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#now i have to get both hands involved in my mindless scrolling
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Tumblr really moved the sound thing on videos to the left side of the screen, AWAY from my right hand which is scrolling??
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lazysublimeengineer · 3 years
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Caged Heat: Chapter 2
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(A/N: Welcome to the second and last chapter of this story. This finally concludes and ends the titillating love affair between Wakasa and Takemichi. This is an AU meaning to say that the plot had diverged away from the canon and these characters are of legal age doing and engaging in adult behaviors and activities. This contains explicit sexual content. So, if this is not your cup of tea or if this makes you uncomfortable, feel free to hit the back button right there. Otherwise, if you’re fine with it and have no problems regarding this story then feel free to scroll down and continue reading. Moreover, for the sake of this fic and plot purposes, I made Wakasa’s eyes and hair highlights into the shade of violet since we didn’t get the official color scheme of Wakasa because he’s not animated yet. Lastly, enjoy this while the ride lasts.)
Their moments passed in a blur. Takemichi just found himself being pressed against the walls in a murky alley where he could see faintly the people walking along the road, completely unaware of the heated make-out session that’s been happening around them. He clung to him like a helpless kitten, the rational side of his head had melted and was now only operating on want and instinct. He felt that his body had a mind of his own and reciprocating Wakasa’s action with much fervor and enthusiasm. Takemichi tried to stifle to loud moans that were threatening to spill out from his lips as Wakasa’s fingers worked its way inside his pants and started to stroke his shaft vigorously, the last stringent of anxiety still clinging into him as he realized that they were still out in a public place and anyone could walk in on them at any moment.
Nevertheless, a dark want was climbing out of the deep recesses of his mind about the thrill of risking themselves of being revealed to the sea of crowd who’s passing them by unconsciously at the downtown of a city. It seemed that Wakasa had read his own mind and leaned closer to him, licking at the shell of his ear before he whispered darkly into him and a shiver ran down deliciously on his spine.
“You like that don’t you? Having an audience and see of how much of a hussy you get you off.”
A low groan suddenly escaped from Takemichi’s lips, reducing him into a drooling mess because of his hand that’s stroking his member rapidly and the dirty words that were redirected to him.
“A-ah… If you k-keep on doing t-that…” Takemichi moaned out weakly.
“Hm? If I keep on doing what?” Wakasa licked and nibbled at the sensitive expanse of the skin on his neck which made the blond arched slightly against him.
“I-I’m n-not going to l-last l-long…” Takemichi stammered, tears of pleasure started to gather around his eyes.
“That’s a shame because I’m not done with you yet. Don’t cum until I told you so.” Wakasa replied darkly as his penetrating gaze froze Takemichi on the spot, his heart beating wildly on his chest.
There’s a certain thrill of being commanded and dominated by that lovely voice of his.
Takemichi could only nod mutely and stared back at him with flushed cheeks and wet lips.
Wakasa withdrew his hands on his cock and flipped him over the wall, his tongue darting on the backside of his neck languorously that made Takemichi shivered in delight.
The sun was already setting and dusk started to enveloped the skyline of the city. But for the both of them trapped in this delicious heat of their libido and hot bodies against each other, the cold wind did nothing to soothe the fire that was blazing inside their hearts and traipsed under their skin.
Without any hesitations, Wakasa pulled down on his pants and after stroking himself and lined up against Takemichi’s quivering entrance before plunging in deep and hard that made the blond see stars in his line of vision.
A string of muffled moans and groans of pleasure escaped from Takemichi’s lips as Wakasa proceeded to grind and thrust harder into him.
“Fuck…! That f-feels good! F-faster!” Takemichi mewled which made the blood sing in Wakasa’s veins, unable to deny his request as he started to pound into him.
Takemichi knew that his hips and legs were going to be sore and bruised tomorrow but he didn’t care. All he wanted right now was to satisfy the itch and heat that was coursing through his body and veins and let Wakasa dominate every inch of his body roughly. A tremor shook his body when Wakasa hit his prostate repeatedly, his brain turning into a puddle of ecstasy and pleasure.
“M-more… P-please… Don’t stop…” He moaned out lecherously as tears of pleasure began streaming down his face.
Wakasa leaned down and licked his tears gently before settling on his mouth and captured it in a passionate kiss. Takemichi returned it vigorously, his mouth exploring wildly the crevices of the other which made him moaned inside his mouth. He continued pounding into him rapidly before he tore his mouth away and latched his mouth onto the crook of his neck, growling under his skin as he reached his climax and release everything into him. Takemichi shivered at the white-hot, blinding sensation that enveloped him before he also reached his peak and groaned weakly at the overwhelming sensation that coursed throughout his body.
For the next few minutes, only their ragged breathing can be heard throughout the alley and the racing of their hearts inside their chests before Wakasa started to pull away and zipped on his pants. Takemichi groaned faintly at the loss of contact before he tried to move and winced at the soreness that began to make its way over his body. Wakasa silently took out something from his pockets and gently wiped off the cum that slipped down on his thighs before he helped him in pulling up his pants and smoothing the wrinkles away of his shirt to make him at least decent and not just a hot mess that came out from having a quickie.
Takemichi was quiet at first as the mortification flooded his face after the lust and want ebbing away from his body. He looked down on the ground and was unable to look at Wakasa directly in the eye.
God, why was he reduced into a pathetic, horny teenager when he was with him? Was his sex life that nil in the past that just by seeing Wakasa made his libido shot through the roof?
“Takemichi.”
Hearing his name finally slipped past Wakasa’s lips made his thoughts came to a screeching halt and an electrifying sensation shot through his veins. The way he had said his name in a low, throaty voice of his after their make-out session was like a sweet, guilty pleasure that he wouldn’t mind repeating over and over again inside his head.
“Yeah?” He rasped out, his azure eyes locking into his dark wine orbs.
“Let’s head to my flat and talk.” Wakasa replied simply.
“Really?” Takemichi blurted out intelligently.
Wakasa shot him a deadpanned look. “I’m not some mindless animal who only thinks with their dicks involved. I can tell that you’ve got a lot of questions. And I’ll be happy to answer them.” He replied sardonically.
A faint blush coated his cheeks. “That’s not what I meant… But okay… Let’s talk…” Takemichi rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and looked away.
Wakasa resisted the urge to reach out and caressed his rosy-hued cheeks, that embarrassed look never failed to captivate and mesmerized him altogether.
Fuck.
Takemichi was bad for his heart.
He pocketed his hands inside the pouches of his jeans and walked past Takemichi who scrambled to his feet and followed him from behind. Silence engulfed them as they walked beside each other going to Wakasa’s residence. It seemed that both of them were engrossed in their own thoughts or either one of them were just scrambling for the right words to say.
They finally reached his flat and gestured for Takemichi sit on the couch which made the latter nod in silence and complied, observing his surroundings.
Wakasa sauntered over the kitchen, opening the door of his fridge to find something edible to cook and present to his guest to eat.
‘Huh? I ran out of fresh meat and vegetables? Might have to do some grocery this coming weekend.’ He thought wryly as he took some pasta and a can of corned beef before closing it.
Wakasa thought that he’ll just prepare of what is left on his place and be more resourceful about it. He took the casserole and began filling it with water before he placed it on the stove and turned it on. Putting on some teaspoon of oil into the casserole, he closed the lid and waited for it to boil. Afterwards, he put the saucepan into another stove and opened the can of corned beef and started to chopped some garlic and onions. After putting an oil to the saucepan, he sautéed the garlic and onion, the sizzling sounds and savory aroma permeated through the place, reaching the living room.
While Takemichi was observing the place in silence, he smelled the delicious aroma of the sautéed garlic and onions. Out of curiosity, he stood up and peeked silently at the other who was in the kitchen and was moving around deftly, like it was his navigated territory. It seemed like he had discovered another facet of Wakasa today. And that he was an able cook.
“20 minutes.” Wakasa’s calm voice cut off of his wandering thoughts.
“Huh?”
“After 20 minutes you can finally eat.” Wakasa clarified after he put the pasta into the casserole of boiling water and turned back to him with a smug smile on his face.
It made Takemichi’s heart skipped a beat. Wakasa doesn’t smile that often since his usual default facial expression was either an apathetic look or quiet annoyance marring his face. But when he did smile, it made his features more youthful, open, and captivating. Not that he wasn’t beautiful to begin with. In fact, he deemed that Wakasa was gorgeous regardless of what expression he was sporting at. It’s just that it’s more magnified and stunning when his lips pulled upwards into a tantalizing smile.
“That fast?” Takemichi quickly answered before the other found out that he was staring at him again. He didn’t want a repeat of his embarrassment of being caught red-handed by him again.
“If you live alone, you gotta be fast and resourceful.” Wakasa simply replied before he turned his attention back again to what he was cooking and turned off the stove where the casserole was sitting at and carried it out with his mitten-covered hands and started to tap the water out from the pasta by putting it into the strainer.
Takemichi then proceeded to sit in one of the available chairs at the dining table and watched Wakasa’s movements with rapt attention and silence. Aside from being great at sex and cooking, what else can he do? He fought back the blush that was threatening to spread across his face. What the fuck? He didn’t like where his thoughts were going and he deemed himself as not being a perverted person. He was starting to feel disgusted with himself.
As Takemichi was having an internal crisis of being aroused and disgusted with himself at the same time, a bowl was placed into the middle of the table which caught his attention and his eyes met an appetizing sight of a pasta slathered in corned beef and cream. It made his mouth water and suddenly grew hungry. Wakasa placed a clean plate and utensils in front of him before he sat on the opposite side of him.
“Now eat.” He said tersely.
Takemichi quickly muttered a prayer before he scooped some pasta into his place and dig in. Upon tasting the pasta, bursts of delectable tastes and tangy flavors exploded inside his mouth that made him moan out in delight.
He fucking moaned.
In front of him.
He belatedly realized on this and mortification flooded his face, feeling his cheeks hot all of a sudden. He couldn’t look at Wakasa in the eye but he swore that he could feel his eyes staring at him intently.
God, he can’t stop embarrassing himself in front of this guy.
“Was it good?” Wakasa finally asked that made him stop and looked up at him again after swallowing back down the food.
“Huh?”
“The pasta Takemichi. Did it suit your tastes?”
“It’s goddamn delicious!” He exclaimed before he suddenly grew shy again and cast him an apologetic look.
A slight chuckle slipped past Wakasa’s lips at his instinctive yet genuine response, enjoying Takemichi’s zealousness and simplicity.
“Well have some more then. Don’t want to have my guest starving.” Wakasa put some more pasta into Takemichi’s plate before turning to his attention to his own plate and bringing some food into it. He tried to focus on eating his pasta but Wakasa couldn’t help himself as he sneaked some subtle glances to the blond who was eating with much gusto and holding a reverential look on his face as if he was tasting the holy grail of a dish.
It did silly things to his heart and he swore that he felt his pulse skyrocket at the notion of Takemichi admiring him and his skills of some sort.
Meanwhile, Takemichi kept his focus on the food and tried to ignore the blunder he had made earlier and the wild stuttering of his heart inside his chest. It was true that Wakasa could cook like a pro and he would gladly go to heaven after this hearty meal but he doesn’t want to be derailed and needed to get to the heart of the matter.
They needed to talk. Properly.
Even with the nervousness still clouding his veins, Takemichi swallowed back his nerves and braced himself. He quickly finished his meal and finally looked at Wakasa on the eye.
“Can we talk right now?” He inwardly congratulated himself for keeping his voice even and calm despite his heart that’s almost going to leap out of his throat.
Wakasa swallowed down the pasta and stared right back at him with a blank expression on his face. “Seems that you don’t waste time. Okay. We can talk right now.” He replied dispassionately.
The way it sounded was like an impersonal, businesslike deal that they’re talking about. Takemichi still thought about how Wakasa can be like that. He was a passionate, fiery lover earlier. But now he was a wall of glacial ice and impenetrable walls at the next part.
He was like dealing with a hot and cold person sometimes.
Takemichi tried not to let that threw him off at the abrupt change of the other’s tone and gears. “What are we exactly…? And what do you want from me aside from…” He trailed off as a faint blush marred his cheeks as he couldn’t get the words right out of his mouth.
“A quick fuck?” Wakasa supplied for him easily which made the blond sputtered.
“H-hey…!”
“Look Takemichi. Reason I invited you here is to let you know of how great we are together in bed and I don’t want to ruin that by some misunderstanding or miscommunication. So, I’m laying it out on the table if you’re open to no strings attached kinda relationship. That way we don’t have a responsibility towards each other than to have sex when we need it.” Wakasa replied bluntly.
Takemichi was speechless on how straightforward and direct he was at his intentions. He was not mincing on his words. While he appreciated the fact that he was honest with what he wants, another part of him couldn’t help but grimace at how callous it sounded, like they’re just talking about the weather on a casual basis.
“Oh.” Was all he could say.
“Oh?” Wakasa repeated with an arched brow. “You don’t want this kind of setup? I mean you can tell me and I’ll be cool with it so that we don’t have to waste our time with each other.” Wakasa added, perfectly hiding the twinge of disappointment at the mere possibility of Takemichi rejecting his offer.
“N-no! I’m just surprised that’s all.” Takemichi replied weakly. It may be true that Takemichi was captivated by Wakasa on their first explosive meeting together and he couldn’t help the pull of physical attraction and lust whenever they meet together. But was it enough to have a relationship with him? Wakasa was just laying out the facts right in front of him. Being in a serious relationship was a big responsibility and he wasn’t even sure if he was ready for that. Nor Wakasa for that matter. Takemichi was still a bit confused and bewildered of what he felt towards him and it doesn’t help that his heart was doing a weird somersault inside his chest whenever he was near him.
But one thing is for sure. He can’t deny the sexual attraction that he felt for Wakasa. He can’t be a hypocrite right now and flat out reject his proposition where he also found the offer very tempting.
Wakasa just looked at him in silence, prompting him to continue as he sensed that he’s going to say something.
“I accept…” Takemichi muttered, his voice growing faint and small.
Wakasa blinked a few times. He was sure that the blond would reject his offer seeing the surprised yet conflicted expression on his face. He doesn’t strike him as the type of a person who’ll just be okay with a casual relationship with one another and deemed him as an awkward yet serious kind of a guy when it came to certain things in life. Wakasa was the one who was surprised. In a good way.
He shot him a lopsided grin. “I see. So, you’re okay with it then? You’re ballsy and you know your own game.”
“Shut up. Stop teasing me damn it. Your words just made sense to me and it wasn’t that bad.” Takemichi mumbled as he looked away from him as he could feel the mortification flooding his cheeks again.
“Are you that easy to fluster? That’s kinda cute Mitchy.” Wakasa couldn’t help the teasing lilt to his voice coated over his words.
Takemichi bit his lip as he could feel his entire face growing hotter and mortified at this point. “Whatever. If you’re done with that. I’ll wait for you at the couch.” He stood up and went to the living room. He could hear Wakasa’s faint snickers from the background.
Takemichi plopped himself on his couch and just stared right through the small windows ahead of him, his heart was beating wildly inside his chest and his cheeks was still burning in mortification. He knew himself that he’s a clumsy, awkward, and walking disaster of shyness and embarrassment. But when he was with Wakasa it was on an entirely different matter. The guy knew what to say or do to make him lose his composure and just reduced him into a blushing, stuttering mess. It doesn’t help that he possessed those dark, amethyst eyes that bored right through his soul.
He knew that when he stared at those intense eyes, he could never deny him of anything.
He was royally fuck up.
Takemichi was still on his reverie when he felt the side of the couch dip that caught his attention and glanced at the side to see Wakasa sitting right beside him with a casual expression on his face.
“Wanna watch something together?” He asked nonchalantly as pressed on the button from the remote that he was holding and the TV went to life.
“Uhm, okay sure.” Takemichi replied quietly, growing damn shy again when he was in his presence. Why was he being like this? They practically had sex thrice now and he was still acting like a virgin, wallflower in front of him! He didn’t know whether to be angry or pity himself because of how embarrassing he was.
Nonetheless, Wakasa seemed unperturbed by his behavior and just kept scrolling through the channels until it landed on a random action movie in the midst of a car chase scene. For the next few minutes, everything was silent as both of their attention was now glued on the screen and watching the climactic scenes of the movie until it was over and it’s replaced by the usual dialogue of the actors in the hospital.
Takemichi kept his attention to the screen even though he was slowly growing bored and losing focus since Wakasa scooted closer to him that almost invaded his personal space and placed his hand on his thigh which made him caught his breath in his throat.
“What’re you doing?” Takemichi finally turned to face and gazed at him in half bewilderment and half excitement.
“I wanna kiss you.” Wakasa replied with a straight face.
Takemichi almost choked on his spit. “W-what? R-really?” He stammered.
“Yes really. I’m bored of the movie now and to be honest with you I just wanna kiss and fuck you again until you forget your name the next day. Can I do that?” Wakasa asked simply.
Takemichi would’ve laughed at his usual bluntness but it only turned him on and stirred something from within him. Instead of answering him, he took the initiative and climbed on his lap, grabbing the lapels of his shirt and crushed his lips against him in a searing kiss as a response.
Wakasa was surprised yet once again at the other male because of his spontaneity and boldness but welcomed his actions enthusiastically, settling his hands to his hips and gripped it tightly to kept him in place. Wakasa returned his kiss fervently, his tongue fighting for dominance against the other wildly.
Even though Takemichi struggled to kept his dominion towards the other, he was quickly losing control as Wakasa ground against him teasingly which made him gasped and moaned inside his mouth to which the other took advantage of and plundered the insides of his mouth hotly. Drool started to trickle down their lips as Takemichi was reduced into a puddle of mess, mewling and shaking like a leaf against his arms.
Wakasa grew impatient before he tore his lips away from him and broke off their kiss to undress him and take off his shirt, throwing it carelessly somewhere on the ground. He didn’t waste his time as his mouth latched into one of his nipples and nibbled and sucked eagerly on the sensitive nub which made the blond arched and moaned wantonly against him.
“W-wakasa…! T-that’s…” His words came out as a stuttering cry of pleasure which made the other more aroused and turned on.
“Hmm?” He shot him a brief, lustful gaze before he turned his attention back to his chest where he peppered it with kisses and love bites.
Before Takemichi could get drunk and be lost on the storm of passion and lust again, he struggled to put his hands on his shoulders and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“S-stop…” He mumbled weakly.
That seemed to get Wakasa’s full attention and faced him with a puzzled look despite the pleasure clouding his eyes and senses.
“Something bothering you?” He asked throatily.
It took some willpower not to throw himself into Wakasa’s arms again and let him do what he wanted to do with him. Despite their rendezvous together, the other always took the lead and charge. He wanted to spice things up and be the one pleasuring him instead to pay him for his efforts and skills in the past.
“I want to suck you off.” His face was beet red as he said this honestly while staring back at Wakasa’s face fully.
Wakasa just stared at him intently for the next few seconds which made Takemichi fidget under his silent scrutiny and gaze. Did he overdo it? Was Wakasa disgusted by what he—
“I’d like that.”
His simple affirmation cut off his anxious thoughts and made him smile shyly at the other.
“If you’re ballsy enough to say it then I guess you can do it.” Wakasa added as he licked his lips slowly in front of him.
It made Takemichi gulped and his heart raced inside his chest but he couldn’t back out now. Besides the mere thought of sucking him off invaded his mind and thoughts, making him hornier than usual. He proceeded to pushed him gently on the couch and hovered over him. He didn’t waste his time as he quickly unbuckled his pants and took them off. Takemichi didn’t linger on it for too long or he will lose a nerve. He immediately discarded his boxers and it revealed his cock which was heavy with arousal and was already leaking with a precum. It made his mouth water at the sight.
Wakasa was eyeing him silently but there was a tint of anticipation and eagerness of what he was about to do next.
Even though this was the first time that he’ll be doing it, Takemichi has a vague memory on how to do it. From the playboy magazines and X-rated movies that he read and watched, his mind had mapped out and stored the necessary movements and actions at the back of his head where he can retrieved it when the time has come to finally use it.
Just like now.
Takemichi started running up his hands up and down his thighs, petting his cock leisurely and did some manipulation with his hand, squeezing it a bit and feeling it as the blood flow starts to get going. A heady sensation began coursing through Wakasa’s veins and his hands fisted through his flaxen locks idly as he let out a low groan.
His positive reaction spurred Takemichi on and he quickly switched up his techniques to make it more exciting. He began lubricating his cock with his spit, his index finger flicking through its tip teasingly before giving it a few, swift strokes that made Wakasa catch his breath and let out a grunt.
“Fuck.” It came out as a low, throaty growl and he instinctively tightened his hold into Takemichi’s locks which sent the other into a mixture of pain and pleasure.
Without any warning or hesitations, Takemichi’s mouth took his member enthusiastically in one go. The warm sensation of his mouth enveloping his eager cock made the other shudder and let out a breathy moan of delight.
Takemichi paused for a few seconds, his mouth adjusting to the shape and size of his shaft. Fuck. He’s well endowed in this area. But not that Takemichi can’t handle on. Afterward, he closed his lips around his cock and began sliding it out of his mouth and take his tongue, and ran it along the ridged tip of his cock. He started using both of his hands along with his mouth while rubbing his balls eagerly.
For the next few seconds, the room was filled with lecherous moans, gurgling sounds, and grunts of pleasure that resonated within the walls of his flat. Wakasa had an inkling that he might get knocks of complaints from his fellow tenants once again. But he didn’t care. The one thing that he could focus on right now was the man sucking off his dick like there’s no tomorrow.
“Damn Mitchy. You’ve got a talented mouth and hands.” He groaned out.
Takemichi paused and looked up at him with his eyes blown wide with lust and his red mouth glistening with spit and precum.
“They don’t call it a job for nothing, Wakasa-kun.” He replied with a saucy grin on his lips before he resumed on his work and began sucking him off deeply. He wrapped both of his hands at the base of his shaft and began moving them up and down while his cock was inside his warm mouth.
Takemichi began to lose himself at the addicting sensation and ecstasy of his member inside his mouth and started bobbing up his head and down rapidly. His eyes started to water but he took it like a champ and deep throated him roughly. He could feel Wakasa’s grip on his locks tightened a bit more and was shoving his cock into his mouth which he accepted eagerly.
“Fuck Takemichi. I’m going to cum if you keep on doing that.” He growled out to which the blond only hummed in response and didn’t decrease his motions, continuing to deep throat him with a blinding speed.
In the midst of his eager actions, a hot, sticky sensation suddenly flooded his mouth and made his vision go white for a few seconds, feeling his pulsating cock reached its climax and released everything into him like a gush of a waterfall.
Takemichi tried not to let his cum settled for too long inside his mouth and swallowed it quickly like a shot of tequila after letting go of his cock. Before Takemichi could even catch his breath, Wakasa grabbed his wrist and suddenly pulled him towards his direction and crushed his lips against his own in a wild kiss. It made Takemichi moaned inside his mouth as he tried to return his kiss ardently and followed his quick motions, drooling slightly.
“Fuck. That was hot.” Wakasa mumbled hotly against his lips as he tasted himself.
After a few more passionate kisses, Takemichi finally broke from it to catch his breath.
“I’m glad you like it.” He sported a shy smile to his face and Wakasa was thinking about how he could still look like that. He was wild and bold earlier but now he reverted back to his awkward yet adorable self. But he still looked sexy doing it. It should be a crime.
Wakasa noticed the tent on his pants and he smirked. “Oh. Looks like we also have to take care of yours too Mitchy.” He sang as he effortlessly flipped them both over with Takemichi now lying under him on the couch.
A slight squeal escaped from the blond’s lips at his sudden actions, eyes wide as saucers. But his surprise quickly melted into a fit of lust and passion as Wakasa’s hand wandered eagerly on his chest and gave his nipples a teasing pinch and squeeze while his other hand had taken off his pants and boxers, discarding them carelessly somewhere on the ground. He tried to muffle his moans by covering his mouth as Wakasa leaned down and started to let his tongue wandered around his torso teasingly.
His gaze flicked over Takemichi’s. “Don’t. I want to hear you.”
“But your neighbors…” He replied weakly.
“It’s too late for that now isn’t it?” There was an amuse lilt to Wakasa’s voice as he shot him a playful wink before one of his hands had reached out to Takemichi’s hand that was covering his mouth and pried it off.
It fully revealed Takemichi’s flushed face, red mouth that was glistening with his drool, and eyes that were heavily clouded with lust and ecstasy. It made something inside of Wakasa snap. He can’t wait to break and devour him all by himself.
He looked down and resumed on what he was doing, kissing, nibbling, and licking the sensitive flesh and skin along Takemichi’s torso which made the blond shiver and groaned out in delight. He grew bolder and reckless as his hot and eager mouth trailed downwards, kissing along his hipbones until it landed on his thigh. He gave it a teasing lick before he bit on the skin lazily which made the other trembled slightly on his arms. He could feel his scalp being tugged on as the blond had fisted on his locks.
A wave of pleasure and pain had hit him simultaneously which made him grunt in ecstasy before his eyes trained on the other’s member which was now stood erect and glistening at its tip. It made Wakasa licked his lips slowly before his tongue darted out and licked at the stripe teasingly. He could hear the low moans slipping from Takemichi’s lips and it spurred him on, his thumb flicking at the tip lazily which made the other pulled harder on his hair. It made Wakasa’s blood sing on his veins before his mouth took all of him eagerly, his tongue snaking inside his aching cock with much gusto.
“D-damn… That feels g-good…” Takemichi gasped out as his heartbeat wildly inside his chest when he felt the warmness of his mouth enveloping him inside, his mind blanking out blissfully for a second.
Wakasa’s eyes glinted at his response before he started his own pace, his head started bobbing up and down beneath him. His movements started out as slow and teasing until it increased in tempo making his mouth ran rapidly and harder against his throbbing cock. Takemichi’s body was moving on its own accord and reacted instinctively, thrusting more into Wakasa’s mouth in response to the other man’s enthusiasm in sucking his dick.
It’s a good thing that Wakasa has a better gag reflex hence he was able to take all of it in stride without even choking. His hands caressed around his torso before going down on his thighs and gave it an experimental squeeze which made Takemichi let out a choked moan and arched against him in ecstasy.
“I… I’m gonna…!” Takemichi groaned out, drool slipping past his lips.
It made Wakasa more enthusiastic and eager, wanting the other to reach his own peak and pleasure.
‘C’mon…’ Wakasa thought determinedly as he deep throats him faster, his tongue lavished around the sensitive seams of his cock inside. With a visible tremor wracking around the blond’s body, he eventually reached his climax and spilled his hot seed into the other’s mouth which made the other catch it zealously, not letting a single drop escaped on the ground. Wakasa released his shaft with a resounding pop and swallowed everything in one go, his tongue darting out afterward and licked at the side of his mouth languidly.
Takemichi could only stare at him, completely mesmerized at Wakasa’s red mouth which was wet with spit and his cum and his heliotrope eyes grew darker with lust and pleasure. He tried to catch his breath before speaking again.
“I… That’s… Damn… I think you literally fucked my brains out on this one.” Takemichi blurted out, his face feeling hot all of a sudden on how he said that without any filter at all. His body was still in a tingling sensation after that mind-blowing experience.
Wakasa laughed throatily before he suddenly grabbed him and rolled them over to the ground which made Takemichi yelped embarrassingly.
“W-what was that for?!” The blond complained staring up at him with wide eyes.
Wakasa smirked deviously in response as he trailed his finger lazily along Takemichi’s chest.
He swallowed thickly as he stared into the deep, pools of Wakasa’s eyes that were both dangerous and captivating at the same time. Was this man for real?
But Takemichi couldn’t deny himself that his body grew excited again and his cock jumping out again in response to the other’s insinuation and seduction. Maybe there was something on his face or even in his own gaze that made Wakasa suddenly leaned down on him and captured his lips in a ferocious kiss and didn’t wait for his response.
And throughout the night they’re both insatiable with each other, filling the room with the smell of sex and their cries of pleasure.
Chifuyu had rolled down the rolling door of the café and put a padlock on it afterward. He then stood up and dusted himself off. The orangey hues from the sky started to spread around the city, signaling for the day that was about to end and dusk would come soon afterward. Earlier, he was actually tempted to follow Takemichi on where he was going.
He was definitely hiding something.
However, against his better judgment, he left him be. For sure, Takemichi has his own reasons, and sooner or later he would tell him what was that all about soon. He trusted his friend enough to deal with whatever he’s facing right now.
Chifuyu sighed and put his hands deep into his pockets before he started to walk away from the café, looking straight ahead as he moved forward along the street. His curious mind and thoughts started to wander and he can’t deny that Takemichi and that previous customer that they have inside had something to do with it. The blond was acting like a poor, hot mess in front of that customer who had that shimmering violet highlights on his hair. And he goes by the name of ‘Wakasa.’
It's obvious to see that there was something going on between Takemichi and the mysterious customer lounging on their area a while ago although it wouldn’t show on the latter since he perfectly treated Takemichi like a normal stranger and an ordinary barista basing on his indifference and placid expressions thrown at him earlier. It was Takemichi who had struggled to keep his own composure with that mortification flooding his expressive face and that genuine surprise coloring his tone and voice despite spouting some inane shit of customer service at him.
He finally reached his residence and paused, looking contemplatively at the interior of his house. He grunted and shook his head faintly. There were still questions running inside his head but it can definitely wait until tomorrow since Takemichi had promised to treat him out after their shift at the ramen place nearby the city that he’s talking about. He can wait until tomorrow. Besides he knew how the blond was adamant about keeping onto his promises. He was one of the people he knew who possessed a large amount of guilt and active tear ducts whenever he broke them. His firm morality was both his strength and weakness at the same time ironically.
Chifuyu entered inside his house and prepared food for his cats who greeted him sweetly in the doorway.
Yep, tonight was his usual rest day after all.
The loud claps of the thunderclouds resonated outside and the brief but sharp flash of white lightning glinted across the windows of the living room. Senju draped herself on the couch as she nibbled on the ice cream on the cone that she was holding in her right hand.
“It’s a good thing that we discontinued our plans of going to the beach this weekend. There’s heavy rainfall outside. I heard from the news that there’s going to be a typhoon soon. I’ve always hated this kind of weather and stuff.” Senju commented as she stared at the pelts of rainfall clashing through the windowsill.
“I guess it’s one of those days that we gotta thank Wakasa for changing his mind and bailing out of our plans for the weekend because of his usual grumpiness and boredom. He’s not very keen on outings ya know.” Benkei grunted as he was watching some random sports show about football while munching on some potato chips.
Takeomi could only hum in response as he carefully carried the mug of coffee between his lips.
“Speaking of Wakasa, don’t you think that he’s being weird these days?” Senju cocked an eyebrow.
“Whaddaya mean? He’s always been a weirdo most of the time. That’s why people are intimidated by him as always.” Benkei snorted.
“Not that you idiot.” Senju rolled her eyes. “What I mean is something has been occupying his mind these past few days. He wasn’t usually late to the meetings or come in unprepared. Wakasa has always been one of the sharpest and observant members of our group despite his off-putting attitude sometimes. So, making Takeomi actually called his ass to attend our scheduled meeting and hearing that lame excuse of I actually forgot? Something weird has been going on with that dude.” Senju added, folding her arms across her chest.
“So, you’ve noticed it too huh?” Takeomi stared at her inquisitively.
“I’m not an oblivious dolt like Benkei over here,” Senju replied offhandedly which earned an indignant yelp from the other in the background.
“What do you mean by that?!” Benkei’s voice was muffled by the chips on his mouth.
“Swallow the food down on your mouth before speaking,” Senju replied with a straight face.
Akashi sipped again on his coffee before settling it back to the table carefully. “Hmm. Maybe he’s busy with something. Or with someone rather.” Takeomi replied idly.
His words caught Senju’s attention and settled her eyes on him with a narrowed gaze. “There is something or someone worthy of his attention that broke his usual routine of indifference and apathetic attitude towards almost everything?”
“Wakasa actually gives a shit about something?” Benkei piped up after swallowing the bag of chips into his mouth.
“I can’t say for sure but remembered the time after we got wasted in that bar and he suddenly disappeared right before us and we haven’t heard from him over the weekend only to turned up late into the meeting after I reminded him over the call? That’s rather telling.” Takeomi said in a matter-of-fact voice.
“So, you mean he found someone already? Like a new flavor of the month?” Senju finished her ice cream and swallowed the tip of the cone afterward.
“Don’t make it sound like he’s a player or some shit. The only thing going for him is his looks since he didn’t exactly possess a stellar personality and social skills.” Benkei grumbled.
“Hm.” Senju tapped her chin idly. “I’m curious to meet this person.”
Akashi watched her curious and thoughtful face. When there’s an idea forming inside her head, it’s difficult to stop her from doing what she wants. Despite being his older brother, Senju’s a force to be reckoned with sometimes. And she can be really stubborn and insistent.
He could only sigh in defeat. Takeomi knew where this was going.
“I’ll definitely meet this person! It’s not easy to catch the full attention of our grumpy member so it got my head spinning on this mysterious person. They must be really interesting.” Senju added with a bit of enthusiasm lacing her voice.
And this was one of those ordinary days that Takeomi grew another headache at his sister’s antics.
The woman at the counter took out her sunglasses and stared at the menu casually behind Takemichi before proceeding to order. “I’ll have a Java Chip Frappe venti and a slice of blueberry cheesecake.”
“Got it, ma’am. That’d be ¥ 750.” Takemichi punched the codes on the machine before it opened and took the bills from her and gave her the change and the receipt.
“What’d be the name ma’am?” He asked as he took the cup and pen from the board.
“Just Lily will do thanks.”
Takemichi nodded before the woman left and took an available seat on the front. He finished writing her name on the cup before he went through the backdoor and greeted Chifuyu who was busy preparing some earlier orders that day.
“Java Chip Frappe for Lily and an additional slice of blueberry cheesecake Chifuyu.”
“Got it, partner.” Chifuyu put the finished orders on the tray and handed it to him to which Takemichi took it gladly.
Just as he was about to leave Chifuyu’s next words made him paused for a second.
“Hey, don’t forget later at that ramen place I’m telling you. You still owe me that one Takemichi.”
He didn’t turn around so that Chifuyu wouldn’t see the look on his face as he fucking remembered something again with Wakasa that made his cheeks flushed and his body hot all over again. Right. He still owed Chifuyu of that treatment to the ramen place that he was talking about and of course that juicy news about his personal life that the other was pestering on him about.
“Of course, I didn’t forget that dumbass. I ain’t that old you know.” Takemichi grumbled to hide his own mortification and went out of the room quickly, not waiting for the other’s response.
He needed to brace himself on how he’s gonna tell Chifuyu later on what he had been doing currently on his boring life. Which was not so boring anymore considering that he got himself a gorgeous guy as a fuck buddy temporarily.
Takemichi heaved a deep breath as he tried to calm his frayed nerves and the wild beating of his heart inside his chest. He needed to clear his mind and focused on what he was doing at the moment. He was still at work and he had to be attentive and professional lest he doesn’t want to be berated by their manager again for spacing out like an idiot in the past. His ‘important talk’ with Chifuyu about Wakasa would have to wait until their shift was over. Hence, in the end, they spent the whole day being busy and tending to their customers as usual seeing that the café was at always its peak during the morning and lunch break every weekday.
Takemichi finally put the remaining cup inside their cupboards when they’ve reached the end of their shift and he let out a satisfied hum. ‘Finally. Work’s over.’ He thought happily as he slung his backpack into his right shoulder and punched out at their attendance monitoring system.
As he was already beginning to head out of the counter, an arm suddenly slung all over his shoulder which made him almost yelped out of surprise. Turning around, he saw the grinning face of Chifuyu behind him.
“Well, partner let’s head now to that ramen place quickly before we lose some available seats!” Chifuyu enthused.
“Stop giving me a heart attack Chifuyu! And it’s basically a few blocks away from the café. I don’t think we’re going to lose some seats that quickly.” Takemichi grumbled as he lets Chifuyu bulldozed him out of the café.
“You never know partner. It’s one of the best ramen places here in the city so people tend to flock to it, especially after working hours. So, c’mon now!” Chifuyu pulled on his wrist after locking the café and ran towards the street with Takemichi running from behind him.
“Oi slow down will you!” Takemichi shouted but it fell into a deaf ear as the other had to keep on running excitedly into the ramen shop until they reached that place within a few minutes.
“Let’s take a seat over there in the middle. It’s still available.” Chifuyu said as he pulled along Takemichi inside while the other was still catching his breath.
“Don’t do that again,” Takemichi grunted as he glared at him without any heat behind it and just slumped down at the seat.
“You need to exercise more often Takemichi if that shit, we did earlier already worn you down. Your stamina is growing stale because of your sedentary lifestyle.” Chifuyu snorted when a waitress went to their spot and gathered their orders.
Takemichi let the other ordered for him as he knew that the other came here more often than not and knew the best foods to order at this place.
After the waitress had successfully gathered their orders, she went away from their table.
That’s when Chifuyu started to run his mouth and asked what’s been on his mind lately.
“So, who is it?” He asked seriously.
“What?” Takemichi looked confused for a moment.
“Your boyfriend Takemichi.” Chifuyu replied with an arched brow. “The one who’s been occupying your mind lately. And don’t even deny it partner. You got this look that screams I’m into someone very badly.” He added.
Upon hearing his words, Takemichi sputtered and his face burned in mortification. He broke his eye contact and looked away.
“T-that’s…! You’ve got it all wrong Chifuyu!” He exclaimed all of a sudden.
“Oh really?” Chifuyu crossed his arms over his chest as he looked at Takemichi unimpressed. “Cause right now that doesn’t seem to be it. At first, I thought that maybe some serious shit is actually bothering you like stress or what. But one day, when I saw you with that customer with long hair and violet highlights and you’re acting like some blushing, shy teenager in front of him. And the way you’ve talked with each other… The only thing I could think of is that both of you had something going on and maybe you’re boyfriends or some sort. Now tell me I’m the wrong partner.” He added.
‘Damn his observational skills sometimes. It’s both blessing and a curse.’Takemichi thought with wide eyes. He almost got it right except for that one part cause it’s never going to be true either way anyway.
Takemichi was about to respond when the waitress came back again wheeling the tray containing their orders. They both waited for her to finish putting the ramen into their table before leaving them again.
The blond heaved out a deep breath before bracing himself, looking Chifuyu again directly into his eyes even though the flush on his cheeks was still visible due to his mortification earlier.
“You’re right about almost everything. Except for the boyfriend part. Because he’s just my fuck buddy that’s all. I’ve gotten myself into a no strings attached relationship kinda thing recently.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
“What?” Chifuyu blinked a few times, trying to digest his answer.
Takemichi then told him of the events on how he met Wakasa at the bar during the other week and how they ended up fucking each other whenever they meet. He took out the raunchy details of their rendezvous and just focused on the summarized parts of the story since he didn’t see the point of telling that to him and bringing out too much information and how they basically ended up in their current casual set up of having no responsibility towards each other except for the booty call whenever they feel the need to do it. Chifuyu listened to his tale with rapt attention yet a thoughtful look on his face, not bothering to interrupt him and even let him finished until the end.
“So, there you have it. That’s how we basically met and how did it go from here.” Takemichi sighed before he took the chopsticks and muttered a quick prayer, eating the ramen with much gusto afterward.
“A no strings attached relationship huh?” Chifuyu hummed under his breath before he followed suit and started to eat his ramen. “But are you really fine with it Takemichi?” He asked after swallowing down his food.
“What do you mean I’m fine with it? I’m not going to agree with the setup if I’m not don’t you think?” Takemichi replied with a furrowed brow.
“I mean yeah… I get what you mean but… knowing how can you get emotionally attached with someone Takemichi, I’m not sure if a casual booty call is the right thing for you. This Wakasa guy seemed fantastic but from what can I tell from the story you’ve told me is he knows how this works and he’s not a neophyte in this area. I just don’t wanna get you hurt in the long run considering that you already have feelings for him.” Chifuyu answered sincerely.
Takemichi paused and stared at him wide-eyed. “Hey! What do you take me for? I’m not some fragile little thing that needs to be reminded of and be protected! I know what I’m doing Chifuyu. I’m 26 years old! I can handle this kind of shit after all. Also, what made you think that I already have feelings for this guy? He’s just my fuck buddy. Nothing more, nothing less.” He emphasized his last words.
“Takemichi you’re pretty damn obvious back there at the café.” Chifuyu deadpanned before sighing deeply. “I guess when you say that, then I have to stop treating you like a child and see you as an adult. But it’s kinda hard sometimes partner when you’re just goddamn impulsive, reckless, and highly emotional sometimes.” He grimaced.
“Shut up you, dumbass!” Takemichi grumbled as he shoved more ramen into his mouth, a sour expression on his face. While it was true that he can be excessively spontaneous and hasty in his decisions sometimes, his gut instincts usually led him to the right places or to the right people even if his partner would beg to differ on the matter since he also witnessed how can his careless actions landed him on unlucky situations on an occasional basis.
“But if he makes you cry in the long run, don’t go on weeping on my shoulders because I’ll tell you I told you so.” Chifuyu smiled cheekily at him.
Takemichi swallowed down his food before answering again. “Of course not! And why would I do that?” He denied vehemently.
It made Chifuyu chortled heartily, shaking his head fondly. “Nah. Just kidding. But your face looks hilarious. I’m your best friend Takemitchy so whenever someone hurts you tell me and I’ll beat the shit out of ‘em.”
“God, you’re fucking corny sometimes.” Takemichi looked down at his food again, unable to meet Chifuyu’s sincere eyes and smile without making his eyes water a little.
He’s just damn lucky to have a loyal best friend like him after all.
A few weeks had passed again before Takemichi and Wakasa had met up once again.
Sometimes they’d meet up in one of the random places in downtown. Like in a store, diner, park or even at that bar where they first met ages ago. But it would still end up in one result at the end: both of them hooking up with each other and just having sex in the confines of Wakasa’s flat or in a motel throughout the whole day.
Every day, every week, every month that passed them by felt like an eternity whenever they got to meet each other again. It’s only the barest of his touch and that fleeting, smoldering gaze thrown in his direction that made his defenses came crashing down and succumbed to the whispers of his traitorous heart and body.
Takemichi as Wakasa had discovered, was a person who can be please with simple things. In short, a low-maintenance person. Even though the blond was prone to overreacting and a sudden burst of shyness would engulf him afterward, it never failed to amuse and mesmerized him most of the time since he saw it as a genuine reaction to his teasing and the occasional outburst of deadpan bluntness. Most of the people he knew and met in his life always displayed a false sense of coyness just to gratify someone and make good use of it for their image which instantly made his grumpiness show beneath his cloak of indifference and dispassionate attitude.
With Takemichi, he’d just take it in stride. The blond was now used to his taciturn and coldness sometimes and wouldn’t force himself to engage in a small, meaningless talk just to fill in the silence between the two of them. Nevertheless, there was something entertaining yet charming about Takemichi just randomly saying things after the heat of their night together.
“A lot of people might get this misconstrued about me, but I actually hate pineapples in a pizza.” Takemichi casually stated as he stared at the ceiling while lying beside Wakasa with nothing on but a thick blanket covering their naked bodies.
It was already 2 AM and they just finished another round of sex which to be honest they had seemingly lost on the count.
“Hm?” Wakasa glanced at him lazily but there was a curious glint around his eyes. “Why?”
“I just don’t like the taste I guess…” Takemichi mused. “Most of the people thought that I like eating it. Heck, a lot of people thought that I like a lot of the usual things and stuff. They’re just surprised one day when I told them that I really don’t. Maybe it just goes to show how basic I am to their eyes.” Takemichi added with a peal of slight laughter leaving his lips.
“Didn’t know that you have a self-deprecating humor sometimes Mitchy.” Wakasa commented idly.
A soft chuckle slipped past his lips as he glanced at him in slight amusement. “I don’t really know about that. I guess it’s a sort of a bad habit of mine.”
“You’re not just some basic person.” Wakasa replied idly. “Of course, people would have this impression of you that’s not accurate most of the time. I mean first impressions are not 100% correct. You’re more interesting than half of the people that I’ve met over a lifetime.” He added casually as if his honest opinion was just as easy as breathing the fresh air into his lungs.
It made Takemichi blushed furiously and ducked his head away. “That’s not fair.” He sulked.
“Hm? What do you mean?” Wakasa resisted the urge to laugh at him but his eyes crinkled in mirth and humor. He would never get over how cute and adorable the blond was always looking like this.
“Stop saying those things… Or I’ll…” Takemichi bit his lip before he trailed off embarrassingly.
“You’ll what?”
Takemichi didn’t respond at first and remained silent for the next few seconds before he suddenly lunged at him and lied on top of him, sporting a certain look that made his dick twitched in excitement and lust clouded his judgment.
“Don’t be mean and say these wonderful things to me when we’re just fuck buddies. I’m not going to let you pass with this kind of teasing.” Takemichi leaned down and whispered breathily against his ear before he leaned down and captured his lips in a fiery kiss that ignited their bodies once again and spent the next few hours jumping on each other’s bones like horny rabbits.
The ringing of his phone jolted him out of his thoughts and reveries and picked it up, reading the name of the caller before sighing deeply.
He didn’t want to babysit this silver-haired demon. This gal must be getting bored again and decided to pester him. It didn’t help that her big brother, Takeomi, seemed nonchalant and okay with having him as the assigned companion for her shopping antics for today.
“Senju? Where are you? I thought you said you wouldn’t take a while looking at the Alexander Mcqueen’s shop?” He sounded grumpy as usual as his other hand was carrying the other shopping bags of the female from the earlier stores that they went through.
“Stop being a grandpa Wakasa. It’s just for only a few minutes! And I’m already walking straight ahead to the bench where you’re sitting from so relax will you?” Senju piped up cheerfully at the other end of the line.
“You better. Cause I’m damn tired and hungry. I wanna eat something.” He deadpanned before he ended the call and pocketed his phone in his pockets.
Wakasa looked blankly at the people walking around the city until a blob of ivory locks and bright, lavender eyes greeted his line of sight.
“Well c’mon now. I found some appetizing thing that we can head off to.” Senju greeted him with a cheerful smile on her face.
“About damn time,” Wakasa grunted before he stood up and accepted the other shopping bags from her hand and carried them as they walked along.
They finally ended up in one of the cafes in the city which seemed oddly familiar to him. It was no later than when they entered inside that it hit him.
They were inside the café where Takemichi was working.
Takemichi was giving out his usual greeting to the new customers who went inside when his smile froze on his lips as his eyes landed to no other than Wakasa and the female companion that he was with.
Even though he hasn’t seen him for the past few weeks, Takemichi resisted the urge to just call him and talked to him. He reminded himself of the boundaries that their relationship entailed.
And he agreed with it.
Regardless if he misses Wakasa or not, their relationship would purely remain as physical and nothing more. He didn’t want to blur the lines between having a normal, standard relationship with him and just checking up on him each other versus the fact that they’re just supposed to contact each other when they want to fuck and scratched the itch lingering on their bodies.
He ignored the pang that hit right through his chest when he saw Wakasa with another woman. Takemichi didn’t have any right to claim him since they’re in a no-strings-attached relationship. Technically speaking, they don’t have a responsibility towards one another and they’re still open to date other people. But why the hell his heart was being a pest right now and tell him otherwise?
‘Damn it to hell. Stupid heart. Stupid me. Why do I have to fall in love with a guy like him anyway?’ Takemichi berated himself inwardly before his mind ground into a screeching halt.
Him? In love? With Wakasa?
No fucking way.
Before Takemichi could hyperventilate from that mind-blowing realization, a female voice jolted him out of his racing thoughts and brought him back to the present. His eyes now landed on a smiling woman right in front of him with short, white hair and smiling violet eyes.
‘No wonder Wakasa dates her. She’s pleasant looking and easy on the eyes.’ Takemichi thought bitterly while he kept the polite smile plastered on his face.
“I’ll have one caramel Frappuccino with an extra whipped cream, one flat white mocha, and two slices of lemon cake.” The woman ordered smilingly as she took out her black credit card and handed it to him.
“Got it, ma’am. So, what’s the name we put in your cups?” Takemichi kept his voice calm and even as he took the credit card from her and swiped it on the machine.
“Just Senju and Wakasa.” She answered.
Takemichi could only nod as his throat felt constricted and he doesn’t trust his voice right now to slipped in without sounding weird. He handed the card back to her after it was successfully credited and handed her the receipt. She took it from him and muttered a quick thanks before leaving him and went back to sit beside Wakasa.
Takemichi tried not to stomp his foot down on the ground at the sight and just made his way back to the personnel’s room briskly.
“Oi Chifuyu. One caramel Frappuccino with extra whipped cream, one flat white mocha, and 2 slices of lemon cakes for Senju and Wakasa.” He said flatly.
“I saw that earlier partner. You look jealous as hell.” Chifuyu pointed out.
“I’m not!” He denied vehemently.
“Your face is an open book Mitchy. Learn to have some poker face sometimes dude.” Chifuyu grinned at him widely.
“Shut up dumbass. Just get the orders done quickly.” He groused as he went out of the room and tried to calm down himself.
‘Calm the fuck down and get a grip on yourself! He isn’t yours to begin with so stop acting like an idiot.’ His mind sneered at him.
Takemichi repeated the mantra to himself and drilled it into his head until his pesky heart had quieted down into numbness for a while.
“This café has a nice interior isn’t it?” Senju commented idly as she observed the surroundings inside with an interest to her face.
“Wow. Is this your way of making small talk Senju? Cause you suck at it.” Wakasa deadpanned as he looked at her blandly.
He should’ve realized earlier that this woman was up to something. And this is what it was. It finally dawned on him that Senju wanted to meet Takemichi to sate her curiosity and boredom in life.
He acted calm and indifferent earlier even if he saw Takemichi’s surprised yet irritated face afterward which puzzled him to no end.
What’s up with him? He doesn’t remember doing anything that would earn him the ire of the blond. He could only inwardly sigh in defeat at the puzzling thought.
“You really pull your punches, aren’t you?” Senju rolled her eyes before a playful grin inched across her lips. “So, that’s Takemichi.” She added calmly.
“Who?” He asked evenly.
“The blond barista over there.” She pointed out at the counter.
“What about him then?” He asked dispassionately.
“He’s a good catch. You really scored a nice boyfriend out there Wakasa. You and your lucky ass.” Senju replied with a saucy grin on her face.
“He’s not my boyfriend.” He deadpanned.
“He still isn’t? Don’t be an idiot and let him go in the future like that. He’s a real looker and you’re screwed in the head if you don’t take him seriously.” She scoffed.
“Oi shut the hell up. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He huffed.
“Oh, sure I am.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You don’t think we don’t know what you’ve been up to these past few days? Well, you can say that maybe he’s your flavor of the month. But we can’t deny the fact that this Takemichi guy has a positive impact on you. You’re less of a grumpy ass and less intimidating and annoying ever since you’ve met the guy. So, upgrade your status and just date him already.” Senju added with an arched brow.
Wakasa was about to retort when they heard a male’s voice that caught both of their attention.
“One caramel Frappuccino with extra whipped cream and a slice of lemon cake for Senju and one flat white mocha and a slice of lemon cake for Wakasa.” It was another barista who had short, sandy locks and sea-green eyes.
The male seemed to be studying them in silence despite his congenial smile.
“Oh, thanks… Chifuyu.” Senju read the tag on his uniform before smiling casually over to him.
The male bowed to them but Wakasa could feel his brief but narrowed gaze towards his direction before leaving them afterward.
His mouth quirked upwards, brows furrowing slightly. ‘Looks like someone doesn’t seem to be happy that I’m here.’ Wakasa thought wryly before dismissing him completely. Not his fault if he can’t please other people.
“If you brought me here to give me some pep talk, you’re wasting your time,” Wakasa commented as he reached for the cup of coffee and sipped it slowly.
“Ugh. You’re a hopeless case sometimes Wakasa. You like the guy so what’s stopping you? Don’t say I didn’t tell you what to do if things go shitty in the long run.” Senju casually sipped her Frappuccino.
“Whatever. C’mon, let’s finish this so we can head home. Dead tired already.”
Senju just shook her head faintly, letting out a low ‘tsk’ before eating the meal in front of her.
Adults were goddamn stubborn sometimes. And that’s the truth.
Takemichi just finished cleaning up the counter and was already preparing to leave the café since his shift already ended when Chifuyu elbowed him that caught his attention and looked at him in slight irritation.
His mood had deteriorated throughout the day ever since he cannot get out the image of Wakasa and that Senju woman dating in front of him. Inside the café. He tried to stay professional and kept a happy façade during work but now that his shift already ended, he just wanted to go home and wallow on his own misery and regret.
Chifuyu’s teasing look and smile were not helping matters. At all.
“What is it now?” He grumbled childishly.
“Better be quick there partner since someone is actually waiting for you outside to pick you up.” Chifuyu sang as his lips pointed in the direction where Wakasa was standing outside the café and he gave a simple wave of acknowledgment when Takemichi’s eyes landed on him.
He blinked a few times. What.
Now, this was the first time that the other had actually stood outside and waited for him after his shift. What happened to their rule of just meeting each other in another place randomly when one of them calls each other for a hookup?
Nevertheless, it sent a warm, tingling sensation inside his chest at the mere thought that the other was waiting for him patiently outside like a boyfriend was picking him up after work. Takemichi quickly dispelled that thought away before he got carried away and reminded him of their current situation which made his heart clenched instantaneously.
“Don’t make it weird dumbass.” Takemichi grunted as he slung his backpack into his shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow Chifuyu.” He added as mumbled a quick goodbye and left the café.
“Yep. See you tomorrow. Go get him a partner and never let him go.” Chifuyu sent him off with a wink and teasing laughter which made the other sputtered and grumbled in defeat before he finally went out of the café.
“What’re you doing here?” Takemichi muttered as he fiddled with the strap of his bag, looking at the other side of the street.
“Well, I just thought to ask you if you can accompany me to this new ice cream parlor that recently opened a few blocks away from here for a change. That okay with you? You seemed to be in a bad mood today.” Wakasa noted as his amethyst eyes stared at him blankly.
“No… I guess I got tired from work…” Takemichi denied, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Let’s go to that ice cream parlor you’re telling me to.” He added quickly and didn’t wait for him to respond as he started to walk.
Wakasa grew quiet for a few seconds before sighing inwardly and shove his hands into his pockets and walked beside him. They spent walking together in silence, wrapped around their own thoughts.
They finally reached the place and Wakasa ordered ice cream for the both of them before they headed outside where they ended up in a grassy park with a lake in front of them.
Wakasa sat down with Takemichi following suit and sitting down beside him as well.
“I don’t think your co-worker likes me very much,” Wakasa commented.
“Who? Chifuyu? Don’t mind him. He’s just like that sometimes.” Takemichi replied as he licked his ice cream. “Why did you asked me out here anyway? Didn’t you have a date earlier with a gal at the café?” He added, trying to stay casual even though he struggled beneath it.
“What do you mean? Senju? She’s not my date.” He scoffed. “I’m just her unofficial assistant aka babysitter for the day when she wants to go shopping or some shit like that.”
“What? She isn’t…” Takemichi trailed off, blinking a few times.
“She’s not my date. Besides she’s not my type and the feelings are mutual.” Wakasa replied calmly.
Takemichi suddenly stood up and started to leave which made Wakasa surprised and suddenly stood up as well and tried to follow him.
“Oi! Where are you going? Why are you leaving all of a sudden?” He caught his wrist and spun him around gently.
“Don’t say things like that! Or even do these things that make my heart hope for nothing! We’re just fuck buddies! Why are you even… Ugh. This is not even part of our rules. We’re supposed to contact each other if we only wanna have sex not doing this sappy shit!” Takemichi exclaimed, on the verge of breaking down in front of him. He didn’t want Wakasa toying with his feelings like this. Of giving him hope when in the end they’ll part ways when one of them grew tired or be fed up with one another.
Because he’s in love with him. No matter how much he denied it, his pesky, little heart was proving him otherwise.
Wakasa’s gripped loosened on his wrist and shove them back in the pockets of his pants, sighing deeply. “What if I told you that I wanted to finally date you and I just don’t want to have a no-strings-attached relationship with you? Will you accept me as your boyfriend in the future?”
Takemichi’s eyes widened and his blue eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Stop joking about these kinds of things!”
“Who says that I’m joking? I don’t joke with these kinds of things Takemichi! I may be an asshole but I’m not that completely heartless. Okay, I admit that at first, I don’t even plan on having a serious relationship with you and I’m content with what we have because it’s easier just hooking up like that with no responsibilities towards each other and we can call this thing off if one of us don’t feel like staying in this kind of set up anymore. But as the days and even weeks passed us by, seeing these little but important things about you, how emotional yet empathetic you can be to other people in need, how talkative and bright you can be at times, and how you’re genuinely shy yet resolute when it comes to your own beliefs. I admired all of these about you. Then I just woke up one day realizing that I’m in love with you. I’d have to thank Senju because she’s the one who knocked some fucking sense into my head to take a risk with you and never let you go. Because I’ll be the biggest idiot if I just let this beautiful person beside me just leave without even trying. So there Takemichi… Will you please go out with me and be my boyfriend? Or am I too late in saying these things…? If you don’t feel the same way I’d understand…” Wakasa’s voice grew quieter with each admission but his usual blank eyes held an emotion, so raw, visceral, and emotional that Takemichi had to blink twice to see if he’s not crying. He isn’t. But he can see the mixture of emotions flitting around his face.
His confession just made him cry harder, every word that slipped past his lips shot its way through his heart.
“You fucking dummy. How can you say that? Of course, I will! I love you too dumbass. You don’t know how hard I tried not to make some stupid mistake earlier because I was damn jealous of you and Senju. I thought that you two are really dating.” Takemichi ran into his arms and hugged him tightly and buried his crying face into his shoulder which made the other froze for a few seconds before the other’s arms wrapped around him gently.
Wakasa let out a sigh of relief before chuckling softly. “I’m glad you say yes. Home is where the heart is. And that is in your arms Takemichi.” He murmured softly before he pulled away and tilted his head up gently so that their eyes can meet.
“Yeah. This is the risk that I’m willing to take because you’re worth it.” Takemichi closed the distance between the two of them and sealed their lips with a kiss that promise them another tomorrow in each other’s arms.
(A/N: If you reached this part then I’d like to congratulate you for finishing this more than 20k of words filled with filth, sin, and cheesiness at the end. But what can I do? Wakamichi/Wakatake had taken over my mind and I need to unleash this creative itch inside my head before I can move on to my other works. There is something both intriguing and exciting about having a quiet yet blunt and mysterious person like Wakasa falling for a bright ray of sunshine in the form of Takemichi in the most unexpected of ways. And vice versa. Reviews are fascinating. So, let me hear them from you.)
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19red · 3 years
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hello, this is me trying to strong-arm my brain into stopping the constant tweaking and re-tweaking of the same stinking 3k so I can write on and get to the good parts of this project namely p and j having all the sex thank you very much
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The day after Patrick and Jonny bang a chick together, Patrick wakes to the weight of an alien limb squashing his bladder. The alien limb belongs to a furnace-hot, tentacular mass plastered all along his back. The mass smells oddly familiar, kind of citrusy—as if it stole Jonny’s body wash.
Patrick squints his eyes open. A blade of sunlight filters through the half-drawn curtains and stabs him in the face. Right under the window, Jonny’s suitcase dribbles clothes onto the floor.
It shouldn’t be hard to put two and two together, but Patrick’s really dumb first thing in the morning. Plus, he needs to pee. Bad. Which is pretty distracting.
He paws at the tentacle swung over his waist, fingers catching on—a beaded string. Did the alien mass steal Jonny’s bracelet too? Patrick struggles to lift his head. He wants to see.
The alien mass stole Jonny’s whole arm. What--?
A growl spills in a damp, ticklish huff into the crook of Patrick’s neck as the mass coils itself closer. Something hard pokes Patrick’s ass. His nostrils fill with a waft of scent his hindbrain understands as so viscerally Jonny that recognition smacks him dizzy.
The mass is Jonny. Last night, he and Patrick banged a chick together. That thing wedged between them, growing firmer by the second? That thing is Jonny’s—
Patrick’s heart plummets straight to his dick.
It’s okay. It’s whatever. Patrick isn’t gonna freak over a physiological response. Bodies are also really dumb first thing in the morning.
“Jonny,” he says, wriggling to catch Jonny’s attention. Jonny has always been his go-to guy in a crisis. Except, in this instance, he is also the crisis itself. Jonny’s hips buck forward once, twice—Patrick stops breathing for the handful of seconds it takes Jonny’s sleep-drenched, horny-ass body to lose interest and stutter back into relative stillness.
Fuck, Patrick thinks. Visions of impending awkwardness swarm his brain. If Jonny were to wake up right now, full-mast boner pressed to Patrick’s ass, and discover the tent pitched in the front of Patrick’s sweats, he might rush to conclusions. Their ability to make direct eye contact would definitely endure permanent damage. They’d have to restructure their life with the aim of reciprocal avoidance. Patrick would have to request a trade. Jonny would probably drop out of the NHL. He’d forsake hockey and society at large and end up trampled to death by a giant moose while he hides from Patrick in the Canadian wilderness.
Fuck, Patrick thinks again. When a whole minute drips away and Jonny doesn’t stir, he thanks the hockey gods. With very little, very slow movements, he dislodges the arm pinning him to the mattress. By the times he’s free, the light slanting in from the window changed the angle of its assault to his pupils. Still careful, he slides the covers off himself, sits up, swings his legs off the bed. His feet land on the floor just as a variation in the pattern of Jonny’s breathing alerts him it’s all been for nothing. Jonny is awake. Or, like, as close to awake as Jonny manages to be coffee-free and before noon. Which is not much, thank fuck.
“It’s early,” Patrick reassures him. Jonny gets real pissy when he doesn’t get his full eight hours. Patrick doesn’t want to get stuck with Captain seriously cranky and his legitimately lethal death glare on the flight back to Chicago.
Jonny hums, lids fluttering open and back closed immediately, dark lashes kissing the top of his cheekbones. Patrick expects him to just roll over and sink back deep into snoring, the man is easy like that, instead he plumps an arm over the empty space next to him and mumbles, “Come back,” so low Patrick feels the vibration of it in his belly more than with his ears. Jonny must think Patrick’s some chick, maybe his ex or the one from last night.
“Dude,” Patrick chuckles to clear his throat. This is prime chirp material. Jonny’s such a clingy loser. “It’s just me.”
The side of Jonny’s mouth that isn’t squashed into the pillow tugs up in a smile, then his eyes tremble open, searching the space in front of them for Patrick’s, as if he knew where to find him, as if he weren’t surprised. It’s a bit like being punched but with weird, devastating gentleness. Patrick’s left breathless and dazed, a slow ache spreading below his ribs. “Sorry,” he says, legs moving on their own accord. “Sorry, gotta piss.”
Jonny flops onto his belly and sprawls across Patrick’s side of the bed. With a sigh, he hugs Patrick’s pillow to his face. “Be quick,” he whines—or maybe not. It’s muffled and Patrick is already halfway out the door so he can’t be sure. It doesn’t really matter.
***
“Where’s Tazer?” Duncs asks in lieu of good morning when Patrick shows up at breakfast almost two hours later, no captain in tow.
Patrick chomps on a hunk of strawberry toast and shrugs. Contrary to popular belief, no clause in his contract bids him constant awareness of Jonny’s whereabouts.
Duncs squints, clearly feeling entitled to a degree of eloquence involving efforts of the verbal variety and resenting their lack.
“Don’t tell me he’s sick,” Shawzy says.
The legs of Stromer’s chair screech against the floor as he scoots away from Patrick. He ends up almost in Brinsky’s lap. “It better not be catching.”
“Oh my god,” Patrick puffs the words fat with annoyance. “He’s sleeping. I mean, I guess he...” He is for sure. No chance Jonny is still waiting. If Patrick barged back into his room right now, Jonny would laugh, would tell him to stop trying to make things weird. Patrick knows this rationally. Yet some spiked grip squeezes his insides with the same vicious strength of an anaconda trying to crush itself a snack.
People can’t die from upset conscience, can they? Especially not if the upset is unquestionably misplaced, right?
“I mean,” Patrick snaps after a second, “the fuck do I know.”
Duncs eyebrows shoot halfway across his forehead.
“Whoa,” Stromer gasps.
“Wait,” Shawzy says. “Are mum and dad fighting?”
Patrick grinds his molars. Everyone’s so fucking pressed. It’s not like Jonny is a regular at team breakfasts. In fact, unless attendance is mandatory, Jonny prefers to limit the number of people upon which he inflicts the ghastly spectacle of his slow de-zombification to a minimum.
Patrick casts his mind back to the last time the two of them didn’t resort to room-service during game trips. He dredges up both no recollection of that happening in years and the stomach-sinking hunch that maybe this is weird. Maybe he should have gone back. Maybe that would have been the normal thing to do.  
“Shut up,” he says, to the voice in his head and everyone else. He grabs a pitcher of coffee and fills his cup until it brims. “Don’t talk to me. I’m waking up.”
“He’s rubbed off on you,” Shawzy appraises.
He’s more right than he’d probably care to know—nope. Patrick yanks his thoughts away before they can trip over that precipice and splat into the phantom embrace of Jonny’s body and its heft, its warmth, its neediness.
“Shut up,” he repeats, and with big emphatic motions designed to put a period on the conversation, he whips out his phone. He trusts the mindless scrolling will work its time-warping, mind-numbing magic and when he’ll look up next, all the weird will have been purged from this day.
Between sips of coffee, he pores through the stats for the last game, skims the emails in his inbox and rage-reads a review trashing the new Twilight book. He considers sending the link to Erica so he can vent about the snobby assholes who think they’re smarter than everyone else just because all the books they read are boring as fuck, but she’s probably at work already. He scrolls through his contacts. The one of the chick from last night jumps out. Her name’s Chelsea, which is pretty lucky. She was hot, Patrick recons, and thinking that feels normal. Feels safe. Feels like something Patrick would love to feel more of, thank you very much.
Hi, he types, riding the spur of the moment. This is Patrick from last night.
Stupid and risky, his inner Jonny warns. Never give your number to one night stands. Patrick ignores him and for the sake of clarity and glory, adds, The one who made you see god with his tongue.
“Look who’s joining us,” Shawzy’s voice announces just then.
Patrick’s gaze springs up, landing squarely across Jonny’s chest. Patrick knows it’s Jonny’s chest even though he doesn’t let his gaze climb up to the face attached to it for confirmation. The chest is sailing across the breakfast hall toward Patrick. Well, not toward Patrick specifically. Toward Patrick and the rest of the guys.
“Morning,” Jonny mumbles, dropping his scrambled eggs on the table and his ass between Seabs and Crow.
Patrick’s phone chimes.
well hello patrick 😜
“Slept well?” Shawzy probes, feigning innocence. Patrick’s hackles rise.
“I guess,” Jonny says.
Patrick allows himself another quick glance. Jonny looks good, which means like his usual self, which means nothing like a dude who went through the transformative experience of witnessing his best friend o-face.  It’s kind of annoying, actually. Patrick’s nerves are all fried. He’s half-convinced in the right light anybody could look at him and simply—tell. Patrick Kane got off with another dude in the room and enjoyed it. For a blink he’s fourteen and trying to fight a guy almost double his size who called him a cocksucker, that slammed him against the boards and told him not to bother standing up since everyone knows he does his best work from his knees.
His phone chimes again.
“Tell me the truth.”
totally hit me up again next time ur back here
“What?”
Patrick’s heart rate spikes. Would Jonny even be up for it?
Won’t be for the rest of the season :(, he types.
Maybe things feel weird because threeways are a novelty, maybe they just have to work up an immunity. People have threeways all the time and afterward their lives go on undisrupted. But if you’re ever in Chicago… his fingers are so clammy they smudge the screen when he hits send. He reaches for his cup.
“Did you keep our Kaner up all night?”
Patrick’s head jerks up.
“What?” Jonny says, flat.
For the first time since Patrick sneaked out on him, they make direct eye contact.
Shawzy drones on in the background, “Saw you trying to score that hot--”
It last precisely long enough for a sip of coffee to get its lanes mixed as it plunges down Patrick’s throat and somehow u-turn its way out of his body through the nostrils.
Patrick’s lungs try their best to turn inside out.
“Dude,” Shawzy says.
Stromer slaps Patrick’s back a couple of times, hard.
Duncs throws a handful of paper napkins in his general direction and winces in open disgust as Patrick snatches one mid-air and uses it to dab at the liquid leaking out of him. “Gross.”
“I’m fine, thank you,” Patrick informs them tartly between fits of coughing. Some treacherous asshole on his right is fucking cackling. He sweeps the table with an encompassing glare and catches Jonny’s eyes again, all dark with concern. The back of Patrick’s neck prickles with embarrassment. “I’m fine,” he repeats, steadier, and Jonny looks away so Patrick does too, hurriedly withdrawing like from the touch of something scalding.
He zeros in on Chelsea’s new message.
might fly in for a couple of weeks around christmas actually
Patrick latches on to the conversation, blocking out his surroundings, trying his hardest to look busy. Fuck everyone and Jonny too.
We could catch up then if you have time ;)
totally 👅🔥🍆🔥, she texts. And after a moment, say hi to porn dick from me btw
Who?
🙄
Patrick bristles. For some reason, the thought of this random stranger sitting around with her head full of pictures of Jonny’s dick makes him hitch. His chest riots with some misguided protective instinct. Jonny would be insufferably smug if he knew, no doubt about it. It’s not that big.
it is! 100% porn worthy
You don’t know what you’re talking about
???
I’m just saying, are chicks even into that? he writes, just to be an asshole but also because he’s pretty sure chicks hate porn. It’s supposed to be a feminism thing. Erica once made him a whole speech about it or whatever.
big dicks? They are
Haha
their also into porn btw this aint the middle ages AND they have way better taste in it then men
Can you prove it? he asks, hoping it sounds flirty and not confrontational. He wants this chick to bang him again but not over the head with a blunt instrument.
maybe if u stop trying to outdick ur bf with ur personality ill send you some recs
“Who are you texting?”
Patrick elbows his cup off the table and scrambles to catch it before it crashes against the floor. “Fuck,” he mutters, shaking his coffee-soaked hand.
Jonny laughs and at the sound, Patrick’s heart stumbles, then sprints up his throat. “You’re a mess,” Jonny says. He stole Stromer chair.
“Yeah, no, fuck off.”
Stromer is nowhere to be found. He and the rest of the guys must have migrated to the lobby. Patrick picks up the phone from where he abandoned it to make the save and shoves it deep into his pocket just as it pings.
Jonny quirks an eyebrow. He’s smiling.
It feels like Patrick trudged around all morning with a lead rib-cage before the universe caught the glitch. The sudden slack from gravity makes him giddy.  “Don’t be nosy.”
“I’m not!” Jonny protests, all put upon outrage. He flicks Patrick on the hand. “Just saying, team’s gonna suffer if you sprain a thumb.”
A laugh bubbles up Patrick’s chest, loud and easy, and just a little embarrassing.
For a moment, Jonny looks impossibly pleased but then he catches himself. “Everything alright, yeah?” he asks, turning bashful. His eyes drift to the small heap of crumbs he’s sweeping together with his pinkie.
Patrick nudges his thumb against the back of Jonny’s hand. “Yeah. You?”
Jonny’s lips curl up at the corners. “Of course,” he says, looking up, gaze dark and soft.
Of course, of course, of course. Jonny would never let anything happen to them. Patrick stomach flutters. “Okay,” he smiles, dimples out, and Jonny beams back. Time goes fuzzy as they stare at each other in silence—until the ping of an incoming text makes them both startle.
“Again?” Jonny bitches. A moment later, his forehead creases and he puts his serious face on, “Everything okay with your sisters?”
“Yeah, no. It’s not--” Jonny’s eyes flicks to Patrick’s mouth. Patrick hadn’t realized he’d been chewing on his bottom lip. He stops and it tingles, his own breath turning chilly enough to sting as it laps over the bite. “Just-- the chick from last night,” Patrick’s tongue says forgoing any input from his brain. It’s fine. It’s whatever.
“Oh,” Jonny says.
The world keeps rolling. Unfortunately, so does Patrick’s tongue, “Yeah. She’s cool. She was fun.”
“She was okay.”
Patrick can’t believe the understatement. “Okay? Just that? You’ve got some tough standards, man. She was--” as he searches for the right adjective, it suddenly hits him that Jonny has more experience, at least when it comes to threeways. It’s fucking unfair, but entirely possible, the mind-blowingest sex of Patrick’s life would barely chart as okay for Jonny. While he was dating Lindsay, the two of them got up to some kinky shit, Patrick’s pretty sure. Not that he spent any time thinking about it. He licks his lips. “It was hot, right?”
Jonny scoffs. What an asshole.
“Fuck you.”
“It was hot,” he grants. His cheeks are turning pink. He means it.
It feels like scoring the game-winner in the Stanley Cup final. The rush of triumph makes him cocky. “Hotter than the one you had with Lindsay?”
Jonny scoffs again, to Patrick infinite delight. “It was!” Patrick surmises.
“Lindsay’s hotter than her.”
“No way,” he is so offended on Chelsea’s behalf, he barely registers the deflection. Lindsay dumped Jonny. No matter how she looks, her insides must be rotten. Patrick hates that Jonnys is still hung up on her. He kicks Jonny’s foot to make sure he has his attention. “Maybe we should try again. Chelsea’s coming to Chicago around Christmas.”
“Is she?” Jonny kicks him back. “You two move fast.”
“She’s got family there, I think.”
“Sure,” he sounds skeptical. He admitted it was hot, why wouldn't he want a rematch? He and Patrick and some hot chick, she doesn’t even have to be Chelsea, she can be whoever. Small and blonde, like Jonny likes.
“Or we could find someone else,” Patrick says, growing more committed to the idea each second it lives in his brain. “Just go out and see what happens.”
“You think that’s smart?”
Patrick rolls his eyes. “I think you’re boring.” He goes in for the kill, “Captain serious.”
“Fuck you.”
“I’d even let you pick, I don’t care.”
“Starting to sound a bit desperate there, Kaner,” Jonny flashes his most punchable smirk, the one that’s a little lopsided and always makes Patrick squirm.
Patrick starts a mental list of ways to wipe it off his face. Maybe if he shoved two fingers up Jonny’s nose… “What?” he asks, kind of distracted.
“I’m just saying, If you want to see me naked that bad, you only have to--”
“Fuck you,” Patrick sputters. “I was being generous. Bros before hoes or whatever.”
“I’m telling Erica you said that.”
The thought is terrifying. “Don’t,” Patrick shrieks, so loud people in their proximity stop mid-munching to give them the stink eye.
It’s their cue to clear off, a pretty timely one, considering they barely make it on the bus. They’d probably be yelled at, if they weren’t Kane and Toews.
Jonny saunters past Colliton’s glare and flops down next to Seabs. Patrick takes the two seats right behind, stretching out until he’s almost horizontal.
He checks his phone. Chelsea sent him a text and a link. The texts says, one of them looks a bit like your boy. you’re welcome. The link-- Patrick slaps the phone face down on his thigh.
“You okay there, Kaner?” Jonny asks, glancing over his shoulder.
Patrick feels his ears burn redder than the Hawks home jersey. “Yeah, no. Real peachy.”
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The Hero that was never meant to be
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I’m going to ask you guys a quick question. Think back to the volume 2 season finale in 2014. Or before Salem's debut. Once all of the antagonists are defeated and you're now left asking; Who's going to be the next antagonist for the series?
Before we proceed with this inquiry let's take a look at what exactly distinguishes a hero, from a villain.
Hero/Villain/Anti;who knows?
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Below are multiple examples/definitions and meanings of heroes and villains as well as their anti sub groups.
Hero
a person who is admired or idealized for courage, outstanding achievements, or noble qualities.
the chief character in a book, play, or movie, who is typically identified with good qualities, and with whom the reader is expected to sympathize.
“a person of distinguished courage or ability, admired for his or her brave deeds and noble qualities." Heroes come in many forms in life, ranging from one's family and friends to athletes to movie stars. A person's heroes can change over time.
Villain
(in a film, novel, or play) a character whose evil actions or motives are important to the plot.
 a cruelly malicious person who is involved in or devoted to wickedness or crime; scoundrel. 
a character in a play, novel, or the like, who constitutes an important evil agency in the plot.
Anti-Hero
a central character in a story, movie, or drama who lacks conventional heroic attributes.
is 'a central character in a story, film, or drama who lacks conventional heroic attributes'. These missing attributes include idealism, courage, and morality. Anti-heroes can sometimes do the right thing, but it is usually because it serves their interests to do so.
Anti-Villain
is the opposite of an Anti-Hero — a character with heroic goals, personality traits, and/or virtues who is ultimately the villain. Their desired ends are mostly good, but their means of getting there range from evil to undesirable.
Now that we have some measure of clarity about this let's get to the point.  Basically Ironwood is a Anti-Villain character
If you think back to the things we have learned throughout the series, all the people we have met, you will find that all of Ironwood’s traits align better with Salem, Cinder, Jacques, and Adam.  All of them have this hunger for power and/or control, all of them are trying to protect themselves and increase their control.  
All of them use a level of manipulation and none of them really cared about the damage it would do to others.  Ironwood might be a little better because, at first, it was something he kind of thought about.  Kind of. He had trouble relating to the idea that protecting more was better than protecting less, and it seems that he had been struggling to find his heart since the beginning. 
Ironwood is a well intentioned and desperate man who wants to protect Atlas against Salem, but he can reach extreme means to do so. By the end of Volume 7, he's willing to abandon both Mantle to die and throw away humanity's best chance of survival by leaving Amity Tower; he also falls far enough to shoot a teenager for comparing him to Salem.
Going hand in hand with his Never My Fault tendencies. Ironwood hates anyone bringing up how his ways don't work, with extreme annoyance being the best reaction possible. It doesn't matter if someone is simply stating the objective tangible negatives of his actions, he will not hear it. He gets into a shouting match with Nora when she calls him out on how much damage he's doing to Mantle and only stops when she points out his proposed solution to deal with the current unrest (martial law) is just going to cause far worse problems if he goes through with it.
While he demands complete loyalty from others, Ironwood has repeatedly betrayed the trust of others in the name of the greater good. If someone is an obstacle to accomplishing what he believes is necessary, he will use political or even military power to enforce his will.
Ironwood has helped Ozpin fight Salem for years but they disagreed over the best way to defend Vale; Ironwood secretly convenes a meeting of the Vale and Atlesian councils to report Ozpin's behavior, resulting in Vale removing Ozpin from overseeing the Vytal Festival security in favor of Ironwood. Qrow later tells Ironwood that he has a strange idea of showing gratitude if he responds to Ozpin bringing him into the fight against Salem by betraying him. Even after being confronted, Ironwood insists that he had no other choice.
Ironwood spends most of Volume 7 promising that the Kingdom of Atlas is safe and that Mantle can count on him to protect them. However, when he discovers Salem is arriving in person to attack Atlas, he decides to abandon Mantle to the Grimm in favour of raising the floating city of Atlas higher in the atmosphere where the Grimm can't go. When Ruby tries warning her allies about Ironwood's plan, he disables her scroll, and has Teams RWBY, JNR, Oscar and Qrow arrested.
Ironwood's a man with good intentions, but he seems to believe the best way to handle any sort of situation is if he is in full control of it. This is seen as early as Volume 2, where he both brings a large fleet (composed mainly of machines) along with students for security and later has the Vale and Atlas Councils transfer security control of the Vytal Festival from Ozpin to himself. 
After the Fall of Beacon, James continues to tighten Atlas' defenses with a Dust embargo and closing of its borders, and by the time the heroes arrive in Mantle, there are broadcasts of the general practically saying that as long as they cooperate with his laws, he can and will keep them safe. 
As Salem's forces continue to sow discord and increase his paranoia, and when he discovers that Team RWBY has consistently hidden important information from him, Ironwood decides to invoke martial law and raise Atlas out of Salem's reach, under his control. When Ruby warns the others of his plans, he shuts off her call with his own Scroll.
Ironwood is noted for being a man who never gives up pursuing his vision of how people should be protected. When his attempts to convince Ozpin that they're on the wrong path fail, he convinces the Atlesian and Vale councils to override Ozpin's authority and give him direct control of protecting the Vytal Festival Tournament. 
In Volume 7, he is willing to pursue his goal of protecting the Kingdom of Atlas against Salem no matter how bad his public reputation becomes with the citizens.
To be clear Ironwood is an Anti- Villain type character in the RWBY story. He may have good intentions but it is unknown as to their extent of what they are. His methods to achieve those methods have only made things worse.
I couldn’t let you breath, cause I didn’t wanna Die
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We all say we would die for something but do we actually mean it?
“I would die without regret I offer up my life”
It is hypothetical but not in the way you suggest. The difference between using would or will is not about whether the speaker is being disingenuous about their offer, it’s about whether the speaker knows if they are ever going to be in a position to fulfil their promise
It is hypothetical because the speaker does not know whether there will ever be a situation where they would be in a position to give their life to save you. If they were to use will, it implies they are anticipating that they will be in a position to give their life to save you 
When someone says “I would die for you if you need it,” is it just a hypothesis that's never going to happen,  the subject doesn’t want to die at all, otherwise they’ll use “will” instead of “would”?
Kill or be killed
All the weapons in rwby appeal to the audience as they have options when it comes to fighting. Ironwoods does not. His weapon is only designed to kill as a reflection of his inability to see reason. As opposed to other characters that show that when they kill it would be a last resort option.
(Think of the Jedi's preference for lightsabers instead of blasters)
Ironwood has a revolver  -  reliable, never jams. high attack power, similar to his mentality on robotics in general and how he values them focusing on the characteristics of the revolver is the important part, and you see it in another Atlesian character--Weiss Myrtenaster is a Rapier and a Revolver as well, and revolvers are still used nowadays because of their reliability. They'll never jam, and when it comes to a gun all that really matters is hitting the target on a pragmatic mindset at least, and ultimately in the show the weapons used by characters say a lot about them. For example;
Qrow has a scythe - not a weapon, a farmer's tool, alluding to the scarecrow. The actual weapon would be the sword mode, and is inspired by the grim reaper, who uses a scythe because he reaps souls like one would reap what was sown(or harvest)
Jaunes shield and sword are both offensive and defensive weapons which offers a variety of options as to handle conflict
Ozpin's cane symbolically conveys the message that it's okay to be weak and its normal to accept help and support from others
Yang's gauntlets are basically Bruise but don’t kill type weapon as such they give her  more control of the damage that is inflicted on her opponents
As ruby put it the Weapons in the show are an extension of the characters. The extent of Ironwoods weapon is that it conveys his blunt, and cold methods that he can’t or won’t embrace alternatives solutions or anyone else's ideas to problems
This can also be seen with his use of militarized Huntsmen and the use of mindless android soldiers. As I stated in I am power Ironwood’s personnel combat abilities are mediocre to non-existent with his true power stemming from the consent of the people to die for his cause instead of him since it's guaranteed that he will die instantly due to his lack of unique or special combat abilities. 
(Pretty self explanatory considering he had to sacrifice an arm to beat a nerd)
Fear of death is basic human instinct
Ironwood believes that he is this chosen savior and can’t die and he believes his life is more important than others and would instead sacrifice everyone else instead of him if it would mean victory
Now you're probably asking why does Ironwood not want to die when he said he would? As stated before he doesn’t trust anyone but himself to do the job right. His narcissism and ego prohibit him from trusting others and having faith that people besides him can win. 
This has been hinted as early as his debut in V2 where he asks Ozpin;
“Do you honestly believe that your children can win a war?”
Because of this and his Nihilism for rejecting the truth, he believes that he is the most important piece on the bored and everyone should listen and die for whatever he needs if it would mean victory
Ambitions and desires of a broken kingdom
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A character without motivation is a really boring character as opposed to one who does. But to realize what their motivation is or what it is truly is another. Ironwood is no different but what exactly is his personal motivation that is unique to him one must wonder?
That's just it, he has no real personal motivation. Like what does he have to lose? What does he have to gain? What is so important that he is willing to go to such lengths that clash with the ideas of Ozpin and the heroes? To answer Atlas. After all, what is Ironwood without Atlas?
 It is important to know the effects of a characters home and origins to better understand a character's personality. Ironwood's plans have always been in line with Atlas, whose intentions are that of Ancient Mantle. Now what exactly are the intentions of the former capital that would live through Ironwood.
Atlas as I stated before is more or less a Technocratic Conservatives society led by Authoritative totalitarians with a focus of becoming an Extreme Militaristic Oligarchy that had originally started out as a Resource driven Empire out of necessity and without restriction 
To clarify, Ironwood is a byproduct, and enforcer of Mantle’s(later Atlas) Philosophical Ideology and Culture. The effects of one's origins can have a very lasting impact on one's life. Ironwood’s life has been heavily affected by his homeland to the point that he will die for it, and sacrifice whatever he deems necessary for it. 
Because of this Ironwoods alignment is that of Lawful Evil because of his Atlas ideology
A Lawful Evil character is an evil character who either tries to impose or uphold a lawful system on others without regard for their wishes, and/or adheres to a particular code. They believe in order, but mostly because they believe it is the best way of realizing their evil wishes.
In other words Ironwood will always be the loyal son of his Kingdom and will do anything to save it.
Now that clears his main motivation and the scale of what he is willing to do to achieve it but what motivates him personally?
Well that's just it there is none. His primary motivation is pretty shared by most of the heroes and main characters and as is the common clause of save the world stories everybody knows they can’t let that happen as peter quill would say;
“Why do you want to save the Galaxy?”
“Because I'm one of the idiots who lives in it.”
So with that in mind what's in it for him that he can’t lose or let the world be destroyed?
You overstepped your boundaries
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To help understand his character it is important to understand what exactly his role in the plot was originally and how he ended up biting off more than he can chew when he broke away from it.
Essentially Ironwood was meant to be the overseer and guardian of the relic of creation as well as the trainer of the next generation of huntsman/huntresses. Meaning the only position of power that he should only have is Headmaster of Atlas academy. As I stated in I am machine Ironwood's heroism stems from a lack of trust and in doing so has burdened him with more responsibility than he can handle.
The catalyst 
All of the events and conflicts that plague remnant at the shows present can all be traced to Ironwood. An argument can be made for Salem but to me she seems more of an opportunist instead of an actual evil master mine. Being the opportunist she is she needs ammo for which she is otherwise incapable of making on her own. Thanks to Ironwood she has plenty of it to enact her plans and reach her goals 
Below is a list of events and conflicts as well as characters that have been affected by Ironwood
(Whether Directly or Indirectly)
The Schnee Dust Companies Immoral and shady practices
I know Jaques is mostly to blame for all of this but one must ask; Why didn’t anyone stop him before V7? 
It's already been established in the show that the S.D.C. and Atlas Military have a corporate alliance to mass produce Weapons and ammunition. The most prominent weapons to come out of this alliance was the paladin assault mechs. Now how important was this alliance to Ironwood?
In short, they are the best choice to provide for his needs for war. As long as he gets weapons and all that he needs to sustain a war he doesn't care what the giver has to do to meet his demand. As such Ironwood had enabled Jaques and allowed him to continue his immoral ways so long as he gets what he needs. On the other hand Jaques seems to be at least a decade older than Ironwood so there is a possibility that the corporate alliance has already been there long before Ironwood ever came to power.
But I ask again why didn’t Ironwood who was aligned with a man like Ozpin didn’t stop him? As the Volume 7 commentary stated Ironwood doesn’t care for Ozpin's rules and sees being efficient is more important than being morally good. Because of this Ironwood had been more focused on starting a war first and caring about people second thus he has only spread misery by enabling Jaques’s greed just to have his war. The crimes of the S.D.C. are also Ironwood’s 
The family strain of the Schnee family and Winters abandoning
While we’re still on the subject of the Schnee's let's talk about how essentially Ironwood made Winter the Blake to his Adam
As I stated before in “You had me with your words”  we don’t exactly know why Winter would be so loyal to Ironwood to the point of saying that her life doesn’t matter in V7 and why she would be so against her family to the point that she makes no effort to see Weiss, and Whitely included and only bothering to be apart of Weiss’s life only because she seems to be following the same path of defiance against their father. In other words she only chooses to interact with her sister only if she is rebelling against their father. If she is not, then Winter wants nothing to do with her. 
Now who or what exactly would cause Winter to have this unhealthy mindset in regards to her own personal existence and relationships?
The answer being Ironwood. 
If we were to consider Jaques words being serious than it is more than likely the truth. Ironwood did steal Winter, not just from her father but from the rest of her family. I don’t know what exactly Ironwood said or did to turn winter away from her family but it wasn’t out of the kindness of his heart. He did this  just to have a loyal subordinate with incredible power( her hereditary semblance) & status( her grandfather's legacy and accomplishments) just to give his power and status more legitimacy.
By doing so Ironwood made Winter  believe that her family as well as herself is beyond redemption due to the actions of her father thus leading her to abandon them and only believing Ironwood can redeem her hence why she values her life so little and is willing to die for whatever Ironwoods says.
I understand that winter joined the military to get away from her dad but she had options besides the military and like weiss she could have went to the other academies to get away from her dad but she didn't which i consider Winters greatest flaw is that she has no idea of an actual healthy relationship
The White Fang
This is also speculative but not unlikely as the show has clearly shown; Faunus and Atlas don’t mix. 
Same thing with the S.D.C. this can really be seen as indifference on Ironwood’s part and lack of care  but still Ironwood didn’t do anything to settle the racial inequality in Atlas even though he is allied in a secret circle that's supposed to keep the peace.
Especially when that inequality was being used to help legitimize a terrorist organization that can be used as a disposable army for Salem which it did.
Watts’s Defection & the P.E.N.N.Y. Project
Ironwood commissioned 5 scientists including Watts and Pietro to make Weapons for war.
Even though Watts is an egotistical bastard it really makes you wonder how someone as smart as him would work for a literal demon lady hell bent on conquest. The same can also be said about why he chose Penny instead of any other actual and practical projects ideal for war.
One thing to note is the possibility that Ironwood did not tell the 5 about the real reason as to why they’re making these weapons in the first place. For example would Pietro really want Penny the closest thing to an actual child that he may have had to be used as one of Ironwoods militarized assets?
We’ve seen what Pietro is like and that he really cares about Penny and if it were his choice Penny wouldn’t be in the situations that Ironwood would place her in. Ironwood had basically taken and drafted Penny without her or Pietro's consent and made her a tool for war and much more.
In semi canon sources(Amity Arena) the general consensus is that the Paladins were Watts’s idea and project. One of the misconceptions is that it was a contest for whose idea would be made but since we see both the Paladins being used and Penny that's not the case. All 5 projects were going to be used but only 1 would take top priority first before others and that project was Penny. 
This might actually explain why the paladins were ugly and incomplete in V2 as opposed to their slicker and finished versions in V3. The Penny project took both praise and priority first before the others. Once penny was finished the other projects would begin that may also explain why the Paladins weren’t first revealed until the events of V2 even though Pietro said that the commissions for the projects including the Paladins were almost a decade ago as of  V7 ep 7 
To Watts he felt insulted that his (to him) practical project was being postponed for a sad man's personal self indulgent pet project. This and due to not really knowing as to why these projects were going to be used for. Because of this and Ironwood’s lack of concern for people He had essentially driven Watts to Salem and made him one of her most valuable assets that she ever had. Salem herself even states that she should have employed his services years ago that alone tells us how valuable an asset Watts was and Ironwood discarded it. Which led to the fall of Beacon and the civil unrest in Mantle With Watts out of the way let's move to the next question
Why the Penny Project?
We all know at this point that Penny is the Pinochio for Pietro’s jopedo. So why would Ironwood approve a project that seems the least efficient and effective for war? There have been many theories as to why but two of them stand out the most; Potential vessel for the maiden powers and Espionage
It has been made clear that Ironwood has been readying for war against other people Salem specifically but how does one go about that? The first of which can be explained as Ironwood trying to make the ultimate artificial warrior with incredible power. As Ironwood has more faith in machines than people he would see Penny as the ultimate super soldier that he can use in his war
The second theory as to why he chose penny could be for spy and espionage purposes. As stated by cinder in volume 3 where this theory originates from; why would Atlas make a robot look like an innocent little girl? We know why Pietro made Penny look human but why would Ironwood go along with making a T800 complete with realistic skin and hair?  Besides Pietro there was no logical reason to make penny look as humanly as possible. Like the Terminators who were designed for infiltration and assassination missions and Ironwood being a paranoid individual who sees the world as one of two things; you’re either an asset or a threat / Penny or similar models would have been used to spy and eliminate potential threats in the other kingdoms. With the possibility as to what Ironwood would use penny for before her reveal in V3 clear let's move on to the last part of this bullet point
Why didn’t Ozpin know about Penny?
Prior to the truth of her origins being revealed via her death by Pyrah the only people who knew she was an android are cinder’s team, Ruby, Pietro, and Ironwood. The villains knew that truth after being fortunate enough to have Ironwoods scroll infected by the virus and Ruby found out by accident from penny. 
So officially the only people that were allowed to know the truth about Penny were Pietro and Ironwood. Winter and the Ace-opts don’t count as Volume 7 confirmed that they were brought into the fold after the fall of beacon along with penny so by the time of the fall of beacon they had no idea about salem or that was the sole purpose as to why penny was made.
 The same can be said for Watts too since Penny was still an idea being developed along with being assumed dead and not seen in atlas for years. Thus Watts never even knew what penny looked liked. Had he known i'm pretty sure he would’ve revealed that to Salem who would have given it to cinder for use in her mission. But as V3 shows Cinder finds out after getting access to Ironwood's personal scroll. Meaning that Ironwood kept Penny so secret that he never even bothered or considered to tell Ozpin.
By the end of PVP Ironwood sounded like a terrified child who got caught while trying to explain to a pissed off Ozpin about Penny only to be coldly told in a threatening tone to use the army that he brought to clean up his mess or else. That alone is proof enough from Ironwood that he never told Ozpin about Penny and was scared of what Ozpin would do to him for catching him on his secrets and lies.
So why didn’t Ironwood tell Ozpin about Penny? Short answer Ozpin would never approve the use of Penny. It was already established in V3 ep 6 that Atlas has been doing unethical experiments with Aura. Ozpin and most of the inner circle don’t really approve of such practices but can tolerate it  and use it if they have to. But most likely not to the extent of using it to make artificial living beings just to be soldiers.
This would be a similar moral dilemma as the clone troopers from star wars who were bred and mass produced at an accelerated rate to fight  in a war that they didn’t even understand or have a choice to fight in with the mindset and innocents of a child. The Umbara arc from season 4 of the clone wars series perfectly depicts the unhealthy amount of abuse the clones faced and the length of being taken advantage they were forced to endure
Now apply that to an army of pennies with the same childlike innocence and naivety and sentience being deployed into combat without much preparation and are expected to die just to buy time for the real heroes to win.
Now who is more likely to use a clone army without concern for the morality and ethics about making it let alone not care for the well being of those clones
A key important factor to remember is that until V7’s end Ironwood was pro war as he thought he could win against Salem if he had the largest army at his disposal. Penny was no exception and Ironwood only saw her as a potential part needed for his war machine. Because of the war centric views of Volume 2 & 3 Ironwood and lack of concern for the safety of others Ironwood had set the stage perfectly for volume 3’s finale
The Fall of Beacon
The points above actually help validate and contribute to the Fall of Beacon, but it's true Beginning for its fall started when Ironwood arrived at Beacon in Volume 2. As stated by Oz in Ironwoods first appearance Headmasters don’t usually attend the vytal festival with their students. Given what we now know about the importance of the academies, Ironwood pretty much abandoned his post and risked the safety of the relic under his charge.
All in what appears to be an effort to make a power grab against Ozpin and promote Atlas.(That’s probably speculative but not far off the bat given Ironwoods doubts and actions by the end of V2).Ever since his debut Ironwood has always been a character that contradicts the main characters that are suppose to be the heroes
He seems to only believe the best way to handle any sort of situation is if he is in full control of it. This is seen as early as Volume 2, where he both brings a large fleet (composed mainly of machines) along with students for security. Ironwood has helped Ozpin fight Salem for years but they disagreed over the best way to defend Vale; Ironwood secretly convenes a meeting of the Vale and Atlesian councils to report Ozpin's behavior, resulting in Vale removing Ozpin from overseeing the Vytal Festival security in favor of Ironwood. 
 Volume 2 also has Ironwood reveal to Glynda that he thinks Ozpin is hiding something from them. Glynda points out that he's part of the inner circle that's hiding things from the rest of the world and that he needs to stop talking about trust and learn how to trust others. Ignoring her advice, he secretly collaborates with the Vale Council to strip Ozpin of his control over the Vytal Festival security, then tells Ozpin to trust him.
This also brought up the possibility that Ozpin would be removed as Headmaster of Beacon academy. Not only was Ironwood willing to depose the leader he was following from his position of power but also remove an important ally from safeguarding one of the most important and crucial places in all of the world that also holds probably the most important relic of all of them(The Crown of Choice)  
I already talked about how Penny’s secret had contributed to the fall so I’ll be talking about how Watts contributed to it since I forgot to include in the last bullet point. Its a very small Easter egg but on Cinders scroll as she was rigging the vytal tournament for CVFY’s match and discovering Penny’s android nature there is a small cursive W at the corner of her scroll. The small W that Watts uses as a holographic icon when he calls Leo in V5. RT has said that they had WTCH in their back pocket for years until they were revealed taking that into account it is clear that the virus that infected Beacons CCT Ironwoods scroll and forcing the droid army to commit order 66 was made by Watts.
The virus and the cyber warfare aside the next final contribution on Ironwood’s part was the imprisonment of Roman Torchwick
It's pretty much been clear that Torchwicks' imprisonment was an improvised plan on the villains part to get an inside man aboard a warship. Basically it was like Heath Ledger's joker in the dark knight; he wanted to get caught. Torchwick himself said that he is where he wants to be to Ironwood at the end of V2. As V3 showed Torchwick and Neo took over what can be assumed to be Ironwood’s personal flag ship and used it to destroy the rest of the air naval section that was brought for the Vytal security team. 
This could have been avoided had Torchwick not been released into Ironwood's custody or at the very least kept somewhere else that should he escape he couldn’t have done so much damage. The Airships aside it was also possible that Roman had used the onboard artillery on the city as well that means that innocent civilians weren’t just being mowed down by hacked robots but being carpet bombed as well increasing the death toll at the fall of Beacon.
The Dust embargo and closing of borders
Since the fall of Beacon Academy, Ironwood has become increasingly unstable and paranoid, making more and more ethically questionable decisions that he repeatedly justifies as the greater good; by his own admission, he will do anything it takes to stop Salem. 
This however does not fare well with the rest of Remnant though.
As Atlas is the primary location for most of Remnants Industry as well as having a monopoly on Dust; Remnant’s most crucial resource that everyone needs in order to survive, the other  kingdoms rely heavily on Atlas for technology, resources and weapons. By placing an embargo he has cut off everyone in the world from their most valued resource. Though he did this to stop the enemies chain of supply he is still letting people suffer and die by with-holding the one thing they need to live and survive. 
Which brings us to the borders
Though it could have eased tensions after the fall of Beacon it just lasted too long as well as the fact that Ironwood had essentially turned his back on the world and refused to help the other kingdoms in their time of need. In the CFVY book spin-off all of the Beacon students either went to Haven or Shade academy to finish their training. As well as the Vale refugees going to other kingdoms as well. But due to Atlas closing its borders none of the students or the people went to Atlas for help. Basically due to Ironwood’s orders the Kingdom of Atlas was forced to not help the other kingdoms when they needed it the most.
And it has only gotten worse due to the events at Mistral in V5 as not only are the students of both Beacon and Haven going to shade, putting a strain on the academy but leaving the entirety of the worlds largest kingdom unguarded and undefended as it now lacks able huntsmen to protect it due to Ironwood’s refusal to help 
It should also be noted that when Ironwood closed the borders he had failed to inform any off his subordinates of who can and can’t enter the kingdom especially in regards to allies like Glynda or Qrow who again are allies against Salem and Ironwood made little to no effort in keeping contact with the other Oz members. This is made evident in V6 when the Argus soldiers refused to believe Qrow about being an ally to Ironwood. you could say that he was waiting on the amity project to make contact with the other members but  he had to have realized that they needed to get into atlas at some-point. But did he make it easy for them or any other ally to reach him? No he did not. 
The Mistral Huntsmen Genocide and the Battle of Haven
Second verse, same as the first, he had put them in a hearse. Another example of Ironwood’s indifference and hypocrisy that led to the death of allies and innocent people.
Due to the events of the Fall and it being broadcasted the enormous state of panic had spread throughout all of the kingdoms. The negative emotions in mass had attracted the Grimm and caused much havoc and loss throughout all of them and the worst to suffer from this mass hysteria was most likely Mistral due to its larger population and territory.
In V5 Lionheart had confirmed that Mistral losses were heavy and many of the local huntsmen including the Professors from Haven were killed in the initial grimm invasion that plagued Mistral following the fall of Beacon. After the initial panic had settled down the Mistral council had been employing Huntsmen in mass and restricted their activity to crucial and vital missions in high profile areas to ensure the safety and stability of the Kingdom.
Now the real question comes in where was Atlas?
In the world of remnants shorts  its confirmed that Mantle and Mistral have an alliance that eventually carried into Atlas. With that being said, where was Mistral’s ally during the fall out and what were they doing. We know in V5 that all Military Assets were recalled within the month prior to the battle of Haven. I know that the kingdoms are weary of Atlas at this point but given the state of the world after the fall, Mistral needed all the help they could get. As such Mistral would have to call upon the old alliance and have them honor their word and offer aid. 
Or at the very least transfer some assets over to Mistral to use it as needed. We have the base in Argus sure but that was just a forward border control base  that didn’t really help anybody. Prior to the recalling Ironwood had Winter gather intel on potential activity that would lead to a second fall of a huntsmen academy and he chose to do nothing. This is further proof of his hypocrisy and arrogance. Ironwood at this point is reading the military for war and with holding aid and support that was actually needed. 
His V4 self is a stark contrast to his V2&3 self as that version of himself was willing to manipulate and intervene in the affairs of other nations under the assumption that the ends justify the means and would see himself above the rules so long as it's for the greater good and stop the threat before it can escalate. That was exactly what Ironwood did at the end of V2 by stealing power from Oz and tried to enforce his own set of rules if it would prevent a disaster.
Now why did Ironwood not do the same thing with Mistral and try to prevent the potential fall of its academy regardless of the bad publicity that it would warrant? It's already been said by Ironwood that he doesn’t trust Leo to handle the situation at Mistral and based his dissection to close the borders on Winters report and decided to prepare for an potential attack on Atlas rather than sending a small task force to handle the threat at Mistral. 
Taking into consideration his plan for Amity it's quite possible that he wanted Leo to fail and Mistral to be ready to eat from his palm. In other words unless there is something to gain and benefit from he’s not going to do it.
Ironwood all the way till he was told the truth about Salem in V7 had a War is the Answer mentality and was hoarding everything and anything that would help sustain a long campaign as well as increasing the size of that force with the intent that  that the large numbers were enough to intimidate Salem and her faction into surrendering and eventual destruction. The only problem is that the people he needs were born in a time of relative peace.
Because of the 80 year age of peace that followed the Great War the Modern world of Remnant has had zero to no conflicts as large or damaging since that one war. There were small conflicts sure like the faunus war, the White fang terrorist cell, and the criminal underworld but they weren’t that much or a threat or concern to a majority of remnant it wasn’t until the Fall of Beacon that the foundation of this peace was shaken so intensely that the cracks started to show but it was still together if only held by a thread.
With the Peace in mind and the peoples faith still with the huntsman as their distrust for Atlas Military lingers no one in the world of remnant outside of Atlas would have any motivation or desire to mobilize for war let alone a war for a foreign leader of a foreign land that has recently come under suspicion. Ironwood was never going to be able to unite the Kingdoms and mobilize their people for his war after the fall of Beacon with Atlas being painted as the bad guy. Unless the situation went from worst to extreme.
Like if another academy were to fall with the same or greater results like Beacon. Then maybe people all around the world would consider following Ironwood’s lead and wipe out the threat before things can get even worse.
Because of this Ironwood had allowed Mistral and possibly the other Kingdoms to exhaust themselves so much that they would be unprepared for the next major Grimm invasion should they come after the next major hysteria induced panic. Panic like Ironwood’s original plan to unite the world and tell them about Salem causing the kingdoms to fall into further disarray only to be saved by the flying grace of Ironwood and his Military. And the only repayment for his help is that you join his fight.
I know this is all speculative and you can say Lionheart was the one who was responsible for mistrals problems after the fall, but remember Leo was the only Faunus on the council of a racist kingdom and only had one seat over the huntsmen and can only give out and approve mission assignments that would get them killed thus he had no real authority or power in Mistral  besides siding with the majority and even if he tried to talk the council into refusing Ironwoods help their racism wouldn’t listen to Leo and they would do the opposite and call for aid. 
But again Ironwood prior to the fall was willing to stop the threat at its source regardless of politics. But after the fall he had put all of his focus on preparing for war instead of helping people that needed his help at that moment. This may be due to his semblance(still dumb BTW) but ultimately he was focusing on his own needs first than the needs of others. Because of this he had ignored the issues of Mistral and failed to see the truth of what Lionheart was doing and had allowed Most if not all of the well trained and experienced huntsmen of that kingdom to die leaving the kingdom defenseless and unprepared for any conflict that would come.
 Like the Battle for Haven for example. Had Ironwood not recalled everyone back and had Winter and whatever Atlas personal that were with her its quite possible that the battle may never had happen, the truth about leo would have been discovered sooner and the genocide of Mistrals huntsmen wouldn’t have been as bad had Ironwood actually chose to help, Instead he  started to fall back and focus on the Amity Project and Atlas instead of spending any resource outside of them, due to a narrow focus to and putting everything on it just so he can have his Victory.
The Civil unrest in Mantle
A loved and respected leader will die by the side of his people: A feared and hated one will die by their hand. Short term closing the borders cloud have helped ease tensions between Atlas and the rest of the world but long term it had made things worse
Due to the fall of Beacon it's quite possible the initial attacks that came after can explain why Mantle's defensive wall was so destroyed and ruined by the time of V7. That means that potentially for almost over a year that wall has had no repairs or maintenance  and has had the bare minimum leaving the citizens in a state of constant peril and danger since the fall of beacon
This is further made worse when Ironwood closed off the borders and cut off the chain of supplies and trade not only to Atlas but also to Mantle as well making the kingdom suffer more than it had to. As the original capital, the rise of Atlas reduced Mantle to a shadow of its former self. Streets are run-down, technology is old, security defenses haven't been updated in years, and smog from the mines hangs heavy over the city. People struggle to eke out an existence, depend on dangerous mines for work and experience regular Grimm attacks that the city increasingly struggles to repel. Meanwhile, Atlas hangs in the sky above their heads; a constant reminder of the wealthy elite that is failing to share the wealth that Mantle creates, and a target of Mantle's growing resentment and anger at having been left so far behind.
Ironwood who is again allied with and a member of a secret circle that is supposed to keep the peace and prevent any social unrest that can cause a conflict.  Thus he should have tried to ease the tensions and made the conditions of Mantle better in order to maintain peace. Now I know it's not solely Ironwood’s fault for the state that Mantle is in as he hasn’t been in a position of power for long but still he should have focused on the people instead of preparing for a war that may have never come. A stark contrast to Ozpin’s way of preserving peace and handling threats
Because of his narrow focus and indifference he made things worse as he was only focusing on potential threats that have yet to come instead of focusing on the issues and preventing them before they escalated. After the fall, the embargo and closing of Borders Ironwood concerned himself with preparations for an assumed winnable war instead of trying to restore peace and keep the people on his side. Which is ironic as he was doing this to rally a large force and stop the threat but did not consider that he may have been pushing away potential troops and allies that he would have needed. And only stoked the people's frustrations 
This is mostly due to Ironwood never giving an estimate of time for how long the embargo and the borders would last as well as not giving a clear and believable reason as to why he was doing all of this in the first place. I know he was going to tell Mantle and the world about Salem eventually and he did in V7 but that was only because he was forced to and used it to take out potential threats by baiting them. This is also added with the fact that he really didn’t have any solid proof that would make the people believe him about Salem as well. Due to the frustration of the people it would just sound like made up propaganda and Ironwood shifting blame onto a fake enemy to drive people's attention onto something else. And yes the people believed it but remember they were being evacuated so i don’t think they were buying Ironwood's statement but were just glad that they were being saved.
And in the end it doesn’t even matter as ultimately Ironwood caved in to fear and decided to leave Mantle for dead. Which could have been avoided had Ironwood focused his attention to the needs of people rather than the needs of war. One of the constant themes of the show is that victory is not in strength or in mass numbers but within the small and willing hearts of those that will fight no matter what.
In conclusion Ironwood had played a pivotal role in contributing to all of the conflicts that plague the world of Remnant at present, even if it were minor role he nonetheless helped set the stage for the villains and Salem   
The reason why I say that; as stated in earlier sections: Despite all of his talk about the greater good for the world he really means the greater good of Atlas and by extension himself. He is prioritizing his kingdom above all else at the expense of the other kingdoms and exploits of their people for his kingdom's own personal gain. As well as with holding beneficial technology that could actually benefit and improve the living conditions and way of life of the other kingdoms.
Ironwood’s inability to trust and have faith in people and others to keep the peace ultimately led to him intervening in affairs that he had no right to and with his own belief that his way is what is best had caused the Fall of Beacon and the events and conflicts before and after it.
It was over before it started
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Now the Question must be asked what was Ironwood’s plan?
Ironwood throughout the series believed that he could win against Salem, and by the end of volume 7 he still believed that he could win, but in reality he had already lost the moment he tried to start a war.
To quote Ruby as she asked Ozpin: what was Ironwood’s plan to stop Salem if he ever had one to begin with? As far back as Volume 2 to Volume 7 Ironwood’s ideas and plans to handle Salem seemed to be; gather a large force, blitz run her stronghold, and destroy her with WMD’s. Most of his plans stem from an appeal to force and intimidation tactics via large numbers with heavy armament. In any other circumstances this could have worked had it been a different kind of villain that wasn’t immortal. As V6 has revealed Salem can’t die through traditional means such as modern warfare thus making Ironwood’s plans and solutions moot and pointless. Once he is told the truth in V7 he still continues down the same path of thinking that has not only failed but enabled the villains goals as well. So it must be asked why does Ironwood not see that his way is flawed and that he was never going to win if he continues down this path?
 Ironwood's numerous conflicts throughout the series occur because he feels he does not need to follow the standards he sets for others; He demands people trust him while showing them none in return. He forces others to sacrifice much for the cause while giving up very little in return. He insists on loyalty when he has turned on others solely because they disagreed with him.
As Volume 7 progresses, he becomes willing to commit increasingly dubious actions in order to oppose Salem. He starts off by imposing a military embargo on Mantle despite the economic hardships said embargo is causing for the civilians on the ground and diverting resources that Mantle needs to rebuild its infrastructure to build a comm tower at Amity Colosseum. By the end of the volume, he's degenerated into declaring full martial law, abandoning Mantle to die, and either attacking or having arrested anyone who opposes him.
Salem and her faction were a tumor that can only be handled with the surgical precision of a scalpel not with the bulk of a fleet or large armies. The Huntsmen were that scalpel and to be specific the Huntsmen that Oz had chosen as they were meant to protect all people and prevent conflicts without personal bias or desire. Ironwood only acted in the self interest of Atlas and the benefits that he would gain from it
Ozpin’s priority had always been the people, no matter where they came from. However, I think he was once in Ironwood’s shoes.  I am pretty sure he tried everything, including the same things Ironwood did, and saw it fail horribly. Ozpin or at least the soul, has had centuries to millennia's of experience in fighting Salem and managing the world. The delicacy of the human mind and heart are something he is well acquainted with, and I think he already knew what type of person Ironwood was, or at least was becoming.  Near as I can tell, the big reason he kept Ironwood on at this point was because Ironwood had the resources and technology he needed to keep his plan moving forward and wouldn’t relinquish them.
Ozpin worked hard to maintain the peace and goodwill of the people.  Ironwood, so far, has not.  Having robot sentries on every corner without the concept of morals and stopping trade for a kingdom that can not easily generate its own resources, as well as hoarding those resources and preventing necessary repairs and aid to those people–those actions all show that he is not keeping this important aspect of leadership. He is not making sure that the people are on his side so when he needs them because he does not consider their needs as important unless they are in line with his own
Even with the Knowledge of the truth of Salem’s immortality he is still sacrificing everyone and everything else for nothing just to keep up the illusion that he is the hero and to keep his source of power high in the clouds away from anyone who really needs it
I may have been a little harsh on Ironwood for his actions, especially V7 and I understand the circumstances that led to escalation by the end of the volume.  He was making dubious decisions but he was trying to do better, he listened at times and tried to show an extension of trust, the kids with giving them the lamp back, and later with Robyn at the dinner. These were due to the positive influences of Oz.  He just fell back to old habits hard and turned to extremes when it became clear he had non control of what was happening by V7 end. He was struggling with old habits and opening up and was doing better that first part of the night a prime example of what the creators meant if Ironwood had been more open and trusting of others but when everything went down he was pushed over the edge in the latter half of the night cementing his fall and decent into an antagonist further making the problem worse as he has always done. This is mostly due to his primary source of influence; Atlas (which we can agree has been the biggest source of conflict in the show so far) and probably his lack of understanding and planning for what comes after all is said and done.
What did you think would happen?
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The question must be asked; What happens after Salem? The fandom has pretty much each their own idea of what might happen after Salem is finally defeated. But do the characters know what happens after the war especially Ironwood? As the end of the hero’s journey goes; Nothings the same after you become a hero. And given Ironwood’s behavior and actions before his fall in Gravity, Ironwood seemed to have ambitions and plans in the works for the long run after Salem was no longer a threat. As stated before in I am Machine no one is truly altruistic to the point that they do something that doesn’t benefit them. So what exactly did Ironwood want after Salem was gone to the point that most if not all his actions and decisions were in the effort to reach and make those plans come true?
As stated in Broken Kingdom Ironwood doesn’t really have any personal desires or motivations that aren’t related to Atlas or the Heroes common goal to stop Salem. As far as we can tell Ironwood has no current family members at present and there's very little that tells us that he has anything in mind outside of either Atlas or Salem ,so what does Ironwood have to gain from this conflict?
All hail the conquering Hero
Ironwood’s biggest issue is that he has to be the center of everything, that he has to be in control. First he’s going to try and gain control with his army, while trying to wrangle anyone else back under his control. Then, when it becomes clear that anyone who has a plan that better and could work, he’s going to get competitive, come up with new and crazy superweapons to throw against the enemy in an attempt to prove that he can defeat Salem before the heroes can gather allies from across Remnant. He believes that He is strong, that He is brave, that He doesn’t need to run to anybody for help! He believes that he is the hero and is letting his self entitlement cloud his mind and it has gotten the better of him
 An In-Universe example of this false belief comes from RWBY: Amity Arena as it  gives bios to every character in the game compiled by the In-Universe developers. While many try to be objective, the ones representative of the Atlas Elite tend to demonstrate a notable bias, most prevalent with the General's. His bio is very defensive of him, calling him the "hero of our time" and that he wears the burden of the world on his shoulders, talking him up as a Hero with Bad Publicity. The bio goes as followed;
General Ironwood. The hero of our time and Atlas' greatest protector. Under the general, we have advanced to incredible heights, discovered new technologies, and created the world's first artificial intelligence. Though horrifyingly revealed at Amity Arena, Penny is our proud foray into sentient AI, and Ada is the culmination of the machine learning we have long developed in our labs.
As reviled as he was for his misguided attempt to protect Vale, how can the world fault our General when the culprits are out there? How can the victims be blamed for the sins of the perpetrators? Is incompetence somehow a greater sin than premeditated evil? Our General may have failed to protect Beacon, but he's not the one that hacked our weapons into hurting the innocent.
Yet... he wears that burden on his shoulders like he is alone in the world...
Ozpin, missing. Lionheart, dead. Theodore, uncertain. We say Atlas is the greatest, the mightiest... the city in the clouds, but what is first place when there is no competition? Yet, our kingdom and our General... we're the best chance that humanity's got... which scares us to death.
Menagerie?
...what about it?
After reading that you can probably see through the propaganda, hypocrisy and ego that are written in the bio. A key factor to note is that this was possibly made after the main heroes arrived in Atlas and before the election night. And since there's been no contact or travel between the kingdoms and Ironwood was aware of Leo's status by worst case scenario  it tells us that the heroes have shared everything with Ironwood in regards to those events concerning Haven.
 Since Ironwood is looked up to as a god by his subordinates and since he was the one of the only few to have known about them as well as to have the status to make any key choices since the app is made by atlas scientists contracted to the military. Thus Ironwood had used it and the blind loyalty of his loyalists to make propaganda and shift the blame from himself to something else as well as try to emotionally manipulate the people by making them sympathize with him while ignoring the truth.
He is not Remnant's only hope nor is he the best choice.
This is another example of his never my fault montra and he does things right and its further shown in the bio as it not only continues to discredit the other Headmasters(I am well aware of leo) but ignores all the good and actual heroism of other people like the Faunus of Menagerie as they are to the primary reason as to why Haven didn’t become the next Beacon and as stated before in an earlier section the opportunity for the Battle of Haven was in a way created by Ironwood who had chosen to flee and protect his city instead of preventing an attack like he had originally intended with Vale.
It may also show how much Ironwood believes in his own hype as it does paint him as some sort of de facto king of Atlas. Again he views himself as the chosen savior of the chosen people and that it is his destiny to rule and change the world as he sees fit. Or as Watts puts it the Giant that stands above all
I’m the Captain now
I think it's safe to say that almost everything he does is a twisted version of Ozpin's ways as well as to place himself as Remnant's ultimate leader as he believes he is the one that can ensure a safe and secure world. Ever since his debut he has undermined everything that Ozpin has done and stood for because he believes his ways aren’t efficient ( Or beneficial) to him and has been systematically taking power and control away from him and placing himself as the new big good.
He wants to be the New warrior king and change the world as he sees fit as he only sees Ozpin as either a failure or a hindrance to him and his plans. Combine that with his Atlas ideology and a lot of things make sense. I mentioned in the False chosen one that Ironwood may have been influenced and tried to emulate the Warrior king as to better rise and gain power and correct the supposed mistakes of Ozpin. Even though that he has claimed to be doing it for the greater good of all of Remnant but  he really means only Atlas and himself
A world Reborn in my image
A major factor to consider is that Ironwood is a by-product of Atlas that was a by-product of Ancient Mantle. Ironwood is essentially a living mouthpiece for Atlas. He pretty much the living embodiment of the kingdom if it were a character. That's the sad truth of Ironwood is that he is simply an extension of this toxic environment and tricked into believing that its this ideal society when  in truth it never was.  In other words a legacy of tyranny lives on through Ironwood
We’re all aware of the origins of Atlas and its rise to prominent power. It started out as Mantle that began with a handful of people that prospered by adapting to the harsh conditions by making advanced technology faster than the rest of the world. It eventually formed a trade  alliance with Mistral trading tech for food. A grimm  incident occurs and Mantle thought being cold emotionless robots was a perfect solution. It tried to force its toxic ideology onto other civilizations and was met with mixed results. The Great war happens they lose and all of their resources are spent forcing it to rebuild its economy that eventually gives way to Atlas
Now how does this affect Ironwood?
Well Mantle through its alliance with ancient Mistral possibly adopted their ideals of imperialism and expansion as Mistral was the world's largest territorial economic empire of its time. When it comes to the rise of an empire and the type they are as well as their need for expansion it can be summed up to these 3 
Economic empire
Ideological empire
Territorial empire
Due to Mantle's lack of essential resources like food and energy, its early days were more or less focused on establishing a strong economic trade empire in order to get the essential supplies needed to sustain life in solitas. After its great depression period after the War the kingdom's economy began to grow at a rapid rate that by the time the kingdom shifted to Atlas it had Remnants largest economic empire.
This is also an important factor to consider since the sad truth of it all is that as long people can make a stable income and support themselves, they are more than likely to turn a blind eye to any shady or immoral activities so long as there's something to gain. What does this have to do with Ironwood you ask? Well as his bio card said Ironwood has pretty much been proclaimed as the kingdoms benefactor for its prosperity. This may have been due to his Corperate alliance with The Schnee’s since it was Mostly Nicolas and Jaques as far as we know being the most prominent reason as to why Atlas has prospered. 
When Ironwood formed that alliance with the SDC it gave him at least half of the power and influence of the company that was truly responsible for the kingdom's wealth and claiming it as his own. Once he had gotten some control over the economy it was time to move onto the next step and increase the empire from economic to Ideological or Political expansion.
Empires change and adapt in order to satisfies their needs now that Ironwood is the de facto head of that empire and given what we know about him and Atlas it is quite possible that he has been indoctrinated to have this desire to create an empire for Atlas as the politics and ideologies of its people have given it a false sense of entitlement and need to have everything under their control.
When looking at it from V1 to V3, it looks as if Ironwood was trying to occupy without resorting to force then you're left asking the real questions like "Why is ironwood selling the people of Vale on Atlas military Technology?" "Why is it that when a breach happens in vale, Atlas Bots rush in?" "Why did Ironwood make a power play to become the security of the Vytal Tournament?" It all seems to point to the same thing, Ironwood wanted control over Vale
A section of Lyrics from the song “When it Falls” may help reveal Ironwoods true intentions since his introduction and to be honest they seem relevant only to him and given his actions this is mostly likely the truth as they go like this; 
“They play the part of allies
Claiming peace their only goal
But once the fight for power starts
They'll eat each other whole
Their iron gloves point fingers
They'll wage a war of blame
And mankind will wilt in pain”
As of V7 aren’t those words mostly relevant to Ironwood? After all, what has he done recently? He claims to be an ally with intentions of peace but he’s really trying to control those who buy that lie and escalates the situation to the extreme for no logical reason other than to set the stage for the next part in relation to the lyrics.
After all is said and done the fight for power will start and he wants to win and consume everyone before they can consume him. And as things go wrong he points his metal hands blaming everyone but himself as he tries to gain control and power, the world suffers.
Ever since his debut he has been trying to amass  Political power which would lead to a territorial empire under Atlasian control. Playing into the theory that he does want to be a better version of Oz he wouldn’t make the same mistakes that he assumed the king  did by letting the kingdoms remain independent instead of being under the control of one.
A king has his reign and then he dies
To continue on with the theory that he is essentially a bastardized version of Oz, Ironwood may have been trying to find ways as to make himself immortal 
Another reason as to why he would see Ozpin as inferior is due to the fact that for all his power he can’t stop himself from dying, or at least maintain the same amount of world power and status from his last life. This may have given Ironwood ideas and ambitions to pursue any methods that may yield results that may make him a true immortal version of Oz hence why he most likely authorized the research and development of the aura transfer technology as a means to artificial reincarnate till proper immortality was achieved.
This could also be another reason as to why he may have chosen the Penny project. As it could lead to a way of extending his life as a means of transhumanism; immortality through technology
To reiterate Ironwood doesn’t trust anyone to do things right so he micromanages everyone under his control and makes them dependent on him. This is best seen with Winter and Clover as Winter would side with a madman as opposed to siding with her sister and clover’s inability to think for himself led to his death. 
Due to his lack of faith in people Ironwood makes them less independent and make them rely on him as  he may believe if everyone is dependent on him then the more control that he will have over them as to better determine who is a threat as the people he controls are more or less robots now without a conscious or sense individuality and are less likely to commit evil acts. Similar to ancient Mantle’s anti life policies before the war.
If he believes that to be the case and since he only trusts himself to see it through he’s going to try and find ways to make him live as long as possible until his methods become autonomous. Because of his lack of faith for others Ironwood doesn’t understand or refuses to understand the fact that he is going to die one day and everything that he has ever accomplished will be undone by the ultimate victor; TIME.
This is sadly the likely outcome as everything changes through the passage of time. As time moves so does the advancement of decay upon the world. Ironwood is already dying by aging and all that he has achieved will be undone or outdone by others that will come after him. The same thing can be said for everyone else in the show as they already lost. 
Ruby, Oz, Cinder, even Salem herself have already lost to time. Everything they have or will achieve will be undone as well and one day they will all die. It’s just a matter of how and when. 
To better explain let's take a look at Epsilon’s final speech from RVB season 13;
“There are so many stories where some brave hero decides to give their life to save the day, and because of their sacrifice, the good guys win, the survivors all cheer, and everybody lives happily ever after. But the hero... never gets to see that ending. They'll never know if their sacrifice actually made a difference. They'll never know if the day was really saved. In the end, they just have to have faith.”
Does Ironwood have faith in anyone that's not under his control? 
People only do wrong when the perceived benefits outweigh the cost in that moment. Ironwood doesn’t just see an opportunity to stop Salem he also sees an opportunity to bring the world under Atlasian control with him at the top. Since he has amassed so much power and authority he sees himself above the rules that everyone respects and follows. Because of this Ironwood tries to hold unto that power because without he is nothing and would become a lesser and weaker being which would be an affront to his perfectionist ideologies
If your nothing without it then you don’t deserve it
Take away Ruby’s Silver eyes and what is she? Someone that will continue to fight no matter what
Take away Atlas from Ironwood and what is he? Nothing but a broken man who had this coming for a long time.
As I stated in I am power Ironwood by himself has nothing to contribute to the fight against Salem. Let's face it the only thing that he had going for him was the fact that he lead the Military and as we later find out that Military isn’t going to be useful against Salem since the key concept of the show since V1 was that there is no victory in strength but in the simpler things in life that start with simple and honest souls. 
How does this concern Ironwood? 
Well that's just it Ironwood was never going to win with his methods and he was never going to get the benefits that he wanted if he followed someone else with theirs. Again Ironwood had plans and ambitions after Salem that saw him as the ruler of the world instead of her, and controlled it so that a threat like her or any threat to his power would never come again. This is probably what he thought would happen before being told of her immortality. 
Now with the knowledge that he can’t destroy her and that she’s coming he decides to cut his losses and settle with ruling the city instead and leave the rest of the world in her mercy instead of accepting the fact that he is wrong and relinquishing power to someone that can handle the situation better. Remnant doesn’t need Ironwood to survive. This is the biggest problem with Ironwood that he thinks he is the hero so long as he is in control of Atlas. Because without it he is truly nothing and has defined his whole existence around it. And will continue to make whatever plans to keep himself in power and is willing to pay the price at the expense of others.
“What if all the plans you made,
Were not worth the price they paid?
Even with the lives you stole,
Still no closer to your...
Goal.”
He never cooled the fire but he still incites the crowd for he can't see what he has  become a crown with no kingdom
Ironwood had only played to win and he would laugh at the ones who lose while millions are shouting out for him to stop but he Still lit the fuse
He says he wants to fight but Then he always runs because he doesn't want to die yet he Still shoots the loaded gun escalating things for the worse
His refusal to see the faults in his own actions. Ironwood continually defaults to and relies on methods and actions that have repeatedly been proven to not work because he refuses to see the error in using said methods to begin with.
This isn’t your story James
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One of the important aspects to remember is that this isn’t Ironwood’s story. His entire character and story revolves around the main protagonists and how he interacts with them and more importantly what role he played in it. Ironwood started out as a side character that ended up getting a lot of focus because the story of  Team RWBY and the show in general is to show how the last generation can fail the next and how that generation has to learn and grow so it can avoid the mistakes of the past. 
Before we delve further into Ironwood’s true character in the show let us explore whether or not he was an antagonistic or protagonistic force in the story. Keep in mind these terms are different from hero and villain. Below are several definitions and meanings for the 2 narrative characters types;
Antagonist
a person who actively opposes or is hostile to someone or something; an adversary.
a person who is opposed to, struggles against, or competes with another; opponent; adversary. the adversary of the hero or protagonist of a drama or other literary work
Protagonist
the leading character or one of the major characters in a drama, movie, novel, or other fictional text.
an advocate or champion of a particular cause or idea.
In modern literature, the protagonist drives the story forward by pursuing a goal. 
The protagonist of a story is sometimes called the main character. 
Since this is RWBY’s story and to an extent Oz’s, Ironwood(and Atlas to an extent) was always meant to be an antagonistic force in opposition to the show's true ideals of  heroism and saviors. 
The antagonist is the principal source of conflict for the protagonist. Often, the antagonist is a bad guy, a villain, but he doesn't necessarily have to be. He may just be someone who has a different agenda. Antagonists might be one person, a group, or even an animal.
Due to the beliefs that his methods are for the best even though they contradict the intentions that were thought to be shared by the heroes Ironwood was always going to become an Antagonist for the series at some point
Volume 7 slowly sees him fall into this, as his paranoia and determination to stop Salem cause him to perform increasingly questionable decisions for the greater good. While Qrow, Oscar, and Teams RWBY and JNPR support Ironwood, they increasingly debate the merit of doing so, given how concerned they're becoming with his behavior. When Cinder breaks into his office and plants a black queen, Ironwood sends Winter to forcefully take the Winter Maiden's powers, and he begins to question every decision he's made and speculate whether he's played right into Salem's hands. His confrontation with Team RWBY over their decision to leak intel to Robyn triggers the appearance of a Seer Grimm, forcing him into a verbal confrontation with Salem. With the discovery that the conflict with Watts and Tyrian distracted them from realizing they'd lost long-range sensors and that Salem is already on her way to Atlas, Ironwood snaps. He orders the arrest of Qrow, Oscar, and Teams RWBY and JNPR, and decides to abandon Mantle to die in an effort to prevent the two Relics and the Winter Maiden from falling into Salem's hands. Volume 7 ends with him and the protagonists actively opposed to each other, as his refusal to acknowledge that his methods are flawed and his opposition towards anyone who might stand in his way solidifies him as an antagonist.
The events of Volume 7 slowly but surely tear away at the positive aspects of his character as he succumbs to fear and paranoia, and questions whether Salem's strength comes from her ability to strip away her humanity. By the end of the volume, he has degenerated into a paranoid tyrant who abandons Mantle in favor of saving Atlas, is willing to kill a dying Winter Maiden to protect the Relics from Salem, and arrests the heroes for disagreeing with him. At the end of the volume, Oscar even points out that Ironwood's actions and current mentality make him no better than Salem.
 His character deconstructs the mindset of the Necessary Evil character archetype. He declares his willingness to sacrifice his reputation and humanity for the greater good by forcing others to sacrifice for his cause. Characters constantly question the morality of his choices and his own actions create consequences that later bite him in the ass. His lack of concern over his image and the negativity his actions generate serve only to assist Salem's plans and increasingly alienate him from the heroes. He appoints himself the judge of what counts as the "greater good", he neglects Mantle's security and makes it increasingly vulnerable to attack by viewing it as less important than Atlas. Oscar lampshades the deconstruction by pointing out that being willing to sacrifice all of Remnant just so "a few can live" is making him just as dangerous a threat as Salem.
In a way Salem and Ironwood are also foils to each other as they appear to be dark lords from their respective genres 
Ironwood being the syfy equivalent clad in white to convey the false message of order and peace while masking evil intentions and crimes 
Salem being the Fantasy equivalent clad in black to emanate a sense of Mystery and fear of the unknown while using it to her advantage
Discussed between Ironwood and Oscar. Ironwood spends Volume 7 utterly haunted by how Leo's fear of Salem destroyed him and endangered Mistral and Haven. He is so determined not to end up like Leo, that he doesn't realize what mistakes his own fear of Salem is causing. While Leo completely submitted to Salem and became her puppet, he has full self-awareness and knows exactly how far he's fallen and why. Ironwood cannot accept that he has any fear of Salem at all and interprets the problem as possessing "humanity". He believes Salem is a threat because she has none and speculates that the solution is to become the same. He becomes increasingly controlling over his kingdom and his allies; regardless of how much suffering his methods cause, he persists in believing it's for "the greater good". While Leo is willing to give up the Relic of Knowledge and his kingdom's Huntsmen, Ironwood is so determined to prevent Salem getting the Relics, his Huntsmen and the Winter Maiden, and thereby avoid Leo's mistakes, that he travels in the opposite direction, becoming a dangerous authoritarian instead of a spineless coward.
Ironwood has made it clear that he will use whatever means necessary to defeat Salem. When Team RWBY calls out his decision to raise Atlas out of Salem's reach, he calmly says he's aware that he is essentially damning Mantle to her wrath. He later tells Oscar that he is done letting others' opinions hold him back from doing what he thinks is right. The boy warns him that he'd become as dangerous as Salem herself like that; the general simply nods to himself but doesn't deny it.
This is who he has always been. The only difference is the more desperate he becomes, the more extremes he goes to to maintain the illusion he is strong and in control of the situation.
During Ozpin's speech, notice how this unique line of dialogue is purposely inserted over Ironwood's last scene of  Volume 7.
“Or will the person staring back at you be the very thing you should have feared from the start? I suppose we all find out... sooner or later.”
As the other parts of the speech are relevant to the other characters shown in the montage This specific line cements the Truth of Ironwood's character being a threat that was planned for a very long time. Going with the show's themes of Grey morality and the balance of light and dark, we are to learn of the possibility that with the potential to do great good also comes with the potential to do great evil. 
As we were focused on the obvious threats in the show like the grimm, the white fang, Cinder, and Salem we are tricked to neglect the obvious signs of evil intent that are hidden and growing  among the heroes. The real monsters of the world aren’t the ones with fangs and red eyes hiding under your bed, No the real monsters of the world look just like you and me. After all if we assume everyone is like us then how can we tell who the real monsters are, that are hiding in plain sight. 
Ironwood’s evil nature and antagonism  was subtle and growing under the skewed perception that he was the hero and that he was right. But this comes down to the fact that he is only in it for himself and what he has to gain from it. 
I understand that James Ironwood was a tragic character even from his introduction, and the seeds for his volume 7 turn were planted in volume 2. I eventually recognized that RT was setting up this pivotal plot point way back in the day and now they are harvesting what they had sown.  
Ironwood didn’t snap when he found out RWBY lied to him. He was content, even after he defeated Watts. He snapped as soon as he saw Cinder’s present. The Queen piece. He unraveled immediately and, sure, the discovery of RWBY’s lies didn’t help,  but it wasn’t the cause for Ironwood’s descent.
 He genuinely means well in opposing Salem and her forces, but his severe paranoia complex, exacerbated by the stress of being one of the only ones in the know about Salem and having to explain his actions to the skeptical populace and council, cause his decisions to degenerate over time. By the end of Volume 7, he becomes willing to abandon everyone in Mantle to die, violently lashes out at anyone who opposes him, and manages to undo all of the hard work he's accomplished by second-guessing his own actions.
James Ironwood is undoubtedly a fascinating character that has this certain appeal to most people. I  can understand Ironwood's viewpoint but it is not the same as forgiving or condoning as good. Sure, I thought him intervening in affairs that he had no right to was a skewed perception, but I understood where he was coming from. I thought him ignoring the concerns and advice of people was reckless, but I also kind of understood  his limitations and his upbringing. But in all honesty I was neutral about Ironwood ever since he debuted and didn’t think he had much to contribute to the story besides being the guy with an army along with the pride and arrogance that comes with.
Because of that Ironwood was always an antagonistic force in RWBY with ideals and plans that contradict the established ideals and motivations that are already shared with the world of Remnant. He just simply couldn’t fit in and when he tried he didn’t like it. When he tried to change it and take charge he only made things worse. Ironwood had potential to be good and a proper hero due the influence of Oz but his pride and ego that he got from Atlas got the better of him and now the show's true heroes will have to fix the problems that he has caused.
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bomberqueen17 · 3 years
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misc
1) I am hanging in there largely due to the lovely replies and comments here, on my latest AO3 things, and (astonishingly) at Facebook. Also my immediate-family groupchat is kind of hilarious today. It’s hard, though; I was the one who scrolled down and found the thread that didn’t have Dad on it to send the first reply to, because I knew his phone blowing up would just upset Mom. 😭 But we’re all on that thread now. (It was so great when dad got his own phone after years of Mom having the smartphone for the two of them. He could be relied on for one good zinger per major conversation. 😭)
1a) family groupchat highlights include M-L defending herself about letting Mom shovel the roof, me discussing being middle-aged and needing a new roof, two of my sisters simultaneously declaring that i needed a thatched roof for the middle ages, and M-L telling a story about her cat possibly being possessed by a demon but actually just being a snob. Farmsister said she was “on tenterhooks” to hear the end and Mom asked if we all knew what tenterhooks are but we are her children so of course we all did.
2) I am also hanging in because my coworkers brought me a tray of sushi for dinner, which was super sweet of them and, as I think I started to mention before, I am sure they thought of that specifically because the one dude is of Jewish extraction and feeding mourners is one of the many, many things about which the Jews are 1000% Correct, it made my day.
3) I was completely unable to account for the passage of time today, and had real trouble completing thoughts, but I did manage to haul myself down to the basement and once down there I actually did a lot of fairly fast reasonable-quality work, and I made a series of furoshiki in which to wrap my Christmas gifts. I still have to make one more, and finish a small impromptu bag I made for a bottle gift. I already had one completed, a pieced one I’d made entirely by hand using the pojagi technique so both front and back are usable sides-- and I’d done it in contrasting thread. I’d made it for myself to wear as a hair scarf but honestly I only wear hair scarves on slaughter day so it’s too nice for that, so instead I’m going to wrap one of M-I-L’s gifts in it because I know she will notice and appreciate the sheer time it took me to make it. I had made it while stuck on a long car ride, I think, though-- I don’t entirely remember. I know it’s the kind of handsewing I do while bored, though, as it’s fairly mindless.
4) My Christmas gift for Farmsister, which I ordered the first week of December and which was supposed to arrive a week and a half ago, arrived while I was sewing, so it got a wrapper made for it and is already wrapped up. Huzzah!
5) While answering comments on AO3 it suddenly struck me that the scenario in which Aiden wears a crop top, which my mind has for some reason been chewing over for quite some time, is definitely firmly set in a modern A/U crackfic and involves him wearing a shirt that belonged to young-teenage Ciri and is completely inappropriate for him, for trolling purposes / to make a point. So, maybe someday I’ll write that. (It’s related to the one I was trying to finish for Halloween, so.)  (There are also Inappropriate Booty Shorts, because I love you all very much.)  Also, I was describing Aiden there to a commenter and hit upon the realization that he is sort of like a cross between a gazelle and a moose, because he is quite beautiful, extremely dangerous, and incredibly awkward. I might simplify that to Sexy Moose. Like, you like to look at him, sure, but probably from quite a distance if you want to live.
6) I thank everyone for their contributions on my post about using Facebook Messenger, and I have to actually get the spoons to like. Give it serious contemplation. Yeargh.
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nekoabiwrites · 4 years
Text
To Love a Remus
It’s @doces-e--tuga / @pastries-and-deceit‘s birthday!! And she deserves all the loooove <3 Happy Birthday Maria!! (at least in her timezone)
I’m late to the party with posting this bc I’ve been at work for too long, but I hope you like it <3 I am also a slut for the idea that the Dark Sides all were buds back before Virgil moved over to the others, so this is more of a reflection of that too.
AU: n/a Pairing: Demus Words: 1366 Warnings: Deceit and Remus, blood mention, inappropriate conduct, bandaging wounds. Anything else, please let me know!
Summary: Remus is an idiot... but somehow Deceit thinks that idiot is somehow... attractive?
---
A scream echoed down into the dark and dingy room, getting closer by the second. Virgil merely offered a glance up to the darkened ceiling to confirm its source before returning to looking at his phone, scrolling through his tumblr feed absent-mindedly. Silently, he mouthed a countdown from 3.
As he reached 1 and nodded his head towards the sound, something smacked onto the floor. The accompanying noise of the air getting completely knocked from someone’s body made the anxious side flinch ever so slightly, but he still didn’t get up from his curled-up position. His eyes darted to see if the other was now lifeless, but Virgil was able to notice the heaving breaths and the wide eyes staring directly upwards which quelled the growing nerves a little.
Stunned silence followed, only being broken by the heavy breaths from the one laying on the floor.
“Is this heaven…?” The body piped up.
“Judging by your presence, it’s hell.” Virgil retorted, now fully turning his attention to his mindless scrolling.
“Oh. So I am dead?”
Virgil rolled his eyes, “No, Remus. You’re not dead. Unfortunately.”
“Good!” The green side hopped back up onto his feet quickly before wincing in pain. He instinctively put his hands to his side as his body attempted to crumple into that spot. Blood coated his hand when he pulled it away. Remus inspected it then licked from the heel of his hand to the tip of his middle finger, humming happily. He also glanced down to where he’d been laying for several minutes, finding that he’d left a nice puddle of red there too.
“Ugh… Fucking disgusting.” Virgil muttered, grimacing and observing the duke. He stood up on the sofa and hopped over the arm in order to avoid the area Remus was now standing in. “I’m not dealing with this.”
“Bye Virgil!” Remus waved his still-bloody hand, splattering some of it onto the walls. He considered painting a picture on them with the red liquid once he noticed it, but he was interrupted before he could even start narrowing down what he wanted to make. A hand gripped his shoulder tightly and started to steer him towards the small table. Remus followed obediently, hoping up to take a seat on the table while his companion took one of the chairs.
The first aid kit that was usually stashed in the kitchen was open, yellow gloves sat to the side of it. “What did you do this time?” Deceit asked, already reaching for items from the box.
Remus grinned, already stripping his top half in preparation for Deceit’s medical attention, “Well, if you really want to know, I-” The moustachioed side began to tell a tale of how he’d snuck into the imagination through his ‘back door’ – Remus giggled maniacally at that - and left a note for his brother, telling him of a large monster that was roaming the depths of the forest. Remus then had camped out for days, transformed into said monster, waiting for his twin to appear. Roman had eventually fought his way through the forest brush and found him; an epic battle apparently took place where both of them were left bruised, bloody and beaten. Remus faked the death of the monster and found himself leaving the imagination the hard way. “And then I fell all the way down to here!” The unhinged grin was plastered so far across the other side’s face, it was making Deceit’s skin crawl just slightly.
Through the story, Deceit had managed to easily bandage up Remus’s large wound. The box was snapped shut and gloves were put back in their place, “I’m not busy and I have plenty of time to look after you like this. So, do be stupid while you recover because I will do this again.” The scaled side slipped the first aid kit through into the kitchen before briskly walking to his room. Before exiting, he glanced back at Remus who was picking at the bandages, “I love it when you get hurt…” Deceit quickly darted from the room, hoping Remus hadn’t picked up on what he’d accidentally muttered to himself.
Deceit knew his purpose, he knew what role he had to play, and that role had nothing to do with love of his own and yet here he was. As the door to his room clicked open, the scaled side was cursing himself mentally. He was still trying to gain of control his feelings and sometimes they just slipped out. Usually, it wouldn’t be an issue. He’d be alone and thinking about it, words would fall from his mouth and Deceit would curl up into a cushion and wait for his blush to diminish. Before he could resign himself to an evening of lingering over every word and touch, something tackled him from behind and wrapped its limbs around him, sending Deceit toppling to the floor. He attempted to grab a hold of his dresser to steady himself, but it went falling over with him, creating a loud crash.
“Remus, I swear to god, if you are destroying this place again, I will-” Virgil stormed out of his room. He only got a few steps into the hallway before stopping dead.
Remus was happily staring up at Virgil, a playful glint in his eyes and an unhinged grin on his face, while he lay completely atop a very flustered Deceit. Sure, Deceit was face down on the ground and seemingly trying to claw himself out from underneath Remus and it could have been entirely innocent, but with Remus involved, Virgil didn’t want to take any chances. He turned sharply around and walked back the way he came without a word. At least, until his door shut.
“Just keep it quiet. I don’t need to hear that shit!”
If Deceit’s face wasn’t already blindingly red, Virgil’s implication had him practically combusting. He managed to scramble out of Remus’s hold with some effort. Once back on his feet, Deceit righted himself and attempted to look unphased. He wanted to say something, imply that Virgil was wrong, lie through his teeth and say that nothing like that would ever happen between them. Deceit cleared his through in order to do just that but, as he looked down upon Remus, something was not allowing him to lie about that.
Remus was still laying on the floor, attempting to pose in a flirtatious manner, but the exaggerated nature of it was hindering it somewhat. At least, Deceit thought that should be the case, but for some bizarre reason that had no explanation, he was finding it… attractive. His thoughts were a mess for a moment, all the noise around became simply background static as his body worked on autopilot. In no time at all, Deceit was at eye level with Remus, lips pressed firmly against his. It was a little awkward considering that Deceit had to deal with Remus’ current position and his body was seemingly refuse to lay down alongside him, but it didn’t seem to intrude on it whatsoever. After a few moments of silence, the scaled side pulled back sharply.
All of a sudden, Remus’ arm shot out and wrapped itself around the back of Deceit’s neck, tugging him back in close, “Oh no! You're not getting away that easily, my sexy mamba.” He said, loudly. Remus flopped backwards, so he was now entirely laying on the floor, making it far easier for Deceit to kiss him again.
A fake vomiting sound came from the shut door across the hallway, as well as a pained groan. Remus pushed Deceit away for a brief moment, letting the scaled side take a few breaths as well as take the last few seconds to look at the world around them as Remus was going to make sure they both didn’t see it for a long time once they started again. He called out to Virgil, “Don’t be jealous, Virgil!” An unholy screech pierced their ears while was quickly muffled before Remus tugged Deceit back in again, moving them without getting up through the open door to Deceit’s room, more than excited to finally get things started with the other side.
---
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Don’t you hear my call though you’re many years away - Chapter 2
A/N As usual for me, I don’t care about my word count, but it’s a fairly long chapter. Forgive and grammar or punctuation issues. If you enjoy this, please reblog!
Warnings: Angst and can get dialog heavy.
Summery: You the reader finally gets to travel back in time.
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That morning, plans started being made. The first decision was when I should go back, and being that summer was just around the corner, that was the obvious choice. But for how long?
After some discussing, I agreed to a month. It would be hard, seeing as I’d have to figure out how to hide this from my family, which I hated. But the idea of spending a month in 1971 London was too enticing. Especially when it involved seeing Queen.
Within a few days the plan was made. I told my family I’d be staying in the dorms with Sierra for the summer, saying that she got a job and hoped I could too. I’d leave my phone with her so she could post updates to my social media periodically. She’d answer my text and emails, but phone calls would have to be avoided.
Maybe when I got back I could get a job, I had worked through the school year at the college itself, but I still didn’t like lying to my family. All they asked was that I come home for my Dads birthday.
Everything was being set in motion.
The last few weeks of school flew by and crawled at the same time. Between studying for finals and planning my ‘trip’ I didn’t have time for much else, that included not thinking about ex boyfriend.
**
I emerged from my last final of the semester, into the summer sun. May was coming to an end, and in June I’d be leaving.
I turned my face toward the sun, closing my eyes, soaking up the light and heat.
My phone buzzed in my hand, drawing me out of my mindlessness.
Looking down I saw a text from Claire
Let’s go get you some funky threads!
Followed by
Yeah I have no clue about slang in the 70s! It’s time to shop hunny!
Laughing, I started my walk back to my dorm.
**
“Ugh corduroy is disgusting” I moaned as I stepped out of a dressing room.
“It is, but they look good on you” Dustin said from where he was sitting in a weird wicker chair. He had found this vintage clothing shop, and decided it would be the best place to look for my 70s wardrobe.
“The styles then were not made for my body type” I said as I looked at myself in a long mirror.
“You’re beautiful babe!” Claire yelled from the other side of the small store, where she was rifling through the clothes.
I laughed and rolled my eyes as I returned the dressing room.
“What about these hair styles” Dustin spoke up again. “Some of them are...yeah...they just are, no words!”
I had just stepped into a pair of plaid bell bottoms that I paired with a white billowy top. This outfit isn’t too terrible, I thought to myself.
Once again I left the dressing room, and responded to Dustin.
“I was thinking of wearing it straight. That was a style then right? Cher had long straight hair...” I said.
Claire rounded a short rack, with a pile of clothes in her arms. She was loving this.
She looked me up and down, smiling she said “get that! It looks great on you! Makes it look like you have legs for days!”
She shoved the pile of clothes at me and piggy backed off my suggestion of straight hair.
“Straight hair was a style, but you’ll have to learn the makeup too!” She said cheerfully.
“Really” I mumbled from behind the heap of clothes “maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. I have to buy a whole new...used or whatever wardrobe, and now the hair and makeup styles? I don’t even keep up with today’s styles!”
“It will be worth it thought!” Dustin said, still scrolling through his phone.
Claire came up behind me and started steering me back into the dressing room all while saying “you have to look the part!”
The “That 70’s” fashion show continued for an hour. And I did indeed leave with a new wardrobe. I walked away with 2 pair of the shortest shorts I’d even owned, 3 pair of bell bottoms, including the corduroy, 7 tops, a few fun tees, and 2 pair of shoes. One of which was a pair of platforms that Claire insisted on, saying everyone wore them. I just hoped I didn’t break something while walking in them. I even found a dress that I actually liked. I wasn’t sure I’d need it, but Claire said to get it.
The entire drive back to campus Claire was going over the things I needed to buy once I was back in 1971. If she written this list on paper, it probably would have been a mile long.
Meanwhile, I sat quietly in the back seat, with my new, musty, apparel.
Dustin was eyeing me in the rear view when he spoke over Claire’s rambling.
“Hey, just focus on one thing at a time. Get a room first, then see what’s happening around you. No need to go overboard” he said.
Nodding, I mumbled “room first.”
Back in my dorm, I began sorting through the clothes so I could wash them, in hopes of ridding the musty smell. But the time alone was giving me time to think. Time to worry. Worry about what would happen if I wanted to come home sooner? Worry about what if something happened here while I was gone? What if something happened to me while I was gone?
This allowed the panic to set in. It was overwhelming and devouring any excitement I felt.
I began to feel nauseous. I was cold but sweating. I sat on my bed, taking deep breaths, trying to steady myself. I could do this. I wanted to do this. It had been my idea.
I would do this. I would go back to 1971 and see Queen, possibly even meet them. It would be a fun and exciting, albeit scary, adventure. I would do this.
The days that followed my friends didn’t allow me much time to myself. I’m not sure if it’s because they knew what I was going through, even without me saying, or because they knew I’d be leaving soon and they wanted time with me. Maybe it was a bit of both.
**
The night before my trip I couldn’t sleep, I tossed and turned, my mind was constantly going over scenarios or advice I’d been given.
Finally at 6am I allowed myself to get out of bed, so I went over my check list for the thousandth time.
At 7am I started getting ready. I had to be at Ryan’s at 9am, so I didn’t rush. I made sure I looked at natural 70s makeup and pictures of Cher for hair inspiration.
Once I was ready, I grabbed my suitcase and backpack, and headed to my car.
I still had some time before I was supposed to arrive so I swung through Starbucks and grabbed coffee for everyone. Especially me. Exhaustion was setting in.
I’d completely forgotten what I was wearing when I pulled up to the window. The barista gave me an odd look, and I mumbled something about a 70s themed party. Who had a party this early in the day, I thought to myself. But she must have bought it because she laughed as she handed me 2 trays of drinks.
When I pulled into the driveway at Ryan’s I still had about 10 minutes before I was supposed to arrive. Not wanting to seem too eager, I stayed in my car, leaning my head back and closing my eyes. Being exhausted and nervous a the same time was too much.
Suddenly there was a knock at my window, which caused me to scream and almost spill my coffee.
Ryan was laughing so hard he could hardly stand up straight when I flung the door open.
“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” I asked, clutching at my chest.
He continued to laugh as he tried to invite me inside. I swatted at him and told him to grab the coffee.
Once we were inside and Ryan had stopped laughing at me, we sat in relative silence, sipping our liquid energy.
Finally he spoke up “you look like you stepped right out of the 70s.”
“Thanks...I’m scared” I finally said it out loud.
“Hey, Y/N, it’s ok...” he was cut off by a loud knock at the door, which then flung open as the rest of our friends hurried in.
There was so much talking and so many questions that I couldn’t even respond. The overwhelming feeling was coming back and my stomach was in knots.
After my friends had downed their coffee, we headed to the room where the “machine” resided.
It was like a dream. I was usually on the other side, waving goodbye to my friend, but the roles were now reversed. They stood there, their faces full of excitement and expectation, while I stared at them with wide eyes and my blood rushing in my ears. My fight or flight instinct was kicking in, but I stood my ground.
I looked each of my friends in the eyes one more time, when I finally came to Ryan, he said “see ya soon”.
That must have been my warning, because the next thing I knew, I felt the air leave my lungs, like I’d been punched in the stomach. It wasn’t at all what I expected. I thought I’d feel like I was falling, instead it was like the snap back when you’re bungee jumping.
Abruptly the feeling stopped, gasping, and I felt soft grass under my hands, I heard the sounds of a city, and I opened my eyes to the bright sun.
@ixchel-9275 @painkiller80 @painandpleasure86 @queensdivas @liliah39 @heybuddy-drabbles @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @deacyspatronusisacheesetoastie
65 notes · View notes
keeroo92 · 4 years
Text
Be My Nightmare Ch10
A New Beginning
Mild gore warning, but you guys have seen worse in this fic already. Enjoy!
Word Count - 4,502
~~~~Previous Chapter~~~~
________________
Within twenty minutes, you had your ancient beater of a car parked in your usual spot. Normally a coffee cup and a few wrappers littered the passenger side, but lately you’d had the time to clean it out. The damn thing clattered every time you took a sharp turn and the windshield featured a widening crack, but it got you from point A to B and that was all you really cared about. 
Well, that and the sound system. It drowned out the clatter, after all.
Cold stone walls loomed over you, but their shadows were far from the unfriendliest thing you’d encounter here. You sighed and faced the music, locking your car with a deceptively cheerful chirp.
Even after only two days away, the facility seemed foreign as you entered the lobby. The smell of antiseptic that you almost never noticed overwhelmed you, the overly bright fluorescents blinding overhead. Was it always this bright? How hadn’t you noticed? Ridiculous, you should’ve worn your sunglasses.
“Dr. Waras! What are you doing here?” cried a familiar voice behind the glass panel hiding the counter. Sandy hair and brown eyes set in a face the female patients couldn’t get enough of. You approached with a smile.
“Hi, Rob. I’d like to speak with Malphas, is he in?”
“Yeah, I think so. I… I’ll have to escort you, I’m sorry,” the young man said, eyes shifting away. 
Indignant heat pooled in your cheeks. How absurd. You worked here, this was your home! A babysitter only added insult to the already painful injury. 
Calm down, it’s not his fault.
You paused to swallow your anger and offered an understanding nod. “That’s fine, don’t worry about it.”
“It’ll be just a sec, gotta have someone take over.”
You sighed and turned away, heading for one of the pastel armchairs dotted around the room. Outdated magazines lined tables here and there, a water cooler gurgling happily in the corner. Landscape paintings covered sections of the horrible plaster, as if seeing a grassy meadow might ease the discomfort of being here. A waiting area like any other, but one you hadn’t been forced to wait in since interviewing for your position.
Never one to sit idle, you pulled out your phone and settled into an open seat. It wasn’t like you had a reason to check it, but the slim device brought comfort. Plus, as long as you looked busy, people wouldn’t bother you. 
Hopefully.
It was a slow day, only a pair of brown-haired girls sitting nearby. One was crying, but besides that they seemed normal enough and you put them out of your mind. 
After a few minutes of mindless scrolling, Rob came to fetch you with another apology. He led you through the first security gate and down the long hallway toward the administrative wing. By the time you reached the second gate, the uncomfortable mood became too much.
“How’s Ken doing?” you asked.
Rob shot a hesitant look your way. “Uh, I’m not sure if it’s okay for me to tell you…”
You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t blame him. “Of course. I’ll ask Malphas, then.”
The rest of the journey passed in awkward silence. Rob was a kind man, you had no complaints about him aside from his lack of courage. Not that you held it against him, after his years of running intake. Poor man saw the worst of the worst, the patients before any treatment. When they were at their lowest and most agitated point.
Finally, the heavy oak door to Malphas’ office greeted your hungry gaze. Closed,oddly enough. He liked keeping it open most of the time. Some nonsense about encouraging everyone to stop by and chat.
Rob knocked on the door and sent another worried look your way as a deep voice called for him to enter. 
“I’ll wait here, to escort you back out. I uh, I hope it goes well.”
“Thanks, Rob. I appreciate it,” you replied, pushing the door open without a pause. Might as well get it over with.
“Dr. Waras! What an unexpected pleasure. You should've called,” the grandfatherly head of the facility greeted with a hesitant smile. 
He doesn’t seem pleased to see me. 
You stepped inside and clicked the door closed, bracing for a battle of wits as you took a seat across from his desk. Maybe you should've stayed standing, sitting put you in a position of subservience. 
If I stand up now, it just looks like indecision. Damnit.
“What can I do for you?”
Pushing aside your doubts, you met his gaze with a firm stare. “I’d like to know if you’ve made any progress on reversing my suspension.”
Malphas glanced away, as if he couldn’t bear to meet your eyes. Not a good sign.
“Well, it’s become considerably more complex since the patient has begun terrorizing the city.”
You snorted and crossed your arms. True, no one who knew the murderous artist could doubt his involvement, but what proof did they have? 
“Bullshit. There’s no way to prove he’s involved.”
Wrinkled fingers brought the man’s foggy lenses to his tie for a vigorous cleaning as Malphas collected his words. “True, but you know as well as I that when he’s caught, if you’re on the active roster it won’t look good.”
You pursed your lips and tried to keep your voice even as heated anger tinted the overstuffed bookshelves behind his head blood red. Fucking PR bullshit. “So it’s all about appearance, then? Your only reason to keep me out is the press?”
He sighed and returned the glasses to his face, blinking to force his eyes to adjust. You were shaking, barely holding back words of utter rage and frustration. Not good, he wasn’t likely to reinstate you if you came across as an emotional wreck. You needed to rein it in, now.
Change the subject. Something less complicated.
“Can you at least tell me how Ken is doing?”
Malphas sighed, blinking owlishly at you. “I’m afraid not. Patient details are privileged information, and you aren’t currently affiliated with his care. I cannot share any details with you.”
A small smirk twisted your lips. He revealed enough. “You used the present tense. He’s alive, then.”
Malphas bit his lip and looked away again. Honestly, who did he think he was talking to? The man told you himself that someday he wanted you to take his place. He knew your intelligence, why did he act like he could fool you?
A long moment passed in silence, both you and Malphas searching for the right phrase to move forward. Even with the sting of his actions, the man had your respect. He’d done so much to help you start your career, more than anyone else. You didn’t like being angry with him, or the resentment that built every day he didn’t bring you back. There had to be a way back to the previous state of your relationship.
You released a breath and pinched the bridge of your nose. Conflict was exhausting. “Look, just… what can I do to make this all go faster?”
Malphas’ wizened eyes met yours, tinted with sympathy and understanding. You struggled not to get defensive. You didn’t need his pity, it served no purpose. What you wanted was his agreement. 
“There’s nothing you can do right now. If something changes, I’ll let you know. For now, you just need to be patient.”
Fine, this is getting me nowhere. Waste of time.
“Please do. I look forward to coming back to work.”
The epitome of professionalism, you extended one hand to shake his as you gathered your things to leave. He seemed relieved to see you go, adding another tic in the column towards rage.
Poor Rob led you back to the lobby without a word. You knew you weren’t doing a good job of hiding your emotions, but right then it didn’t matter. It was too much, to have every aspect of your future in the hands of another. 
As if dealing with Malphas wasn’t enough, when you turned the next corner beside Rob, there stood Kotomi. Her heels clicked against the floor, her nose buried in a patient file. Like nothing had changed. Maybe she wouldn’t look up. A single word from her perfectly colored lips and you feared your already tenuous self-control would snap.
“Hi, Dr. Ishida,” Rob said. 
God damnit, Rob!
Her eyes shot up and widened as they landed on your face. The rhythmic tap of her shoes halted as she froze, lowering the still-open file.
“Rob, Dr. Waras… what are you doing here?” she said with a cautious smile. “Are you back?”
With Malphas, you had a damned good reason to keep your cool. He controlled your career, your future. If he perceived you poorly, the consequences were dire. Kotomi was a different story.
“No,” you growled, glaring daggers at her. “Thanks to you.”
Her face fell, tears gathering in her pretty eyes and shoulders slumping as she looked away. Twisted superiority filled you, a strange sense of pride at being able to dismantle her normal cheer so easily. She was pitiful, so weak for just a few words to destroy her so violently. 
The woman clearly didn’t know how to handle conflict - first during the fire, and now today, she somehow made it this far without developing the skills to handle a crisis. Life must’ve treated her tenderly, but that was fine. Karma’s a bitch and you didn’t mind serving as its tool if it meant you could show everyone how useless she was.
You paused at the direction of your thoughts. They echoed a darkness you saw in your patients regularly, a vindictive pleasure derived from others’ pain. 
What the hell is wrong with me? Making someone else feel bad shouldn’t make me feel good!
Before anyone had a chance to react, you turned away and headed for the next security gate, each step faster than the last as if you could outrun your confusion and self-loathing. Rob followed a beat behind, but he had the good sense to keep a respectful distance other than buzzing you through the gates. Smart man.
You couldn’t leave fast enough and paid little attention to the passing beige halls. Harsh words had never been difficult for you to summon, but rarely did you speak them aloud, and never before had doing so brought you such satisfaction. 
Where did that come from?
Somehow you made it back to your car unscathed, without bearing the weight of untold judgemental stares. Practice trained you how to block them out, anyway. 
Yet no defense blocked your own judgement.
Untinted windows did nothing to hide your stricken face as you sat in the parking lot and stifled sobs. This was stupid, Kotomi deserved it! She’d stabbed you in the back and hadn’t bothered to apologize!
And yet… Even if she deserved it, that didn’t change the fact that you enjoyed tearing her down. You enjoyed watching her smile shatter, her joy wilt into pain. Reveled in the knowledge that you were, in fact, better than her.
Am I, though? Am I better?
A buzz in your pocket broke the cycle of self-hatred as an alert lit the screen of your phone. This better be good, you were in no mood for more bullshit.
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Oh, for the love of… are you fucking kidding me?
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What was the purpose of this conversation? Idle chatter? Who cared if the sunrise was pretty, there were bigger things to worry about.
In a strange sense, it almost made you miss Kotomi. Her chatter never required thought out replies, instead providing a break during which your mind could wander. She helped you fit in, made you feel like less of a freak. Like maybe, just maybe, you actually belonged somewhere. You didn’t tell her much about your past, but it’d been nice to have the option. Look at you now, your only companionship offered by a lunatic.
Does it make me a lunatic to enjoy our conversations?
Probably. 
Another choked sob slipped from your lips, the pit of your stomach sinking into the floor mat. Instead of changing the face of medicine, you were a scapegoat. A martyr, sacrificed on the altar of society’s paranoia. You were meant for more than this, you’d spend years building the scaffolding for your success.
And for what?
The lit screen in your hand called out for a response. Dwelling on this black mood didn’t help, you needed to shake it off. Keep moving. Push it aside and focus. You’d been through worse, right?
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You sighed and wiped the tears from your eyes. It didn’t make any sense to go to an insane murderer for advice, but who else did you have? Everyone you thought was an ally stood within the nearby building, probably laughing at you and cracking jokes about your suspension. 
Who could blame you for turning to the one person who cared enough to ask something as mundane as if you’d seen the damned sunrise? Besides, who would he possibly tell your secrets to?
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You sniffled and a twisted note of laughter slipped from your lips. It was nice, for someone to take your side and not blame the entire fiasco on you. A rare luxury, having a friend.
Even if he was a murderous psychopath.
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You stared at the words for a full minute, stunned beyond coherent thought at his offer. If you were chatting with anyone else, it might seem like a joke. But with V?
He’s dead serious.
You cringed. Poor choice of words. Talking to V, you couldn’t afford to let your guard down even for an instant. It was foolish to talk to him at all, let along make jokes. Had you seriously just thought of him as a friend? What was wrong with you?
Get your shit together!
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A chill raced down your spine. What was happening to you, to seek solace from him? You’d be better off if you never answered him again.
But somehow, you already knew you would.
—-V—-
V sighed happily and leaned back, scratching at his scalp for the hundredth time that morning. The change was necessary, but damn did it itch!
“What a fruitful exchange,” he murmured. 
An encouraging sign, that you opened up to him willingly in such a way. It showed a level of trust or desperation he hadn’t been aware of. He didn’t care which; either suited his plans.
As long as you came to rely on him, the reasons didn’t matter.
Still. Someone had hurt you. A female, one whom you worked with. A fellow doctor, perhaps?
No…
A wicked grin twisted his lips. Of course, the Asian woman from his painting. How perfect, he already longed to skin her alive. Now, perhaps you’d join him in doing so.
The image sent heat rushing to his core, the first flickers of lust stirring in his gut. With the right provocation, no doubt you’d fall into his grasp with a smile. 
He couldn’t wait.
Long fingers slid under knitted fabric to scratch his scalp yet again. Perhaps a haircut would’ve been easier, he truly despised wearing hats. They made his head too warm and he’d yet to find one that didn’t make him itch as if ants crawled between the obsidian strands still tickling at his neck.
“Stop scratching, you’ll only make it worse,” Vergil commented.  The artist shot a glare at the pale-haired man and scratched just a bit more. He’d satisfy any urge he pleased and none of his friends could stop him.
“You look good, Van Gogh. Very edgy,” Griffon added. 
With an annoyed growl, V tore the beanie from his head and threw it at the damned demonic bird. The scrap of black fabric sailed through the air and landed harmlessly, six feet from Griffon’s perch on the television, sending both man and bird into hysterical laughter.
Well, Griffon’s laughter was hysterical. Vergil’s was more of a dry chuckle.
“You’re both insufferable,” he muttered. All their teasing made his fingers tingle with need, visions of red plastered on the walls of his mind. Time to go out and leave another message for you. Maybe you’d notice this one.
---Reader---
The next morning dawned cold and bright, the winter sun shining through the thin curtains covering your bedroom window. Even with the heater on, a chill teased at your toes and fingers as you huddled in the mound of blankets. What time was it, were you late or-
Oh.
And there it was, that heavy stone that resided in your chest. You groaned and tugged the quilt over your face, hiding from the world in a futile attempt to return to ignorance. Maybe you could just stay in bed all day, why bother getting up? Not like you had anywhere to be.
But your bladder had other ideas, and moments later the icy wooden floor dragged a hiss from your lips. If only you could use the toilet without surrendering the blankets… 
You did your business quickly and headed to the kitchen. Hot coffee might help, and you’d need to check your email at some point. Malphas might have news.
And V might want to chat…
A sharp knock on the door pulled your focus away from the coffee machine before you could ponder the thought. You weren’t expecting company, who in the world would show up unannounced?
You added three healthy scoops of brown powder and closed the lid, pressing the button to start brewing. Only once the telltale sound of water heating reached your ears did you approach the door, peeking through the eye hole to get a preview.
You froze, the breath escaping you at the sight of blue uniforms. 
Cops?! V, what did you do?
Possibilities raced through your mind. How much did they know? Would it be foolish to try denying any wrongdoing? Maybe you should run, go into hiding. At the very least, you might avoid prison. 
No, don’t be stupid.
You pursed your lips and forced your trembling hands to unlock the door. No point trying to escape the inevitable. Whatever they wanted with you, you weren’t going to hide from it. 
“Can I help you?”
Two blue-clad figures stood in the dim hallway. Kind faces, non-threatening posture. Was that a good sign or a bad sign? Fuck.
“Good morning. Are you Y/N Waras?” the larger figure asked.
A man, tall and broad shouldered. The uniform did nothing to hide his powerful physique, nor did it conceal his dominant posture. White hair brushed at the collar of his light blue shirt, perhaps a past trauma shocked him enough to change it? You’d heard of the phenomenon but never seen it.
“Yes, I am. What’s going on?”
“Ma’am, you’re gonna have to come with us,” the shorter figure replied with a southern drawl.
Still quite tall compared to most, the young woman had a spray of freckles dusting her nose and cheeks under a pair of stylish glasses. Bouncy brown curls gathered at the back of her head in a messy ponytail, and hints of tattoos teased at the edge of her sleeves. 
The man shot her a look. “Don’t be rude, Nico. I’m Officer Tony Redgrave, this is Officer Nicoletta Goldstein. We can talk inside if you prefer, Doctor.”
So I’m not under arrest? What the hell is going on?
“Of course, come in. It’s a bit of a mess,” you commented, widening the gap so the two strange people could enter. “I’ll get some coffee for you.”
As the two officers settled in at your small dining table, you busied your clammy hands with preparing three fresh mugs of the bitter fluid, grabbing the sugar and cream as you brought the drinks out. Having a task always helped calm your nerves, and by the time the two muttered a thank you the worst of the anxiety had faded. 
“So… what’s this about?” you asked as you joined them, your own mug in hand.
The two exchanged a look, the man shrugging and leaning back to take a sip of his coffee. A clear indication of seniority, for him to grant permission for her to speak. 
“Well you know ‘bout the murders, right?”
You almost laughed. “Of course.”
“And you gotta know the leading suspect is the escapee,” she continued without pausing for an answer.
“V.”
“That’s the one. We thought you might be able to help out, bein’ his doctor and all.”
You sipped your coffee, pondering how to respond. It might seem strange if you refused, especially given your lack of excuses. It wasn’t like you didn’t have time. Damn Malphas, he probably sent them here in the first place. As if suspending you wasn’t enough…
“What sort of help are you looking for, exactly?”
At that, Officer Redgrave leaned forward. Up close, it was easy to see the authority in his expression, the knowledge that what he said would be heard. Arrogant and handsome. A dangerous combination.
“Anything you got, honestly. Insight, patterns, any habits or places he might’ve mentioned during treatment. Couple folks at the station want to bring you in as a full-blown consultant, but that takes a lot of paperwork.”
Another sip, bitter fluid masking the nerves dancing through your body. You couldn’t deny it sounded interesting. Who knew what you might learn about your favorite patient? Would they give you access to their files, to the crime scenes? 
Shivers raced down your spine. 
What if they find out I’ve been in contact with him? I’d be an accessory, at the very least. 
But the easiest way to make sure they didn’t find out was to know what they were doing. You folded your hands on the table and forced your voice to be steady, swallowing your fears as you spoke.
“I’ll need to see a warrant, just to establish the legality of my cooperation. After that, I’m at your disposal.”
No more boredom, no more endless hours watching stupid TV you didn’t care about. Something to do, at last. Yet the risks couldn’t be ignored. You’d need to be careful.
“Got it right here, they mentioned you played by the book,” the man said, pulling a sheet of paper from his coat pocket and handing it to you for inspection.
Indeed, a warrant for any and all files or information regarding V. 
All? So… I’d be breaking the law if I kept his sketch of me hidden. 
Internally, you panicked at the realization. All your careful little lies crumbling to dust around you. By this time next month, maybe you’d already be in prison. At the very least, you’d probably lose your medical license by then. Ten years, wasted. Everything you worked so hard to achieve, sacrificed so much to gain, gone.
Not yet. There’s still a chance.
“Everything seems to be in order. How should I begin?” you replied carefully, schooling your face into neutrality. 
The young woman tapped at her phone for a moment as the man waited, drumming his fingers on the table and sending an apologetic glance your way. You didn’t mind, the delay gave you more time to think, time to plot your next move. 
You. Plotting. Ugh.
“Here it is, take a look. This photo was taken at the last crime scene,” the young brunette said, holding out the slim device for your perusal. 
Red, red everywhere. An ocean of it, covering all manner of common household furniture. You zoomed in and gasped, spotting the first limb arranged on the table. A hand, feminine and dainty. Fingers curled to mirror the hand beside it, forming a twisted heart shape. 
What was…
Oh. 
Through the hands, a particularly gruesome image met your eyes. An armless couple, sitting on a couch drenched in their own blood. Judging by their agonized expressions, he’d severed the limbs while they were still alive. Probably where all the blood came from. A dark void lied in each chest, right where the heart sits. In their laps, the organ in question. If you remembered basic anatomy right, the man held the woman’s heart, and vice versa.
You cleared your throat, pursing your lips as you handed back the phone. “How long ago was that?”
“Call came in at six thirty seven this morning, right at sunrise.”
Holy… is that why he asked if I saw the sunrise?!
A typhoon of conflicting emotions swirled within you. Confusion, disgust, curiosity, revulsion… chaos.
What a strange duality, to both be horrified by what he created as well as understand his reasons for creating it, at least partially. The image held a macabre sort of appeal, like a sculpture in a garden. If the man didn’t use human bodies as his medium, no doubt he’d be critically acclaimed. What a waste.
“So, Doctor… any thoughts?” Officer Redgrave asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Well… it does seem like his work,” you began slowly. This was extremely dangerous ground, you had to tread carefully or you’d be ruined. “It’s tough to gain any new insight on such a small screen, but in our sessions V was always focused on the meaning of his work. He never created something without a deeper message. I think if you find that message, you might find him.”
That seemed safe. Something relatively obvious, no new information for them to misuse or misinterpret. But was it enough?
“So, you need to see it in person?” he asked.
God damn it.
“I may be able to offer more insight, yes,” you replied carefully, handing Officer Nicoletta her phone back. 
The two officers shared a look, one you didn’t catch the meaning of. What an odd pair they made, hopefully you could use that to your advantage. 
“I’ll get the paperwork started when we get back,” the woman said with a flash of resignation. Poor girl, doing all the grunt work…
“It’ll take a day or two, but we’ll be in touch. Heh, don’t leave town,” Tony said with a smirk.
The young woman rolled her eyes and stood, extending a hand to shake yours. “Don’t mind him, he’s just like that.”
“What? Saying stuff like that’s the best part of the job!” he exclaimed. 
It was almost enough to make you laugh. Almost. 
Not until the door closed on their retreating backs did you dare to breathe, allowing your true emotions to show at last. You wondered what it might be like, living without a mask. To not hide yourself away and portray the person others expected you to be. Would it be easier, or more difficult? 
It didn’t matter. This was the life you had, there was no changing that. You simply needed to make the best of it, keep moving forward. What was the saying, when you’re going through Hell, keep going?
No, Hell was for children. This was just life.
_________
You guys NEED to check out this amazing comic by @monochromatic-echo​, this is now my headcanon for how V figured out his new hairstyle! Thank you so much!
~~~~Next Chapter~~~~
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hanhan156 · 5 years
Text
Gymmstein
I have no other explanations for this than @tillscars brilliant post. Thanks for the idea.
Richard had promised to Schneider and Ollie that he’d attend to a yoga class with them at their gym shift. It ends up though that listening to a calm woman voice from speakers and trying to concentrate on his own breathing aren’t really his things after all.
Fortunately, Paul will make it sure that his fellow guitarist’s gym time doesn’t end up being as dull as he thought it would have been at first.
“Inhale 1…2…3...4…exhale 1…2…3…4,” an exaggerated calm woman voice from the recording repeated. From the three men - sitting on the freezing floor, in impossible positions - one of them wasn’t really convinced.
“Imagine that you are in your dream place, in your sanctuary. You remain calm, everything is well. As you proceed, you start to inhale 1…2…3…4…”
Fuck this, how could it be anyhow possible to remain calm while my legs are hurting like hell. Richard had been attending to Ollie’s and Schneider’s stupid yoga class just for fun, because he didn’t know what else he could do at the gym. Now it seemed like it was a really bad idea in the end. The cross-legged position wasn’t really the most convenient and if they had to lay down on the mattress, he would end up - without a question - falling asleep. He didn’t really get why his fellow bandmembers praised this so much.
“It’s gonna be lots of fun, you’ll definitely like it! Besides, it will help you with all the stress, I assure you,” Schneider had tried to convince their lead guitarist before.
Richard opened his eyes a bit, just to make sure that his friends were still concentrating on listening to the artificial, tranquil voice from the speakers. At the same time, he was wondering why on earth he signed up for this in the first place.
“Next, we will do an upward dog pose, but first, we have to be prepared for it. Let your inner spiritual energy flow freely and inhale 1…2…3…4…”
Sorry lady, but I’m not in the same lengths right now with you and your spiritual energy. Richard wanted to get out of here as swiftly as he could. He made sure that the others were concentrating on their breathing and without saying anything, he sneaked out of the yoga room, trying to close the door softly so he wouldn’t arise the attention of his fellow bandmembers. He didn’t really want to explain to Ollie and Schneider - the devoted yoga enthusiasts - why he wanted to escape in the middle of the exercise they considered so precious.
An upward dog position… he giggled himself still while wandering around the gym. The name of the position reminded him of something entirely different physical activity than yoga.
In the darkest possible corner, he saw Till who was elbowing a punching bag, yelling loudly every time he hit. Their singer was fond of boxing and weightlifting and did them every time they were at the gym – and of course, loyal to his own style, without bothering to put any clothes on. At first, they all had laughed at their singer’s urge to exercise naked, but in the end, nobody questioned it anymore. In some grotesque way, semipublic nudity seemed like his natural form. Richard didn’t want to participate in the naked exercise though, so he tried to avoid the eager boxer as best as he could. Till had tried to convince Richard that it was actually much more comfortable to exercise naked - and his reasoning for it was that you didn’t have to bother about the sweaty clothing or anything else. “It makes you to feel so free,” he had said. Still, Richard preferred to do laundry than to train nude with their singer. He wasn’t so much of a “nature’s child” as his friend after all.
While proceeding in the gym, Richard saw Flake on his infamous treadmill, deeply in his own thoughts. Nobody would ever think that a man so slim would enjoy his time at the gym - and to be precise, he wasn’t fond of weightlifting or any other “manly” stuff. Instead, he always put his favorite gadget to the maximum speed and jumped right into it when it was on the run. Richard really didn’t see what the point of walking towards nowhere was, but the keyboardist - with his headphones now tightly on his ears - seemed to have a time of his life with the mindless jogging. Flake had told that in his free time he liked to listen to classical music opposite to their own band’s heavy tunes. Richard could now only hear their keyboardist’s humming which resembled a tiny bit of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons and seeing him moving his hands like a conductor at the same time. Flake was so deeply concentrated on his own fun that Richard couldn’t help it but to think, would his bandmate be sucked into a black hole if he continued his exercise for too long.
Finally - after all the marveling of his bandmates’ gym activities - Richard reached his destination, the dressing room. He sat down on a bench and looked at the clock on the wall - still one hour left from their shift. I’m definitely not going back to yoga anymore, so how on earth I could pass all this time left.
He was moving around restlessly, scrolling his phone occasionally, but there wasn’t actually anything interesting there. Eventually, he sighed and put the phone away and tried his best to find out something to do. Richard wasn’t really a person who could spend an hour in his own thoughts, doing nothing, so this was quite a challenging situation for him.
Right in front of where he was standing was an entire wall covered by a huge mirror - it was technically impossible to avoid staring at yourself from it. Richard scrutinized his familiar features with a concerned look on his face. Somehow, aging was bothering him a bit sometimes. It was tough to admit that he wasn’t so young anymore and it was more and more visible from his looks as well. He felt like with every passing year he got 5 new wrinkles as a birthday gift, and he had noticed that he had to dye his hair more often to hide the natural greying color. Nobody had ever mentioned anything, and it didn’t really matter, but yet, somehow, getting old concerned him now and then. But more than his face, Richard was worried about getting a bit of weight. He turned sideways and patted his belly - it was difficult for himself to admit that it was now more visible than 10 years ago when he wasn’t feeling uneasy at all about performing topless. But the merciless truth was that every single living organism on this planet had to age, and unfortunately, he wasn’t an exception. It was totally understandable that when being at his 50’s, it was completely fine to prefer relaxing to arduous exercising - especially when they were touring or recording.
While thoughts fixed on his own image Richard didn’t see there was a figure approaching behind him from the shadows.
“BOO!” a familiar voice shouted, squeezing him from the sides at the same time.
Richard startled so much that he almost hit himself to the lockers. “Heilige Scheisse, you scared me shitless,” he said, turning to face Paul, who almost had given him an untimely heart attack. “Don’t ever do that again…”
The other man smirked. He was happy when he had gotten his friend off guard. “Sorry, I just couldn’t resist while you looked so concentrated.” And hot, he almost wanted to add, but managed to control it in the end. “I’m surprised to see you here, because I thought you were supposed to attend to the yoga with Schneider and Ollie.”
Richard shrugged his shoulders, looking a bit awkward. “Let’s just say that it wasn’t really my thing after all.”
“I see. Honestly, I would have fallen asleep if I was there. I really don’t get the fuss around it.”
Suddenly, the “upward dog pose” reappeared into Richard’s mind, making him to chuckle slightly. “Yeah, it was pretty dull to be honest. But may I ask, why are you here, lurking in the shadows?” He could only wonder how long his fellow guitarist had been stalking his intimate moment.
“I’m just bored as well. Besides, I try to avoid nude Till as best as I can.”
They both laughed. “Yeah, I definitely don’t want to be involved in his naked weightlifting anyhow,” Richard agreed.
Paul was being a bit restless. Like his friend, he liked to have some action. “So, what are you up to? We still have some time left and to be honest, I really don’t want to just goof around. Now when we have a chance, it would be nice to do some exercising.”
“Do you have anything in your mind?” the other man asked.
They were thinking for a while when Paul came up with something. “Hey, I have an idea which both of us will definitely like!”
“…okay, which is?” Hopefully it’s not Zumba or anything else as horrifying.
“I want to challenge you!” Paul almost yelled, boyish excitement in his voice.
Richard wasn’t as eager as his friend about this “challenge”. “What kind of…challenge are you talking about?”
“We could do some simple exercises like push-ups and stuff, and in the end, the one who has been doing more, is the winner. It’s gonna be so much fun, you’ll definitely like it!”
I’ve heard that somewhere before. Richard couldn’t make up anything better, so he was unable to say no even though he was a bit suspicious. “Okay, maybe we could at least give it a try.”
Paul clapped his hands together, still smirking like a lunatic. Seriously, will that grin ever fade away from his face? “Wunderbar! Let’s do it then.”
Richard looked at his slightly terrified face one last time from the mirror before he followed Paul back to the gym.
On purpose, they took the farthest possible corner from the naked Till, who was now proceeding with weightlifting, with even louder yelling than before. The disturbing soundtrack of the gym was now a mixture of Till’s screams and the jingling of his barbell.
Paul brought them a couple of mattresses. “Okay, I’ll start,” he said, looking for something from his phone at the same time. “We’ll start by doing planks and the winner is the one who can stay longer.”
“Okay... But can you at least tell me, what does the winner of this challenge of yours get in the end?”
“Don’t bother yourself too much about it, let’s just have some fun now,” Paul answered, with a bit of teasing in his tone.
Richard couldn’t think about the vague answer for very long when unexpectedly, the other guitarist put some too familiar tunes from his phone. “Seriously, from all of the songs from the world you chose Du hast? Haven’t we listened to our own music enough already?”
“In my opinion, it suits to gym very well, or do you prefer listening to Till’s mellifluous training vocalizations instead?”
“Okay, okay, you’re right, but only this time. I’ll choose the next one.”
They put a timer on from Richard’s phone and there they were, two world-famous Rammstein guitarists doing planks, Du hast playing loud in the background. It was difficult for Richard to concentrate while he was giggling so much.
“Imagine if somebody would break in and would see what we are doing…”
“Would be pretty interesting indeed,” Paul answered without noting the other man’s comment so much. Planking was serious business for him.
“Then they’d think that we are so proud of ourselves that we even listen to our own music in our free time.” Richard could already see the trashy headlines in his head: “Click here for the pictures of the two cocky Rammstein cuties, training together, listening to their infamous song, Du hast!! Can’t they just get enough of themselves already?”
The planking seemed to continue forever and forever, and Richard felt like his arms and legs were already trembling while Paul was remaining so still, that permanent smirk on his face. His eyes were fixed on Richard’s all the time.
“FUCK!!” the other man finally yelled and to Paul’s joy, collapsed back to the mattress.
“So, seems like we have the first winner then,” Richard could hear the triumphant voice in front of him. He didn’t even bother to look at Paul’s face because he was so annoyed to even hear the pride of his friend.  “1-0 for me.”
“Yeah, thanks for letting me know, like I wouldn’t have figured it out anyway else,” Richard said, bitterness in his voice. He hated to lose.
“Just wanted to remind you. But, I’m so gentle that I allow you to choose the next exercise and music, as I promised.”
Even though losing troubled him a tiny bit, Richard tried not to think about it too much - at least he was happy that they could change from their own music finally. Till was still yelling in the background so he was trying to be as quick as he could and in no time, they had their next soundtrack: some random upbeat 80’s music. In Richard’s opinion, the cheesy retro melodies suited the situation much better than their own songs - or maybe he had just too many memories from their way too familiar pieces.
“We’ll do push-ups.” He seriously hoped that Paul wouldn’t be staring at him again all the time.
With the energetic music playing in the background they were once again exercising face to face. Richard was wondering could it be possible that Paul had come even closer to him this time. The disturbing gaze was still there, but Richard tried not to bother it too much - he really wanted to win this time. He had always been good at doing push-ups so he had high hopes for this. In the end, Richard was actually much faster than his friend who seemed to be focused on entirely different things than into their dumb little exercise.
When the time finally ran out, they both laid down back to the mattress, heads almost clashing to each other. “So, I guess we have 1-1 now,” Richard announced, trying to sound proud through his heavy panting.
“At least for now. Next one, crunches,” Paul answered quickly, ready to move to the other set. I’m not gonna lose to you, verdammt.
The timer went on once again, but it was impossible for Paul to do anything when his training partner started a constant chanting: “Tier, Fleisch, Tier, Fleisch, Tier…”
“Reesh, what the hell…” Paul cracked up completely and was unable to rise from the ground when his abs hurt so much already from laughter.
“Shut up, it helps me to concentrate and to count how many I’ve done already. Fleisch, Tier…” Richard continued. He was pleased that he was able to disturb Paul who had made him to feel so uneasy earlier.
Paul tried to gather himself and continued doing crunches very slowly. “It’s just a bit disturbing when you’re repeating ‘animal’ and ‘flesh’ so loud. Seriously…”
“So, whose idea was this whole ‘challenge thing’ in the first place? Tier, Fleisch, Tier…”
“Okay, okay…”
Paul tried his best to catch up but failed in the end. It seemed liked even though how goofy it had sounded, the chanting had been effective.
“2-1”, Richard said and smirked.
Now I really have to improve my performance, Paul decided.
They continued with squats, step-ups and several little exercises, and in the end, they had a tie. Paul didn’t want to admit out loud that he was exhausted as hell, but having the same points as his friend released the adrenaline boost inside him which he really needed now.
“Okay, you’ll choose the last one,” Richard said. He was so pleased with winning this round - he had barely managed to do wall sit just a couple of seconds longer than his companion.
“Let’s do side plank.”
For some reason unknown, Richard had a bad feeling about this, but still, he was too stubborn to say no or to suggest anything else.
It was evident that Paul had practiced this - actually, he didn’t seem to have any difficulties at all, while Richard tried to hide his hard time. He was barely able to hold himself still. Richard assured himself that after this “Paul’s oh-so-magnificent challenge” he would never, ever do planks anymore. And what was irritating him the most was that his old wrist problem was reminding of itself just now, at the worst possible moment.
“Scheisse…” Richard mumbled himself, looking at the floor while the other guitarist had his eyes once again fixed on his. Paul sent him a blow kiss and said in a disgusting sweet tone: “Wie geht’s, mein Liebling?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
They were holding there for a while, when suddenly Richard couldn’t take it anymore. He really didn’t want to injure his wrist so maybe he just had to allow Paul to win - but only for this time.
He collapsed to the mattress and closed his eyes, swearing silently himself. Damn it…
When Paul realized what had just happened, he stood up immediately, and started to jump around the other man, cheering at the same time: “YESSSSSS, WHO’S THE WINNER, HUH??? SAY IT OUT LOUD, WHO’S THE WINNER!!”
“Okay, okay, I know you’re proud as hell of yourself, but you won only because I didn’t want to break my wrist. It was just pure luck. Don’t forget that I was much faster doing push-ups and crunches than you.”
Paul looked at the other man, turning his head to the side and acting like he was suddenly pouting when he didn’t get the reaction he wanted from his friend. “Are you not gonna even congratulate me?”
Richard sighed. “Congratulations then. What do you want now?” He was a bit concerned about what Paul wanted as his prize, but he tried to soothe himself. Well, if I can get out of this by buying him a crate of beer or offering him a dinner, it shouldn’t be so bad after all.
But Paul didn’t want to go easy on his friend when he had - at least once in this lifetime - won. Usually, being the second guitarist, Paul didn’t get the full attention in their concerts, so this time, he wanted to enjoy his victory the fullest.
Richard couldn’t see his friend’s mischievous look when he approached him so quickly and started to tickle him. Paul was enjoying the fact that his friend couldn’t stand tickling and used it ruthlessly.
“Fuck you...this is…unfair…” Richard tried to sound annoyed, but his laughter - which almost resembled screaming already - didn’t really sound convincing. His friend’s misery made Paul to continue his action even harder.
Their weird combat - a mixture of wrestling and tickling - seemed to last forever. They had suddenly transformed into two 5-year-old kids again, fighting over a piece of candy or something as silly. Richard was just hoping that Paul would get fed up with this soon. At least they both were tired as hell already.
When it little by little started to look like their stupid combat would finally come to its end, to Richard’s utter surprise, Paul somehow managed to get on top of him, even though being a lot smaller man. He pushed Richard’s arms against the mattress and sat on his belly with his full weight. Technically, it was impossible for Richard to move anywhere - he was completely locked right there. He could now only lay under the other man, arms spread, being in a submissive position – it was quite disturbing.
They both were still panting, and Richard couldn’t really get what his friend was up to now. They just kept staring at each other before Richard managed to say, totally confused: “…is there something wrong with my face or what’s going on?”
“Absolutely nothing is wrong with your face.”
“…then why are you looking at me like that? And it would be nice to be able to move.”
“That’s out of question, I’m afraid.”
“And why, may I ask?”
“Because I won, don’t you remember? It means that I can decide now, what I want as my prize,” Paul whispered right into the other man’s ear, nibbling it at the same time. “And you’d definitely make a nice concubine, I have to say.”
Richard gulped loudly. He didn’t want to admit that this was actually pretty enjoyable, so he just kept acting like he was still annoyed. “…okay Paul, enough jokes already, what on earth do you want now?”
There was a brief silent moment while Richard couldn’t read anything from Paul’s face - he was being almost in a dream-like state. Paul leaned forward, and without any prior warning, he pressed his lips on Richard’s. The first touch was tender, like testing how does the kissing feel, but as they carried on, their slight smooching went into a more passionate level – and Paul was still pressing his friend down to the mattress. Richard really wouldn’t have wanted to admit that being submissive to Paul was actually nice for a change, even though it had been a bit awkward at first. The only thing he could do now was to answer to the kisses as best as he could. So, if this is what you want, then you should have it, damn it. The world around turned invisible for a while, like there was only they now.
Unfortunately, the magical moment didn’t have a chance to last for very long.
They didn’t at first hear the awkward cough behind them which was followed by a voice so familiar: “Es tut mir wirklich Leit, mein Herren.”
Paul got so scared when he heard the sarcastic voice that he immediately stood up, and stared at their intruder completely horrified, cheeks in flames. Richard was still lying on the floor - he froze completely so he didn’t even manage to sit up. It was a bit similar feeling when their teacher had busted him smoking in the schoolyard in elementary school decades ago.
Schneider was laughing when he saw the absurd sight in front of him. Behind him was Ollie who didn’t say anything, but looked slightly amused as well. “You two remind me of my kids when I once caught them stealing from a cookie jar which I had hidden in our kitchen cupboard.” He moved his eyes to the man lying still on the floor. “So, this was why you escaped from our yoga class, Reesh?”
Now finally, Richard managed to sit up at least. “Well…I…”
Schneider shook his head and gave a laugh. He couldn’t be even mad; this was way too hilarious to be true. “Just wanted to remind you that the gym shift ends in 5 minutes, and we have to start soon our rehearsals, but maybe it doesn’t matter so much if you were already planning to stay here and continue your…stuff.”
“…a…ha” Paul managed to form a voice from his mouth which resembled distantly a word.
Very soon, Flake and Till - still naked - joined them. “Was ist denn los?” Flake looked seriously concerned because he didn’t have any clue what was going on. Till had an instinct what was this all about and he didn’t say anything - just smiled himself. “And why is Reesh on the floor, do you need help or something?” their keyboardist asked.
Richard gulped and answered: “Alles ist gut…” Then he finally stood up, acting like everything was completely normal even though he felt a bit dizzy. “Yeah, we should…go.”
To his fortune, Till and Flake didn’t dare to ask more - instead, they hurried to the dressing room. Schneider gave the one last look to the busted men before he joined his other bandmates with Ollie.
Paul offered his hand to Richard’s. They both looked at each other and tried to hold back their laughter. Finally, they managed to proceed and follow the others, hand in hand. “Okay, that was probably…the most interesting gym time of my life, I have to admit,” Richard whispered to his friend.
“Anytime you’re bored, just ask from me and we’ll figure out something,” Paul said and winked. They stopped right there and looked at each other with utter adoration. Richard turned his head to the side, eyes fixed on Paul’s. He opened his mouth and was about to say something, but to his harm, he was interrupted by Schneider from the dressing room’s door: “C’mon you disgusting lovebirds, hurry up! Rehearsals are starting so we’d better keep going. We don’t have the whole day!”
They both started to run - to upset the others was the last thing they wanted now after the embarrassing episode. They had a lot of explaining to do later for each other and for their bandmates, but right now, they didn’t really mind about it so much.
“I’ll tell you later,” Richard said to Paul and pressed a light kiss on his forehead.
Schneider saw the act from the distance and shook his head, mumbling himself: “Those two are impossible…”
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wulfrann · 5 years
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AFTG Check, Please! AU
Ok so I had this idea a week ago because I’d read something about Andrew getting into baking to satisfy his sweet tooth cravings, and now I can’t think of anything else. So here we go.
(PS: If you don’t know anything about the incredible webcomic that is OMG Check, Please!, do yourself a favor and go read it.)
(PPS: No one is one character, I just took what I wanted for x character and left the rest aside.)
_
The Foxes are the same as in the books except they play hockey and live in a frat house.
(NB: Hockey is a mixed sport in this AU thank you very much)
(NB: I don’t know how many people there are in a hockey team and frankly I don’t care. I’m here to have fun, not to be accurate.)
_
The hockey team has a frat house instead of a tower, and it’s called The Haus. The few larger bedrooms are shared, the smaller ones are not.
Andrew and Aaron share the attic. They have a mini-fridge for Andrew’s ice-cream and booze, even though there’s already a huge fridge in the kitchen. Andrew likes to climb out the window to smoke on the roof.
Renee and Allison also share a room, and so do Matt & Seth. (Matt does spend a fair share of his nights in Dan’s room, though. The both of them have the most “relationship fines” out of the whole team.)
Kevin technically shares his room with Nicky even though it’s small, except Nicky actually really lives off-campus with his boyfriend Erik. (I lied. They’re the ones who have the most fines. The amount of pet names they can use in just daily conversations is disgusting.)
Neil… sleeps in the basement. Officially he has a dorm room, but he’s never even set a foot near the dorms.
Is he even enrolled? Yes. Where does he hide his bed during the day? He sleeps on a camping mattress. What about his dorm room?? John, his never-roommate, was disappointed until he realised that it meant he could have parties whenever he wanted.
_
Kevin hasn’t been that comfortable with contact during matches since he left the Ravens.
When Neil joins and he starts training him at the crack of dawn, Neil makes a deal with him: he’ll follow Kevin’s instructions without complaining if Kevin accepts to practice checking with him.
_
Andrew has a baking channel on youtube. He got into baking a long time ago and kept watching baking videos while thinking he could do better, so one day he just. started his own channel.
He always looks bored in his videos and never takes Q&As seriously. No one’s ever really sure if he’s actually joking.
(“What got you into baking?” “I wanted to be taller and thought eating yeast and egg whites would speed up my growth. So far the results are mixed.”)
He’s not big or anything, but the fans he does have love him. His videos are always well-made and well-framed and the recipe’s clear, and there’s always something in the background of his videos - be it a knife that’s obviously not made for cooking just sitting there, or a passed-out Kevin still holding onto the bottle of vodka from last night.
(There’s a fair share of his fans that are just here to pick up on those odd details and ponder theories about who he really is. The leading hypothesis thus far is that Andrew’s lying about the hockey team and is actually in some kind of cult.)
He rarely talks about hockey or his life in general, except to roast or complain about something or someone, mainly Kevin. His twitter however is full vague posts about his life, but never clear enough that anyone who doesn’t actually know him can figure out what exactly he’s talking about. If Andrew’s bored, and at any moment of the day chances are that he is, then you can be sure he’s typing away on his phone somewhere, complaining about campus coffee or how exactly stupid his teammates are.
No one on the team except Renee knows his twitter handle. This of course doesn’t prevent Andrew from vaguing about her, which she takes in stride.
(No one on the team knowns Renee has a twitter. They’re all convinced she’s, like, anti-social media apps for some reason. They’re not exactly wrong, because Renee does avoid getting involved in any of the unnecessary drama those apps stir, but she likes to watch when she feels like indulging in some form of mindless entertainment.)
_
Neil used to figure skate in the Raven’s junior club when he was a kid, and he still loves it to death. He turned to hockey after Mary’s death though because he needed some way to be on the ice to cope, and was surprised to find out that he likes it. A lot. There’s something about being part of a team that - well. Anyway, it wasn’t supposed to last. He planned to leave at the end of the year - that is, until he got recruited by Wymack and none other than Kevin day, who was in the Ravens’ hockey junior team, and, well. Off to Palmetto he went.
He doesn’t get Andrew at first (doesn’t even want to after Columbia), but one night he stumbles upon Andrew filming himself as he bakes some kind of pie in the Haus’ kitchen. They both agree not to say anything, since Neil’s not even supposed to be in the Haus at this hour, but it doesn’t take long for Neil to find Andrew’s channel on one of the Library’s computers the day after that.
It confuses him more than anything, to be honest, but it also makes Andrew appear more, well, human, and Neil’s curiosity gets the better of him.
He starts looking for Andrew whenever he disappears and usually finds him filming himself making some kind of pastry or another. It gets to the point where Andrew’s just used to having him here while he films, and decides that he might as well help while he’s here.
So Neil starts popping up in Andrew’s video. Oh, it’s nothing at first, just a hand here and there, entering the frame just long enough to pass something to Andrew. But then he starts making comments that Andrew doesn’t edit out and even responds to, sometimes.
(“Isn’t that a little too much chocolate? I thought Kevin wanted you to eat healthier.” “If Kevin wants to eat nothing but grass, that’s his problem. I like real food.” “By which you mean sweets. Are you sure you don’t have a sugar addiction?” “Are you sure you don’t have a death wish?”)
The only other people who know about Andrew’s channel are Aaron, Renee and Bee. Andrew and Bee frequently exchange tips and recipes, and she always leaves some kind of encouraging comment on his videos.
_
Neil practices figure skating on the court sometimes when no one’s around. Andrew finds out about it eventually. (He watches from the rafters, because someone’s got to keep an eye on this suicidal idiot somehow, and Neil pretends to ignore him.)
(And if one day Neil’s feeling so on edge that he asks Andrew to skate with him just to make sure that this is real, that he’s not back in Evermore with the Ravens, skating through Winter break with as many cuts and bruises as he has hairs, that he’s safe - and if Andrew says nothing but gets his skates anyway, so Neil can hear someone else’s blades cutting the ice, can hold onto Andrew’s shirt to remember that he won’t run - well. No one has to know.)
_
When Neil gets a phone, the Foxes make it their duty to create a profile for him on every social media platform imaginable. Eventually he gets a twitter account, and Renee messages him Andrew’s handle.
Neil starts scrolling through Andrew’s profile distractedly until he realises that a lot of his posts are about him, and he immediately starts responding.
Andrew, of course, cannot leave well enough alone, and the whole thing escalates to the point where Andrew’s followers start calling it a Feud, then a War, and post summaries of the day’s battles for those who couldn’t follow in real time.
(It’s flirting. They’d deny it to their graves but it’s flirting.)
_
Everyone has a nickname except Andrew, because he’s lame.
Allison’s is Allie. 
Dan’s just Wilds, because it’s already cool enough. 
Seth’s is Gorder. 
Nicky’s is Mickie. 
Renee’s is Walker, because same as Dan. 
Aaron’s is Ronnie, and he hates it (Nicky came up with it). 
Matt’s is Boydster. 
Kevin’s is Daisy. 
Neil’s is Joster, then Jester after the interview with Kathy Ferdinand. 
(I know those don’t do justice to Check Please so if you have better ideas please tell me.)
_
Bonus facts:
Matt and Nicky do Ransom & Holster’s “Hockey Shit” thing at Neil every time Neil asks a question.
Kevin has the best Hockey Butt, no questions asked.
Allison has the best Flow, no questions asked.
When they make the playoffs they stop shaving/getting haircuts, because that’s the Rule. Dan throws hers and Allison’s epilators in the trash as soon as they get the news. Matt’s beard is crowned Most Magnificent by the end. The twins get, like, five and a half hairs on their chins. Neil ties his hair back because it keeps falling in his face. Nicky grows a beard which he either loves or hates depending on the day. 
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Your Favorite? [1]
Plot: AU You’re part of the exchange program group from another country attending a Semester Abroad for university credit in Australia. The other students have been welcoming and friendly since you’ve arrived. You fell in with three students but two of them may like you more than just as a friend. So the big question they have for you is: who is your favorite Aussie?
Rating: PG (Light language, crushes, friendly competition)
Characters: University Student!Christopher (Bang Chan), University Student!Felix, University Student!Rosé, Foreign Exchange Student!Female Reader, plus mention of other members.
Notes: This was inspired by another event during the time I hosted Australian exchange students in high school. We all attended a party with the hosts and exchange students and a mutual friend of the girls I hosted tried to get me to say he was my favorite Aussie. (One of the girls I hosted, plus another exchange student shut him down quickly to save me from awkwardness, but it was funny.) In this story, I’m focusing only on the Aussie line from Stray Kids and BLACKPINK. (I know there’s two other idols who are from Australia but I’m not as familiar with them and I wanted to keep it focused on these three.)
2
                                                ---------------------
“I need to study with you for the next exam,” Rosé sighed as she moved her bag higher on her shoulder.
You swiped her test from her hand and took a quick look. “The grade’s not that bad Rosie – it’s better than the class average!”
“But it’s still not as high as I wanted it!” she pouted. She puffed her cheeks out like a chipmunk and you laughed, before passing the test back.
“She’s storing nuts again,” a warm voice teased from behind.
Both of you turned to see it was Christopher, another student in your year, who was studying Music Production. Rosé scowled at the comment and nudged Christopher in the arm, which prompted him to fake being hurt.
“Y/N, she’s hurting me!” he whined.
Rosé shot him a look and gestured to his impressive biceps. “I didn’t elbow you that hard! Besides, you’ve got muscles.”
“Blame Han – he called you Chaemunk,” Chris whispered, pretending to nurse his arm.
“Come on you two, knock it off,” you said, shaking your head. “Can we talk about anything else that doesn’t involve Contemporary Literature?”
Christopher straightened up and came around to your other side. He tilted his head and shared that his roommate was hosting a party this weekend.
“Which one? Han or your exchange student roommate Changbin?” you asked.
“Han of course,” Christopher confirmed. “Binnie’s going to be there too, but he’s a bit shy.”
You raised a brow and Rosé explained that she heard the last party Chris was at got shut down by authorities. He held his hands up and insisted it wasn’t his party.
“Ladies, I was an attendee the last time!” he protested. “I make sure we respect the neighbors, don’t let the underage ones drink, and everyone is safe.”
“Sorry Chris, but Rosie and I already made plans,” you shared. “Plus I promised Lix I’d beat him in a round of Mario Party.”
“Lix? You mean Felix Lee?”
“Yeah I call him Lix sometimes,” you clarified. “Maybe we can grab lunch or coffee next week?”
“Oh um, course!” he said as you neared your dormitory. “Well, see you.”
                                                 ---------------------
“You’re moping because of Y/N, aren’t you?” Changbin asked him in Korean. He had taken a break from messing with a track he was composing and saw Chris was glumly looking through his phone.
“Huh? Um no, no! Binnie, I’m bored, that’s all!” Chris insisted. He tried to turn his phone off, but Changbin already noticed that Chris was scrolling through your Instagram.
“You’re Instagram-stalking her,” the roommate noted with an amused look. “Look, why not ask her on a real date?”
Chris put his phone face down and sighed. In theory, he should have pucked up the courage to tell you that he thought you were cool. You completely defied his expectations of someone from your home country and he liked spending time with you. The semester was starting to fly by and eventually, you’d be leaving Australia, possibly for good. But he hated the thought of putting himself out there, only to end in rejection and losing a good friend in the process.
Changbin took a seat next to the other male and folded his hands on the counter. He looked around the kitchen and sighed.
“I get...that you don’t want to scare her off,” he said, “but I think you’re going to hate yourself if you say nothing.” He looked over his shoulder at Chris and asked if you were coming to Han’s party.
Chris shook his head and revealed that you already made plans with Rosé and Felix this weekend. Changbin nodded to show he understood and tilted his head as he thought for a moment.
“Maybe next weekend or after class? If you’re worried, maybe do something lowkey, like coffee or ice cream?” he suggested.
                                                ---------------------
“Buh bye Loser!” you taunted as you steered your character past Felix’s. You pressed your controls to make your car jump a bridge in the mini challenge, and whooped when it landed safely on the other side. Your car was moments away from the Finish line when Felix’s car landed behind yours.
You hunched your shoulders forward as you steered the car, trying to keep the gap between your car and his. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Felix poking his tongue out through his lips as he concentrated on the path to the Finish line.
You bit your lip as some boulders rolled across your path and you made swerving maneuvers and some jumps to avoid them. Felix hit one and groaned loudly as his car spun out of control, hitting another in the process. This gave you enough time to push forward and have your avatar cross the finish line.
“YES!” you cheered, throwing your controller down.
Felix huffed as he put his down a bit roughly on the couch, shaking his head. “That’s not fair!”
You whirled around and grinned, leaning over to rumple his hair. “Tough luck Lix – I said I wasn’t going easy on you.”
Felix managed to keep the pout on his face, chewing on his bottom lip slightly to hide how much he liked your fingers running through his hair. He knew the gesture was done in a friendly, almost sibling-like manner, but he wished you see that it was only a year gap between the both of you.
“Okay, what’s the punishment for losing?” he deadpanned.
You shook your head and told him that you weren’t putting him through a punishment. “You said we should hang and try to beat each other in games, so that’s what we did,” you reminded him, resuming your place on the couch. You smiled softly and thanked Felix for inviting you over. “I really needed to stop thinking about my classes and tests and do something mindless but fun. Thanks Felix.”
He softened his expression and nodded, allowing a brilliant smile to spread across his face.
“Of course,” he replied.
                                                ---------------------
“You’re not paying for mine!”
Chris smirked as he slid in front of you and passed over money for your coffee and pastries to the cashier. “Too late.”
“I’ll pay you back,” you insisted as you grabbed your cup and plate with the choux bun.
He shook his head and declared it was his treat. You sighed, thanking him as you carried your things over to a table by the window. He followed with his cup and some napkins and forks.
He had taken Changbin’s advice and asked if you wanted to check out this trendy dessert cafe in town after both of you were done with class. It was lowkey and this way he could gauge your feelings for him before pouring his heart out to you.
“Classes going all right?” he asked as he sank into his seat.
You nodded as you put the choux bun in the center of the table, indicating that you could share it with him. He passed you a fork and some napkins, prompting you to take the first bite.
You stabbed your fork into the pastry and picked up some of the shell and the creme filling. He watched as you tried your bite, then flashed him a thumbs up.
“You should take Han here – this is really good!” you said.
“Maybe I will,” he mused before taking some of the pastry to try. “Everyone missed you at the party this weekend.”
“How crazy did it get?” you asked before taking a sip of your coffee.
Chris finished his bite and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Actually it wasn’t bad! We did offer a few drinks, but everyone knew to be respectful of the neighbors. Craziest thing that happened was Han had to kiss some girl because he lost at Suck and Blow.”
“Anyone he was interested in?” you asked.
Chris opened his mouth to reply, but was startled by someone tapping on the glass. You turned your head and smiled when you saw it was Felix, accompanied by his friend Minho. Both boys waved to you before entering the cafe and making their way to your table.
“Perfect timing!” Felix remarked as he wrapped his fingers around his messenger bag strap. “Minho was looking for you, Chris. Said he’s struggling with his Japanese homework.”
Minho nodded as he came up beside Felix and produced a test. “Sorry hyung, but I know this grade’s not good enough for my mom – I’m doing extra credit homework to make up for this. Can you help me now?”
Chris resisted the urge to sigh, silently wishing that the universe would just work in his favor for once. He plastered a small smile on his face and motioned for Minho to follow him to another area of the cafe. Felix mouthed a thank you to Chris, before asking if he could try the pastry.
“Ask Y/N – it’s hers really,” Chris said before guiding Minho to a quieter area.
Felix pointed to the plate and you told him to have some. He grinned as he sank in Christopher’s chair, putting his bag down on the ground. He reached out and broke off a piece, placing it in his mouth.
You pointed to the corner of his mouth, noticing he had some cream on the corner. He accepted a napkin from you and wiped it off.
                                                ---------------------
Han
Y/N!! You missed my party. :( Sent 16:32 PM
Y/N
Sorry Han! Maybe next time? Sent 16:36 PM
Han
How about game night tonight? You, me, Chaemunk, Felix, Chris, Binnie, and Minho? Sent 16:38 PM
“May I get you ladies anything to drink?” Han asked after you and Rosé arrived.
“Water,” you both replied.
“That’s it?” Han asked with a pout.
“No drunken Truth or Dare,” you warned him. “I came to play games, not get so wasted that I can’t remember making out with someone.”
“We’re not drinking either!” Felix called out as he leaned to the side, trying to see who joined. Minho mimicked his movement, holding up a soda can.
“Hey, I’m not either!” Chris protested as he showed his water bottle.
“It’s just Han who wants to,” Changbin remarked with an amused smile.
Han shook his head and insisted that he’d forgo alcohol tonight too. “I only wanted to make the offer in case.” He pulled out two water bottles and passed them to you and Rosé.
You opened yours and took a sip, while Rosé asked where the restroom was. Changbin rose from his seat and pointed out the directions to the bathroom. She thanked him before excusing herself.
Han cracked open a soda and took a long sip from it. He sighed, putting the can down on the counter. “So Y/N, your semester here’s almost over,” he noted.
Your shoulders slumped and you sighed, glumly recapping your water bottle. You had tried not to think about it, since it meant you would be going back to your university and leaving all of your wonderful new friends behind. Sure there was social media where you could keep in touch and you could always try to save money to visit them, but it wasn’t the same. All of your little spots to visit with friends, the sights you’d see on your walks to campus or days off, they would be very different once your semester ended.
“Yeah I guess it’s coming up really soon,” you said. “I was having a good time that I didn’t realize it was almost over.”
Felix looked over at you and Chris threw Han a look for dampening the mood. Han shrugged as he took another sip from his can. A ghost of a smirk appeared on his lips as he asked, “So, out of everyone you’ve met...who’s your favorite person?”
You blinked at the question and looked around at all of the people in the room. Changbin spoke up and added that you shouldn’t count him in the possible list of people.
“I’m an exchange student too,” he reminded you. “I think this is more for the local students. So to rephrase Han’s question: who is your favorite Australian friend here?”
You uncapped your water bottle and took a sip from it, trying to delay your answer. It didn’t seem fair to pick just one of them – all of the people you met were wonderful in their own way.
“Well technically I’m not from Australia and Han isn’t either,” Minho added with a thoughtful look. “So, is Chris-hyung, Felix, or Rosé-noona your favorite?” He took a sip from his soda can and smirked, looking at Felix, then Chris.
You slowly swallowed the water you were drinking, not daring to look at either of the guys named. Picking one of them wasn’t going to be fair to the other and honestly, both of them were great. You liked Chris who was easy to talk to and a good listener. Felix had a warm, friendly personality and you always had fun with him.
“Um can I pass on the question out of courtesy to everyone?” you asked in a small voice.
The guys looked at you in confusion, then Han began talking, with Minho adding over him that you had to pick one. Changbin rolled his eyes and shook his head at Minho for starting trouble. Chris sighed as he tried to get Han’s attention.
“HEY!” Felix yelled. This made Han and Minho stop talking and everyone turned their attention to him. His eyes met yours and he leaned forward in his seat slightly.
“Y/N, we can handle this,” he said.
Chris nodded as he stepped forward, putting his water down as he walked closer. He flattened his palms on the counter and tilted his head. “We’re all adults here – no one’s gonna get their feelings hurt,” he reassured you.
You closed the water bottle again and looked from Chris to Felix again. For once, you wished you had said no to Han tonight. Sure both of the guys might be okay with you picking one person, but you knew one of them would be hurt if you showed favoritism toward the other.
“So honestly Love, is it me?” Chris asked with a sly grin.
You blinked and Felix rose from his seat, making his way to the same counter where the elder boy stood. He propped his elbows on the counter and rested his chin cutely between his hands.
“Sorry Chris, but I think I’m her favorite – you know with all of the fun games and excitement I have to offer in my room,” Felix chimed in. “She does love her Mario games.”
“Guys look, I –”
You felt someone wrap their arms around you and you turned to see it was Rosé, squishing you in a cute side hug. She flashed you her cutest smile and you couldn’t help but smile in turn.
“Sorry guys, but it’s me!” Rosé sang.
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saintmachina · 5 years
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Reclaiming Our Attention from the Distortion Machine
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This is a reprint of a guest post I wrote for the Fratres Dei blog. Be sure to pay some love forward and check out Rachel’s amazing blog about embodied spirituality and contemplation in the material world!
Social media is kind of my thing. I met my future spouse through Tumblr, I’m an author who promotes her work on Twitter, and, as some of you may know, I’m the digital communications manager for Fratres Dei Spiritual Direction & Ministries.
Thoroughly a product of the digital age, I’ve been privileged to witness the best social media has to offer. I’ve seen friendships forged, beautiful art created, valuable information exchanged, and online spaces for religious expression blossom. However, I’ve also lost weeks of my life to mindless scrolling, been “dragged” and “cancelled”, participated in unwarranted digital pile-ons I still regret, and woken up in a cold sweat from nightmares about being doxxed.
Sometimes, friends, the internet is bad.
At the start of 2019, I knew that something about my relationship to social media had to change. As an increasingly public figure, I was placing too much of my worth in my public persona. My attention was becoming more and more fragmented, and time on social media was the only “leisure” time I was allowing myself away from my day job and writing, even though I viewed social as just another form of work. I had no inner life I didn’t perform for the internet. My prayer life was nonexistent, because I couldn’t sit still that long, much less devote intentional time to something that didn’t have an immediate material benefit or reward.
But what do you do when the internet feels like an increasingly essential, increasingly centralized feature of the human experience, and if, as for many of us, being active on the web is part of your job?
Common sense advises moderation, but I’ve never been good at finding balance. As I started listening to podcasts about the effects of social media and reading Cal Newport’s phenomenal Digital Minimalism, I realized this isn’t a Sarah-specific compulsion. The majority of Americans have a disordered relationship with social media. Like a gaslighting lover, social demands a glance at our phones every spare moment, yet convinces us to consistently underestimate how many hours a day we devote to the tryst. And as we uncover more about how social media is configured to work on our brains the same way slot machines do, keeping eyes on screens for as many minutes as possible to turn the highest profits for companies, whether or not those minutes wreck our sense of self, warp our view of our political reality, or urge us to throw money down the drain on products we would never otherwise want…The straits get a bit more dire.
As this year’s Lenten season commenced, I felt that gentle nudge, that divine voice in the back of my head saying here’s your chance. A chance to pull the plug on social for forty days and re-set my inner schema. It wouldn’t be a total fast, since I do spend a handful of hours a week managing the Fratres Dei social, but there would be no more browsing, posting, or scrolling from my own accounts for the rest of Lent.
By and large, I’ve taken God up on the offer, and the results have been quietly astounding. First of all, the jittery fear of missing out (on what? Malicious gossip and highlight reel announcements of rivals’ successes and the thousandth click-bait headline heralding society’s demise?) faded in about a week. What followed was overwhelming relief that I didn’t have to care about it all. Human empathy is a divine gift, and social media constantly exhausts it. We swing wildly from outrage to apathy, which makes it hard for us to be attentive and compassionate towards the real needs that surround us. Secondly, I got time back I didn’t even know I had lost. I started finding hours to cook big, wholesome meals while listening to audiobooks, and since I didn’t have the illusion of connection from seeing friend’s Instagram posts all the time, I started calling them a lot more. But most of all, I got my focus back.
The fragmented attention created by the noise of social media is really no attention at all. Conversation with a friend, playing with a child, reading a book, and especially listening for the stirrings of God in our lives require real, sustained attention. Constantly flipping from platform to platform, or article to article, trains our brains to make only the most cursory skim of information. Re-training the brain takes time, but we can start by setting aside hours of our day where we leave our phones on the charger, whether we’re out for a run, meeting someone for coffee, or scribbling idea in a notebook. It’s only in these moments of receptivity that God can press in with soft revelations, interesting food for thought, or divine encouragement.
I observe both the church calendar and the wheel of the year, a cycle of seasonal holidays used by Wiccans and other earthy types. The wheel’s holidays usually involve baking, candle-lighting, handicraft, and other things I love to do but never seem to have time for. But when the spring equinox rolled around during Lent, I suddenly had the time, and without the pressure to post aesthetically pleasing pictures and a description of my practice online for the edification of the masses, I didn’t experience the usual sense of poor planning or inadequacy. So, I pulled out the yellow candles, put a bit of soda bread and calendula tea out on my altar, and said some prayers praising God for light, and for new life. The ritual existed for no one except me and God, and that, I found, was empowering. For the first time in a long time I didn’t worry about how I looked or if I was doing “enough”. I just followed my intuition and listened for God.
Like chocolate, long naps, sex, and whisky sours, social media is good, if used in intentional moderation that doesn’t throw off the balance of the rest of our lives. It should be a tool that we use, not a corporate-run outrage machine that uses us for clicks and buys. Philippians calls the faithful to turn their thoughts towards “whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable”. Personally, I find that hard to do when I spend hours a day being fed an inane stream of war crime, advertisement, callout post, wedding pictures, advertisement, human rights violation, cat picture, bad faith political meme, advertisement through my smart phone.
Now, I haven’t jumped off the social media bandwagon entirely. In a move I hope my audience will find charmingly meta I’m currently denouncing social media in a social media post, after all. But for now, I’m enjoying being time-rich and having the space to simply notice my emotions, my relationship to space, and my own breath. I’ve been noticing God a lot more too, not because God wasn’t there when I was scrolling or posting, but simply because I was too tapped in to digital white noise to notice.
Yearning to take better notice of the divine already in your midst? Learn to listen with a spiritual direction session with Fratres Dei.
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Lexa’s Dancing Again
For @queen-of-arda it’s been an honor being your secret Santa, even if the entire endeavor was a little bit of a mess. Happy holidays kiddo! Sorry I’m a little late! En mochof @slakgedakru for editing some of that trig! I love you all!
Pairings: Echo/Raven, Clarke/Lexa, and there’s a couple others but they’re either barely mentioned or brotps
Canon divergent at 3x07 probs, idk it doesn’t matter, it takes place a couple years in the future or something don’t question it
Summary: A winter solstice festival dance where Echo is useless, Lexa is hopeless, Clarke is clueless, and Raven is just oblivious. (I've never written Echo or Raven in this capacity before so please be kind)
“I’m still surprised Roan gave you the night off,” Echo didn’t look away from the dance floor as the person sat beside her.
She rolled her eyes, something she never would’ve done just years ago, “I’m still surprised you harbor a grudge.”
Raven’s voice tightened, “You cancelled on me because he told you to.” Echo fought the urge to roll her eyes again, instead taking a sip of her sweet wine. Raven held her hand out and Echo passed it to her. Raven hadn’t talked to her since the incident nearly a month ago, but still expected more than her fair share of alcohol. “I’m assuming you brought this?” Raven passed it back.
“Did you think I wouldn’t find out what Monty and Jasper had planned?” Raven shook her head in mock contempt making Echo struggle to keep her own smile off her face.
“They’re incredibly immature.”
“The flask is hidden in your brace.”
Monty and Harper waltzed passed, off tempo and grinning as they tried to step on each other’s feet. The officials around them watched with confusion, though Echo noticed some of the children dancing with a little more of the reckless abandon attributed to the skaikru couple.
“I didn’t know he and Clarke were friends,” Raven nodded to Roan and Clarke, her king’s pained expression as Clarke stepped on his feet.
“They remained in touch after he kidnapped her and she tried to poison his mother.”
Raven snorted, “Sounds like how Clarke makes friends.”
The slow song faded out and Clarke and Roan shared a parting hug before Clarke spotted them and wandered over. “How is everyone?” She collapsed beside Raven and grabbed a cup of wine from a passing servant.
“Octavia’s with Ilian, Bellamy’s getting wasted with Murphy, Jasper’s trying to get with some lake clan chick -”
“Boat clan,” Echo cut in and Raven nodded.
“Right, right, and we just saw Monty and Harper, and let’s see - who else?”
“Miller and Jackson?” Clarke asked.
“I think Miller’s on Kane tonight and Jacksons moping with Bell and Murphy,” Raven said and Echo tuned them out, instinctually seeking out Roan again. She was off tonight but she wasn’t fool enough to think there was ever a time she didn’t have to be on her guard. She spotted Kane talking with Abby, a blush painting Abby’s face as the band began to play another slow song.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” Clarke announced, Echo glanced over, perhaps she had noticed her wayword mother attempting to bed the chancellor of the thirteenth clan. But instead the girl’s gaze was focused elsewhere, on an exit to the dance hall swinging shut. Raven took a swig out of her flask.
“Have fun.”
Echo’s brow furrowed, often this announcement preceded a group expedition, but Raven hadn’t even bothered asking for an invite. Perhaps Clarke was allowing them time alone? She watched Raven, who now refused to make eye contact with her and Clarke left the table.
“Would you like to dance?” Echo attempted, her heart beating faster than it did on her first hunt.
“Nah,” Raven took another swig of her flask, “Legs not good for much nowadays.”
Echo nodded and stood, her duty lay with her king anyway and she found him talking among some broadleaf dignitaries. She swerved through volatile dancers and made her way closer watching with some admiration as he held court, discussing trade deals and borders, endlessly charming and swift. The mindless politics filled her head with noise, enough to block out the sounds of music and cheer the winter solstice dance so often brought. Indra appeared at his side, muttering something and Roan found her eyes across the group. He nodded his head at the back door and she began striding for it.
“My apologies, I must attend to this,” she heard him say to group gathered. She slipped into the hallway and he found her, stiffened, awaiting orders. “I gave you the night off. Why were you still guarding me?”
“Moba, haihefa,” I’m sorry king, she bowed her head.
“That wasn’t an answer.” She didn’t respond and he sighed, his body heaving with it. “Indra requires your assistance. The commander is missing and they wish to find and retrieve her without raising any alarms. They require a spy.”
“Trikru nou gada loufa op, ai azhefa?” Trikru don’t have spies, my king?
“Hon em daun ekkou, nou dat ai klin nodotaim,” Find her Echo, don’t question me again, he strode back into the ball room and she glared at the ground. A wild goose chase no doubt, an easy way to get rid of her.
She searched the obvious places first. The bathroom was empty, Clarke probably back by now in the main hall reacting to her mother’s new pick of men. Echo was sorry to be missing it. She wandered through the library, remembering Raven cursing Lexa for hoarding her old world scrolls. She even snuck into the fleimkepa temple, despite her every instinct to avoid it, and sent up a prayer of apology before sneaking out again. She found Lexa’s room and study, both empty of the commander, and at last returned to the hall to ask Clarke if she had any ideas. Raven found her first.
“Have you seen Clarke? She never came back and I’m getting worried.”
Echo narrowed her eyes and dragged Raven outside, “Heda is missing too.”
Raven’s mouth pressed into a thin line, “You think it’s Titus? Emerson?”
The song finished and the band began to play another slow song, “Is this the fifth in a row?”
“What?” Raven blinked at her and Echo rolled her eyes.
“I know where they are.”
She marched them to the ambassador’s hall where the music could still be heard through the floorboards and Echo peeked through the cracked door, Raven following her lead.
Lexa’s head lay on Clarke’s shoulder, both held the other’s waist with one hand and interlocked their fingers with the other. Lexa had her eyes closed and Clarke looked like she was murmuring something. Echo scowled. Clarke was singing.
Lexa had her eyes closed, looking so peaceful she might’ve been asleep and Clarke’s cheek pressed against her forehead. The song began to fade into yet another slow song, no doubt at the commander’s order and their sway paused.
“Leksa?” Lexa hummed, eyes still closed. “Ai hod yu in.”
Lexa’s eyes opened, blinking, she drew away and Clarke’s face filled with a weakness and vulnerability. “Clarke -” Clarke drew away, and Echo pulled Raven back now, giving her a look as the girl attempted to stand her ground. “I love you too.” Raven glanced back at the scene, the two now locked in a kiss and Echo took the opportunity to get her off balance and dragged her out and back to the elevators. Indra found them as soon as they stepped out.
“Well?”
Echo shrugged, “She is discussing something with Wanheda,” Raven snorted, “it was not my place to intrude.” Indra narrowed her eyes and put a hand on her dagger but let Echo pass her without much trouble. She found her old seat, Raven finding hers. “I did not know they were involved.”
“I knew she was seeing someone but - yeah. I guess it’s my fault for her not thinking she could trust me though.” Raven looked around for her flask and Echo watched her. Wondered what else this girl blamed herself for.
“It’s hard to trust in this life, but the only one who will be punished for not doing so is you.”
Raven met her eyes, “it hasn’t always worked out for me.”
“What? Trust? Relationships?”
“Yes,” Raven’s voice choked up and Echo’s jaw tightened and she inched closer, “I don’t want to get hurt again.”
“Honesty doesn’t always have to be painful, it can be freeing.”
“You’re a spy. What would you know about honesty?” Raven looked away and Echo placed a hand over Raven’s, brushing a finger over her callouses until Raven met her eyes.
“I’ve never lied to you,” she moved closer, Raven’s breath hitched. “But let’s start with a dance.”
“We should go back soon,” Lexa muttered and Clarke groaned. She kissed Clarke’s cheek, “Thank you for running away with me.”
“Well it wasn’t easy,” Clarke swiped some hair away from Lexa’s face, brushing them behind delicate ears, “I think Raven’s suspicious.” Lexa leant into the touch in a way that made Clarke melt, “I’ll run away with you any time, Lexa.”
It wasn’t a promise either of them could keep but they pretended, letting the bliss close their eyes, warmth coming over them in droves. Clarke grinned into sweet, softer than feather, kisses.
They pulled away with a sigh, “I’ll leave first.” Clarke squeezed Lexa’s hand and Lexa pulled Clarke’s up to her lips and kissed the knuckles.
“May we meet again, Clarke.”
Clarke smiled, moving her hand to cup Lexa’s hand and kissing her again. “We will.” Lexa smiled as they pulled away and Clarke left, riding the elevator down, still riding the warmth in her chest from her time with Lexa. She came back to the dance hall, taking her old seat looking around for someone she recognized, her mom maybe, last she seen Kane wanted a private conversation with her about something. Or maybe Raven, she figured the girl would either get wasted with Bellamy and Murphy or get wasted alone as she typically did at these things.
Instead she found her dancing, limping and tripping and laughing, and laughing. Raven was letting out peals of laughter and her partner looked like she was just trying to keep up.
“She looks happy,” Clarke jumped, noticing Octavia for the first time.
“Oh yeah, I didn’t think she and Echo were…”
“Yeah.”
“Did you -”
“No. But I guess it proves it then.” Clarke looked at Octavia, the painfully stoic face not giving an ounce of emotion away, “it’s possible to find a second love.”
Harper and Raven were hooting at each other as the tempo finally picked up in the music and more people joined the dance floor. Echo was holding Raven back from a fistfight and Monty looked afraid for his life as Harper, stumbling around, cussed Raven out. Jasper and the floukru girl Clarke had thrown at him were making their way onto the dancefloor and Jasper didn’t look like he had taken a sip of alcohol that night. Hell even her mom was… was dancing with… A grin lit up Clarke’s face. Her mom smiling bigger than she was and Clarke knew Kane would take care of her. They deserved it after everything.
Lexa walked back in and met her eyes, “Indra told me she hasn’t even been to one of these since Costia died,” Octavia said. Clarke looked back at her, “I don’t think I’ve seen you this happy since Finn. Maybe not even then.” She stood, “I’m glad you two found each other.” Lexa was still watching her and if Raven could date a grounder that betrayed them so could she.
She made her way over and Lexa smiled.
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youswiminmywater · 5 years
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reflections on past jobs, for no particular reason
for the past few days, i’ve been trying to shake off a funk, a slump, one of those holes you can fall into if you’re the depressed type. where you spend entire days in bed, or crawl out at 2pm to eat a pile of leftover mashed potatoes between a mindless barrage of youtube videos or sudoku puzzles. just drowning yourself in distractions until you finally get fed up with it and start down that familiar path of Self-Care, which is probably a little different for everybody. for me, it involves leaving the house (which i’m convinced has some paranormal draining effect on my soul, or perhaps just dust, mold, cat pee, dandruff around the house intensifies my doldrums on a base physical level), going out to eat or sitting around in a coffee shop to read. reading is always my touchstone for “getting better,” like i’m flexing some intellectual muscles that i’d been neglecting for the past few weeks, or even months. i’ve said before that i’m a terrible english major, and have a lot of trouble starting books let alone finishing them, but i just think it’s a habit that needs developing, a habit that can replace the easier, mindless ones like scrolling through tumblr or playing through a game i’ve played through a thousand times. 
a friend of mine suggested the other day that reading is equally a waste of time as playing a video game, though, a comment that really kind of fucked me up and made me feel embarrassed for trying to use it to cheer myself up. i think i’ve come to a point now where i can disagree, heartily, with that comment. no video game inspires this much thought in myself, or makes me want to write. maybe it has to do with the TV screen itself. i’ve read that the blue light TVs have sort of a trance effect on you, like how the fluorescents at the supermarket make you want to browse around and lose focus, or how phone screens trick your brain into staying awake because it’s the same kind of light that comes from the sun. it does feel like a trap sometimes, an addiction. and some video games really do manipulate you to play them as much as possible, some are just designed that way. i’m not ashamed to say i’d throw video games out of my life entirely if i could, they never have made me feel better about myself. they’ve never inspired me. maybe i’ve just had some poor experiences with them, skipping homework to play games, staying up too late, getting angry at certain levels, forgetting to eat or go to the bathroom. they just command too much attention and force me to forget about myself entirely, don’t allow me to think about anything other than the game itself. the only real positive influence they’ve had on my life is that it’s something to do with other people if i can’t physically be with them. like virtual worlds to hang out in with your friends. even then, though, it’s more about spending time with people i care about in a setting that’s comfortable for me, not about the games themselves. ANYWAY that’s my argument for THAT
like i was saying, shaking off a funk. i was at this coffee shop today, maybe been there three or four times. i don’t really drink coffee, and coffee shops have never really been my scene, but they’re great places to just sit for a couple of hours to read and write, and nobody even bats an eye at you. can’t really do that at a sit down restaurant, it’s too easy to feel self-conscious, especially if there’s a waitress depending on flipping your table as efficiently as possible. 
but the point of this story is to talk about the doughnuts they were selling at this particular coffee shop. big, fat doughnuts, a few with outlandish glazes, strawberry glaze, for example. one was just entirely purple. and when i say fat doughnuts, i mean like, when you see it, it’s golden brown on both sides, and then it has that pale ring around the outside that the oil just never got to when they flipped ‘em in the fryer. that ring is the sexiest part of the doughnut, it’s like a stretch mark to show you how plump and decadent that particular doughnut is gonna be. not all doughnuts have those rings either; if you go to kroger or something, their old-fashioned doughnuts? just dry brown rings. probably a lot of factory doughnuts lack that pale ring, now that i’m thinking about it. it’s really a sign of some gourmet shit happening behind the scenes, somebody hand-cut that doughnut and fried it themselves. that’s how you know you’re eating something nice. probably worth the $3.50 i paid for it. well, maybe, that’s still kinda steep. 
my imagination was going like this the entire time i was at the coffee shop. i had seen them when i came in, and resolved to get out only on my way out, maybe two hours later. should i ask the cashier where they got those doughnuts from? would he even know? maybe they even made them in house, i thought. now THAT would be exciting! they did have a few food options on their menu. i think one lady next to me had some fried plantains or something. that would suggest they had a fryer, right? but then i figured, there’s no way, a coffee shop this size just wants to deal with a few baristas and that’s it, any fancy gourmet stuff would be brought in. it would be such a hassle to hire a pastry chef just to make doughnuts and scones, i don’t think the sales at a place this size would justify a batch of anything. i did daydream a little, however. made me want to work there so that i could figure out the secrets behind the counter. maybe there’s a real master doughnut-maker back there, and i could pick up at least that juicy little talent from working there, if nothing else.
this is what sent me down into a spiral. flipping through all of my past jobs, half regretful, wondering what exactly i took with me when i left. the job i have right now is the only one i’ve ever formally considered to be a real skill builder, a real job that actually means something. yet that doesn’t mean i’ve just been wasting all my career-building opportunities up until this point, does it? i always imagined that jobs through high school college were just, in general, real time wasters, real whatevers. you could literally have whatever job you wanted and not feel a tinge of regret about it, as long as it paid something. internships were for rich kids, kids that had their parents plan out their careers for them and finance it all the way through. retail jobs, cashier jobs, delivery jobs, these were there for kids who were gonna figure it all out later. normal people. looking back on it now, though, i really would do it differently. i would at least like, have a theme to the kinds of jobs i was going for, you know? jobs that logically led from one to the other, building up tips and tricks that would make you way more impressive to your coworkers down the line. this is probably also a false regret too, because there are those people that change their career paths like, really late in their lives. like they were a nurse for 30 years and now they wanna learn how to be a real estate agent, just from scratch. it’s brave, and i’m sure they sometimes wish they could have gone back and done things differently too, just started with the thing they loved before they knew they loved it. or maybe not, maybe they needed to hate something before they learned what they love...who knows.
what did i learn from my jobs then? i just wanted to go down the list and put together little stories, or sketches, rather. i know this isn’t exactly the most readable thing, and i don’t really expect anybody to read it. it’s entirely biographical and probably entirely boring, but it’s a fun exercise for me, at any rate. if you’re the kind of person that enjoys this sort of thing, i’m beaming on the inside for the both of us. anyway, here we go!
1. Goodwill Associate. Cashier, stock guy, master of all trades. Or at least the shitty ones this was my first ever job, I guess when I was 18 the summer out of high school. I had a couple of school-sanctioned volunteer roles when I was younger, but I don’t really consider those as anything in a career sense. Just an extension of school. My first actual job was here in retail, and kind of like really on the bottom of the totem pole, retail-wise. It was minimum wage. There wasn’t any real structure to the product, no departments, no red tape, no security wires on the expensive stuff. It was just bare bones, donated stuff, a little bit of a Wild West vibe, if i’m being honest. prices were determined by managers in the back. they’d just write the prices on everything in marker. anything without a price tag like that, like most of the clothing, the cashiers would just guess at what products were being handed to them and ring them up like that. looks like a unisex shirt, 1.99. pants with women’s sizes on the back tag, 3.99. customers sometimes would try to haggle, and sometimes they’d succeed! you can’t do that at sears. people would just buy fake stuff knowing it was fake and not be bothered by it. the main purpose of the employees was just to clean up the mess, and make everything look somewhat organized, keep stuff off the floor.
there were a couple of roles you could take working at a place like this. first off, everybody was a cashier, but you weren’t supposed to linger at the cash register. the primary thing you’d do is run clothes, which meant, rolling out a rack from the back full of clothes that had been already “processed” and just transfer them onto the racks out on the store floor. basically until the racks on the floor were jam-packed and you couldn’t do anymore. this was my least favorite thing, and to be honest i don’t remember doing it much. the rolling racks in the back were called “z-racks,” because the bottoms of them were held together with metal  shaped like z’s. probably my first brush with industry-specific terminology. they have z-racks in culinary too, but they’re something different, still with the same z-shape on the top and bottom holding them together. 
then there was “housewares,” which meant basically that you wandered around the housewares department all day, making an attempt to organize everything within reason. put everything upright with the price clearly visible. this was a real nightmare job, but a relatively stress-free one. sometimes a haitian family would stroll through and ruin your entire day’s work. the kids really just did whatever they wanted and left every toy in the middle of the floor, the parents paying absolutely no attention. it was a real thankless job, akin to hanging out in tartarus rolling rocks up a hill over and over again just to see it roll back down the next day.
cashier was the most rewarding part, i think, just because it’s the only aspect that forced interaction with the customers. that’s still my favorite part of most jobs i’ve had, i think, the opportunity to meet people and interact with someone new. of course, at a place like goodwill, you weren’t really all that excited about most of the clientele, but you could definitely walk out of there with a few stories. i was pretty young back then too, so i was prone to developing crushes on a few regulars, even attempting to flirt now and then, which became mostly nonexistent in my later jobs because it’s just, i don’t know. inappropriate, i guess. crass. unprofessional. and, in this day and age, a little creepy. but cashiering was an easy way to pick up at least a few social skills, whether you’re arguing your way through a stubborn customer who’s trying to save a dollar on some kid shoes, or shooing away a 35 year old gay man who, for whatever reason, has the hots for you. it was a nice exposure, though certainly removed from most retail experiences, just given the nature of the place. 
i never worked retail behind the counter again after that, especially after i started working in a couple of malls, because ACTUAL retail cashiers, the ones who make commission on their sales and have quotas for how many credit cards they get people to sign up for, they always seemed like real prisoners to the system. that notion always scared me, and kept me looking towards the background areas, the stock rooms and employee-only hallways. when you got into REAL retail, i didn’t want to be a part of it.
2. Von Maur, “Stock and Housekeeping,” stay in my department? this whole damn place is my department!
this job was a nice one, i stayed for a whole year before moving on. that doesn’t sound like much, but i’m pretty sure it’s my second or third longest running job out of all the ones i’ve had. von maur was a department store at one of the malls around here, a store they call an “anchor” because it’s on the edge of the mall complex. malls are usually designed to have multiple anchors, big stores for general shopping like macy’s and sears, with a bunch of little stores all scattered throughout, stores with more specialized targets. you often have to walk through the anchor stores to get in and out of the mall to one of the parking lots, so they’re usually stores with multiple departments, something for everybody.
von maur is considered kind of a high-end store, more expensive than macy’s, more upscale brands, but it’s not like walking straight into a coach store. it has a very old-fashioned customer service feel to it. the cashiers are all required to dress in formal wear, suits and dresses, clean-shaven. very strict dress code. the customer service section is a long desk in the back of the store with multiple ladies there to help, tables right behind them for gift-wrapping, especially during the holiday season. the clothing racks are all shoulder height or lower, you can see every department from any part of the store, and each department has gilded gold lettering above each register area, with different colors of carpets indicating when you were leaving one section from the other. and each department had a special name too, not just “men’s” or “women’s.” it was Juniors. Traditional. Contemporary. Gifts. very classy categorizations that made you feel a certain way just standing there, albeit sometimes they were kind of arbitrary.
it seems silly to even point out these kinds of things, but i’ve grown an immense fondness for this clean kind of layout now that i’ve spent some time in a few other department stores. most places make no fucking sense whatsoever, they’re designed like mazes to get lost in. pillars everywhere, obstructions going all the way up to the ceiling, no way to determine exactly how big the entire store is or where your next stop should be. pay attention next time you go to a jc penny. it’s a real shitshow. even the employees seem like they’re just stranded and forgotten about on little islands, and only the real savvy ones know their way back to the stock rooms without getting lost. at von maur, you could wave to your pal in the “Better Sportswear” department without having to step a foot outside of your designated carpet area (which you actually weren’t allowed to do, unless you were going to the bathroom).
i did not work in any of these departments. i was in charge of cleaning the place, bathrooms and dock areas, sweeping the vast floors, spot removal, light bulbs. you name it. all the custodial stuff. i worked nights, so i had minimal involvement with the trucks, but i did collect transfers to other stores at the end of the night, and pack up trucks with this product. it was the first job i had where you could really get in hurt, or in trouble, if you didn’t follow procedures properly. had to lock up the truck a certain way. had to fill out the paperwork just right. had to get the million pound brick of cardboard out of the bale machine without getting crushed. had to make sure the trash compactor didn’t get all fucked up, had to make sure you were using the right chemicals on the carpets, had to learn the most efficient ways to clean all four bathrooms before any customer even noticed you closed them down. it was a very self-reliant, self-sufficient job. managers stayed out of your face because they didn’t really know what all it was you were responsible for. you carried a radio because you could be anywhere in the store at any given time, even on the roof. you were completely unfettered, you could run errands for the feeble sales associates who couldn’t leave their sections, but only if you really liked them that day. 
it was great, and the organization of the store itself helped shape your own daily routines. i worked with a few assholes, and the pay was still minimum wage, but i had a couple of pals that i looked forward to seeing every day. it was behind the scenes, but not too behind the scenes. you didn’t have to be responsible for any of the customers because your uniform said hey, i just clean the toilets lady, buzz off. the only areas of the store that really interested me were the areas i wasn’t allowed to access, which would irk anybody who has almost complete access to any room, see rooms that most managers wouldn’t even ever see. the “other” behind the scenes groups. the alterations department. the loss prevention room. there was one room called like “display” or something, which just had all of the various props and baubles they used to decorate the store with year round. they even had an entire staff dedicated to that job, but i’d see them around pretty rarely. it fascinated me seeing people who were even more hidden away than i was, and i was the guy doing shit people just took for granted. like polishing the water fountains, or cleaning the employee lunchroom microwaves.
in the end, though, it was basically a dead-end job, i mean there’s only so much you can learn about glass cleaner before you feel like it’s time to move on. some people stay at those jobs for years, whole lives, and that just doesn’t make sense to me.
3. Pizza Delivery Guy, the famous Two-Dayer
there isn’t a whole lot to say about this one. this was when i was “between colleges,” and the first time i ever tried to have a job on college campus, a school that i was not going to and had no familiarity with. it was also my only ever “spite job.” here’s the scenario leading up to it:
i was probably like twenty years old, or 19. i was involved with this high school girl i had met through??? facebook maybe, she was a quick friend of mine. her family was a real Business Starter type family, her dad and uncle had a string of restaurants that they had tried to start up here and there, with varying success. i met her around the same time i started first cooking for myself, and it was something that brought me enjoyment, so the prospect of going to business with these guys was something that began to grow on me. her uncle had just started up a new place on campus, i think it was called Fito’s, named after her grandpa. this peruvian joint with authentic peruvian street food. the first place i had ever eaten yuca fries, and i think they had an award winning salsa at some point. anyway, the plan was for me to work there as one of the cooks, which was exciting to me! because i would have a mentor and i’d be getting into a new field that i was at least partly interested in, and i’d be developing a skill that i could apply to everyday life. i was gonna be a cook. i would pop in here and there all the time, before they actually got the place up and running, having small meetings with her dad, her uncle. i wasn’t really as involved as all that, i mean, i was still just a kid.
long story short, they hired this other guy to be the cook. whatever. i didn’t have experience anyway. they wanted me to do delivery instead. i said fine, at least i get to be involved with a place i actually kind of care about. walked me through where the delivery area was going to begin and end. hadn’t quite worked out all the kinks. come back for another meeting. i’d show up for another meeting, they weren’t there, come back tomorrow. not there again, having work done. come back later. the restaurant opens. still working on setting up the whole delivery thing, just wait on it. at some point, i got really frustrated with getting yanked around by the dick all the time, so after one failed meeting, i walked two doors down the street and landed a job as a driver at this place called New York Pizza Department the very same day. job search done, you can always find an easy job in the city. i think i even started work that very same day.
the trick to the story? never trust a place that hires you the same day they meet you. if they’re that desperate to fill the role, the role probably sucks ass. and it did. my first day was on saint patrick’s day, and i did a 12 hour shift from 6pm to 6am. i was expected to learn register and some minimal oven work, but mostly do garbage work like sweeping the floors, folding boxes, yada yada. it was all kind of vague. nobody in particular trained me. i was told to just stand over somebody’s shoulder and learn how the ordering works, which didn’t do anything for me. nobody explained a damn thing. i spilled ice all over the floor trying to refill the machine, nobody had taught me the trick to it. it was a really frustrating experience because i expected to like, shadow someone, at least for like an hour or something, but there was no guidance whatsoever. i mostly sat out by the back door and pretended like i smoked. i was never introduced to the chefs, they were all mexicans that didn’t really speak english, as far as i could tell, yet i was expected to ask them for stuff. my car was parked in a mud pit in the back, and i would ruin my pants every time i climbed in. i got two parking tickets. i used my gps for everything (the days before i had a smartphone), which was unreliable, especially when some asshole student wanted a pizza in one of the address-less school buildings. it was a real mess.
i felt kinda ashamed, especially after my second day when i delivered a pizza like 2 hours late because i couldn’t find the damn place. my dad had been a delivery guy for years, and it felt really dumb that i couldn’t pick up the job for myself. it felt like i was really, really wasting my time, and the dumb place was not worth it to begin with. i only got the job to make the other guys jealous, i think. my third shift was supposed to be a 19-hour day, so i skedaddled with my sub 100 buck paycheck, where my name was misspelled. both the peruvian place and that pizza place are gone now, replaced by something else.
honorable mention: Graeter’s Ice Cream, stealing jobs from children
barely even remember this one, but i did do an ice cream kiosk at the mall for like two weeks. i quit because scooping ice cream was making my wrist hurt pretty severely, and i wasn’t aware at the time that eventually the pain stops if you just keep at it. all of my coworkers were high school kids, even the two or three people that outranked me, and it was half humiliating, half hilarious. a lot of people there were very specific with training me properly, i think teenagers love telling older people what to do, but they all said different things. i don’t think any of them actually knew the exact details of their job duties, they were all just kind of winging it. they gossiped a lot about boys at their school, which i’m pretty sure was some isolated suburb school outside of the city proper. i was 22 or 23 at the time and had very little to contribute. i don’t think i ever took the job that seriously, and pretty much quit on a whim. it was a little bittersweet, though; the day before i left, they were just about to get a real hardass old lady manager that was about to whip the place back into shape. i regret not being around for that so that i could actually figure out what i was meant to be doing, but you can’t pretend to be a kid forever, no matter how cute and young you look with your little hat and name tag.
4. Macy’s fulfillment center, dissociation at it’s finest
this job was during a kind of sad point in my life, and it was largely a desperation move on my part. i think i had just graduated college, sent out hundreds of applications for jobs “in my field,” and heard back from none of them. i had bills piling up, from somewhere, and i really needed to get back in the saddle. malls are always reliable places to get jobs, if you ever need one quick and easy, and i just wanted to get back out into the world again. i wasn’t meeting new people anymore, didn’t have any classes to look forward to, and my education was proving to be rather useless. getting back into the mall system was kind of an eye roll at this point, but i knew it was something i could do, back of the store stock work.
this time around, i was exclusively a morning man, which comes with its own requirements and adaptions. we unloaded trucks three days a week, processed damages and transfers and returns and whatnot all the other days. broke down cardboard. the entire job was basically opening up boxes, removing plastic from copies of the same coat in multiple sizes, tearing styrofoam off of handbags, clipping security rings on the expensive stuff, and calling it a day. separate everything by department and run it out onto the floor before the store opens. usually by the time the store opens, it’s time to go home. michael kors was a bad word to us stock guys, because all of his handbags had like seventeen separate pieces of plastic, tape, and styrofoam around all the various pieces of each purse, protecting every part of the bag’s anatomy from damage, dust, whatever. it was ridiculous. there were mummification jokes somewhere in there. in any case, it was a job any idiot could do. i think i was marked as a “seasonal” employee too, so i really wasn’t given a whole lot to do, or very many hours. i did eventually get a few more duties as time went on and the dock manager grew more trustworthy of me. he was this big bald guy that listened to a lot of rock music, and didn’t put up with bullshit. he had me go around the store changing the lightbulbs a few times, which is not something you just let a dummy do. at von maur, i had to maneuver this massive industrial ladder and bring a dozen different bulbs with me, know how to mark lights that had bulbs changed and needed new ballasts, knew how to remove things from various sockets, open up skylights and reach through ceiling tiles, all while not falling to my death or getting shocked. that’s how i knew this guy trusted me.
this coincided with what i would consider a mini “internship” with the duties on the second floor, where the fulfillment offices were located. fulfillment means dealing with online orders, pulling specific products and getting them processed for delivery. and by “office” i mean a room with two computers, scanners, printers a shit ton of different sized boxes and bags, bubble wrap, packing tape, and apparently a whole lot of stress. there was a single dude working up there, and during christmas time, he was overwhelmed like crazy. i think he was actually going kind of crazy, to be honest. he knew the system pretty well, but still struggled with a lot of stuff, complained like a motherfucker, sang along to the radio but made up his own lyrics because he thought it was funnier. he was annoying but i liked having him around because he knew all the secrets to this job. like a gatekeeper. i could go to any other manager in the store and they wouldn’t really know what the fuck was going on in that office, couldn’t make sense of how or why orders showed up on those computers, couldn’t navigate them without calling another store to guide them through it, which they never did. it was really weird seeing what i thought was a polished corporate system so damn shaky beneath the foundation.
anyway, the dude quit that job before things really ramped up for the season. i was the only one in the department for a long time after that, and i barely knew what i was doing. he was the gatekeeper, and he left go back to his job at the waffle house pretty much overnight. i struggled for a while. most things got sent out ok, but i had a few “express” and “two day priority” packages that sat around for a few weeks through christmas because they required some special wizardry to get those specific labels to print off the computers. basically at the beginning of each day, you’d have a list of items to collect, and would spend the rest of the time hunting for those pieces out on the store floor, bring them back to the office, bag and box them up, and process the correct labels and gift cards for each and every one. and it was a real ball ache sometimes because certain items were just impossible to find, especially if they were returns that we didn’t normally carry in the store, clearance items, fucking women’s shoes, comforters with specific thread counts, dresses with the wrong picture, or no picture at all...
i took charge, though. i stuck around, i made uncomfortable phone calls to post offices, i got down a technique for folding and packaging shirts and dresses and all kinds of random stuff, got better at finding items that would normally be lost to the void. i could find shit in departments that people who actually worked those departments could not find. i became the epitome of efficiency. i was the new gatekeeper. at the end of every day, i’d have a blank order list, because everything would be accounted for, or passed on to another store. no bullshit. definitely the most involved i had ever been at any job. nobody at that store knew how that system worked better than me.
long story short, i was still the “seasonal” guy, and i think my bosses expected i didn’t plan on working there very long. they kept replacing the fulfillment manager with other people who barely knew what they were doing, essentially requiring me, the gatekeeper, to train my bosses, which to me was just absurd. after a few months, outraged, i quit to work at a cafe, and told my manager why i was upset that i was being shafted, not given the responsibility, the hours, the sweet sweet full-time position. she was surprised, apparently, and told me she absolutely would have given it to me if she knew i was interested. a missed communication. it was too late.
i’m glad i didn’t get promoted there, anyway, or else i would probably still be stuck there. i think that position got phased out of the system (along with the entire store, eventually), replaced by having the department managers coming in like, an hour early to pick all the orders out of their separate departments. probably more efficient. and in the end, i was really only interested in the complete and total power, not in the job itself. it’s still only retail
5. The Cornerstone Cafe, welcome to the family
this was my first actual job in the food service industry, at a cafe that i frequented pretty regularly, and this was also the first place where i properly ascended “through the ranks,” as they say. my longest lasting job to date, spanned about two and a half years, i think. it was owned by this married couple from indonesia, and i was hired on to replace one of their drivers. obviously i had to fudge the details of my previous driving gig to get this one, and i still kind of lacked confidence that i was really up to the task, but at least it was in a neighborhood that i was vaguely familiar with. i was also finally working at a place where i really cared whether or not they were successful. at someplace like macy’s, graeter’s, you’re just a cog, and not a very special one. at this place, they had maybe 5 or 6 employees in total on any given day, including one or both of the owners, and each of you had to be versatile, knowledgeable, and basically on top of your shit at all times. 
even as a delivery driver, i was informed and trained on at least 3 or 4 different roles. here’s how to be a cashier. here’s how to wash the dishes in a 3 compartment sink. here’s how i need you to sweep the floors, run food to the customers, here’s how to make this drink and that drink, here’s the size of the small salad, here’s the size of the regular salad, and when you fuck up, you can be sure as hell we’re gonna get on you for it until you do it the right way. no funny business. it was the kind of direction i enjoyed, something that makes you feel secure and stable when you get it down. i memorized the menu fully in maybe two weeks, which was no small feat. on the driving side, i picked up a lot of info about how streets are laid out, which ways were east and west, which side of the street certain numbers were on, which houses tipped and which houses didn’t, which addresses were businesses, which were apartments, etc etc. every customer has a different expectation and the job trains you to adapt. think quickly. work quickly. multitask and do a dozen jobs at once. this was not a slow restaurant, folks, and if you spent too long trying to learn something, you were dead weight. a lot of dead weight got fired. a lot of dumbasses got hired, snorted coke in the bathroom, and got fired because they weren’t paying attention. even people who had been there for a few years struggled sometimes, or at least got flustered. it was hard work and really shaped my work ethic, moreso than all the nothing jobs i had before.
also the most money i’d ever made up to that point, and i felt like i was almost making like, a living? of course, i wasn’t, i just happened to be in possession of a lot of cash, like some drug dealer. delivery drivers carry a lot of cash, tips mostly, or ways to break twenties and stuff like that, and that’s what makes delivery driving one of the most dangerous jobs out there! that’s what i read, anyway. i never got mugged or anything, but i’m pretty sure i was working in a pretty pussy neighborhood. driving was the easiest part, it was easy money compared to the madness of the dish room, the front counter, the kitchen line.
it was also an intensely intimate work relationship. it was a family business. i knew every single person that worked there. i was pals with all of them. i was out of school so i could work any shift, every shift, every position. i got trained to work in the kitchen, picked it up quick. learned a lot of prep work, picked up a few dozen different ways to cut an onion or a pepper. cooked batches of hard boiled eggs like they were nothing. made sandwiches like a madman, smacked people on the hands for trying to steal a french fry, threw cashiers out of the kitchen if they were getting in my way, and made my mark as a pillar of the establishment. they really grew to depend on me, which had its positives and negatives. 
the relationships grew very personal too, which also had positives and negatives. sometimes people really grated on me, personality-wise, and i endured them the same way you would an annoying uncle. others trusted me with stuff they really shouldn’t have, became incredibly comfortable giving me their secrets. i gave rides to people. took people grocery shopping, to do their laundry, mailed packages for people, made phone calls for people who weren’t confident with their english. more than once, i’ve had to drive home the guy who makes the chinese food because he would come into work mad drunk, and he only spoke spanish, so i would have to drop him off at a kroger nearby where i thought he lived. i knew a few people pretty personally, even the owners who still cheer and recognize me to this day, still let me go in the back and make my own food if there are no objections. i’m permanently a part of that family, and i worked my way into it fair and square. they still ask me to come back and work a weekend every now and then, and i always refuse.
it was one of those jobs where eventually, you just learn how to do everything, because at some point, you gotta do everything. there were days when i would both be the sandwich chef and the driver, a really sketchy balance. days when i would be covering three people at once. there is such a thing as being too dependable, too good at your job, because then people start taking advantage of you. people calling off for nothing knowing you could probably cover for them. your boss asking you to work an extra 5 hours on any given day. the head cook quitting for a month, forcing you to do his job when you really had no interest in firing fifteen dozen bagels at six in the morning, seven days a week. and being in a position like that makes it a lot harder to leave, even when you know you have to move on to bigger and better things, when you’ve learned everything and don’t want to be stuck in one place. that was really the hard part about that place, leaving your family to figure it out for themselves. in the end, though, it’s not really your family, it’s only business. i was starting to get this idea in my head about becoming a pastry chef at the time, and i was getting antsy about being stuck there.
i quit the job on the excuse that i was going back to school to study culinary, came back a few months later anyway to work 20 hour weeks. eventually made a connection or two in college that landed me a job on the pastry team at the convention center downtown, where i work now. but i think those stories are best saved for a time when i’m not like, employed by them. i’m still looking ahead, though, and again growing anxious about moving on to develop more skills.
probably why i was thinking about those damn doughnuts at that coffee place. i feel like there’s still a lot of pastry-related stuff i need to learn, stuff that i could have picked up on along the way before getting into The Big Leagues. bakeries and cafes and grocery stores i could have worked in. tricks of the trade i missed out on. granted, i am getting a lot of that now, but the job i’m currently holding is much more suited for somebody who already had a wealth of knowledge to build off of. maybe that’s why i’m taking this weird sojourn into “well, what have i actually learned so far?” trying to work at a bakery at this point feels like i’m going backwards, settling for less money to pick up skills i should already know. the next logical would be, i don’t know, a country club i guess? people always ask about starting my own bakery, and i know i’m not ready for that. sometimes i feel like i still don’t know a damn thing about food creation, how flavors go together. the more difficult techniques, decorating cakes and sugar work. even with simple techniques i’m sure i could use some refinement. and i’m always worthless when my boss comes to me for help with writing a menu. i don’t have tricks in my back pocket beyond what i’ve learned there, and i’m not as studious as i should be with trying new recipes in my personal time. depression gets in the way of that pretty regularly.
anyway, that’s all i can think to write for now. i know it’s a pretty worthless read, but sometimes you just gotta write for writing’s sake.
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xthebirdofhermesx · 6 years
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Hellsing: Rememberances - Chapter 3
I’m compiling on #Ao3, here, as I go for anyone interested in reading start to finish without having to scroll through Tumblr.
This... started as two little scenes in my head, and now is spiraling out of control in my head. I need to think. Figure out if there’s a small plot I can conjure for a bit since this is all still technically before Ultimate “began”. And where to go from there. Hmmmmmm. Chapter 4 will be part II, and its shaping up to be from Alucard’s perspective, so stay tuned! I have no idea when I’ll get the next part done (This one went really fast, but IRL is a jerk sometimes, and my muse can be a stubborn turd at others) but I will try and have it up as soon as I can figure out what “it” looks like ^_^
Saints and Sinners: Part I Looking in the full length, antique floor mirror that had been her grandmother’s at one time, Integra Hellsing had to admit even she thought she looked a little pale. It wasn’t the dress. The black satin bodice and a-line skirt, strapless frock was lovely and classy. Despite her general aversion to dresses as she’d become far more comfortable in pants over dresses nowadays, she very much liked the 50s style to it. The capelet that covered her shoulders was beaded lace, with a high collar and satin ribbon tie that allow her to affix her crucifix pin to it was well. Hair braided up around her head, she’d decided to go with an up style unlike her normal long, flowing plaits - she felt it made her look more distinguished.
Nor was her pallor a result of the Hellsing operation the evening prior. An operation that had required her to order the execution of approximately fifteen ghoul freaks, one proper vampire and more than two dozen civilians that were on their way to becoming mindless ghouls. No, that was her job. Her duty to Queen and country as was the legacy of her proud family. No, no she’d not even lost a wink of sleep over that.
No, she knew exactly from whence her pallor came. This night there was a party being held in her honor. Downstairs nobility of England, Knights of the Council of Twelve and others, supporters from the Church of England, and what few family friends outside of that left to the Hellsing family were already arriving. There were police officers and royal guard at the gate down the drive and the house proper preventing media and unwanteds from entering. Walter had been bustling about for a week now with preparations, phone calls and deliveries for the food, flowers, decor and his normal duties. Hellsing manor had not seen such a soiree in decades. All for one, momentous evening.
It was Integral Fairbrooks Wingates Hellsing’s eighteenth birthday.
Giving the difficult orders, even at her age, were no longer an issue. Fighting monsters, freaks both with her ultimate weapon, or on the rare occasion she herself had found need or situation to fight, no longer intimidated or threatened her. Nobility and political events, while not her favorite as she detested being unarmed, were also not the issue.
She was going to have to socialize .
Her training as both the head of the Hellsing organization and a knight of the realm was perfection. Overseen by the Queen herself at times, she had never received anything but perfect marks in combat, etiquette, procedure, language or any common core educations. But when it came down to it, she had been raised by a retired vampire slayer as her butler… and Dracula himself. She hadn’t the foggiest idea how she was supposed to maintain idle chit-chat, non work related conversation or casual discourse… with anyone.
Be it from practice, or the fact that he wasn’t trying to be stealthy, Integra saw when the shadows of her room darkened, and Alucard manifested from the wall behind her. She did not see him in the mirror, but the hair at the back of her neck stood up in the presence of his power, as it always did. The human mind, be it unexplained science, or instinct, recognized a predator and their power regardless of trust.
“You should knock,” she said flatly before turning around to face him. She could tell from the wide grin on his face, he was likely entirely informed of her state of mind. Regardless of how many times she’d asked or ordered, when it came to reading her thoughts Alucard could not seem to help himself.
He chuckled, the deep baritone of his voice bringing chill bumps to her exposed arms. “I could not help myself,” he answered as if she’s spoken aloud. “Not tonight. Your trepidation is palpable, and called to me. The fearless Integral Hellsing… chewing her lips over a party.” His head inclined slightly to one side in curiosity. “You had no fear ordering the murder of more than thirty souls not twenty-four hours ago. And yet the living terrify you.”
“The Salvation of those souls is my duty, servant . We released them from a tortured existence. Do not mistake or twist my purpose.”
The large smile returned to the tall man’s face. Integra noticed that he was missing his typical long red coat and dark suit in favor of a different one. So black it seemed to absorb light, the double breasted coat was long, to a few inches above the knees of his matching, pleated pants. Even the red satin cravat he wore was pressed, tied over a new black dress shirt. Though she also noted his unruly mass of back hair was as ever long in the front and shorter in back, curling wildly as if it had a mind all its own.
Red, glowing vampiric eyes narrowed as the ancient vampire observed her, observing him. “Penny for your thoughts,” he rumbled smugly at his own joke.
Integra merely raised one perfectly arched eyebrow over her crystal blue eyes. “You look… nice.”
This clearly amused him as the No Life King’s head fell back with laughter. At the same time he began walking towards her slowly. “Oh my sweet master,” he said, stopping only inches from her, “How you strive for your heart to be carved from the coldest, most unyeilding ice. And yet I know so much differently.”
Now it was her turn to incline her head curiously. “So you believe,” she said, but were she honest, she wasn’t sure what he knew - or thought he knew.
Alucard just smiled. “Tonight, you become the true, legal leader of this organization.”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“Am I?” he purred. “Or am I acknowledging that the beautiful, bloodthirsty and unflinching granddaughter of my once nemesis stands before me wrapped like a Christmas present in satin and disdain… on the day she becomes legally an adult?”
She frowned before she could school her reaction, replaying his words in her mind as she had no idea what on Earth they were supposed to mean together, until- oh. Oh. Ohhhhh .
He was granted the satisfaction of seeing her blush hotly before she turned away from him and reaching for her black, satin wrist gloves. “You’re disgusting, Alucard. How dare you imply such undertones in my presence. Had I any time for such thoughts, they would certainly not be of a five and a half century-old warlord King turned monster.”
“Liar.”
That one word hung in the air between them along with her hesitation and his shit-eating grin.
“No man or woman is in control of their unconscious mind. How dare you-”
“The unconscious mind merely shows us the truths of what we refuse to acknowledge with our conscious minds.” His voice was closer. Right over her shoulder now. She’d been so lambasted at the subject, she’d not been paying attention peripherally and certain not seen him move in the mirror as he bore no reflection.
Straightening up to turn and give Alucard a rather loud piece of her mind, Integra’s voice caught in her throat when she found herself nose to nose with him. Steel. Her mind had to be steel. Her expression, steel. Heart? Steel. It took such a mantra to not give him the satisfaction of her surprise. “You’re invading my personal space, vampire.”
“Mmm, am I?” He did not move a muscle.
“Stand back, monster. That is an order.”
One dark eyebrow raised slowly towards his hair, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “As you wish, my master - if ,” he said, still right where he had been, “That is what you truly desire.”
God help her she hesitated. He was right, she’d been dreaming about him in very… blush worthy ways. She was well read, she knew all the biology lessons and the chemicals involved with growing up, maturing both mentally, emotionally and sexually. She understood attraction. She understood what romance was. In fact, she had a small stash, in the box under her bed, of lovely little fantasy fiction novels, each with a bit of romance in them that usually made her sigh internally. None of this was unexpected, or abnormal.
Other than the subject of her explicit dreams being the most powerful of all vampires and king of the undead.
“It is what I truly desire,” she snapped at him, but her voice cracked, and he just grinned more wildly.
“Liar.”
“That’s twice you’ve called me a liar tonight and if you do it again, I will shoot you myself with every blessed bullet I can lay my damn hands on!” she prattled off at him as if it were rote. Which, if she were honest, it was becoming that way.
But Alucard didn’t back up. He stopped leaning, standing to his full height and allowing her to stop leaning away from him at an odd angle. However he still stood so very close to her. His ruby eyes never leaving her face, Alucard reached up and ran the back of his gloved fingers over the rise of her cheek. “What would you say, if I asked you to join me in unlife, my master? To rule the night, drink blood, cut down any who would oppose us and be my queen for eternity as an equal?”
Integra either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care that she had plenty of room to step away from him now that he wasn’t leaning. His caress of her face burned through her and she was having a hard time parsing in her mind what exactly was happening to her. “I would rather die than become a monster like you.”
“And what would you say after that?” he grinned. “After you gave me the answer your Council and the Queen and England expect of you- what you were raised to say- what you may superficially believe you mean- now that that answer is out of the way… What would your heart answer?”
She blinked at him slowly, wanting with everything she was to affirm that her words were in fact the answer to both. That she would never give in to such a dark, evil temptation and that he would leave her quarters right that instant to his dungeon to miss the party as punishment for his insubordination. That or just unload a clip into him to make herself feel better.
That is not, however, what happened.
If there was one thing that she could say with clarity and certainty, it was that she had never lied to Alucard. She may have omitted information not pertinent to him, or for the protection of herself mostly- especially after her final testing as part of her schooling where she’d had to go to London proper and a facility in which he followed and made a nuisance of himself all damn day. And she would try to conceal her privacy, lying about seeing him in her dreams or other such personal business because he was ever so damnably nosy. But she had never once lied… about anything truly big or important. Oddly… this felt big and important.
“I do not know, Alucard,” she sighed and crossed one arm over her chest, the other pressing a palm to her forehead. “If you asked me now- here and now... not in hypothetical, I would say no. I have too much to do, both in duty and as a person, too much to accomplish and experience as a human being to have any desire to step off this mortal coil and onto the dark, monstrous immortal one you walk.
“But if I were dying, if there was no hope to save my life and I knew the end was near… I cannot say for certain I would turn you down.”
He had been listening with a bemused expression at her internal turmoil and patently Hellsing answer, but with her final words his face alit with a nearly manic smile. “That, my master, is not a no.”
She sighed lifting her head from her palm to roll her eyes and look at him. “How observant of you. I am about to have to go field over one hundred people I barely know, and like even less in some cases, and I do not have the widgets to play your games right now.”
“Then, with your permission, may I give you your birthday gift, and escort you down stairs, my master?” he asked and Integra knew, expected there was a catch. At the very least something he was hiding.
“Fine,” she rumbled and stuffed her hands into her gloves. But then a thought occurred to her. “Wait when would you have left to get me anythin-”
She was cut off when he reached out and placed a hand in the small of her back and pulled her against his chest. He did not pin her, if Integra wanted to squirm away, she could have and they both knew it. She thought about it, and he saw it in her eyes that she thought about it.
And yet, she did not move.
“What are you doing?”
Alucard smiled broadly. “Giving you your birthday gift.”
He leaned down, and the moment his lips brushed hers, Integra had never known such fire to ignite within her. His skin was cool but soft and she found that not only had the old bastard bothered to put on cologne and brush his teeth, but she ached very suddenly, and very painfully for him to finish that physical thought.
Alucard only grinned where she could feel it, hovering but not actually making the final movement that would bring them together. “Oh for Heaven’s sake, you bastard,” she swore and lifting up on tiptoe, pressed her lips to his in a chaste, but heated kiss.
His other arm came around her and cradled the back of her neck, her arms coming to wrap around his neck and hold him there so she could kiss him longer. A soft, but deeply male moan escaped him and Integra knew that if this continued, there was a solid chance she might have a very impressive list of regrets in the morning.
Or merely an impressive list of firsts.
A knock on the door shattered the momentary spell, and Integra found herself suddenly staring at Alucard’s back where he stood between her and the door, and any possible threats. “Madame, the guests have arrived,” Walter’s voice called politely from the other side of the door. “I believe it is time for you to make your entrance. Shall I fetch the Count?”
Tucking a stray strand of hair loosed in their moment behind her ear, Integra cleared her throat and straightened her dress. “I believe he knows, Walter. That won’t be necessary. I will meet you atop the stairs in a few moments.”
“Of course, my lady.”
When Walter’s footsteps could no longer be heard, Integra looked up to Alucard to see his eyes glowing darkly under the shadow of his hair. He’d moved so quickly she’d not only not seen, but it had taken a second for her to register what had happened. Now, she stood staring into the burning eyes of a damned soul and true monster. She had to remember that. She had to remind herself that he was a monster, her servant. A weapon. A tool to we wielded against the darkness…
...And if he had then leaned down to kiss her again, she would not have stopped him.
Hell.
Before her train of thought could go any further, she noticed that same monster was holding his arm out to her like a gentleman. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. A handsome, dark angel of death and destruction. Some might say The Devil Himself.
“Best not to keep your public waiting,” he rumbled, but there was more to his tone than his usual torment in that statement. If Integra had a gun to her head for an answer, she’d have guessed there was a note of longing to his words.
Accepting his arm and letting him lead her to the door, she acknowledged in her mind for the first time that day that she was actually terrified of the living downstairs and completely… well at least mostly, comfortable with the monster on whose arm she walked. As he opened the door, she stopped him, tugging ever so slightly at his elbow. “Alucard,” she whispered, preventing echoes and eavesdropping, “Do not stray far from me this evening.”
His expression melted from poise, to sadistic delight as he smiled. “Is that an order, or a request, my master?”
She thought about it a moment, facing forward once more to resume their pace. Finally she sighed.
“Both.”
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punmasterkentparson · 6 years
Text
Sleep Talk
inspired by this post, because i think it’d be hilarious if Alexei Mashkov talked in his sleep and unwittingly inflicted it on Kent. But then feelings happened?
also on ao3.
“I love you, big rat.”
Kent is in the process of picking his clothes off Alexei Mashkov’s hotel room floor in the near-dark when this statement comes from the bed. In slow motion, Kent turns. He can just make out Alexei’s silhouette from the lights of Vegas coming through the hotel room window.
He doesn’t know which he’s more baffled by: the love confession from a guy he literally just hooked up with last night, or the attached nickname that’s either an insult or an unfortunate mistranslation from Russian.
“...Sorry, what?”
Alexei is still horizontal in bed, but he shrugs as if he’s sitting up. He hasn’t even opened his eyes. “It’s fine. Take the turtles with you, they’re lonely.”
Kent gapes. “What turtles?”
“The ones underground. Don’t feed them after midnight.” Then, as if that has concluded the conversation, Alexei rolls over under the blankets and presumably goes back to sleep.
Kent pulls on his clothes and sneaks out of the room. As he drives himself home, he wonders under his breath, “Turtles?!”
--
All-Star weekend is a gift and a curse. It’s a curse because it pulls Kent out of regular season and away from his team. It’s a gift because he loves kicking ass in the skills competitions. But mostly, it’s a gift because this year, when he’s out at a bar and spots Mashkov watching him, the hot tingle he gets isn’t residual terror from the memory of being single-handedly yanked out of a dogpile and yelled at in Russian last year.
Okay, it isn’t just from the memory of that.
The first hookup had involved a some name-calling and taken a while to get from ‘resentful opponents’ to ‘resentful opponents working off sexual tension.’ This time, it’s easier. All Kent has to do is slip Mashkov a napkin with his room number on it and then tell everyone he’s calling it a night. The guys accuse him of being a wet blanket for ditching the party early, but that just means they’re all still out when Kent lets Mashkov into his room at the hotel.
Mashkov blows him on the bed, both of them still half-dressed, then turns Kent around and fucks his way to orgasm between Kent’s squeezed thighs. It’s almost as good a workout as the day’s events had been. It’s definitely more satisfying. Lying on the bed afterward, Kent feels like his brain has melted, in the best way.
Mashkov, facedown on the blankets at Kent’s left, grunts. “We messy. Get towel.”
Kent’s legs are slippery with lube and his muscles are jelly. “You get it.”
“Rock paper scissors you for not go.”
Kent snorts but holds up a hand. They throw down, and Mashkov loses.
After they’ve wiped up the spunk and Kent has graciously tossed the towel back in the bathroom, Mashkov rolls off the bed and starts collecting his clothes. Kent watches, thoroughly enjoying the muscular flex of Mashkov’s ass whenever he bends down. “You wanna just stay over?” he asks, without even thinking.
Mashkov turns, nose wrinkled in confusion. “Why?”
Kent shrugs. “’Cause I wanna blow you tomorrow morning, and if I do it in the locker room or the showers, the guys’ll complain.”
Mashkov laughs, shakes his head, and says, “Okay. It’s good plan.” He pulls his briefs back on but leaves off everything else. Kent goes to brush his teeth, and when he comes back to bed, Mashkov is already under the blankets and half-asleep. Even with the heat on in the room, Kent gravitates to pocket of warmth on Mashkov’s side.
Even though he can’t quite admit it to himself, he falls asleep faster and easier with Mashkov there. He even drops into a deeper sleep than usual.
So when Mashkov grabs his arm in the middle of the night, Kent startles awake like he’s been stabbed.
“The fuck!? Oh, shit. Mashkov, what the hell--”
Mashkov responds in Russian.
“I don’t know what the hell you just said?”
“Oh, sorry,” Mashkov says, in what is...Jesus Christ, is that Jack’s Canadian accent? “We’re not in Russia?”
“We’re in Florida. Why do you sound Canadian?”
Mashkov frowns. “What is he usually?” he asks, his accent now closer to Rhode Island.
Kent stares, wide-eyed, and for the first time in his life entertains the notion that body-snatchers are real. “You’re Russian? But you speak English?”
“Oh,” Mashkov says, thankfully back to his normal accent. “You don’t say.” And he lets go of Kent’s arm and rolls over. Within ten seconds, he’s snoring.
Kent can’t get back to sleep for another half hour.
--
In the morning, Kent wakes to find Mashkov already sitting up in bed and scrolling through his phone.
"Do you talk in your sleep?" Kent blurts.
Mashkov jumps at the sound of Kent's voice. He puts his phone down and looks over. "Little bit? Why, I'm say something last night?" He's grinning.
"You grabbed me in the middle of the night and asked if we were in Russia. You had a Canadian accent. And you talked about yourself in the third person."
Mashkov laughs. "Sorry. It's happen sometimes. Never remember what I say."
"In Vegas you talked about turtles," Kent says accusingly.
Mashkov laughs some more and shrugs. "I don't know what it's mean. It's just my brain, you know? Say stuff, I'm not thinking."
"Your brain has weird thoughts."
Mashkov winks and puts his phone on the nightstand. "Maybe you guess what my brain is thinking about now? Give you hint, it's about your mouth and my dick."
Kent rolls his eyes and shoves him, right before ducking under the sheets.
--
They hook up twice more during the All-Star weekend. Then it's back to the regular season. They're on opposite ends of the country more often than not, but Kent somehow ended up with Alexei's phone number (and vice versa) so the distance between them seems to shrink.
It turns out that Alexei is fun to talk to even when he's NOT sleep-talking. He's a social media fiend who Instagrams everything he eats, and also things he wishes he could eat--like ice cream.
"I'm lactase intolerant," Alexei tells him over Skype one night. The video is off but they've got audio, and Kent is at home so he's multitasking by talking to Alexei and also cleaning Kit's endless toys off the floor. Alexei adds, "It was first English I learn when I come here. Because agent not want Mama and Papa kill him because I die in milk accident."
Kent laughs so hard that Kit flattens her ears. "So that's why your Instagam feed is full of cheese."
"Want to eat so much," Alexei moans. "Sometimes in off season I'm eat a little, even though make me sick and have gas. Trainer always know, always sigh like I'm disappoint her. And then ban me from office, sometimes weight room, because she say farts is smell too bad."
Kent laughs harder. "Shit, you're ridiculous."
"Takes one to know one," Alexei replies, and even through the connection, Kent can hear the grin.
A week later, Kent is in Toronto and Alexei is in Tampa. The Leafs trounce the Aces, and the Falcs lose in a shoot-out.
Kent doesn’t want to talk to anyone. He just wants to sleep. From the lack of texts on Alexei’s end, he guesses the feeling is shared. It’s fine. Everyone deals with losses their own way. Kent knows his own grief cycle by now, and how to get himself through it by the time he has to play another game. He gets on the bus to the hotel, chats with the guys who need to talk about it, and then goes to his hotel room and finds something mindless to watch for an hour. By the time he’s brushing his teeth and turning off the lights, he’s not exactly calm, but he’s not wound up so tightly that he’ll get caught in a spiral of doubt and self-blame the second his head hits the pillow.
He expects to fall asleep. He can’t.
Taking his phone off the nightstand, he checks for texts. There aren’t any. He sends a quick message anyway.
u up?
There’s no reply for such a long time that Kent gives up and puts the phone back. He’s just starting to drift when a buzz startles him back awake.
yes. skype?
Kent stares for a second. His heart thumps hard in his chest. He just sent a text, he wasn’t asking for...
He thumbs open the app and hits CALL.
Alexei answers without video. “Don’t want talk,” he says, apologetic. “Sorry. Just... sound. Room quiet, head loud.”
Kent is already lying back down, resting the phone near his head. “No, it’s okay. I get it.”
Rustling bedsheets come through the connection. “Thank you.”
Kent doesn’t say ‘you’re welcome,’ because he feels like he needs this, too. Alexei is right; the room is quiet and his head is still too loud. But with the background susurrus of someone else’s breath, he falls asleep within minutes.
Then, in the middle of the night, he stirs. It takes him a muddled moment to understand what woke him up. There’s a voice, tinny and digital, coming from his pillow, and it’s speaking in Russian.
Kent blinks at his phone, glowing in the dark. The Skype connection never cut out.
“Alexei? Are you sleep talking, or are you awake?”
“Fuck you, Santa Claus, you owe me twenty dollars,” Alexei replies, clear as day and clearly dead asleep. Kent has to bury his face in the pillow to keep from laughing. When he can manage speech, he says, “That dick. He should pay you.”
“If it’s yellow, they’ll buy it,” Alexei mutters, sounding pissed as hell. Kent puts his face back in the pillow; there are tears coming down his cheeks.
Alexei goes on, “Nevermind, it’s Wednesday,” and then two seconds later, snores lightly as he falls back into deep sleep.
It’s a long time before Kent calms down enough to sleep again. And even then, he’s still smiling.
--
The Aces’ last game of regular season is in Providence. It means nothing, because everyone has known since last week that the Falcs are going to the playoffs, while the Aces are not.
Kent works hard not to think of it as a throwaway game. He knows the team is just ready for the season to end. They missed a wild card spot by one point, which they’d have gotten if they’d pushed a game against the Hurricanes into overtime. And even though Kent knows that the Falconers win 3-2 because they’re riding the high of success while the Aces are mentally checked out, it still feels like the last nail in a coffin being lowered into a grave that he dug for himself through an entire season’s worth of small mistakes.
He doesn’t meet Alexei’s eyes when they go through the handshake line. For that reason, it’s not remotely a surprise when Alexei tries to call him after the game. But by then, the Aces are already on a flight back to Vegas, so Kent doesn’t get the notifications until after they’ve landed and disembarked.
Alexei called five times and left two messages. Kent ignores them all. When a sixth call comes through, he waits until it disconnects and then turns off his phone.
This isn’t like the few other times they Skyped overnight. Alexei can’t share this loss with him. Kent would rather he didn’t try.
--
Nashville knocks the Falcs from the playoffs in game seven of the second round. It makes Kent feel like a dick. Alexei has texted him several times and tried to call him as well, and Kent hasn’t responded, on the grounds that he wasn’t ready to stop feeling like shit. Now, Alexei will be grieving, and Kent wants to call him. But after what he did, he wouldn’t be surprised if Alexei gave him the cold shoulder in return.
He almost doesn’t reach out. But he knows he’ll be angrier with himself for not trying, than getting cut off permanently and knowing he earned it.
At 10pm on a Saturday, Kent gets up the nerve to dial. Alexei doesn’t take the call. Kent’s heart sinks into his socks and he curls up around Kit on the bed.
Ten minutes later, his phone buzzes with a text.
skype?
“I’m sorry,” Kent says as soon as the audio call connects. It’s the exact same thing as an actual phone call, but there’s symbolism at work here that doesn’t escape him for a second. “You tried to talk to me. I should have answered.”
“Apology accepted. Is okay.” Alexei sounds tired, raw. Like he’s been taking out his frustrations on himself at the gym, but instead of earning some peace, he’s just hollowed himself out. Kent knows the feeling.
“I’m sorry I’m like this,” Kent says. He’s still wrapped around Kit, one hand petting her and the other cradling the phone. If he closes his eyes, it feels like Alexei is in the room with him. “I’ll probably always be like this.”
“Could be worse. Could never call.”
Kent swallows. “Guess that’s true.”
“I know is true.”
Alexei sounds so confident that it drags a faint smile out of Kent. But it fades as he murmurs, “And, I’m sorry. For...” He doesn’t have to say it for Alexei to know what he means.
There’s a small silence, and then Alexei whispers, “Me, too. Want so much. Think we get, this year.”
“Yeah.”
They both fall silent. Neither hangs up. It’s getting late, and Kent knows he should sleep. He’s already dressed for bed. But he doesn’t want to hang up, not yet. “Do you want to... I don’t know. Talk about it?” The words feel trite as soon as they’re out of his mouth.
“No. Not about... Don’t want talk about it. But maybe just... we talk?” He sounds hesitant. Kent has never known him to be hesitant.
“That sounds good to me,” Kent says. But then he can’t think of something to say.
Alexei chuckles. “I don’t know what talk about.”
“You could just go to sleep,” Kent says. “You talk in your sleep, you’ll say something eventually.”
“Yes, ‘weird shit,’ you tell me.” There’s still exhaustion coming through, but warmth is creeping into Alexei’s tone. “Why you want hear if it’s weird?”
“‘Cause it’s also fucking hilarious. I told you about Santa, right?”
“Asshole still owe me money.”
Kent guffaws, startling Kit. “Well, Christmas is over, so you’ll have to head up to the North Pole if you want him to pay up.”
Alexei snorts. “You say I’m say weird shit.”
“You do. You know that first night we hooked up, in Vegas, you called me a big rat?”
“I call you big rat even when not sleeping, that’s not weird shit.”
“You monologue, sometimes,” Kent insists. “In Russian. Other times you’ll have halfway normal conversations with me, which isn’t even weird, it’s creepy. And you keep asking me about turtles. Why the fuck do you care so much about turtles?”
Alexei isn’t even listening anymore, he’s laughing. It makes Kent grin, still alone on his bed in the dark except for his cat, but with Alexei’s voice filling the room it doesn’t feel so awful.
That doesn’t change how tired he is, though. A yawn escapes him.
“Kent?”
“‘M here. I can keep talking. I just might fall asleep in the middle.”
“Okay.” Alexei is smiling too, Kent can hear it. “Maybe it’s same for me, too. But I like this. I like be with you when I’m go to sleep.”
Kent’s chest feels a little tight. He reaches down to tug the bedsheets over himself, and tugs the phone closer. “Yeah. Me, too.”
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