Trust Me I'm a Doctor

Surgical Oncologist

[xscalpelxsharpx]

( Lee Soo Hyuk /  37 / he/him / local / December 25th )

HEATHCLIFF SONG has been spotted in town. He has been living here for MOST OF HIS LIFE in MAPLE ROW. He is FOCUSED and COLD, as far as newcomers should be concerned when approaching him at ENNORA HOSPITAL where he works as SURGICAL ONCOLOGIST.

hospital tw, cancer tw, child abandonment tw, mental health tw, sexual topics tw, snake tw

Heathcliff was not born into his family, he was found. When older, he had attempted multiple times to inquire with his parents on how everything transpired but he is yet to receive a straight answer that’s not his parents attempting to be wholesome and sweet and saying something along the lines of ‘we grew you out of a cabbage’. It has never bothered Heathcliff to not know the full story so he never actually went out of his way to investigate further or elsewhere.

He is his parents’ only child and adopted.

His mother named him Heathcliff because she loved reading the classics.

Heathcliff lived in Ennora until 22, then moved to New York to start earning his bachelor's degree. He finished specialized training at 33 and is back in Ennora for 4 years now.

Heathcliff works at Ennora hospital as a surgical oncologist ( usually diagnoses, stages, and treats cancer patients using surgical methods but is also very involved in his patient’s whole treatment plan to make sure the need for surgery is their last resort).

During the last year of his specialization when he was 32, he had gone through a major nervous breakdown episode due to overwork and stress, which had him back home in Ennora for six months, postponing his studies in favor of going to intensive therapy. He took a break from therapy for about a year, finished his specialization a year late, and continued going to therapy once back home again.

He was diagnosed with a mild case of Antisocial Personality Disorder (sociopathy) during his therapy treatment. 

Heathcliff has a bit of a dark secret - he is involved in the BDSM scene in NY. He does not make any profit from participating, he does it as a hobby and for stress relief.

He lives in a duplex apartment in Maple Row, close to his parents’ home. Both of his parents are still alive and well. 

Heathcliff has a pet albino ball python named Albin, for whose terrarium he’s adjusted an entire wall of his living room for.

[chxsingthunder]

Somehow it felt even more embarrassing because he knew the person who had caught him listening to something saucy. it was someone he'd seen around the hospital many times. Jun knew a bit about Heathcliff's extracurriculars, but that only meant that the opposite was true as well. Heathcliff knew more about Jun than Jun liked to share with people usually.

Still, he smiled sheepishly at the other, hopping off the counter and dragging a laundry basket over to the washing machine his clothes resided in. As he pulled them out, he listened to the recommendation, and he nodded. "It wasn't so loud," he reassured the other. "I just was distracted by my own thoughts, I think! I maybe was a little bit asleep, too," he explained, laughing. "In my daydreams, that's what they are called, right?"

[xscalpelxsharpx]

Heathcliff did not return the smile - he never did, at anyone who wasn’t a patient and even they would only receive a slight, polite twitch of his lips, professional and controlled. It wasn’t anything personal, it was simply Heathcliff’s way, the man perpetually neutral and focused-looking. Knowing this, it fell in line that he’d never shown any discomfort or reaction to knowing that the two of them shared a similar… hobby. As a matter of fact one might think by Heathcliff’s behavior alone, or lack thereof, that he’d completely forgotten about it or somehow despite all his intelligence as a doctor had not connected the dots. Neither were the case, of course. 

He’d just paid, starting the cycle on his batch of laundry a couple of machines away from Jun’s. “Good thing it wasn’t a long nap. That’s an awkward position to fall asleep in. Would not recommend that either.” It was an unfortunate circumstance that Heathcliff’s own washer/dryer set at home had broken and until they were fixed, he was forced to use the laundromat instead. He supposed he could take the laundry to his parents’ place, and his mother would’ve done his laundry right, sparing him from going to what was essentially a public space for something so intimate. But in what universe would he, as a grown man, be willing to make his mother do his laundry? Not Heathcliff. So there he was... A little disgruntled about how this will take forever because Heathcliff preferred to strictly sort his laundry - by color, fabric and dirty levels. And he’d just started - it was the whites’ turn. 

The machine beeped into motion and Heathcliff glanced at Jun, expression never showing his inner turmoil. “I suppose you’re lucky too. Seems like you can rest anywhere.”

[monstersunderurbed]

"I..." Leo rubbed the back of his head with slight embarrassment. "I honestly don't know what all that means," he admitted with a little giggle behind his words. Despite enjoying music and playing some instruments himself, he couldn't understand the meaning or the difference in sounds between all the different genres. He could tell what the bases of them all were: punk, funk, rock, and electronic; aside from that, the slight changes got way too confusing and too similar between them. It did not mean he didn't enjoy them, though. He liked all sorts of music, from the classics to the more trendy Latin rhythms on the radio. "I'm sure I'll like it anyway. I'll listen to this as soon as I step back inside." He grinned. He would offer to play the song in that moment, but the speakers he had weren't exactly powerful enough to reach the sidewalk.

"Oh–" That was something else he didn't understand. Who in the world wouldn't find a loaf of sourdough necessary? It went well with pretty much every single food out there, even combined with sweet things like butter and jam, but he was just a baker, and not someone who questioned his potential clients' life choices. "I do have cinnamon buns!" Leo responded with a growing smile. "And I mean, I could definitely make an exception for you and give you those for free– I have a few different kinds," Leo explained as he got up from the floor, dusting off his hands on his pants before motioning with one of them towards the shop. "I'll show you– please, after you," Leo vowed slightly in respect.

[xscalpelxsharpx]

Heathcliff had just opened his mouth to attempt to explain what all of those genres he’d listed meant but the conversation was moving along and the chance was lost. Might as well - his explanations could turn lengthy and choosing not to know more was a choice like any other. The lowkey promise that Leo would listen to his song suggestion was a surprise. After all, the sign said just to give a song in exchange for bread. But apparently the person working at the bakery was also interested in actually listening through the music they got from their customers. Somewhere in the back of Heathcliff’s cold, calculated mind, a spark of curiosity ignited, piqued to know what Leo would think of the song. Heathcliff hadn’t met anyone yet who’d heard or listened to this particular band like he did. 

“That would do.” The world was full of compromises. This was one small enough to just let it happen. It was still baked, it was still cinnamon. It replaced what Heathcliff was used to well enough. “No, no, especially not if prices would be different between those two items. I do not mean to have you lose out on any profits for your business.” But the man was already getting up and refusing the invitation at this point would’ve just been rude on Heathcliff’s part. So, with a moment of hesitation, he followed, the sensation of the world turning ever so slightly askance whenever something unplanned happened slowly setting in.

[fyrbrd]

Yasmin’s gaze lingered on him a fraction longer than necessary, not out of discomfort but quiet assessment, the way one studies a difficult arrangement before deciding where to soften its edges. The contrast between them was almost amusing, his sharp, deliberate presence against the gentle disarray of petals and light, and she smoothed her apron unconsciously, grounding herself in the familiar texture of linen as a small, knowing smile curved her lips, warm but measured, her dark eyes catching the glint of something like humor beneath his stillness. A loose strand of her dark hair slipped forward as she tilted her head, the morning sun tracing the soft gold in her skin, and though her instinct nudged her to keep things light, to not pry too deeply into a man who seemed built of walls, she stepped just close enough to meet him halfway, not further. ❝ Then it’s a good thing I’ve learned to keep pace with impatient mornings, ❞ she replied gently, her tone carrying a quiet amusement as her fingers brushed over a selection of already-cut blooms, deft and careful. ❝ Some things are grown long before we think to ask for them… We only decide when we’re ready to take them home. ❞

[xscalpelxsharpx]

Many things easily got lost on Heathcliff, such as sarcasm, jokes, metaphors and allegories, especially if related to a deeper meaning or if they were supposed to stir up an emotional response. His mind is analytical, logical, calculating and precise, none of the things whimsy and fancy are very fond of. He could, with frightening accuracy, dissect a human heart and name each and every part of it yet often found the notion that the heart is where feelings originate from quite ridiculously inaccurate. He understood these things in theory but in practice, he often found himself lacking…

He took a moment to think her words through, head tilting aside in an almost perfect mimicry of her own movement, except not a strand of his hair was possible to come loose, flawlessly combed back and off his face with appropriate amount of product to keep it in place for the entirety of the day. “You mean to say… that you are good at handling unexpected situations? Admirable.” He concluded, pretty sure that he was right on this. The latter crumb of what felt like poetic wisdom was a little more difficult for him to break apart. “Right. Good to know that the flowers have bloomed. And I am definitely ready to take them, since I walked into a flower shop. What do you recommend for a mother from a son?”

[auraliswhispers]

closed starter @xscalpelxsharpx

Aidan took a deep breath. The past week had weighed more on him than usual. But that was the life of a paramedic—the rush, the strain that came along with it and the quiet sense of fulfilment that followed afterwards. Still, one patient lingered on his mind, refusing to fade. Which was odd for him. He was usually able to let these things go, knowing that people were in good hands at the hospital—yet there was a certain feeling he couldn't explain… He couldn't help but wonder how the individual was doing. Aidan sat down for a moment, absently fidgeting with his fingers while he waited for the operating doctor to become available. The instant the man stepped out, he rose to his feet. A nervous tension coiling through his body for reasons he couldn't quite place. "Dr. Song," he began, taking a subtle breath as he searched for the right words to say. "I'm Aidan, I work here as a paramedic." the man paused for a moment, contemplating whether he should ask. "—I was wondering if I could borrow a moment of your time?" he questioned as a hint of hesitation drifted in his voice, which felt unusual for someone who acted often so confident.

[xscalpelxsharpx]

Today, it was a complex six-hour thoracotomy on an early stage lung cancer patient. After it was done, another hour of post-operative work remained - with the anesthesiologist to ensure the patient was safely waking up and then to oversee the transitioning to the ICU. Then the patient’s family in the waiting area was spoken to. Op note was done with and now, Heathcliff was on his way to his office to sort out the post-op orders for the patient. In a fresh new white coat, long scrubbed clean and refreshed as much as that was possible at a workplace, Heathcliff passed the waiting room again on his way to his office, looking forward to the lunch box waiting in the mini fridge he had in there. He’d likely have to pass through the same corridor again to get to the kitchen in the doctor’s lounge where the microwave was, to heat up a few things better consumed warm. On his way though, he was stopped by a familiar face.

“Yes, Mr. Clark, I am aware.” Heathcliff was very good with faces and names to be put to said faces. He was especially fond of people who were around for a long time. Nothing more annoying than just remembering a face and a name only to have to forget it soon enough because the person switched hospitals or quit. 

Unsure what this could be about, he nodded, noting the other man’s hesitation but not jumping to conclusions yet. “Would you like us to move to my office?” Heathcliff didn’t mind, especially if it was work related. If there was one place where he dealt with surprises and unexpected situations well, it was his work. “Please.” He motioned for Aiden to follow after, guiding him down the hallway and through a door with Heathcliff’s name plaque on it. Inside, soft lighting and muted, calming white matched the rest of the hospital. Reading materials about cancer support and educational resources regarding different types of cancer were stacked neatly on side table surfaces and magazine racks in the small seating area to the side of Heathcliff’s desk. It was obvious he did consultations in this office, aside from overall paperwork. There was very little, if anything, that could be noticed as Heathcliff’s own personal touch in this office save for accreditations and certifications that highlighted his specialized training, board certification, and research awards framed and displayed on the walls. And, surprisingly, a single potted plant on the windowsill, blinds drawn up for it so it would get some sunlight. It was a snake plant, this one commonly called bird's nest, already at its peak six inch height and very well cared for.

[sofiapuglisi]

Sofia noticed that the stranger was wearing gloves. It was odd maybe, but she was used to odd. Besides, plenty of the boys used to wear gloves to avoid leaving fingerprints. Rather than his gloves, she was focused on his answer. It was not as helpful as one might have hoped. They were good to eat if they weren't green, unless they were the green. The next logical question would be if the cherry tomatoes she was currently holding were the green kind. The man didn't seem particularly inclined to chat though. "Okay, thank you," Sofia replied simply.

[xscalpelxsharpx]

A second avocado was on its way into Heathcliff’s paper bag but it stopped abruptly as a small frown wrinkled the bridge of his nose. No, wait, this is not right either. She was supposed to continue talking to him. Not only was this the wrong person but she also did it the wrong way. The old lady was chatty, friendly, a sunshine of a senior citizen. This… young lady read the room too easily and gave up very knowingly. The briefly soothed habit was now spoiled again and the slight annoyance in Heathcliff rose once more. He would not exactly call it annoyance, not really. What Heathcliff felt whenever a pattern or a habit was broken was more akin to living in an upside-down world. It was more so disorienting rather than annoying. The annoyance came if he did not know what to do about it but he had so far always managed, somehow.

“You’re… you’re welcome.” He added stiffly, with a somewhat hesitant stammer in the beginning. It was polite to acknowledge gratefulness but this was also a prompt for further conversation. A conversation he wasn’t used to starting or maintaining but needed it to happen anyway because it was a replacement for a different interaction he was used to. He glitched for a second there, a cold, calculating computer encountering a bug and scanning appropriate repair programs. “Have you never… used cherry tomatoes before?” When in doubt, question further, he supposed.

[monstersunderurbed]

Nate liked Heath. He loved having someone to spend quiet evenings here and there, but this wasn't exactly a catching-up dinner if there was no catching up to do. There wasn't much more to tell about Nathan's life than the bruise on his face and his failed attempt at dating. He could have gone on with the silence, eaten his burger, and said goodbye, but Nate was aching for some kind of social interaction after a long week.

"Of course I would tell you. Why wouldn't I?" Perhaps it was an embarrassing story about how he did not even try to fight back, but it wasn't like he was hiding it. Nate was known for being quite a peaceful man, perhaps a little bit too much. Oftentimes, he felt like he needed to spice things up a bit, but for fear of landing his ass back in the hospital, he held himself back a lot. "I tried to go on a date with someone, their ex showed up and must have felt threatened enough to punch me in the face," he scoffed, clearly joking about the threatening part.

[xscalpelxsharpx]

Heathcliff tilted his head ever so slightly, the arch of his eyebrows raising even less perceptively. He really did not think Nate would confide in him, not about something he seemed embarrassed enough to hide with concealer and a pair of sunglasses. So, this was a surprise to him, for whatever odd reasons Heathcliff might have. 

“I see.” He had actually already assumed it was a bruise earned from a punch. It was just the story behind it that he was missing. Now that he knew it, it all made sense. Leaning in a little, dark eyes inspected Nate’s face, in that way an expert would inspect something related to their expertise. “A facial contusion and a periorbital hematoma, otherwise commonly known as a black eye, no significant swelling. In the dark stage when the ecchymosis turns purple, which happens within five days after the injury is received. No apparent underlying damage to the eye globe or orbital bones. No subconjunctival hemorrhage. Extraocular movements are intact, pupils are equal, round, and reactive to light. You're fine. Apply cold packs for ten to twenty minutes, one to two hours apart for the next three days, and sleep with your head slightly elevated to minimize blood buildup. Avoid ibuprofen or aspirin; use paracetamol for pain. It will fade within two weeks.” 

He leaned away then, wanting to pick his burger up before it got cold but at the same time not wanting to eat and talk. It was a source of mild frustration at the moment. “I won’t ask how the date went. That seems obvious. Have you reported the man who’d done this?”

[chxsingthunder]

location: poppy's laundromat status: open to all!

In Jun's defense, the laundromat was usually pretty dead. And there hadn't seemed to be anyone else in there when he'd arrived. So it didn't seem like a big deal to load up a washer, hop up onto one of the folding tables with his back against the cool windows, and push his earbuds into each ear. Then he let his head fall back and his eyes close, getting lost in an audiobook that he would probably never tell anyone he was reading.

He let himself daydream, his lips occasionally quirking upwards in a nervous smile, cheeks turning pink when the author set the scene a little too well. This wasn't something he'd usually listen to in public, but this was probably the first time in a while he didn't have his nose buried in a textbook. It was the end of the year, and all he wanted to do was graduate, which meant putting in that last bit of work to ensure he kept his perfect GPA.

The bell above the door probably rang, and his laundry in the washing machine probably buzzed, but Junie didn't hear either of them. Instead, he jumped about six feet in the air when someone gently tapped him to let him know his clothes were ready for the dryer. "I'm so sorry!" He practically screamed the words at them, his face going bright red as he ripped an ear bud from his ear. "I must have dozed off!" He half-lied, his teeth clamping down gently on his lower lip.

[xscalpelxsharpx]

“Yes, I can see that.” Heathcliff’s flat, pit deep baritone finally came through, completely ignored earlier when he tried to greet his acquaintance and coworker upon seeing him in the laundromat when he came in. Noticing Jun’s eyes closed and a pair of earbuds in he decided not to disturb further and go about his own business until the other decided to be more present. During a few accidental glances over, he had noticed… strange expressions to say the least forming on the face of the other man but genuinely could not guess what had brought them up. Perhaps Jun had really fallen asleep and was having a nice dream? As he did his own load of laundry, Heathcliff began to wonder when was the last time he’d dreamt. He really could not remember. At this point he was pretty certain that he simply did not dream.

Considering they were the only two people in the laundromat, it was easy to deduce whose the other working machine was. When it buzzed and there was no reaction from Jun, Heathcliff decided that it was perhaps time to wake him. Considering the headphones in his ears, Heathcliff opted for a very light tap with the back of his wrist against Junie’s shoulder. Their reaction to being woken up was over the top to say the least and it made Heath quirk an eyebrow. “The recommended safe volume for earbuds is 60% or less of the maximum volume, typically keeping sound levels below 70–85 dB. I doubt yours was within these.”

[fyrbrd]

who / what: open starter by yasmin rao for @smalltownrp when / where: morning, rao floral, small pines

Morning light filtered through the glass panes of Rao Floral, catching on suspended vases and turning the shop into a quiet prism of greens and soft golds, and Yasmin Rao moved within it with practiced grace, fingers gentle as she coaxed a stubborn stem into place, the faint scent of damp soil and jasmine clinging to her like a second skin. Her greenhouse door stood ajar behind her, letting in a whisper of warmth and the occasional curious insect she never quite had the heart to chase away, and when the bell above the shop door chimed, she glanced up with a calm, welcoming smile that felt as natural as the blooms around her, brushing a stray curl from her cheek as she set aside her shears. ❝ You’ve arrived at a good time, ❞ she said softly, voice lilting with quiet warmth, as though the shop itself spoke through her. ❝ The morning’s just decided what it wants to become. Tell me, what are we growing for you today? ❞

[xscalpelxsharpx]

He filled out the doorway to the flower shop with his lanky, intimidating height, all crips, sharp angles of a business suit and an air of rigidity. Heathcliff was a different type of calm than the soft, warm one the woman in the shop exuded. She was surrounded by fragrance, colors, the tender rustling of petals. He was cold precision of surgical steel, carrying a faint scent of disinfectant woven into the treads that made his dark woolen coat. 

He tilted his head at her words, a hint of curiosity on an otherwise impassive face. What a whimsical way to put these things. Poetic, almost. He liked the idea of mornings deciding for themselves what they wanted to become. It almost sounded like they were planning ahead, even if it was a bit last minute. Not that mornings had consciousness to plan. It was the people who were the ones planning their mornings. But the fancy of humanizing mornings like this tickled Heathcliff's brain in a good way, much to his surprise.

“Surely you mean that it has already grown and I’ve just come at the right time to pick it? Unless I am going from something potted, I’m afraid I wouldn’t have the time to wait for seedlings to grow into a bouquet.” He wasn’t serious, it was an attempt at a joke, but it would definitely not be obvious from Heathcliff’s expression. It rarely stirred, almost always caught at its most neutral and natural, which was often perceived as flat or indifferent, phlegmatic even.

[monstersunderurbed]

Leo had been in town for about 8 months, but between settling down and setting up the shop, he hadn't found the time to sit down and people-watch, a favorite pastime of his, to the point where he could recognize people passing by. He hoped this whole thing would allow him to start familiarizing himself with people's faces. He'd chosen a good street in the neighborhood, he realized, because despite the early hours, he'd been passed by a few people who had already claimed their free sourdough loaf. Not many stayed to make much conversation, but he figured they were on their way to work and couldn't stay long. He could only hope they would be coming back for a bit of a longer chat and the actual bakery tour.

He wasn't sure if this man would be one to stay for a conversation. His proper ways took him aback for someone walking down an artistic district like the Old Mill, but he wasn't the kind to judge a book by its cover, not even after reading the entire thing. People, like books, were too complex for simple judgments and opinions. "The Big Hush... I don't think I've heard that one– give me a second," Leo answered with his very best smile as he pulled out his phone to type it into a note. "What kind of music is it?" He asked for the sake of making conversation. "Follow me, I'll give you your free loaf– is sourdough okay? I also have multigrain and rye."

[xscalpelxsharpx]

“It is often characterized as post-punk and new wave with funk, art rock, and electronic elements. I find it… calming and enjoy their lyrics.” Heathcliff answered after a very brief thought that made him look up and away from the other man. But then he was confronted with yet another question, or rather an offer, that required to be thought through by Heathcliff because it... complicated his day. He did not need a loaf, even if it was free. He hadn’t planned on getting a loaf of bread right now. He will not get to eat it by the time it got bad. It would be a waste. “That’s… alright, it’s not necessary. I suppose you… do not have cinnamon rolls that I could get instead? I would pay for those, since those are not advertised as free.” He pointed at the sign with a leather-clad hand. The weather had improved lately but it was still chilly enough to just barely excuse winter accessories and Heathcliff took advantage of it as much as he still could.

[icanbuymyownflowers]

Jordan said he wouldn’t work until Sunday, but what else was he supposed to do while Heath grabbed a drink with a friend? With anyone else, he would’ve refused, called it a night without a second thought. He didn’t rearrange his time for people he didn’t care about. But Heath… Heath intrigued him.

So he spent hours locked in his office, working on new cases until way too late. He was the kind of person who woke up early, painfully early, even on weekends. He would definitely regret it in the morning. Especially if Heath turned out to be all talk.

By the time he glanced at the clock, it was already past midnight.

Too late.

He quickly gathered his things, then slowed, frowning slightly. He barely knew this man. He didn’t rush for anyone. So why now?

Because he asked too many questions? Because he didn’t back up when Jordan went cold? His jaw tightened, brushing the thought aside. He didn’t care.

He took a few extra minutes to straighten up his desk before he left. By the time he reached empire diner, he was already late. He pulled up in front of the window and spotted Heath already there, waiting. Of course he was on time.

He stepped inside and sat down in front of him. "Hey," he said, casually, like he didn’t make him wait. "Did you stick to your one drink?" He asked, it was a weak deflection. Something to keep Heath from mentioning how late he was.

@xscalpelxsharpx

[xscalpelxsharpx]

When he had arrived, he had shed his black woolen coat and cashmere shawl that kept him warm outside this late at night. He’d even made a point to take off his leather gloves too, braving to touch this and that around him on the table at one of the smaller booths he’d occupied - the salt shaker, the ketchup bottle, the table’s surface, and of course the cup of filter coffee he’d ordered, no cream, no sugar. All of those were poked gingerly, or moved meticulously to a place where they would look orderly and neat, with perfectly disguised disgust except for the latter, which was picked up regularly for a sip though the rim of it had sneakily been brushed over with a sanitary wipe while no one was looking. And so was Heathcliff’s side of the table. As Heathcliff waited, his table had become the neatest one in the diner. 

By the time Jordan had walked in, he was fully dressed again, his coffee cup empty save for a few drops left over to dry at the bottom of it. It was already something he wasn’t used to having at this time of the night, but it was the only thing that made sense for him to order while he was here. And on top of it, it was finished before his company had even arrived. Needless to say, Heathcliff was mildly annoyed. Mildly, because somehow he’d predicted this and therefore had time to mentally prepare to not be majorly annoyed. 

He took his time looking up at Jordan as he sat down across from him, adjusting the gloves he’d just put back on. “Better than you’ve stuck to the time we agreed on.” Once happy how snug they were over his fingers, he finally looked up at the other man, maintaining his deep, flat baritone at a perfectly indifferent cadence. “It’s been almost an hour. I thought you’d be the type to respect another person’s time, considering your work ethic.” 

[hllboymglds]

Their top is a ripple of liquid mercury over their body, a delicate and thin sheen of sparkling silver scales that catches the light and throws it back. Spots of illuminated color dot the underside of their chin when their phone vibrates in their hand. It's a simple text with only a simple command. Up.

River looks up. There at the railing of the balcony they find him and it's like the club gets louder as every sense in their body accentuates. Suddenly, it's too hot in here. A single bead of sweat travels down the centerline of their spine and goosebumps prick the back of their arms. Suddenly, it's too loud in here. The music and the bass hits so deeply through their body it rattles their bones and upends their stomach until it feels like that moment at the top of a rollercoaster when the car has reached it's peak and you have that singular breathless moment when everything falls still. In that single catch of breath, time loses meaning and then the world tumbles down again with a crash of speed, faster than before.

River has already started moving toward the stairs before they've realized they were walking. It's when their too warm hand touches the too cold steel of the stairwell's railing that the drastic temperature shocks their awareness back into their body and they realize the rollercoaster has carried them away to the next drop. They rise, walking up, another slow gradual incline that sets their nerves on fire and their heart rate out paces their breath.

There are a few moments where River has been this excited. The first time they held a kitten, they'd gotten so excited they had burst into tears almost immediately. When they had gotten the video game they'd been desperately pleading their parents for. When Lake got his prosthetic and took his first steps. River feels excited like that now and nothing has even happened yet. All they've done so far is climb the stairs.

The rest of the way to where Healthcliff is is brief. A flicker of red light carries them the rest of the way where they land at the next flash of purple.

"Hi," it comes out like a wrinkle, insubstantial and nervy. "I mean, hello," a flush of color across their cheek that has nothing to do with the club's lighting.

[xscalpelxsharpx]

The rollercoaster ride of noise, bass music and inner feelings erupting like fireworks in that breathless moment before they would spill over the night sky in a booming thunder of light would meet a cold slow glacier at the top, a frozen iceberg of permafrost floating in an ocean of frigidity. There was nothing in Heathcliff that came even close to the excitement River felt inside, face as pale as death and in stark contrast to the dim, flashing lights of the club. He was still in his suit, of a similar cut as any other suit he wore, monochrome and devoid of any color save for the deep burgundy of the tie around his neck, loosened to make his prominent Adam's apple breathe a little. And although the suit itself was unbuttoned to accommodate a soon seated position, everything else beneath it was still impeccable - not a single wrinkle in the crisp white shirt or the perfectly ironed pants that drew a long line down long legs where the iron had pressed it in for fashionable gentlemanly dress code, nowadays rarely paid attention to unless in the world of high corporate or high status. 

Impassive eyes, their obsidian gleam swallowing even the most neon of lights in this place, regarded the blonde that had just joined his company with indifference to whether they would remain in it or be gone in mere minutes. “River, yes?” He checks, foregoing any silly little greetings. Their attention was very obviously on each other, what's the need to say hello? The rarity or unusualness of the name does not raise any curiosity. It would've been rich if it did from someone named after a quintessential Byronic hero.

“Please, have a seat. After you.” He motioned with a smooth movement to the booth he’d reserved for them, still polite and himself, because no start on anything was announced or agreed on yet. Until a time was set aside for anything specific, it was in Heathcliff’s nature to be cordial. 

[sofiapuglisi]

For an adult, it was almost staggering to Sofia how much she didn't know. She could cook, of course, but she'd never had to go grocery shopping. Someone else did that. Now she stood in the produce section, trying to decide which cherry tomatoes were ripest. It was probably the sort of thing that you could Google, but Sofia felt a little embarrassed to have to.

Despite having worked all day, her outfit was still immaculate. Her hair too was still in its careful updo. Perhaps more than anything else, Sofia knew the importance of keeping up appearances. It was precisely this which made her loathe both of the options available to her. She could take out her phone and Google how to tell if cherry tomatoes were properly ripe or she could ask the man who had just walked up next to her and was currently inspecting the avocados. The first option would be easier. The second would also help her practice small talk. She'd noticed since leaving the Family that she wasn't actually very good at it. Most people she knew she'd lived with for years and had to be very careful about what she said to them lest it be used as leverage later.

"Excuse me," she said to the man next to her, "Do you know how to tell if cherry tomatoes are ripe?"

[xscalpelxsharpx]

This was unexpectedly expected. As odd as it was to think that… He could not say that he'd assumed that this new person would end up talking to him but the elderly lady who should’ve been there in her stead always did. Perhaps this is what old people and Heathcliff had in common - they were creatures of habits. One habit had been soothed there, but just in the wrong way. Beggars can’t be choosers, he supposed. 

A very ripe, expertly selected avocado still in his palm - gloved palm mind you, it was still cold enough for leather and grocery shopping was a line Heathcliff drew when it came to physical contact with his fingertips - he took a moment to turn his head and regard the woman for a few seconds, dark eyes impassive. “The cherry tomatoes are good to eat when they are not green. Unless they are the green sort of cherry tomatoes.” He offered simply, turning back to his avocados almost robotically. One went into the paper bag prepared for avocados only. Heathcliff always made sure to package everything properly if it was not already factory packed. The staff at the shop loved him for it but also found him slightly weird unbeknowns to Heathcliff.

[tortledimlr1-blog]

Valerie hated the city. Truly, she did. It's why she'd chosen a community college, somewhere far away from the hustle and bustle, in hopes of forcefully planting down roots in another small town not unlike her home. Unfortunately, as per usual, life had other plans, and now Valerie found herself traveling to and from the city constantly. Ever at her bosses side to ensure he didn't miss any meetings, his coffee was perfect, his suit looked pristine. Had she any other options, she might not have taken this job.

Alas, she had no other options. So here she sat, in an elevated lounge, looking down at the cars that looked merely like glowing bugs from where she was sitting. She held a Bellini in one of her hands, taking small sips of it to ensure she wouldn't be too drunk to answer her phone if Mark called upon her. Which certainly, he would before the night was over.

She hardly noticed the people around her -- which was odd for Valerie, who was such a noticer -- until she felt, rather than heard, movement to her side. She looked over, striking blue eyes landing on him just as he stopped. Maybe it was the Bellini, but his voice alone made her cheeks turn red, and she looked down at the drink. "Thank you," She started, looking back up at him. "A Bellini, for now. But I wouldn't say no to something stronger."

[xscalpelxsharpx]

A blush, the soft reddening of the skin on her cheeks, under the remarkable blue of her eyes. Not for the drink but manifesting at his appearance. A good sign. Heathcliff made his entire countenance soften to something more tame, approachable, friendly. Because he was not naturally that way, it was an active effort on his part. A little role played for everyone else around him but tonight, a stage just for her - a sweet little distraction from the tension he’d been feeling the entire day. Now closer, he could already smell the peach puree in the Bellini she drank. Surely a memorable taste on the tongue, even though he’d never had the drink himself. Perhaps it would be sampled today, albeit Heathcliff searched to have it from another source.

“You are welcome.” He turned, just enough to signal the bartender to make another for the lady. Now his order was done. “I really would not recommend mixing drinks, especially if sugar is involved. But if the lady insists… the next one will also be on me. Do you mind?” Even his tone had softened to a more intimate level, for a private conversation just for two. A small, Mona Lisa smile played on his lips, there but not there and dark eyes easily went entire sentences without blinking, their attention undivided, obsidian trying to catch a glimpse of sapphire. “I also hope you would not mind giving me your name.”

[monstersunderurbed]

Nate had barely left his office since the bruise on his face became darker. It had been just slightly red at the beginning, and he had been able to cover it up with drugstore concealer, but it had become a weird, nasty shade of purple that surely got him more pity looks than curious ones, and he found them annoying. Nate had never been a fighter– those had been the only sports he never even came close to–, but he hadn't been one to get into many fights either. He would surely throw hands for his brother if the need ever arose, but luckily, that had never happened, and he hoped never would, considering how his one fight had turned out last week.

He thought about canceling on Heath, but he was sure the other would reprimand him for being too busy, or would call him out on his bullshit excuse of all time, so here he was. He couldn't say he regretted the burger he was eating, though, nor the quiet yet soothing company of his friend, but he felt like an elephant was sharing the table with them, that so far, Heath did not seem to even tiptoe around. "Aren't you going to ask about the black eye?"

[xscalpelxsharpx]

He had just taken a bite, after much deliberation. And Nathan had just decided to talk, also after much deliberation. Heathcliff placed the burger down on the tray plate in front of him, unrushed, chewing in silence. Twenty to thirty times of chewing per bite as recommended by health experts, depending on food texture. If the elephant in the room got even less easy to tip toe around for Nate because of this, Heathcliff did not show any signs of caring. 

“Would you tell me if I asked?” Finally the bite was swallowed and Heath leaned slightly to face his friend more for a proper conversation. Which was not recommended during a meal but people were whimsical that way. Very rare few fully focused on a task at hand, giving it their utmost dedication, even if it was something as simple as having a meal. Even as a child, Heathcliff had to reprimand his own parents for doing this over and over again during meals. In time he’d learned that he was the odd one out, so he’d stopped persisting. He’d resisted the urge to persist in so many things on the daily.

[monstersunderurbed]

Open Starter Just Dough It Bakery @ Old Mill District

To make his shop famous and beloved, Leo decided to give away free samples for a few days. He wasn’t concerned that customers would stop coming after that; he was confident that his bread was delicious enough to keep them coming back for more. Since the weather was warm enough for people to walk outside, Leo thought the best way to promote himself was to set up a small chalkboard outside with the sign “Tell me your favorite song, get one free loaf.”

Feeling like the chalkboard wasn't attention-grabbing enough, Leo sat down on the curb and set himself to draw a colorful design outside of the shop with as many colored chalks as he had. "Do you have a favorite song for me?" Leo said, looking up as a figure cast a shadow right above him.

[xscalpelxsharpx]

Heathcliff was a creature of habit. Like a cat. A territorial, hyper-aware, confident, sleek panther that lazily prowled his usual routes with the quiet credence that as long as he willed it so, things would go exactly as he wanted them to go. On the days when his mornings were off, he had a routine. Walking up at 6 am sharp. A strict shower routine. An outfit, pre-planned and perfectly steamed or ironed the evening before. Taking all of his morning supplements. A thirty-minute check in on the laptop and phone, to keep up with anything missed since his timely retreat at 9 pm the previous day, barring any emergency calls. And then, by 8 am-ish, he would be on the streets, taking a refreshing, healthy walk in clear morning air to the same bakery shop he always went to, to get the same pastry he always got and the same coffee he always drank. 

Except along his route, an anomaly had been spotted. An irregularity. Something that was not there before. To be fair, the place had been closed off and up for rent or sale for months, just sitting there collecting dust, which irked Heathcliff to no end. It simply did not sit well with his penchant for order. A waste of perfectly good space and an eyesore on an otherwise very well maintained, orderly street, in a respectable neighborhood of the town. But this was not ideal either. It was something new. A change. Heathcliff disliked change. As already established, he was a creature of habit and changes were very not habit friendly. 

His shadow stretched long over the man seated on the curb in front of this new irregularity of a shop, the position of the morning sun at 8:30 am helping it elongate to a creepy boogeyman proportions. He’d barely managed to read part of the unfinished sign before the question was imposed on him in a human voice rather than colorful chalk-written letters. An awkwardly long stretch of silence ensued as Heathcliff maintained eye contact - one downcast and one facing up, a satisfying level for Heathcliff - before a surprisingly deep voice responded. “‘This Big Hush’, by Shriekback.” He offered - it was only polite to answer a question, even if it was a very random one.

[xscalpelxsharpx]

Location: Glasseye Market Closed: for @sofiapuglisi

It had been a lifelong struggle for Heathcliff to learn how to live with the unpredictability of a human’s schedule. He liked his in an impossible way - right on time, down to a second, everything planned out and nothing unpredictable disturbing it. When he was a child, that could’ve been arranged somehow with the help of his parents, within their own little family bubble and their capabilities to manipulate their family life to revolve around Heathcliff’s comfort. But as he grew up, he began to find out that not everyone regarded a schedule as a set of rules and timetables to live by. They took the time more as a guideline, a loose determiner that could in some cases mean nothing.

So, Heathcliff learned how to adjust and not take it to heart. He didn’t just want to adapt to the world, he wanted to succeed in it and that meant becoming more flexible than he’d naturally care to be. At the end of the day, even his noble work which was under his strict control could not be tied to the promise of certainty every day. A patient could not help bleeding internally for two minutes longer than Heathcliff’s sharp mind had predicted and calculated for, pushing the surgery to break the five hour limit which sent Heathcliff well into overtime. So, to compensate for the time being an elusive, relative element even for the complex human organisms for whom it should be linear and easily grasped, Heathcliff stuck to uncompromising habits instead to soothe the anxiety of not being able to have everything under his control. 

So, whenever he could, a grocery shop visit followed on Mondays and Fridays after work. The place conveniently on the way to his duplex in Maple Row, the grocery list memorized because it was always the same and a quiet sense of comfort and satisfaction whenever he’d see familiar faces or pass by familiar landmarks that completed his day. Likewise if a change was noticed, or the script deviated from the usual, it was a cause for grumpiness for the rest of the evening. If Heathcliff could live one day on a loop for the rest of his life, he would be content. 

So far, the day went well. As expected. As predicted. As it should be. Heathcliff went up and down the aisles, getting the things from his mental list in order, content that they were in stock, pleased that his dinner today would not be forced to change. Always planning ahead, he stopped by the fresh produce stands, inspecting avocados for tomorrow’s breakfast. That was when a new face had been spotted. An anomaly. An unknown. An unpredictable element. Heathcliff glanced at the young woman to his left out of his periphery, as she was currently taking up the spot of a sweet old grandma who was usually there at this time, taking about ten minutes to pick the best packaging of cherry tomatoes as an excuse to speak to Heathcliff about her grandchildren even though he never asked. 

The woman now definitely did not look like she had grandchildren and it was even less likely that someone passed the grandma through a time machine and this was what she looked like when she was young. See, another variable of life, complicating things. Heathcliff returned his attention to the avocados unhappily.