baby coming, I just thought perhaps you’d discuss together options if you wanted another.”

Jo let out a harsh bark of laughter at that, hard and bitter under it as she sank into the calming feeling of rubbing her stomach that she’d found kept her from getting swept away lately. “I doubt Grey’d like me sleeping with someone else again just to get another baby.”

“Perhaps he could-” “What? Jump ship and compel that fuckin’ arsehole still in there to do the deed so it’d be ours?” “No!”

The way Shada’s face had shifted into one of abject horror and disgust made Jo laugh, though it weakened quickly as the jostling brought another painful kick against her diaphragm that time that made her wheeze. Bloody bratty kid. Coughing sharply, Jo waved a hand at the other’s worried look that appeared. “It’s fine. He didn’t like my laughing.”

Shada nodded a few times, eyes moving from her face down to the protruding stomach as the skin moved, and her eyes grew wider that dinner plates at the shifting movements visible at the flash of the bottom curve of her bump under her shirt gap. The blonde found herself chewing on her lip as she wondered just how the other must be taking her brother having a second child, as well as the practicalities of what she was seeing. Jo could remember their first meeting, and how her hunny had said his sister wanted children more than anything when she asked afterwards, but how different and how she didn’t wish to carry them herself. Rubbing at her eyes with a groan, she figured perhaps she was being rude being so ungrateful about the baby herself to the other woman.

“I’m sorry.” She supplied gently, a hand covering her eyes still from looking at what might be running across the other’s face. “I just... I thought this one wasn’t even possible, let alone the impossibility of another with your brother.” Jo found the words tripping out quietly, barely whispered out into the ether beyond the darkness of her eyes closed.

There was a second before she felt a gentle touch against her hand from the other, fingers gripping hers for a fraction of a second before releasing again, the tiny show of support Jo needed right then somehow perfectly. Even if the other probably had no idea.

“Why’d you think you wouldn’t have kids?” The curiosity bleeding out of the other was not unsurprising, given who is was, and turning her head and peering out from between her fingers, Jo wasn’t surprised to see confusion running rampant across the pretty face. “I mean, you said you didn’t want any before, but then-”

“I know what I said that time.” “Well, you changed your mind by then, clearly. And now you are, so why’d you think you couldn’t? It’s not like you’re not fit, cupcake.” “I didn’t think I could.”

“That’s not an answer.” The snap was surprising, as was the heat behind the other’s eyes when Jo met Shada’s in that moment, frowning to herself a little at the sharp look she was receiving. “Clearly you’re a healthy woman, you’re obviously fertile from the seem of things, and it’s not like you wouldn’t have known you could - you did grow up human, after all. So, why did you think you couldn’t?”

The look, dark but warm, caring but hard, curious and longing mixed with a bit of confusion and concern. Jo could tell something was running through the other’s mind - probably something as far from the reality of Jo’s worries as possible. It was like a voice was whispering in the back of her mind that this might be the moment she could finally vocalise that moment. The thing that had haunted her for years, ever since she was reborn as she is now. That this person - the woman staring at her with compassion and support and genuine care, but also a backbone of iron and a cooler head than most - could be one that might be able to handle and be trusted with the truth. That she could share the secret that had lived for so long buried in her mind and heart and the inflated womb that was carrying the precious child that had been the key to so much happiness already before he’d even entered the world.

Jo felt the prickle of tears in her eyes, sharp and painful, as she moved her hand from her face entirely and reached out for one of the other’s. Shada moved easily, eyes fixed on her own as Jo shifted their joined hands on top of her stomach again with sharp, harsh breaths.

“Jo-” Shada’s voice sounded faint and far away under the rush of blood in her ears, and blinking rapidly as if to fight off the start of tears, Jo found herself cutting the other off.

“I thought I could only have abominations.” The word felt right on her tongue - the phrase perfect for how she’d feared and felt for years - and the sharp jerk of the other’s hand as if to pull away and hiss of anger was nothing to the twang in her chest at feeling this finally bubbling out of her lips. “I was brought back to have them, I was made for it. It’s... what I’m for. So I thought I’d never be.. able to have somethin’ good and precious like this.”

“What?” Shada’s confusion was palpable, and Jo knew she hadn’t spoken well, but the wave of relief that was flooding her just then for even verbalising somehow a part of that felt amazing.

Riding that wave on the cusp, she shifted in her spot, swinging her feet off the armrest to the floor and sitting up to face the darkened look on the other’s face. Smiling softly to herself as she let the shadow pull her hand back like she’d been burned by Jo and her words, the blonde ran her hands gently across her stomach as she spoke quietly.

“I... When I was brought back to life?” Jo glanced up from her baby towards the other, dark eyes meeting and seeking the nod of acknowledgement and understanding from the shadow, before continuing. “I never... I’ve never told anyone-”

“Not even brother?” Shada’s voice was almost scandalised, and Jo would have laughed if this was about anything else. The look of surprise and confusion grew on the woman’s pretty face as Jo nodded, before the thick swallow of air seemed to pass them and Jo could find herself continuing.

“-when I was brought back, it wasn’t... as inexplicable as other’s have taken it to be. I, uh, I know who brought me back. And I have always known why.” Jo spoke calmly in a way that she could barely recognise of her own voice right then. “I was brought back for a very specific purpose-”

“What?” “To birth halfbreeds.” “What?”

“I was brought back to life through... I was brought back by the, by the-” The words were catching in her throat, and her eyes hurt like her back did. Like they were performing the same herculean task that her back did every day handling the stress of the baby growing inside of her by holding back the flood of tears she could feel building in her cheeks and dying to rush down her face. He tongue was five times to large, and her throat refused to let the words out on her mind’s command while her heart screamed to let the words out finally.

“Cupcake, it’s... I don’t need to know, whatever it is if it’s that bad.” Shada’s eyes were as wide as they had been at that first kick, but rather than surprise, wonder and confusion they were filled with sympathy and concern and something a little darker warning that perhaps she wouldn’t take the information as calmly as Jo had thought. But she’d bitten enough out already that Jo just had to spit it all out now or choke on the word vomit piling up in her throat. “You don’t have to say anything.”

Shaking her head, blonde strands hanging around her face as Jo let out a shuddering breathe, she wound her fingers together and began picking at a hangnail to avoid looking at the other. “Michael - the Archangel Michael - was the one to bring me back. He pulled me straight from Heaven and shoved me back in my new and improved body, right back where I died.” The air felt suddenly colder beyond belief, and Jo could see the hairs stand up along her arms the same as she felt it on the back of her neck despite the warmth of the room. It felt like all the air was sucked from the space as soon as she’d spoken the name aloud for the first time in years. Like a curse to it. “He... He was commanded to-”

“Who could command-”

“Angels were made by two people. One, we all know, as God. The other was his partner -” Jo’s eyes slowly slide up from her fidgeting hands as she spoke, to see the mottled mix of confusion and uncertainty swirling across the tug and pull of the other woman’s lips, before they dropped open in clear shock as Jo continued, “- his partner, known by most of her children as Mother.”

It was like an electrical storm was building in the space. The air felt like it was alive with energy, all swirling about in the tense atmosphere waiting for a spark or a jolt to let out a lightening crack. Or perhaps it was the complete and odd stillness that Jo couldn’t feel a single shift, kick or twist from the form growing inside of her. The form that if Fate had had her way, would never have existed. The form that if the Mother of Monsters had had her way, would be half angelic and pushed out to wreck havoc upon the world. The form that was somehow a blessing despite the curse Jo had been living under.

“Wh- wh... what?” Shada’s eyes stayed fixed on her own, and Jo could see the pinpoint focus and million thoughts that must have been rushing through the shadow’s mind at that information. Jo knew it was hard to swallow, and harder still to understand the implications. But the reality had been like a hard pill caught in the back of her throat no matter how much water she tried to wash it down with. “What would... What would Mother want with a human? Why would she want you resurrected?”

Jo gave a quiet, pained laugh at that question - because that was the million dollar question and the part she brought all on herself. “She wanted me out of the way and somewhere I could be managed.” She hissed the word out, tugging at the end of her hair sharply for a moment as she remembered the feeling of a less harsh pair of fingers stroking before they turned violent. “That’s what Michael was for. To manage me. And to help her with a brand new plan to destroy God’s children-”

“Humans?” “Bingo.” “What’s that to do with you and-”

The way the shadow cut off with a hiss made Jo want to laugh again as her eyes drew back to the other and the strange mix of tones crossing the woman’s face. The possibilities, every little bit of the puzzle Jo had shared, every little bit of the secret she’d trailed throughout the conversation, slowly dawning on the other’s face.

“She wanted a new species of monster - human and angelic hybrids, in fact. Mother wanted an army of nephilims.” “Don’t those kill the human?”

“They do. If they aren’t made specially for it.” Jo snarled the words out, anger bubbling at the injustice of what her life had been to be played and toyed with as she had been. Shaking her head, she let out a sigh at the tiny shift she could feel from her son against her skin. “That’s why I was brought back, and how I was changed. I, uh, I can carry and birth, and birth again, that type without dyin’. I was to be taken into... Into Michael’s custody. For him to begin her plans, for him to..to breed with me. For him to ra-”

“No!” The shocked cry was surprising, but nothing on the almost bone-crushing hug that came from the other as Shada launched from the coffee table to beside her. Thin arms wrapped tightly around her chest and the dark head pressed tightly against her own shoulders as Jo could abstractly feel them shaking before she felt that tsunami of feelings washing out of her and the tears falling finally with a sob as she collapsed into the other’s hold. “No no no. That’s- Oh Jo!”

Wrapping her own arms back around the other’s smaller frame, she felt as if something heavy that had been on her back had lifted - even if her back still ached from the pains of stretches and carrying a whole extra life with her, she felt like she’d never been as light as she was in that moment. “I thought I couldn’t... I could never have anythin’ but those. I never... I never thought I could have somethin’ that I wanted.”

There was a movement that felt like a nod from the other woman as Jo struggled to calm her breathing for a moment as she felt the soft rub of a hand on her back, massaging gently away at the tender open wound of her heart and mind with soft fingers that wouldn’t tug any more than Jo would offer.

“Jo,” Shada’s voice sounded rough and dry, not at all the sweet and clear tones that she usually used, and as the pair finally drew back from each other, Jo could see thick mascara lines matching what she was sure were red tear lines down her own face. “That’s not going to happen. None of us would let that happen to you, and the... the baby you have? You’ve had the say in this, it’s your choice that you’re having it, right? And you do want it, right?”

It was the first time someone had actually asked her that since she’d found out, and as she heard the sound of footsteps and the two men they were waiting on’s voices bouncing up from the stairway and hall, Jo found herself letting out a sharp, pained bark of a laugh as she nodded her head.

If there was nothing else Jo knew - she knew that no matter what had happened to her, that she was getting exactly what she wanted as another sharp, painful kick was driven out against where the other woman’s stomach was pressed to hers. And as Shada let out a surprised and shocked squeal again, her eyes caught the shadow’s eyes to know that there was someone who knew just how much Jo had been carrying to get just what she wanted.

#ca #au stories #kidverse #jopov

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beardpeak1 · 4 years ago

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Females Training Bursary Spotlight 2

Women Coaching In Football

Content

Join My Winning Females Service Community On Facebook.

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wirewitchviolet · 5 years ago

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Abuse I’ve just had to sit with forever

Right now I can’t look anywhere without seeing people speaking up about abusive monsters in various positions of power and it’s really triggering a lot of PTSD for me about all the times I’ve been in positions like that where nobody has ever listened or tried to help so... I’m just going to rattle off all the ones that come to my head, anonymously, and I don’t know, if anyone who knows me wants to ask me about any of these and/or try to really do something to help, maybe come talk to me about it through whatever private channel we talk in sometimes.

Family stuff. There’s a lot, and there’s no real way to talk about any of it anonymously because I mean being members of my family it’s already narrowed down way too much.

Someone once put me in the temporary care of a woman who savagely beat me because her own children were making too much noise when they should have been asleep. Bad enough that when I went back to school I was almost ripped out of my home by child protective services on the assumption that’s where it happened. Oh and she also force-fed me rotten food with maggots in it. I ended up pretty sick as a result, lost a whole lot of weight, and ended up with a serious eating disorder that’s plagued me since. I did eventually get out of there but I don’t know that I’ve ever really conveyed the full extend of it.

One of that woman’s children had some sort of torture kink, very nearly killed me, did put me in the hospital from injuries, and might have raped me. Hard to say because I was like... 7? Hard to translate those memories now that I have the context and vocabulary. I tried to explain that to anyone who’d listen at the time but, again, I didn’t have the vocabulary and I don’t think it came across that like... ropes and tools were involved, not just fists. Never got into that with therapists, because the first one I had really loved playing gatekeeper with trans stuff and liked the “maybe you just think you’re a girl because of abuse as a child” line of thinking too much already. I think I heard he eventually landed in prison though, so that’s something?

The first job I ever had. Games website. I was too young to be working but nobody ever thought to ask about it, and my family needed the extra income to avoid homelessness besides. The owner of the site... was really into open sexual roleplay in workplace text chats. I was so young and weirdly sheltered that I didn’t even process that that was even a thing, and 90% of it went straight over my head, plus I was in a weird state at the time with the whole trans thing where oh yeah, if anyone’s doing any roleplaying stuff on the internet, I’ll be in the character of me-but-a-girl but everything is pretend here right? So... there was a whole lot of mounting and thrusting being described and it took a few years to sink in that that was not in fact about him pretending to be a knight with me as a horse or something. And there was also a lot of... failing to pay me for years of backbreaking work, outright stealing from me, and I mean, I was up until like 4 AM every night working while still in high school. So, yeah. that was a lot. Never told anybody about any of this. So far as I know he still runs the site and nobody’s ever confronted him about anything.

Used to try to play various RPGs with some people in this extra niche-y game space. Sort of the first place I was ever read as a woman without offering anyone “corrections.” And... there was just this one guy who whenever he was GMing had some weird creative excuse for my character (usually the only woman in the party) to... be raped and/or impregnated just all of the sudden and totally out of left field. Which everyone was OK with somehow. And when he wasn’t GMing he was all over my character of course. Never really spoke up to anyone. I just left one day.

Ended up... in the inner circle of someone very famous. Mostly famous for being a victim of abuse. Which is why I ignored... every single red flag there is that someone is an abusive person and taking advantage of everyone around them. They controlled every aspect of my life for years. Had me do a whole lot of work for them, place myself in real physical and psychological danger, regularly. Directly asked me to severe ties with most people in my life. Install kill-switch sortware on my laptop for their piece of mind that none of our conversations would ever be seen by anyone, while also making me talk only in privately managed chat services where they logged everything and my screen wiped at regular intervals, and insisting I use an untraceable alias in it. All of this I was constantly assured was for my own safety as much as theirs, somehow, and that I was their most valued friend who they would keep safe, start paying a huge salary to soon, as well as help secure me a safe place to live and get properly started on medical transition stuff that I was unable to do in the increasingly unsafe place I was living at the time. I could keep going with this, but again, I don’t want anyone playing guessing games. Eventually, as serial abusers do, this person got sick of me, cast me out, and said presumably unspeakable things about me to everyone in that social circle, because everyone quite promptly cut all ties to me without a word. I once mentioned some small fraction of this publicly in defense of... multiple people attempting suicide as a result of this person’s abuse, and it was made very, very clear to me that this is not someone I will ever be able to safely speak about in public.

Another person who is very famous, with ties to abuse prevention stuff, added me to a blacklist to kill my career prospects and then kinda put a hit out on me on a neo-nazi website, but I’ve written about that incident. Nothing happened as a result of speaking out aside from the violence I was already being subjected to ramping up and more people cutting ties with me. Oh and those who didn’t are still quite friendly with her.

Several women with ties to... dangerous people randomly got it into their heads several years ago that I posed some sort of threat to someone I am told they “feel very protective towards” and... unleashed a hell on me unlike anything I have ever seen. I have spent the past 6 years now dealing with death threats from far right terrorist organizations who in some cases have very sizeable body counts, and those groups don’t scare me anywhere near as much as these people. Anyone else I have seen them paint a target on completely withdrew from the internet their careers and any sort of public life to try and stay off their radar. I have had multiple people privately confide in me that they had been threatened never to speak to me again before proceeding to make good on that. I have individually thrown myself at the mercy of every single one of them, explained that I have absolutely no ill will towards any of them, and had never even heard of this person they’re “protecting” before they started coming after me. Nothing has worked. They’ve never stopped. I’m legitimately afraid someone connected to them is going to murder me some day, and I don’t know what to do. I’ve confided in all of maybe 3 people about this. One might be dead, one is a total hermit, the third briefly tried supporting me, received threats, and promptly retracted everything, replacing it with a fire and brimstone speech about how I am an evil monster who tricked them. I have regular nightmares about this, and collapse into a shivering heap just seeing any of their names mentioned.

I... spent a good deal of time in social contact with a person I have been told I need to be friends with to advance in a career I would like to pursue. While doing so, he sabotaged a project that was fairly important to me, and I saw some him mistreat someone else in ways I find quite disturbing, but that’s her story to tell and not mine. I don’t feel comfortable around him, and have no real choice but to give up on those dreams. Haven’t really discussed this anywhere. The sort of work I can get would definitely vanish completely if I did.

The sort of work I can get also involves working for a variety of companies with people very high up the ranks who have seriously harmed a number of people I consider to be very good friends, in ways that in some cases include sexual abuse, and I... really would prefer not to ever work for anyone employing such people now that I am aware of this.

Yet another famous person, but one who I feel perfectly comfortable naming, Graham Linehan, used to follow me on social media with a level of enthusiasm that could arguably be better referred to as stalking. Then later he joined some extremist anti-trans hate group and rose to the top pretty quickly. And some years after that, it finally sank in that worshiping a trans woman while also leading a group of people bent on killing us all, so he has been very loudly and very publicly rambling about his hatred for me specifically. I don’t really have to speak up about this one because he’s doing plenty of that on his end, but I do have to note that while this famous person terrorizing me hasn’t really earned me any sort of public defense or sympathy, it has encouraged a whole lot of people to invent an alternate timeline of events where I am directly responsible for him being a bigot, leading to me getting dangerous threats from both horrible bigots and people who claim to hate horrible bigots but have suspiciously poor aim.

Hey speaking of celebrities, one of the stars of Firefly used to regularly send me photos of violently distended testicles. One of the stars of Star Trek once posted something encouraging millions of social media followers to attack me and left it up for a weekend. One of the producers of World of WarCraft once threatened to sue me for libel and went on a big PR tour about it, speaking on podcasts and such, and so many fascists pretending to be journalists have dumped so much crap on me...

And not to long ago in something of a wacky mixup, someone ELSE rather famous, who does diversity consulting no less, confused me for someone else and cut loose with a horrific bit of hate and gossip and throwing me under the bus, and misgendering me, saying random harassers baselessly calling me a pedophile were probably onto something. Privately told a handful of people about that, because I thought she was a friend and that was so heartbreaking, but anyone I told is just pretending not to have seen it.

Someone was once offering me help because I was in a dangerous situation, financially. I explained that things had been extra hard since coming out as trans. Suddenly he goes from helpful and concerned to just... violent. Screaming a me, openly trying to chase me out of the space we were both in. I reported this to the proper people. They tried talking, he left. The whole community mourned the loss and wondered who could have driven him off. Still doesn’t feel like a safe place for me.

I don’t really know why I’m bothering with all of this. Nobody is actually going to help. I’d say nobody is actually going to read this, but I’m sure plenty of people who hate me will to see if I’m talking about them and use it as justification to make things worse. Plus some people I’m not talking about I’m sure. I get plenty of that all the time.

Nothing ever helps and you can’t ever win. If you try to keep the abusers appeased by not outing them, the abuse never stops. If you try to speak up, their fans and friends treat it like declarations of war and pile on. If you just try to be there for other people when they’re being abused, you get singled out as a “troublemaker” and added to hit lists and black lists and... nothing works.

I don’t want a lot out of life. I want to know I have enough food, and have a place to live where I’m not at risk of dying from either temperature extreme, a bathroom, enough room for my book shelves, a bed, a couch, a dinner table, and a yoga mat. Maybe a space where my cats can run around a little enclosed semi-outdoor area for the fresh air and sun. I want to be able to deal with my medical problems. I want to see and talk to friends sometimes. If I’m really greedy, I’d like to have all that for a particular friend too who I’m constantly worrying about dying of poverty. And I’d like to be able to work on games. Maybe play them sometimes. Maybe watch things.

And that’s the really messed up part. Because abusive people and people supporting the structures of abuse always say they just want to focus on getting work done, or having fun, and it’s a lie. What’s most important for them is perpetuating abuse. They could just stop, or get rid of the people doing it, and the rest of us could live our lives and everything would be fine. But no instead we have to drop everything and make sure no woman anywhere feels safe enough to even breath.

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jimlingss · 6 years ago

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Jungle Park [7]

Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 7.5 OR Chapter 8

➜ Words: 7.3k

➜ Genres: Fluff, Light Humour (?), Slice of Life, Workplace Romance!AU

➜ Summary: The equation is simple. Hoseok needs to hire someone. You need a job. Except like any actual equation, it’s not fucking simple at all! Not when you have to add the fact that he was forced to hire someone he doesn’t want in his office, he has little respect for your job in general, and oh yeah...once upon a time you might have—*CENSORED*.

Marriage seems to be the ultimate goal for many. And she can’t blame those who want it. At least when she constantly faces the most beautiful side of love and matrimony, bouquets of red roses and yellow tulips, long trains of wedding dresses, the tulle of the veil, the glowing smile of both bride and groom radiating happiness. Yes. Weddings were undoubtedly gorgeous. “And here...a song dedicated to these love birds.” The band behind her is already beginning and all the guests clap. It’s a pretty easy gig when she can sprout all the cheesiest nonsense and bullshit she wants and they eat it from the palm of her hand. “May their love be everlasting as the stars.” The woman with the sleek, long, black hair stands at the stage. She parts her lips and sings the first note, the melodic song filling the venue as the bride and groom begin their first dance. It’s another sickening love song of the most delusional lyrics, but she doesn’t care much. By the looks of people’s faces, they’re loving every second of it. When the song ends and she belts the last note out, microphone pressed to her lips, the audience erupts into claps with melted expressions. “That was amazing. You have a really beautiful voice,” the best man says as he approaches and the band continues playing some background music, others joining the dance floor. “Thanks.” She sets down the mic and climbs off the stage. “I’d like to say I try.” He trails after her to the side. “And you’re friends with the bride…?” “Oh no.” She uncaps a bottle of water and takes a sip, quenching her throat. “I’m just a hired wedding singer.” “You’re a professional then?” He grins and it’s obvious he’s trying to flirt with her through praise. She’s flattered, but largely unaffected. “One day, maybe I’ll be.” Her arm extends straight out and the best man shakes her hand with a firm grip. “My name is Jung Sowon.” “Nice to meet you, Sowon. My name is Sejin.” He smiles and lets go, slipping his hands into his black, dress pants pockets. He kicks the grass once and glances up. “I don’t know if this is okay, but I was wondering if I could get your number. I’d love to hear your lovely voice again.” “Well, I don’t know about my number, but I can give you a number.” She reaches inside her blazer pocket and pulls out a rectangular piece of white card stock and hands it to him. Sejin takes the card and frowns, reading the top. “Jung and Park….?” “That’s my brother’s law firm.” She beams brightly like a ball of sunshine. “He’s a divorce lawyer. Keep it. You might never know when it might come in handy.” The man is mortified, jaw slack as the card is still held in his hands and he watches the woman saunter away. When the band is on break, she also hands out the business cards like they’re flyers. “Please check out this law firm. Jung Hoseok does matters of divorce. He’s a really good lawyer.” She bows at the wedding guests and hand them the card as well. Their eyes are always wide, mouths dropping open. She even leaves them on people’s plates and on the tables like they’re wedding favours. “Hello, please take this. Jung Hoseok is a fantastic divorce lawyer.” Hey...it’s free advertisement. Might as well. As Sowon weaves between white round tables, a kid accidentally collides into her, face planting right into her legs. The little girl giggles and stares up, pretty hair decorated with a flower headband, pink dress wrinkled from running around — an angel on the outside and a parent’s nightmare on the inside. “Oops, sorry!” The older woman squats down with a smile, meeting her eyes at the same level. “It’s okay. I actually have a present for you.” She qurisk her head to the side, apples of her cheeks reddening from the cool breeze. “What is it?” “This.” She hands her the rectangular card and the child’s brows knit together while her cute lips pout. “This is really important. Give it to your parents, okay? It might help them one day.” “Okay!” She grins and goes running off. The wedding singer eventually strolls over to the buffet line and grabs free plates of food without anyone really noticing. She sings a handful more songs afterwards, most being the same old cliché love songs. Things couldn’t get easier or better than this. And after the party’s over, she bids goodbye to the band and packs up her stuff. At home, Sowon flops on the bed. Her body molds against the mattress, tired and aching bones she didn’t remember having ten years ago after running miles. She’s trying to muster energy to take a shower that’ll wash away the grime on her skin. But before she can launch herself on her feet again, her phone rings beside her head. It rings and rings and her arm reaches over, grabbing the mobile device. She smiles while reading the caller ID and picks up without another second to spare. “Well, well, well, looks like my little brother finally decided to give his poor, older sister a call. How long has it been, brat?” “Stop handing out my business card.” “Oh.” Her tone raises up in pitch from excitement. “Did you get more clients already, Seok?” “No!” Hoseok whines on the other line and she grins, practically able to hear his pout. “Angry calls are what I’m getting.” “They’re angry now, but one day, they’ll call and ask for help. I guarantee it.” “Stop.” He channels his firm voice despite knowing it’s futile. Much to Hoseok’s dismay, any time he’s shown his family his professional side, they cooed at him. Whenever he tried to command his sister, the next second he was being held in a choke hold, and threatening to sue did nothing but gain laughter from the maniac of a witch. Still, he likes to try. “I don’t like getting angry calls or voicemails or spam. Stop giving out my divorce business cards at weddings, you sick freak.” “Can’t I just boast about you?” She rolls around in the covers of her bed. “I’m so proud of my hot shot baby brother who thinks he’s too good for everyone else.” There’s a pause. “I’m begging you.” “We’ll see.” // At the rate he’s going, Hoseok wouldn’t be surprised if his head of hair will all turn gray by age thirty six. Maybe he’ll even start balding. It’s easy to misunderstand that he’s feeling this stressed since he’s constantly drowning in work. But that’s isn’t the case at all. Rather, Hoseok jumps into the ocean of work with open arms. He loves what he does and he thrives in the workplace. In his free time, he works and at work, he works twice as hard. He just loves the feeling of accomplishing his professional goals, of keeping busy, of being able to sleep at night knowing he didn't waste his time and that he did something useful for his future. Rather, Hoseok’s losing all his hair because of the women in his life. It would be nicer if they were romantical problems — if he had issues with his love life, significant others, potential lovers or partners. In that way, people would understand him and he’d be able to consult someone with more ease. But the women of his life include: his mother, his sister, the receptionists, Seulgi who’s a paralegal, Sunyi and Naul who are lawyers of his firm, and you. And each and every one of these people are handfuls. “In light of some recent issues in the office, I think it would be important to discuss sexual harassment in the workplace.” You’re standing up stiffly in front of the conference room, conducting your first ever seminar. A slideshow runs behind you, remote in your right hand and thick binder held in your left arm. If it weren’t for the way Inyoung is smiling at you, appreciating your efforts to protect the people in the firm and going this far to address the issues, you would be slick with sweat right now. Everyone is staring at you, their gazes pinpointed on your face. More importantly, Hoseok’s seat is the farthest, but his stare is the most intense. He looks at you as if you murdered his entire family and he’s seething and ready to enact revenge at your weakest moments. You know that it’s just his concentrated face, but it’s still intimidating and scary. But you never let him nor any of the uncertain thoughts in your head hinder your plans. You clear your throat, deciding to start right away. For now, it seems like everyone’s relatively engaged. You don’t want to drone on and on and make them bored. “What is sexual harassment?” You click the remote and the slideshow begins, going to the next slide where there’s some flashing text that draws people’s attention. “It’s any unwanted sexual advances or obscene remarks, including any comments or inappropriate touching, in the workplace.” The slide changes. For the most part it seems pretty straightforward, but you’re perfectly aware that the boundaries can become murky and it can become hard to tell what is or isn’t sexual harassment. “Let’s go over some examples…” “Derogatory language would be seen as sexual harassment. Even something as suggestive notes or emails. Invading personal space, any unnecessary physical contacts, demanding hugs are also all examples. Another—” A hand shoots up in the cluster of employees and your mouth shuts. “Alright, we have questions already. Yes?” Namjoon lowers his hand. “What if it’s consensual?” It’s a genuine inquiry. He’s not trying to give you a hard time. The paralegal’s face remains impassive and his head slightly tilts in curiosity. “It’s still inappropriate for the workplace. We wouldn’t condone it. Everyone should remain professional in this environment.” You nod and he does too, satisfied with your answer. “Speaking of which, inappropriate staring is also considered—….yes, Taehyung?” The caramel-haired lawyer smiles and explains, “Sometimes my mind goes on a trip and it looks like I’m staring when I’m not.” “Uh...well, as long as you don’t have the intention, it should be fine. But try your best to not let that happen, okay?” You continue after the man flashes a thumbs up, “No one should be sharing inappropriate pictures either. Please don’t share nudes in the office.” Seulgi looks over at Seokjin with a raised eyebrow and you don’t even want to know at this point. You click the remote, changing the slide again.“Sexual jokes are also looked down upon—” Yoongi raises his hand this time and then he crosses his arms. “Does that include ‘that’s what she said?” Sunyi rolls her eyes to the back of her skull and you can practically hear the storm of complaints she’ll make to you and the documents you’ll have to fill out. “....yes. Moving on, bragging about sexual endeavours is also improper behaviour. Everyone is here to work, not talk about their personal lives or what they did on the weekend.” Suddenly, Lisa coughs loudly like she’s choking a chicken bone. The noisy interruption gathers the attention of the room and she eyes Taehyung in particular who remains oblivious, perhaps on purpose. You continue quickly without prying or publicly humiliating anyone, “Basically if you’re wondering if an action is sexual harassment or not, just ask yourself ‘would I do this in front of my grandma?” It’s easy enough to understand and you even gain a few amused smiles around the room. “It’s a good rule of thumb for a lot of things. Would you talk badly about someone in front of your grandma? Would you talk about your sex life in front of your grandma? Would you send nudes in front of your grandma? Would you make sexual remarks in front of your grandma? The answer is no, right?” Your confidence boosts at the bubble of laughter that echoes throughout the group. “Our firm has a strict policy on sexual harassment. We take it very seriously in order to protect everyone and create a safe environment. If you ever feel unsafe, threatened, or uncomfortable, come talk to me, Jimin or Hoseok at any time. There will be absolutely no tolerance for this sort of thing.” The slide changes again. “And just putting it out there, if there are any office romances, then you need to file with HR. All you need to do is fill out a form and sign. It’s just for the firm to be aware. We are legally obligated to protect every employee here from sexual harassment and hostile work environments.” After a few more minutes of going over more details and getting the group to watch an old video you found on the internet that explains and reenacts different scenarios, you flicker the conference room lights back on and stand in front, preparing to close the seminar up. “Does anyone have any questions?” “How about after work?” Jungkook’s voice is soft and shy, and you’re happy that he’s actively participating. “Do these rules apply?” “....No,” you answer after thinking carefully. Jimin seems to have no problem with your answer, but you can’t exactly tell with Hoseok when he’s still half-staring, half-glaring at you. “You’re free to do whatever you want after work, but please be five hundred meters away from this firm. Don’t do anything on company property.” Seokjin raises his hand and speaks without being called upon, “So we can’t get it on in this office?” There’s a few disgusted looks that pass around, mostly from Dahyun and Inyoung who look like they’ve bitten into a sour lemon. On the other hand, Seulgi and Namjoon don’t look too unfazed with his particular inquiry. You can only sigh. “Under no circumstance should you ever engage in any sexual acts inside this office.” Taehyung’s palm lifts, surprisingly timid. “What happens if you’ve already broken that rule?” “Ew, gross!” Seulgi’s expression blanches and even Yoongi’s brow lifts, skeptical expression marring his blankness. Jimin scoffs with a laugh and Hoseok groans, rubbing his temples. “You’re all a bunch of wild animals,” Naul waves him off and looks away. “Look it wasn’t my fault!” Taehyung tries to defend, feeling like he was somehow put on trial and is at the stand in front of his accusatory colleagues. “I met her at a bar and we got wasted and I was being responsible by not driving! And the office was only a block away, so I decided why not!” “Oh my god!” Sunyi is screeching and cups her hands over her ears like she can block out the monstrosities she’s hearing. “Oh my god, oh my god.” “Why are you treating me all like this!” He laughs in disbelief. “I cleaned up the desk after and I personally bought that carpet cleaning solution and I scrubbed the carpets for like an hour—” “Too much information, dude!” Namjoon interrupts with a loud voice. “We don’t want to know!” “Oh my god!” Yoongi suddenly bolts up from his seat and turns to the fellow lawyer. His arm extends and his hand quivers as he points to Taehyung’s face, features marred with complete horror. “Is that why my office smelled like that for an entire week?!” Sunyi bursts out in hysterical laughter. She has to physically grab her stomach as she leans over with giggles streaming infectiously out of her throat. The lawyer is no longer disturbed listening to Taehyung’s sexual endeavors in the office, instead savouring the look on Min Yoongi’s face. “Serves you right! Get a taste of that, Min.” Suddenly, Taehyung turns to her. He becomes serious, all traces of humour and mischief escaping from him. Then, her smile falls, and she slowly shakes her head. “No…” The disbelief quickly becomes fear. “No...no, you...didn’t….you...wouldn’t…” “That stain on your couch—” His timbre is low and vibrates. “—it wasn’t ketchup.” “Gross! Gross! I can’t believe you would do that in my office! That’s where I work and eat and—! Oh my god, I sleep on that couch sometimes, Taehyung! What’s wrong with you, freak?!” “Serves you right,” Yoongi mocks her back in a whisper. Taehyung leans back in his seat and scans the room with his sharp eyes. “You’re making such a big deal out of this like you haven’t done it yourselves when I know for a fact that you have!” Dahyun looks away. Seulgi shifts uncomfortably. You don’t miss the way Sunyi glances at Yoongi for the shortest of seconds, the both of them gone quiet. But you get distracted when Lisa shouts, “We haven’t!” “Liar.” He turns to the oldest lawyer on the team, the middle aged woman who is sipping on her beverage and watching the gong show go down. “Come on, Naul. I know you’ve brought your husband here more than twice.” “I have a bedroom, thank you very much.” “Jin?” The man in question dodges. “My secrets will stay as secrets.” “Okay, fine.” Taehyung holds his hands up like he’s defeated. “Deny all you want, but I bet the only people who haven’t actually done anything in this office is Y/N and like…” Simultaneously, everyone turns around to the back of the room, looking at Hoseok. The lawyer is unimpressed, one leg thrown over the other. He looks like a strict judge at a singing competition, hair swept over his brow in a comma motion and in a fitted suit like he’s ready to be broadcasted on national television, but also giving no fucks with what’s being presented before him. “This meeting is over. I hope you all paid attention and learned something, because I’m going to test you all on it.” Jimin laughs when everyone becomes petrified and he steps in before mass hysteria can spread like wildfire. “He’s joking. There’s no test. But Hoseok’s right. This seminar has gotten a little off topic. It’s time to get back to work, but please take the topic of discussion seriously.” He continues, doing a beautiful job of wrapping things up, “Any inappropriate behaviour in this firm will not be tolerated by Hoseok nor I. If you have any further questions or concerns, please come talk to Y/N, Hoseok, or me. It’s best to clarify any confusion, so that everyone is on the same page. With that being said, can we give a round of applause to Y/N for doing so well?” People clap for you, the thundering applauses reverberating and you become sheepish under the attention. “It’s nothing, really. But thank you for listening to what I have to say.” One by one, employees trickle out of the room. They’re chatting with each other, returning back to your desks and catching up on some work. On his way out, Taehyung grins at you. “That was fun, Y/N.” You hold your sigh. “Well, I’m glad.” “Thank you,” Inyoung murmurs as she walks past, modest smile still placed on her lips. “No problem.” Jungkook smiles and the rest of them also put in their few compliments and words of appreciation. Jimin is one of the last people and he actually stops. “Good job.” “I was nervous,” you admit, remote off the laptop still in your sweaty hands. “Couldn’t tell.” He grins, eyes crinkled into half moons. “It was your first time conducting a meeting, so don’t beat yourself over it. You’ll get better and better as time goes by. Plus, if it weren’t for you, I would have to conduct this seminar myself, so I’m once again thankful for your existence, Y/N.” “It’s nothing.” Your eyes fall to your feet. “It’s my job.” “And you’re good at it.” But for some reason, you seek someone’s praise in particular. You’re thankful for everyone’s positive feedback and their encouraging remarks, but it never feels like quite enough. It’s like you thirst and ache to hear it from someone who is much tougher in nature, who is naturally a critic. Only when you hear from him will you truly be satisfied and you know you’re not being spoon-fed by stretched truths. So, like the pathetic loser that you are, you hang around. You walk slowly to your laptop, closing the presentation, disconnecting the remote. And when you steal a peek at the corner of the room, Hoseok’s still seated, sending off a text message. It’s excruciating how desperate you are and the way you linger. Jung Hoseok is the last to leave and when he notices you’re still here, his brow lifts, as if asking if you have something to say. “I’m sorry.” It’s the first thing that pops into your head and spills off your tongue without much warrant. “It got out of control towards the end there.” “No, it happens. You don’t need to apologize.” The both of you walk together, exiting and going down the hall. “You...got your car fixed?” “I did,” the lawyer muses and glances at his watch like he’s late to something. “The battery got drained like I thought it did.” “That’s good. It would suck if there was something wrong with the engine or the tires. Maintenance on cars can be really bothersome and expensive.” Lame. It’s so lame how you’re ranting about car maintenance. But you can’t help the disappointment that leaks into your voice and spills all over your face. You really liked having a friend to go home with. It made time go by faster. And you just hope that he can’t read the look on your face right now. You’re sure you’re not doing a very good job with hiding your emotions. “Hey, Y/N.” He looks away from his phone, from his watch, from the end of the hallway to your profile. “Hmm?” His voice is soft and gentle, a small smile that expands over his face. “You did well.” One word from him is all it takes. Like the idiot that you are, an even bigger smile overwhelms you. “Thanks.” // With the seminar complete and the staff handbook well on its way, you decide to take a longer lunch break, hanging out in the lobby of the building and chatting with the security guard. While you’re still working with developing friendships in the office, you’ve become good friends with the older guard. He reminds you of your late grandpa or when you were in elementary school and no one really wanted to hang out with you, so you became close to the class pet goldfish. You’re standing near the front entrance, sipping on coffee as the guard drinks the cup you bought for him and he tells you about his weekend. He chats about how his son came over for barbecue and his wife made this pineapple pasta dish that was very delicious. And you’re about to respond when you hear a muffled— “Y/N?” There’s a woman on the other side of the glass windows, having stopped walking in the middle of the sidewalk. She knocks once on the window to get your attention. Her hair is long and sleek, a midnight shade that matches the colour of her irises. Her eyes are wide like a deer in headlights, lashes standing straight up to the sky, sharp jaw dropped. She stares at you. You stare at her. And the girl bolts in her high heels towards the doors. “Do you know her?” The guard asks just to be sure, hitching his thumb over his shoulder. “Y-yeah….I do…” Your eyes are on the woman’s and you watch as she scrambles inside, taking wide strides towards you. You don’t even bid goodbye to the guard, taking steps to meet the female in the lobby. “Sowon?” Without letting a squeak slip or another word spoken, her arms open all at once and she embraces your frame, squeezing you tight like a teddy bear. “Oh my god! I missed you so much. Huhuhghgh.” She makes weird sounds as she restrains you with her arms like she’s trying to pick you up, lug you around, giving you a good spin, but she’s not strong enough to. You can’t help the laughter that bubbles up your throat. “I missed you too.” The older girl parts away and scans you up and down several times. “How are you? You look great!” “Thank you.” You’re a bit breathless, finding her presence and everything that’s happened in the span of two minutes overwhelming. “I’m good.” “What…” She shakes her head like she can’t believe you’re actually here in front of her. “What are you doing here?” “I work here now.” “No. Really?” “Really.” // The cafe is quaint in the middle of the afternoon on a workday. The sunlight washes through the glass into the room, painting the surroundings in warm hues. There’s not too many people around, few conversations from customers here and there, but the murmur of sounds are relaxing to your ears. After already having two coffees for the day, you decide on a blueberry pastry and Sowon gets some kind of latte drink. She sits across from you, still looking at you in awe while you remain a bit uncomfortable under her constant gawking. “I never thought I would see you again.” “That’s what I thought too.” “I’m just surprised.” She gives you a soft smile. “And I’m glad that you’re here.” There’s a slight pause and you fiddle with your fingers in your lap. “I heard Hoseok got into an accident.” “Did he tell you about it?” “Yeah.” You hesitate, aware that she’s watching you carefully and with mustered courage, you take a deep breath and sit straighter, looking her dead in the eyes. “I really, really like my job. I’m working as an HR manager in the firm. It’s really fun to help out and tend to all the issues inside the office. I’m enjoying it a lot…” “And Hoseok’s okay with that?” She holds the cup in her hand, sipping while her eyes are still above the rim, eyeing you carefully. “He’s the one who hired me,” you tell her. “We’re professional.” Sowon hums with another smile and puts down her cup on the table. “Understood,” she sing-songs. “I’m just glad you’re doing well.” “Thank you.” It’s a soft murmur, but with that out of the way, you adjust the attention onto the woman. “How are things going for you?” “Pretty fantastic actually.” “Are you still at that magazine writing job?” “Oh, god no.” She takes a sigh of relief and you’re happy that she’s moved on since she dreaded the job back then. “I’m a wedding singer now.” You’re pleasantly surprised. “Really?” “Really. I love it.” There’s a bright grin that spreads into her cheeks, uncanny to her younger brother when he’s in a good mood. “I haven’t been better. Free and happy. And before you ask—” She leans over to whisper while the long strands of her hair cascade down and frame her face. “I dumped Yugyeom. Well, more like he dumped me because he was sleeping with my best friend and preferred her over me because I’m too...boring…” She shrugs. “But I was going to drop that hot potato anyway.” “I….see...” Any sympathy isn’t necessary since Sowon seems nothing but sincerely happy about it, so you can only bob your head to show you’re listening. “It’s so nice to see you again,” she muses and means it genuinely. “We should go out for dinner to catch up more. Better yet, you should come home. My parents miss you more than I do—” “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” You look away unintentionally, nervousness grabbing hold to dictate all your actions. “I mean, isn’t visiting my boss’ parents during my free time a little weird?” Sowon scoffs, leaning back and crossing her arms. “No. You’re practically my sister, aren’t you? That trumps whatever Hoseok is to you.” You laugh and she eases, glancing at the labels of her paper cup. “But if you have free time...if you feel comfortable...you should visit them. They’re getting old.” “I’ll try.” You steal a glimpse at the screen of your phone, having felt it vibrate in your pocket. “I’m keeping you from something, aren’t I?’ “No, not really.” It’s not like you have much to do today. If anything, you were ahead of your own set schedule, but… “I’ve just been gone from the office for a while.” “If my brother is ever imposing on you or using his title of ‘boss’—” her fingers make air quotations. “—to bother you in any way, then just tell me and I’ll beat some sense into him.” “Okay.” Your cheeks ache from smiling so widely. “The kid thinks he’s such a hot shot now that he goes around bullying others without realizing.” A hopeless sigh spills from her lips. “Well, don’t let me hold you up. We should both get going.” “Oh, aren’t you coming with me?” “Nah. I was coming over to bother Hoseok, but I found something even better.” She smiles, indicating you. “So, I’m satisfied. I’ll probably head home.” “Are you sure?” “Yeha. He wouldn’t want to see me anyways. I know that kid.” She gets up and you both take your belongings, slowly leaving the warm cafe to the colder streets. “Don’t bother telling him I swung by either. Save him that stress.” “Okay.” Outside of the door, you hug her one last time and she holds onto you, patting your back in steady beats with the palm of her hand. “Promise me you’ll be okay,” she murmurs gently and you smile against her shoulder “I’ll be fine.” “Then don’t be a stranger.” She parts and gazes at you. “Keep in contact with me, alright, brat?” “Yes.” You giggle, bidding her a final goodbye. Her backside eventually fades off down the street and you’re sorely reminded of her brother whom she resembles so strongly that it shakes you inside. // Lost friends. Lost memories. It’s been so long that things begin to resurface despite years of pushing them away. You didn’t realize you missed her so much until you saw her and you begin to ponder about your other friends, the people that you used to be so close to until the life that you were so fond of was ripped away from your grasps. But you’re too afraid to reach out again. It’s dangerous to play the game of what if. What if things had been different back then. You wonder how much your life could’ve changed. Maybe you would have someone to go home to, maybe you wouldn’t have been so lonely, maybe you would be happier, maybe not. You really shouldn’t dwell on things that aren’t part of reality. But the encounter with Hoseok’s older sister leaves you reeling and you don’t even realize where you are. “Y/N?” “Yes?” Your daydream is broken and you force yourself to focus on the receptionist sitting across the desk from you. “Sorry, I was thinking about something else, but go ahead.” Dahyun glances behind her to the closed door and then clears her throat. “Does Hoseok hate me?” Your eyebrow lifts. “Why would you say that?” “He keeps glaring at me.” She points to both her eyes with her index and middle finger, whispering like he’s a monster who can hear behind solid walls. “Whenever I walk past or he walks past or I knock on his office, he has this glare.” “No, that’s not it,” you try to explain with a laugh. “That’s what he looks like when he’s concentrated or being serious. Trust me, he doesn’t hate you. Hoseok doesn’t hate anybody. It would take a lot to make him actually mad.” “Oh, okay.” Dahyun takes a sigh of relief. “I was worried he was upset with me.” Not long, you get another guest inside your office. “So last week, there was a file I was working on.” Sunyi is ranting again. For once, it’s not about Yoongi’s loud chewing or how she swears she can hear him trimming his toenails in his office and it’s absolutely disgusting. “And I asked Hoseok if a draft was necessary for the case. It’s more complicated than that, but that’s the basic gist. Anyways, he told me ‘no’, and then today he asks me why the draft wasn't done and that we need it! How ridiculous is that?!” “Maybe he’s just busy,” you attempt to appease her and expand her empathy. “Things can get pretty hectic. He probably just forgot and got confused.” “But he always blames others instead of himself. It’s so frustrating!” “Well, being the boss is tough. There’s a lot for him to juggle. I’m sure this is a misunderstanding.” “It’s not. He just never admits when he’s wrong.” “Did he apologize to you?” There’s a moment of silence. “Well, yeah, after I explained what happened.” You smile at the lawyer. “He’s a partner of this firm along with Jimin. The both of them have a lot riding on their shoulders and they have to uphold the name of this place. They’re the leaders of this firm. It’s probably difficult to admit their mistakes as the bosses since it would damage their own pride and shake the foundation of this place.” Sunyi shrugs, mumbling a mere ‘I guess’. But you know she’s thinking about what you’ve said. There seems plenty of concerns and worries today since you get yet another person sitting in your office, across from your desk. Kim Seokjin is undeniably handsome no matter what he does, though right now you can agree he’s seen better days. “He keeps micromanaging me! Every time I’m doing something, I feel him hovering over my shoulder and watching the screen of my computer like he’s trying to catch me do something wrong.” He groans, ranting and nagging, shaking his head and pounding his first on your desk, startling you to death. “Do you know how uncomfortable I feel on a daily basis?!” “He’s probably just doing his rounds. It’s part of the job as boss….” Your voice goes quiet at the way he looks at you. Seokjin’s arm falls to his side and his frown deepens. He leans over closer until half his body is pressed on the surface of your smooth desk. He looks at you like you’ve gone crazy. “Why are you defending him?” “What?” You blink. “I’m not.” “You are.” He tilts his head. “We usually always talk shit on Hoseok. Every. Day.” You’re beginning to sweat. “Well, it’s not good to talk badly about our bosses.” “Did he find out?” Jin’s eyes become wide. “No, no!” You quickly reassure the legal assistant. “What we talk in here is confidential.” “Then did you get in trouble?” “No, nothing like that. I’m just….trying to approach it from a different angle….less talking trash...you know?” “It’s strange,” he says, pouting slightly at how you don’t want to talk smack about Hoseok anymore. “No offence.” You hum before pulling out your emergency drawer. “Would you like a cookie?” Kim Seokjin grins, attention like a fish’s and successfully diverted. “Yes, please.” // Sometimes it feels more like you’re the complaint department or a counselor than an HR manager. You don’t mind since mediating and conflict resolution has always been your strongest skill set. But it’s difficult when you’re dealing with other people’s problems and no one helps you with yours. You even forget about your own issues. And yet, despite it going against your own mottos and what you were taught, it feels better to just bury those problems and forget them. There’s nothing like having a problem and pretending it’s not there right in your face. Ignoring is also part of your skill set. The knocks on your door break you out of your trance and you lift your head, finding an older woman standing at your doorway. “Do you have a moment, Y/N?” She smiles and you stand. “Of course! Please take a seat.” Kye Naul is one of the lawyers of the firm and you’ve haven’t been able to get many interactions with her when the others occupy your time a lot more. You know a few things about her, like how she’s one of the oldest people in the office, probably ten to twenty years older than you, and her sons have grown up and moved out of the house. She’s also the person who’s practiced law for the longest in the firm and both Jimin and Hoseok respect her greatly. She takes a seat across from the desk and you feel calm, reminded of your own mother’s presence. “I’m sorry. You were about to leave, weren’t you? It’s pretty close to five o’clock right now. I would've stopped by earlier, but I just finished billing five minutes ago.” “Oh no, it’s completely fine.” You smile. “Trust me, I don’t have anything to do after this, so feel free. I’ll just be at home watching television anyways. What’s the matter?” It isn’t a lie. Today is your off-day with your part-time job of taxi driving. “This might be inappropriate and unprofessional,” she prefaces. “It has nothing to do with the firm or the office. It’s about my marriage.” “It’s okay. Trust me, I’ve heard enough about people’s antics around here and what their odd hobbies are to be surprised or for it to be inappropriate.” She nods and inhales deeply. “My husband is having a midlife crisis.” “To put it shortly, we’re going through a rough patch because of it.” There’s a long pause. “He wants to buy a boat, move houses, hell, buy a house boat. He wanted to adopt a kid, a cat, a dog. He even tried convincing me to volunteer in a different continent for six months building mud houses for the elderly.” She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Have you ever had someone drive you absolutely insane?” “Yes.” You hold back a laugh, amused at hearing about her husband’s crisis. “I think everyone has at some point.” “How did you end up tolerating them?” “I don’t know,” you muse and a slight shrug follows. Someone specific comes to mind as you keep talking. “I guess I just cared so much that it didn’t matter to me if they were insane or completely crazy. I guess that makes me crazy too.” She exhales another breath and nods. “Love makes people do stupid things.” “Well…” You’re not sure where it comes from, but it stumbles from your tongue the moment you hear the four-letter word ‘love’. Immediately, you shake your head. “I’m not sure I would call it love.” “Oh?” Naul’s brow lifts in curiosity. “Then what is it?” “I don’t know. Definitely not love though.” You nod, so sure of yourself. This certain someone that you have in mind — you don’t love him. “It’s...a blindness.” “A disease?” The lawyer clarifies, eyes narrowing even more as she carefully watches you. “Sort of.” You can’t see it any other way. To be completely crazy for someone where you overlook flaws and have to sacrifice yourself. It’s blinding. It’s horrible. It’s painful. “I don’t think love should make you do stupid things. I don’t think that’s love.” Yet, the older woman only appears more and more amused. “Why do you say that?” “I can’t see how it’s love if you keep crawling back to someone and they keep hurting you over and over again. It’s just...a bad addiction at that point.” Your original stance in remaining unbiased is hurled out the window as you spill your truest beliefs out loud. The beliefs that formed over many long years from being jagged by someone you held... “It’s stupid to keep running back to them.” You repeat it in your head several times. “You’re right,” Naul says simply. “It isn’t love. Or at least, it isn’t just love.” Her wise eyes are glimmery like they know too much. The lawyer leans closer to you like she’s about to tell a secret. “It’s a selfless love. It’s an unconditional love. That’s why we tolerate them and keep coming back, even when they make us angry to the point we want to throw a lamp across the room. That’s why we don’t kick them out of the house at night and make them sleep on the couch instead. It’s unconditional love.” The lawyer continues, “Doing crazy things, things you thought you’d never do for anyone, allowing yourself to be vulnerable and accepting them back after getting hurt, that’s okay. It’s powerful to be that selfless. It’s still love, Y/N. It’s okay to feel this way. There’s no need to blame yourself and think it’s a bad addiction. God knows in a relationship patience, tolerance, compromise is required.” She smiles and when she speaks, it’s less for herself and more for you. “Now, if only unconditional love went both ways, then love wouldn’t have to turn toxic, now, would it? If selfless love was always reciprocated, no one would ever have to hurt.” “It’s harmful when it doesn’t go both ways and that’s when it needs to be stopped. If it does go both ways and you know that person would tolerate us too and wouldn’t mind being hurt….” She sighs softly. “Well, we just have to ask ourselves if the other person has unconditional love for us as well. Only then will we know that doing all these crazy things is worth it.” You’re speechless, not sure how to respond. Naul simply gets up from her chair, much calmer than she was when she first walked into the room. She must’ve decided that this was enough to help her, but before she can leave the room or bid a goodnight, you stop her. “Stay with him,” you say quickly while standing on your feet. The door is already parted and she turns to look at you. It’s as if your memories are flashing before your eyes and you are actually trying to talk to your past self. It’s as if you are attempting to alter history that cannot be changed. It isn’t Naul who stands in front of you anymore, but someone much different. “Or at least don’t decide anything on your own. Talk to him properly.” And the lawyer scoffs with a grin. “Of course I’m staying with him. He’s one of those people in my life that I’ll never be able to let go.” That same evening, Naul comes home to an apartment where her two brain-celled husband is flipping through grocery flyers on the kitchen floor. When he looks up at her, he smiles and tells her that they both ought to take up fishing since it’s apparently beneficial to their health and a very relaxing hobby. For now, he’s given up the idea of building mud houses near the jungle. But he also tells her that he’s already pre-purchased two very expensive fishing rods and by the way he slightly cringes, she knows he’s afraid she’ll become upset. But the woman simply sighs and leans down, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him silly. When he smiles against her lips, she parts and nods, finding fishing a great idea. In the meanwhile, you’re still left dwelling on the conversation. As you return to your empty home with nothing to do, you wonder how stupid you really are, how you keep crawling back, how you keep running for him, hanging onto every single of his words, how you can keep following him like some kind of loyal dog, even after being abandoned and kicked helplessly. More importantly, you wonder how you can never let go. It isn’t love. Selfless love. Unconditional love. Any of that. You refuse to believe such a thing. You refuse to believe you harbor such feelings. But — “You did well.” — one word from him is all it takes for everything you’ve known to crumble.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #hoseok fluff #hoseok fanfic #jhope fanfic #BTS jung hoseok is the baby boy of the fam :']#OC who is in a crisis after talking to someone hella woke

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soulvomit · 5 years ago

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What a weird zeitgeist.

The thing is, when you're middle aged then you've probably seen at least one reversal.

The thing is, I grew up in the 80s, but the pop psychology books (all of them 80s anti-neediness discourse) i grew up with were a *reaction* to a previous zeitgeist. A late 60s and 70s one where men got to be freeeeeee and got to find themselves, and got the credit for the activism, but women were still stuck being the behind-the-scenes cleanup crew for these men, and got shamed for any activism they were part of ("women's libbers.")

Then along came a new school of pop psych, some a response to this ("Women Who Love Too Much") and some based on the infrastructure of 12 step culture and the addiction model (the codependency movement).

But something else is that the 80s (in my experience) were about boundaries to the degree that non-neediness was equated with class (especially to hyper-class-conscious yuppies/social climbers) and part of that is because of the cultural and social capital in having your life seem effortless and seamless. *only* very privileged women managed to not be messy in the ways that we were expected to not be messy. At the height of the Boomer divorce boom, no woman actually dealing with children and a divorce managed to ever have her life "handled" the way it was expected to be handled.

And maybe I got an extreme taste of this because of growing up in LA around middle class kids and some rich kids.

The absolute "messiest" people I've ever known were rich people, so help me god, the world of rich people is just distant enough from everyone else for their shit to be less visible, plus we confuse having money for "having it together." A lot of this anti-messiness discourse was really focused on middle class women in the work world.

But this anti-neediness discourse percolated down into teenage culture as well, where it became the "keep it cool" and "chill out, dude" mentality of Gen X. I suspect a reason it penetrated Gen X so deeply is because as a small cohort, we were so effectively policed by the Jones, Boomers, and Silents before us.

But now we are all in a space where boundaries are no longer acceptable. It's okay to be a hot mess in ways that it didn't used to be (sort of - I bet it still doesn't fly at professional workplaces, but some of the "Women in Tech" controversies shocked me with their revelation of how "messy" people were at the workplace in ways that were still VERY policed in the 90s.)

And you're supposed to just let everyone inflict their toxicity on you. Your only recourse is to claim membership in some kind of protected status so that you can claim "unpaid emotional labor."

Plus, ableism discourse has penetrated the discussion in weird ways. We haven't figured out how to defend the right of BPD and NPD people to exist while also defending the rights of the people in social relationships with them. And part of that I suspect is because of the collapse of segmented and contextual space. Everything is in a big tent now and everyone is supposed to exist in a pool where we all have competing access needs, where during height of the 80s anti-codependency movement, at least addicts and family-of got to have separate support groups.

And it's important to point out that a lot of the anti-neediness discourse of the 80s, was strictly about women's behavior *with men.* In real life, women did utilize their newfound ability to say "no," to say "no" to other women. But a lot of the discourse was about how to say no to *men* in dating, workplaces, and social spheres that were still dominated by men. They didn't at all prepare me for the competitive dynamics with other women at work, or the demands of female bosses, or the compulsory giving enforced on single/childless women by women with children. They *did* however help me not get sucked into no-win dynamics. A lot was about the masculine rules of workplaces. My coworker can't use personal information against me if I don't tell her any. She may not like me but I'll come out looking better to both our male and far-more-privileged female superiors. (And the things that made women successful in all but female-dominated workplaces, often made us disliked by other women.)

I suspect that this will all come full circle somehow, and boundaries will be In again, and who knows what that will look like. Because 80s boundaries discourse was born of a completely different environment than this will be.

80s was so much about setting boundaries with *men.*

(When I got into LGBTQ culture, i had a total culture shock. In a couple of spaces, every person I tried to date was in some kind of dramatic, ongoing entanglement with 1 or more exes. 80s hetero culture had that, I'm sure, but you were supposed to minimize the appearance of it and going "no contact" on exes was very acceptable. It felt too like I was perpetually being guilt tripped into stuff by other women and like the anti-neediness culture of the 80s had totally been a hetero yuppies only club. But the flip side is that for the first time, I wasn't being shamed for being needy or having basic human emotions or social needs. So idk.)

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wolfpawn · 6 years ago

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I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 17

Chapter Summary - Danielle is introduced to one of Paul's friends, which goes down like a lead balloon. When Danielle goes home, she is exhausted, upset and has a headache to boot; and there is one person there to help her, Tom.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long. This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

Right so, I should explain one thing before we go any further. There are two racist terms a lot of British people called Irish people over the years, a 'Paddy' a name coming obviously derived from the nickname Patrick, a common Irish name, but also Taig, which is, according to Wikipedia is

Taig - In the context of segregation in Northern Ireland and sectarianism in Glasgow, the term "Taig" (along with Tim) is used as a racist epithet and derogatory term for a Roman Catholic, used by Northern Irish Protestants and Ulster loyalists.

So these are highly offensive and racist terms, so it should be noted, it is the same as calling a black person that 'n' word (which honestly I could never bring myself to say).

I know this seems random, but to signify the severity of what Charles says, I need to explain this for non-Irish people.

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

“Danni” the paramedic winced slightly when she heard Paul call her name. She had seen him when she had admitted a patient, talking to what could only be described as a clearly privately educated pompous looking man when she entered. “Danni, come here a moment.” His tone was upbeat as he called her. She forced a smile onto her face before turning and facing the two men. Paul was walking up to her, the other man a mere pace behind. “Charles, this is the woman I was talking to you about.” Paul declared proudly as he put his arm around Danielle. “Danni, this is my friend Charles I told you about; Charles, this is my lovely girlfriend Danni.”

Inside Danielle felt awkward and irked; she was in her uniform, her leg cover covered in vomit from the small child that she had just dealt with in the ambulance. “Hi.” She waved a little at the man in front of her, noticing that he was eyeing her with more than a hint of disdain in his eyes.

“Pleasure.” He stated, though his tone stated it was anything but. “From the manner you spoke Paul, I thought she was an intern here.”

“No, Danni’s a paramedic and a good one too. She is actually second in command in her base.” The doctor stated proudly.

Danielle could see from the look on Charles’ face that she could have been the head of the paramedics in Europe and it would not have mattered. There was a snide look on his face as he glanced at her again before turning to Paul once more. “Did I mention that Lucia Hawkins has been asking for you of late, you remember her, the year below us, top of her class, she is a Registrar Obstetrician now?”

“I think I better get back to work.” Danielle stated turning to leave, “I will see you over the next few days, Paul.”

“Danni, Charles, one second,” Paul called, running after her. “Danni, what are you doing?”

“Getting back to work.” She reiterated.

“Charles is one of my closest friends, we are meeting him for lunch tomorrow for this get-together.”

“Paul, I never actually agreed to that, you never mentioned it again since that time you mentioned it at all two weeks ago, and now that I have met Charles, I am most definitely not going.” She stated in an angry whisper, not wanting to bring attention to them. “I better go, this is your workplace and I don’t want either of us getting a disciplinary.”

“How can you say something like that about him, he is my friend and you won’t even bother getting to know him?”

“I don’t need to know any more, he could not look further down his nose at me if he was standing at the top of Everest and I was at the bottom and the way he was going on about that girl you were in college with…”

“What about Lucia?”

“Are you really so blind? He is trying to imply you should call her up rather than slumming it with me.”

“You're being ridiculous Danielle.” He scoffed.

Danielle’s brows rose, “Wow, my full name, this is serious. I am not being ridiculous, I bet when you go back there and were you to discuss me, I would not be worth more than a few short words, and she would be suggested again and again.”

“I am right here,” Charles stated, walking over to them. “And I do not appreciate being spoken about like that by some Paddy paramedic.”

Danielle stared at him in shock. “What did you just call me?”

“What?” Paul looked between them.

“Do you call black people the ‘n’ word too?” she demanded, catching the attention of the nurses at the station nearby with her statement.

“Whoa, Danni, what the hell, are you calling Charles racist?” Paul seemed appalled at her.

“Calling an Irish person a ‘Paddy’ derives from the condescending and racially abusive way many British workers referred to Irish workers who came over to work here, it was used to degrade and belittle, as well as to infer to Irish as being inferior, same as that other word.” She explained, “If you’ll excuse me, I am off to see if I can keep some misfortunate people alive long enough for them to make it into the A&E for you to boost your God Complexes on.” She turned and left, shaking in anger as she did so, leaving a somewhat shocked Paul in her wake.

“She’s a bit temperamental.” Charles scoffed watching Danielle leave. “Seriously Paul, the Irish come from feral blood, and she doesn’t seem too far removed, a good, proper girl is what you want. Lucia, she heard what Julia did and wants to get talking to you.” Paul said nothing and watched his girlfriend as she walked out of the A&E without a backwards glance.

The following morning, after finishing her shift, Danielle sighed as she parked her car in her driveway. She had a headache that felt as though her skull was physically splitting after what Paul’s friend had said, and for the rest of the night, her partner on call simply left her stew on what was bothering her, knowing better than to say anything. She was about to get her belongings and go into the house to shower before seeing if she could sleep away the stress headache when her phone began to ring, pulling it off the charger she had in her car, she groaned at seeing Paul’s name on the caller ID. “Hello.” Her tone was neither polite nor cold.

“What the hell was that Danni?”

“I’m not interested, Paul, seriously, I have a headache.”

“That’s all you have to say, I have never been so embarrassed, I have done nothing but praise and build you up to my friends and you go off on one of my best friends in the middle of the A&E.”

“He called me a Paddy, he used a derogatory term to belittle me, and what is worse is I told you why that term is offensive and you did not defend me, you didn’t even try to.” Her voice broke as she spoke.

“Danni…” Paul seemed to catch her upset.

“Don’t, I don’t want to hear it. I told you he would look down at me and I was right.”

“Look, Charles is just from a rich background, he can be a bit pompous at times.”

“Emma is from a rich background and she is never like that, that is the worse fucking excuse yet.” She snapped.

“Look calm down.”

“I am calm, I am very calm, which is what is terrifying me really, Paul.” She admitted. “I am going to bed, I am not in the mood for bullshit today.”

“What about lunch?”

“Seriously, you think I would want to go to lunch with that asshole? I can tell already I would be belittled and humiliated for his amusement, if not for the amusement of others too. I am not going, you didn’t even give me a proper date for any of this. I am tired and in agony with my head, I am going to bed.”

“So you are going to make me seem like an idiot and not turn up?” Paul barked back angrily. “Is that what you are saying?”

“Your friends are all doctors, I am sure they’ll understand the meaning of a week on nights. You won’t look like an idiot, if they had any respect for others they would commend the fact I work hard in a similar field to them to try and help people, if they don’t see it like that, they are probably not the type of people I should associate with.”

“Danielle…”

“I am not going, I am tired and in pain Paul, so just enjoy yourself and talk to me again when your racist ass of a friend is well and truly the hell away from Suffolk.”

“He was there for me after Julia.”

In her desperation to get in home and hopefully getting some rest soon, Danielle had gotten out of the car and went to the backseat to get her bag. “And perhaps in his scale of assholeness, that might be a point in his favour, but he is still an asshole, Paul, especially for suggesting a different partner for you in my fucking presence. I was three feet away and he was talking about you going for another girl.”

“Well, I dare say Lucia would try to make an effort.” He retorted childishly.

“If she spent the night helping women give birth and then had the energy to listen to that bastard racially abuse her the next day, she would become my new idol, because fuck me, she would be Wonder Woman, but I’m not able; so I going to go into my house and get some sleep to try and shift this headache and hopefully you will cop the hell on in that time and realise the way your friend spoke about me is completely uncalled for and you will defend me from it, be I present or not.”

“Danni…”

“Goodbye, Paul.” She hung up the phone and groaned as she crashed backwards against her car for a moment in exhaustion.

“Are you okay Elle?”

“Hey, Tom.” She stated exhaustedly turning to face him. He was standing at the edge of her driveway in the same running gear the trash columns ridiculed him for in the US. “Good run?” In the two weeks, since they half began speaking again, she had shared only one other conversation with Tom, and they had only texted on one occasion when Tom was meeting friends in a pub, with regards the lunacy of the Irish sport of hurling, before he had gone back to London.

“Alright, yeah.” He nodded, sweat on his brow. “Are you alright, you seem a little upset, and well, I caught the last few sentences you said?”

Danielle shook her head, “Yeah, I’m fine, just shit I really don’t need.”

“You do realise you shook her head as you said yes?”

“Meaning?”

“Your yes was really a no.”

“Tom, I really can’t right now, my head is splitting and I’m just…” she inhaled deeply.

“Hey.” He walked over, concerned at the clear upset on her face. Cautiously he walked close to her and wrapped his arms around her. “Look, it’s none of my business, but if people are saying shit to you because you’re Irish, you have every right to be mad.”

“Thanks for the vindication.” Usually, she would be sarcastic when she would say that, but that time, she just wanted the validation. “Tom.”

“Mmm?”

“You are drenched in sweat.”

He gave off a chuckle as he pulled back. “Sorry, you just look like you needed a hug.”

“I did actually, thank you.”

“Do you really have a headache?”

“Like Animal is playing the drums on my skull.” She smiled, knowing he would get the Muppets reference.

“Go in, I’ll take your bag, take some ibuprofen, take a shower and get some rest.”

“I need to get breakfast.”

“Weetabix with honey, fruit and almond milk?”

She smiled at him, “You don’t have to.”

“Elle, please, just let me help.” She was about to argue again when he went for a threat. “If you decline, I will go home and tell mum you’re not well.” He grinned.

“Fuck you, Hiddleston.” She groaned, no longer arguing, throwing her keys on the counter as she walked in her hall.

“You’ve changed the place a bit.” He noticed.

“You should see the living room.”

Tom stretched his neck slightly to look in. “Jesus.” He looked at it, “It’s brilliant.”

“I know.” She gave a small smile, “I’ll be back in a minute.” She ran up the stairs after taking ibuprofen.

Tom looked around the living area properly while she was upstairs, scanning her new bookshelves when he heard the shower turn off, he grabbed the last few things she needed for a quick breakfast. “Here,” he handed her the bowl of breakfast.

“Thanks.” She smiled appreciatively as she took it.

“I noticed a few medical titles in your living area that I have not seen before; are you doing more exams?”

“On the table?” Tom nodded. “No, those are Paul’s, he’s studying for his next exams.”

“Right.” Tom played around from foot to foot. “Can I ask what happened, you seem really upset?”

“I met one of Paul’s friends.” Tom’s stomach twisted at the thought of her being made a bigger part of Paul’s life. “He was a complete prick, I mean, he looked at me as though I was shit on his shoe. He told Paul about a girl they knew wanting to meet him, implying she was far superior to me, he completely belittled my job and he called me a fucking Paddy, can you believe that?” Tom looked at her wide-eyed. “Why am I telling you of all people this?”

“Because I understand; after all, I am recently single again.” He shrugged.

“We are just having an argument.” Danielle corrected.

“His friend used a racial slur against you.”

“No one knows that more than me Tom.”

“From what I heard, he did not defend you.”

“No, he didn’t,” she admitted, crestfallen.

“Not that it is on a par with what I did to you Elle, but don’t sell yourself short for anyone.”

“Are you seriously making short jokes?” she could not help the slight smile on her lips.

“Is it working?”

She nodded slightly. “A little.”

“Good. Go to sleep Elle, your out on your feet. I’ll see myself out.”

“Thanks, Tom, for everything.”

“Anytime Elle, I mean it.”

#I Hate you I Love You #chapter 17 #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fic

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