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i-want-all-the-cookies · 2 years

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Somebody, Someone

Ch 2. Strong Like Ox

Word Count: 2K

Twenty minutes had already passed since I had spoken to Mr. Kim, who turned out to be the drunkard's very mad and very irritated father. I was barely given enough time to relay his son's state of being, and where our current location was, before I was rudely interrupted and instructed to wait around until someone showed up for him. And before I could even begin to protest he had already hung up and ended the call.

Irritation still bubbled up inside of me as I thought back to the conversation and I took a glance down at the drunk. Still feeling a bit surprised at myself that I had managed to drag him from the middle of the sidewalk, where he was originally sprawled out, to just underneath the awnings of the nearest building. Most of his upper body now leaning against the rough brick wall, as his head slumped over to the side, a bit of drool clearly visible at the corners of his mouth.

I grimaced slightly before turning away, and after a few minutes I checked the time on my watch again. It was now almost thirty minutes since I had placed the call, and the streets were starting to become livelier with the night time traffic finally picking up. Which meant that I had the unfortunate pleasure of dealing with more than one person giving me odd looks as they walked by. Their eyes first landing on me, before trailing down to the slumped figure to my side, and then back up to me. A look of pure confusion on their faces before they averted their gaze and picked up the pace.

I sighed and took another look at the drunk. Placing particular interest on his thick warm jacket, as I clutched my thin sweater closer to my body. It felt as if the temperature had dropped a couple degrees in the time I had spent waiting, and while a gust of wind began to swirl around me I made up my mind, that if no one showed up within the next five minutes, I was leaving. I had done more than enough. More than I should have. And definitely more than most would have in my shoes. So I had every right to walk away from this mess guilt free.

At least that's what I was mentally telling myself, as I tried to steady my resolve to walk away, when I caught sight of a pair of headlights heading incredibly slow in my direction. I kept my eyes glued to the dark blue vehicle as it slowly approached until it ultimately stopped next to the curb. Where a young man stepped out wearing a nice pressed suit, and as he walked over he gave me a friendly smile. "Are you Violet?"

I gave him a small nod and what I hoped was a light smile back in return through my clattering teeth, as I motioned towards the body on the ground. As if it's presence wasn't already painfully obvious, since there was little to no way to miss the six foot tall figure slumped over at my feet.

"Does he belong to you?" I asked, feeling a slight cringe once the words left my mouth. Obviously he was here for him.

The driver merely continued to smile as he politely kept talking. "Yes ma'am, I believe he does belong to me, I mean us, or actually to Mr. Kim. I'm his assistant, Mr. Edgar Lee and I'll be taking the young sir off your hands now. Thank you for waiting so patiently."

My smile quickly turned down as my eyebrows furrowed on my forehead. With my mind focusing on a single spoken word, as I ignored everything else that Mr. Edgar had said.

Ma'am?

I reached up to gingerly touch at my face.

Do I look like a ma'am? I just graduated from highschool last year, how would I be considered a ma'am already? Maybe it's the harsh fluorescent lighting in the area? Does anyone even look remotely decent under this kind of setting?

I looked up to the nearest light post, my eyes turning into thin slits as a scowl formed on my face.

I'll definitely have to head over to the department store tomorrow, and splurge on that new facial moisturizer everyone's raving about... And maybe I should buy some eye cream too. Just in case.

I was so preoccupied in my new existential crisis, and my growing shopping list, that I hadn't heard Mr. Edgar talking until he placed a gentle hand on my shoulder to get my attention. The heated glare I was giving the light post inadvertently transferred over to him as my eyes shifted, and he immediately pulled his hand away as he began apologizing. "I'm so sorry ma'am. I didn't mean to infringe on your personal space."

My eyebrows dipped lower at the mention of that word again and Mr. Edgar put his hands out in front of him nervously as he continued. "I- uh, I was just w-wondering if you would be able to give me a hand... Possibly.... Please." he stammered out as he motioned downwards with his hands.

My eyes followed and I soon realized he was talking about the drunk, as he was now fully stretched out on the sidewalk again. His clothes twisted haphazardly while one of his shoes had come off and was laying off to the side. I looked back up at Mr. Edgar, a defined frown of displeasure on my face, and the man shrunk away a little as he put his hands together in a plea. "Please miss, he's too heavy for me to lift alone, but we should have no issues if we work together."

Well... miss IS better than ma'am, so there's that, I thought as my confidence lifted just a smidgen higher and I let my eyes sweep over the man's body. Taking in his small frame, his thin arms, and the way he wrung his delicate looking hands together. Hands that were probably more accustomed to shuffling papers and holding trays of coffee. I then looked down at my own body, which was in no better shape, and I was about to say so when he mouthed a silent please one last time. The searching look on his face being quite pitiful, and making it incredibly difficult to say no too, and after another second of silence I let out a heavy sigh and started rolling up my sleeves.

A flood of relief passed across his features as he hurriedly went to grab onto the drunks arms. I followed suit and bent down to grab onto the legs. Where I then carefully shifted his weight against my own body until his legs were spread wide apart, each one resting on a hip as I wrapped my arms around his bent knees.

Sweat quickly started forming on my brow as we both clumsily inched closer to the car, step by painfully small step. Trying our best to carry the dead weight of the body without dropping it. As soon as we made it to the car we both got to work on pushing, pulling, and fumbling the drunks body into the backseat. With Mr. Edgar shouting out encouraging remarks every time he noticed I was having difficulty. Such as when we had to pause our manhandling, so that I could hike the drunk's pants up, which had begun to slip down and off his body once we started shoving him against the leather seating of the car. The task had unfortunately fallen up to me since I was on that end of the body.

"You can do it!" Mr. Edgar cheered on from the opposite side of the car. "You are a strong capable woman! Just a quick tug up by the waist and he'll be good as new!"

I cursed under my breath as I crouched over the drunks lower body. My feet now sticking out of the opened car door as I struggled to grip the waistband of his jeans, while simultaneously trying to keep my balance and not topple on top of him, as I yanked with all my might upwards. Mr. Edgar spurring me on in the background with each attempt, until I finally succeeded.

As soon as that was over I backed out of the car, leaving Mr. Edgar to complete the task of pulling the body in the rest of the way from the other end, while I walked over to the shoe that was still laying on the sidewalk. I then proceeded to pick it up and promptly toss it into the backseat with the now snoring owner before slamming the door shut.

After finishing on his end Mr. Edgar briskly walked over to the passenger side door and opened it wide. "Thank you for the help, now if you please." he motioned with his hand as he held the door open. "I was also instructed to take you home. For your troubles of course."

I leaned up against the car, my breathing finally coming in at a normal pace as I sized him up.

I'm pretty sure I can take him if he tries anything, especially considering that I seemed to be the stronger of the both of us, I thought as I debated whether to accept the ride from a practical stranger or not. But a ride home would really be the bare minimum I'm owed, wouldn't it? Especially after what I was just put through.

With that final assumption in mind, I grabbed my bag from where I had dropped it on the sidewalk, and then made my way into the passenger seat. Quickly letting my body sink into the warmed up leathered cushions, where I finally started feeling the aches and pains in my arms and back, now that the adrenaline of struggling with a body was wearing off.

Mr. Edgar quickly made his way to the driver's side, and while he started the engine I gave him directions to my apartment building.

"I know where that building is. I had a friend who used to live there when I went to college." he responded. "It's really not the best neighborhood but it was the only place he could afford at the time." he added cheerfully as he put the car into drive.

I gave him a side eye, but couldn't really gripe about his comment since that was the only spot I could afford at the moment as well. So instead I just ignored him and turned my head to watch the passing buildings as we drove by.

Thankfully we arrived within just a few minutes and without bothering to waste any more pleasantries I quickly got out of the car, closing the door behind me as I heard Mr. Edgar call out for me to have a good night. I gave him a half ass wave of acknowledgment before I quickly made my way up the concrete steps to the second floor of the building, stoping at my apartment just as my outside light flickered and burned out.

Great, now I have to call the property manager so they can come and replace that, I thought bitterly as I put the key into the lock and turned the knob. Walking in and dropping my bag on the floor in exhaustion while I began closing the door, only to freeze when I noticed that Mr. Edgar's dark blue car was still parked outside by the tenant parking. My face scrunched up in confusion as I took a step outside again, walking up to the nearby ledge of the outside walkway, I raised a hand to my brow line as I tried to peer out into the darkness, and I immediately dropped it down again once I realized how useless that was and how stupid I probably looked.

A second later I saw the faint outline of a hand waving to me from the opened window of the car as it began to drive away, and I hesitantly raised my own hand in return. Shaking my head in confusion as I watched the car until it was out of view, before turning back into my apartment and promptly closing the door and setting up all the locks.

#Phillip is 'that' kinda drunk when he goes overboard #won't wake up even if it was the end of the world #or you know the less extreme scenario of manhandling of his body #Next chapter will have a sober and awake Phillip #stay tuned #Phillip Kim #Weak Hero #Weak Hero Webtoons #Somebody Someone #Weak Hero Webtoon

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tiktaalic · 2 months

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Girls will be like yeah so basically Taylor swift has eradicated all attempts at creativity in favor of seamlessly merging her IDENTITY to PRODUCT and I will give accolades where accolades are due. She has been very successful at this probably the most successful person on earth at this and all it cost her is her soul. And it DID cost a soul. You could make a graph between amount of streams and quality of work and see so clearly the inverse relationship materialize before your eyes. She was not born a hack but embraced the life of a hack when she realized she would be more popular with platitudes and dialing back on oversharing and being less messy. If you replace personhood with producthood you lose your humanity but your album sales go fuuuucking crazy. I can make overtures at understanding this by reminding myself she was crucified for being a person for years and years and she has been very vocal about it doing a heavy number on her psyche. Maybe when that happens to you as a teenager the trade off seems less revolting. Getting rid of something you’re mocked for having anyway and in return you are richer and more famous than anyone has any right to be. But then I scratch my head. And go but surely you see that this is a deal with the devil. Surely with the contract laid out in front of you. You gnaw your lip. You hesitate. You follow the letter of the law but skirt the spirit of it for brief shining moments. And when she’s so publicly had misogynistic vitriol levied at her. So often for so long. IS it misogynistic for your criticisms to boil down to “she’s not likable enough for me”? At what dollar amount does a millionaire going on billionaire become a public object rather than a person? Does the fact that she’s slowly revoked access to herself change this? Is it more or less human to orchestrate your life so that paparazzi only sees you on planned outings where you look impeccable and have a message to send and you are Taylor Swift The Brand after you’ve been scarred by years of being Taylor swift the young woman in the tail end of the aughts and the 2010s ripped to shreds scrutinized for every choice and smile and dress and man? Is there a passable essay in the title Taylor Swift Doesn’t Owe You Authenticity. Maybe! but doesn’t she as an artist work at a job where she’s supposed to produce. Art? It sounds like I’m asking for ballads but I’m really not I’m asking for a song that is good. Im asking for a cruel summer which is irreplicable but surely the minds behind it can produce something more than snow on the fucking beach? Or am I overestimating the continued talent of a woman who is the platonic ideal of a target shopper? Is it misogynistic to believe the platonic ideal of a target shopper can’t create with a soul? How to talk about the fall off of Taylor swift in a woman honoring way?

five minutes later. You can’t spell awesome without ME!

#is Len a swiftie the greatest thread in the history of forum locked after ten thousand pages of debate #original punch line was please don’t be in love with someone else please don’t have somebody waiting on you.#but it’s funnier to use a bad song that I do go crazy to.#t swift #etxt

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