#I couldn't even work as a cashier (I tried. it was bad.) or anything

[running-in-the-dark]

I have like... two days (max) to come up with a new research question for my bachelor thesis. I HAVE TO officially register/sign up or whatever next week. that's the only way I'll be able to finish it + the oral examination part before my course stops existing at the end of February (my advisor basically assured me that the examination office wouldn't let me register after the end of October).

fuck, I was so motivated last month! I felt ready, I felt good about it, I was sure I'd be able to do it! and then that stupid fucking meeting with my advisor happened and now I feel more defeated and hopeless than ever before. I feel stupid. I feel like I can't possibly do this.

there's just nothing in my brain. it's empty. all knowledge from my entire time at uni (and school) has vanished. the last, oh I don't know, eight fucking years have just been too much. I really don't know if I can do this. I don't know if I'm able to. I don't know how to start over again.

[teddybeartoji]

toji is a cat dad. the cat looks so fucking tiny next to him that it's a little comical actually. they spend every morning together – the cat twirls around and between his legs as he's grabbing the food, quietly meowing and purring. toji smiles softly to himself at the little thing's neediness. so cute.

the cat also just loves to follow toji around the apartment. always. he goes to the bathroom? the cat goes to the bathroom. he's cooking in the kitchen? the cat is in the kitchen. he's asleep in the bed? the cat is in the bed. (big man toji stomping around the house with the smallest cat in the world running after him.......... guys i'm melting i'm dying)

ok but he was a little weirded out by the cat's need to be in the bathroom with him lmao. like he's taking a piss and he looks over his shoulder only to find the little kitten just staring up at him with big eyes😭😭😭 toji grumbles under his breath and tries to ignore him but then he ends up looking over his shoulder again, hoping that he left but no. he's still there. sitting like :3 😭😭😭😭

"yer fuckin' weird..." is what toji tells him as he places the cat on the bathroom counter and he just gets a cute meow back as a reply. the cat watches him brush his teeth and toji has to fight the thing because he's now in the sink????? toji needs to spit out the toothpaste but the critter is getting comfortable in the bowl and he actually feels bad abt pushing him away... wahh he's so soft actually guys i can't do this anymore.

if the cat happens to be a big meower, toji's definitely talking back to him. he literally goes "what're ya yappin' about, lil man? 🤨🤨" while looking at the tiny creature. but he loves it, he thinks it's so funny. he picks the little guy up and just stares at him up close O.O (plss the cat is literally like the size of his palm i'm dying it's so cute).

he also likes to carry the cat on his shoulder. i think every cat would actually love toji so much, this is also canon here you cannot argue with me. and i think they'd all find him very comforting? and i think they'd love to sleep on him. so whenever he's cooking and the cat paws at his legs, he just picks him up and places him on his shoulder.

he once did that when shiu was over and he was just ????????? like man what are you doing put the damn cat down ????????? and toji just went. "no. he wants to see." with a blank face. to him it's very obvious. c'mon, the cat is so little, he has no idea what's happening up here, ofc he wants to see??????? smh shiu do better😒😒😒

oh and this was definitely just a stray cat he took in btw. after a long day at work, he was just walking home with a cig between his lips when he heard the teeeniest tiniest little meow coming from behind the dumpster in an alley. and well... the curiosity got the best of him and he went to check it out aaand lo and behold!!!!!!! itty bitty kitty!!!!

big eyes peering up at him behind a thrash bag, he just knew he couldn't leave the poor thing there. he reached out his hand, letting the kitty smell him and he almost dropped his cig when he actually leaned into his touch immediately!!!! that's his baby now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

he held the cat to his chest as he made his way home and he even stopped by a little corner store to buy him something to eat. the cashier did look at him with a raised brow bc what the fuck this massive man is holding the smallest cat in the world, but toji didn't mind. he didn't care. the cat slept on his back that very same night.

ALSO. thank u @kentophilia for putting this idea in my head ily<33 during the late hours of the day, toji lays in bed while reading his book with his glasses on – the cat stands on his chest with a determined face. he's already purring even though toji hasn't even done anything. he's just soo comforting and the cat just loves him soooo much okay:((((( toji lowers his book to look at the thing before scratching the top of his head and smiling to himself when the cat closes his eyes and purrs even louder.

the cat ends up trying to make biscuits on him and that makes toji yelp lmao. the tiny little claws dig into his warm skin as the he kneads toji like he's a piece of dough. purring and content – toji doesn't have it in him to make him stop either. it's not like it actually hurts, he was just caught off-guard. he didn't get scared by a cat btw, he didn't. in the end, he keeps reading his book with his one hand while petting the creature with the other. this is their routine. they're family!!!!!!!

anyway. he loves his little kitty cat with all his heart and he would literally kill for him:33333

[tarjapearce]

Lips anon! Baby Benji getting a tummy ache, and Miguel takes him with him to get medicine. Miguel is looking for it, but then an employee tries to subtly hit on him and fails miserably. Trying to tell him which medicines would probably work best. Miguel already knows what he wants though. He becomes annoyed with her and gets up, but before he can say anything, Baby Benji pukes up all over her lol

🤭🤭 Baby Benji saving his dad from awkward situations.

Miguel disliked when Benjamin seemed particularly fussy, it meant a lot of things and most of them weren't good. Everything started after he had eaten the spicy fruits, something he got an earful for, and this was precisely why you didn't feed heavily seasoned and spicy foods to your 18 month old baby.

"You gave him the food, handle it." You'd scold him as you helped Gabi with her homework.

He'd take Benjamin with him and secured him on his baby seat and drove to the nearest drugstore. Benjamin fussiness stopped for a bit as he drove, soon he parked. The clerks couldn't help but notice his hulking figure holding a tiny beautiful baby.

"Look at that." The clerk spoke as her coworker bit her lips.

"Man... can I be envious of a toddler? Like I mean it."

They both chuckled and hushed once the bell in the door announced his presence. Benjamin stirred in his chest, half asleep half uncomfortable.

"Tranquilo, campeón. Ya te vas a sentir mejor." (Relax, champ. You'll feel better soon.)

Upon hearing his voice, the women elbowed eachother and one of them approached.

"Hi! Welcome, how can I assist you today?"

Miguel just acknowledged her with a stare and a brief nod.

"Good evening."

"Are you looking for something in particular?"

His jaw tensed briefly, Benjamin however looked at the woman and cooed.

"Oh boy, he's gorgeous." Miguel put some Zofran for the nausea and Vomikind in the small basket.

"Thanks." Miguel was too focused on the several labels of pediatric medicines that the store offered. One arm held Benjamin as the other one held the basket that looked ridiculously small on his hand.

Benji started stirring and cooing uncomfortable on his arms again. He tossed in some more items, a bottle of Advils, some mouthwash a new toothbrush, moist towels more diapers.

Benjamin started hiccuping and crying softly, it was his cue for leaving.

He ignored the following clerk, instead went to the cashier. He was checking out when the clerk approached once more. His back tensed visibly. Not that he had dealed with these sort of women, but right now his kid and his tummy ache was his priority, not manners.

"Look at this beautiful baby!" She said to her coworker as Miguel held him now by the torso.

Bad choice.

Benji was now facing the woman, she was about to cup his cheeks when Benjamin puked on her hollowed hands before him.

"Oh my god!" the woman shrieked and shook her hands and Miguel sighed.

"Sorry for that." Miguel face was contorted in one of half disgust, half surprise.

"Don't worry, I've got this. Not the first nor last incident inside." The cashier spoke hurriedly, the smell of vomit lingering in the air as the annoying woman ran to the bathroom.

Once everything paid, he fled the place after wiping and cleaning his face.

Benjamin seemed more at ease. A little more like his usual self.

"Thanks for that, champ." He kissed his son's forehead and drove back home. Benji just gave him a toothy grin.

[yanderelovlies]

Joesph paced back and forth in his room, running his hands through his brown and grey hair. When was the last time he slept or ate for that matter? He couldn't recall the days have been a blur since he found that stupid VHS tape.

Thrifting had become something Joesph found comfort in. When he felt he had enough, he went to the checkout already thinking about where to put everything. However, at the bottom of the basket was a single VHS tape. Which was odd cause he doesn't remember picking one up.

Picking it up, he flipped it over to be with "84 INCIDENT," crudely scribbled in red pen on the front. Joesph could feel a cold shiver run through his entire body. That year...he HATED that year.

"Are you gonna buy that, sir?"

startled Joesph's eyes met the bored cashier's "oh....um..." His arm moved automatically, putting the VHS tape on the counter.

Taking that as yes, the cashier sighs, scanning the item and putting it in the bag, followed by the receipt. "Have a good day"

With a quick nod, Joesph snatched the bag and quickly made his way to his car, then home not looking at the inside of the bag once. Not even when he got home, opting to leave it on the couch as he tried to distract himself.

However, no matter how much he tried, he couldn't sleep. He would toss and turn with thoughts of that VHS tape swarming his thoughts.

So finally, after hours of trying to sleep, he finally got up and made his way to the living room. He stood in front of the couch, staring at the bag, holding the thing, causing so much anxiety for him.

With slow and shaky movements, he finally opened the bag. However, as soon as his hand touched the cold plastic of the VHS tape, he yanked it out of the bag as if it would catch fire at any moment.

'How bad could it be? It's just a video tape....' Joesph sighed as his head went back 'famous last words.'

With hesitant steps, he made his way to his TV before crouching down and putting the VHS into his old player. 'Maybe if I'm lucky, it's broke....or won't work'.

After it was in, he went back to his couch, grabbing the remote from the coffee table. With shaky hands, he pressed play, his eyes glued to his screen.

At first, it was static, but the longer he looked, the better he could make something out. A field? a Bakery? and.... as he sees the picture the more his heart begins to race. He knew that set from anywhere.

Not long after, he faintly makes out a voice. One that he hadn't heard in years l since their passing. "Oh, starlight.....it's been so long. I've missed you." Then everything went dark.

.

When Joesph woke the next morning, he was still on the couch with the smell of something sweet filling the air. He didn't remember trying to bake anything or order anything for that matter.

With sleep still in his system, he groggly got off the couch and stretched a bit before hearing a satisfying pop. 'What was I doing last night? and why was I on the couch?'

He yawned as he trudged his way to the kitchen, half determined to find out where the smell was coming from. When he round the corner, he wakes up quickly.

There bent down to take out some freshly made muffins was the one person he knew he would never see again.

You.

The love of his life who died in his arms on set after stepping in front of him at the wrong time.

The reason why he HATED that year. and why he quit acting. Why he stays up late a night plaqued by nightmares of that day. Why he hated himself and Jean every day.

You stood up, turning to him with the same bright smile you had all those years ago. "Good morning, love! I made you some breakfast."

This....

This had to be some sick joke or nightmare.

It had to be.

[fearmaiden]

|| Five Year Plan || A Reader X Jonathan Crane, slow burn fic ||

Synopsis: Every so often, the city of Gotham will randomly select one person to have a really, really bad day. This time, that lucky person is you!

Aka: Your stupid ass accidentally signs up to be a goon at a “Goon Hiring” Agency after your landlord increases the rent. Oops!

Word Count: 11,059

TW: General violence, drug use, coercion, and swearing.

Note: So, uhh. Still working on this concept that has gripped me by the throat. There’s a lot of little references scattered in this chapter to Arkham!Verse, Reeves!Verse & other DCU works. The Gotham this x Reader takes place in is sort of an eclectic jumble with it’s own unique timeline. For previous chapter, click here. Enjoy the second installment of “Please don��t tell my psychiatrist!”. ♡ And let me know what you think in my asks if you want~

Banner art made by: @skxtchyghost

Song: “Are You Satisfied?” by Marina & The Diamonds

It wasn't a bad job. As far as employment went in Gotham, it was okay. Ish. The pay wasn't horrible and the location was a quick, 15 minute, monorail ride away from home. And sometimes, when the manager wasn't there, you got control over what songs the radio played. All this considering, you really couldn't complain. There were worse ways to get a paycheck... However, today's shift at the Cadmus Bar had you wondering if that was true or if it was another lie you were telling yourself to cope?

Your questions began with the first wave of early morning customers who'd exploded through the door, eager for their (keto) protein shake to start off the day. Several complained that their drinks were made wrong even though they'd gotten the exact things that they'd ordered. One of them, a woman sporting a bob cut, screamed at you for making her gluten-free veggie wrap gluten-free. Another demanded that they use the bathrooms before ordering anything. You were forced to tell them that it was against company policy to allow "non-paying individuals" access to the restrooms unless they bought something first. This ignited a vitriol-fueled tirade where you (eventually) had to ask the person to leave. On their way out, they kicked over the store sign and damaged it. You'd tried fixing the frame but to no avail. It remained slightly crooked.

Shit snowballed in the afternoon, just before the lunch rush, when the new trainee spilled a whole tray of smoothies on a customer, then managed to lock their cashier register out of the system. A mistake that spelled doom for everyone else who was working front of house. Specifically, you. It'd taken HOURS to figure out what they'd done and by that time, the trainee had already clocked out. To top it all off, your (least favorite) manager had decided to pop in unexpectedly which meant the radio was now honed onto 95.6 The Outlaw Star, a station that only played country music. Really bad country music. The kind that grated on your ears as it repeated the same insipid chorus lines again and again and again...

You're almost certain crap like this violated parts of The Geneva Conventions. But, what could you honestly expect from a restaurant chain that was owned by Lex Luthor?

Well...

At least you weren't unemployed.

"I'd fuck him."

Whatever worries you had about your job totally vanished in an instant when Zen, your co-worker, made this off-handed remark while cleaning the lobby with you in-between customer flows. She gave no additional context after that, leaving you baffled.

Glancing around first to see if your manager was lurking nearby and not finding him, you ask Zen-

"What?"

-with a deadpan tone that distinctly conveys just how excited you are about the subject matter of this conversation and where you believe it's most likely headed.

"I think he's hot," she reiterates, "I mean, the suit is weird but I'd still fuck him."

You stop wiping off the sticky, juice residue from a tabletop to stare at Zen. "Care to, uh, elaborate a bit more?" You question her, "Because I'm lost here."

Your co-worker waved over at the TV perched in the lobby corner. It was set to the Gotham News Network. Displayed on screen, lead anchorman, Jack Ryder, was interviewing several Gothamites at the scene of a burnt-down brewery. A chyron banner underneath stated: "Ten People Saved in Joker Attack by The Batman, Grand Re-opening Postponed Indefinitely."

"Batman!" Zen announced as if it were obvious, "I think he's sexy. I mean, he's got those incredible pecs and that delicious jawline! I'd absolutely be down to fuck. But, he's gotta lose the suit in bed. Or wait! No, scratch that. He should leave it on..."

A giggle escaped from her. You continue to stare at your co-worker like she's suddenly grown two heads. Eventually, though, you clear your throat and go back to scrubbing the table. Zen scowled at this.

"Oh, c'mon!" She exclaimed, "Tell me you haven't thought about it. Not even once?"

You roll your eyes.

"Literally, not even once," you reply, voice devoid of enthusiasm while you continue to do your job. A bit of orange gunk had crusted onto the table and was being difficult against the force of your washcloth.

Zen didn't believe you.

"Liar," she said.

"It's the truth," you shoot back at her, applying a bit more pressure into your scrubbing. Still, that infuriating splotch remained.

A wicked grin curved along your co-worker's lips. Zen hopped onto the table. She leaned in toward you, invading your personal space and stopping you from cleaning. You glare at her sourly. It only encourages her to scoot even closer near you.

"Let's play a game of Fuck, Bang, Kill," she said, not waiting for your response either way before launching into her proposal, "I'll pick the options and you say 'fuck', 'bang', or 'kill'. Simple enough, right?"

"No."

"Okay!"

"Ugh, you're really gonna make me do this, aren't you?"

"Yup! No mercy!"

One brief moment passed where your co-worker tapped her finger against her chin. She looked to be deep in thought while considering the choices for the game. Knowing Zen, however, you figure she had probably come up with it weeks ago...

"Clayface," she said first, squinting (narrowly) at you for signs of a hidden monsterfucking fetish. 

This one is a no-brainer.

"Kill," you automatically reply, wasting zero time to deliberate.

"Killer Croc," she says next.

Frowning, you answer: "Kill."

"Firefly," Zen states, "But, you gotta let him move into your apartment."

"He'd set too many things on fire. Kill."

"Two Face."

"Double Kill."

"Scarface."

"I'm not into puppets, kill."

She tossed her hands in the air, "Oh my god, you can't just keep choosing kill! That's not how this game works!"

"Well," you shrug, "You said it was my choice. So, I'm just playing according to your rules."

"Joker and Harley Quinn."

"Kill them."

“Catwoman.”

“Eh, kill.”

"Poison Ivy."

"Ask why my succulent is dying, then kill."

"Mad Hatter."

"Do I look like an Alice? Kill.”

With the slightest hint of satisfaction, you watch as Zen's face betrayed her own frustration. There was practically (black) smoke billowing from her ears while she tried to guess which Rogue you'd be most likely to marry. Or fuck. You wonder how long it would take until she called it quits?? After all, the two of you still had a lobby to clean. If the manager caught you both slacking off, you'd get written up for sure.

Suddenly, your co-worker's face brightened.

"THE RIDDLER!" She exclaimed like she'd solved a crime, jabbing her index finger up into the air. "I bet you'd break for the Riddler."

You blink.

Something flickered in the back of your mind. An old memory that you thought you'd forgotten.

"Uh, kill?" You answer, although you sound a hint uncertain, "I don't know, you can't really see him behind that mask and I'm not sure I could handle his followers. Plus, those riddles..."

Zen pouted. You could tell she was getting close to admitting defeat. It was only a matter of time now. You give the stubborn splotch another hard scrub with your rag, really putting your arm into it. The tiniest portion was beginning to come off. However, you pause when you hear Zen suggest a name that you'd never heard of before:

"Well, how about that new one? The one that the news is calling the Scarecrow?"

You open your mouth to speak but find yourself interrupted by a rush of customers. Moms with their kids in soccer uniforms and teenagers who were just getting out of school. Zen lets loose a sigh, knowing that you'd been spared from her torture by fate or chance. At least, for now. She quickly rushed over to the cash register, putting on her "customer service" smile while she began taking orders, leaving you to finish up the lobby alone. You caught Zen glance over at you once as if to warn you that this wasn't over. Not by a long shot. 

Unfortunately, she wasn't someone who gave up easily…

Minutes before you were scheduled to take your ten, the manager calls you into his office. With a lazy wave, he gestures for you to sit down in the chair across from his own while he riffles through a filing cabinet behind his desk. You happened to sneak a peak and see that what your manager is picking through are employee folders. An unease settles over you when he yanks out a file labeled "[your name]," then places it down between you both as he takes a seat. He looks at you for just a moment, eyebrow raised.

"Where you do see yourself in five years??" He asks you.

Your mind is racing in all possible avenues at this question.

"E-Excuse me?" You stammer out finally, though it sounded as if your voice was just a squeak, "I don't understand what you're-"

"Back in March, when you filled out your resume, you said you were planning to go back to college next semester. Is that still true?"

Your manager cuts you off. He cracks open your file, selecting the job application that you'd filled out a year ago when you decided that you needed an extra source of income. Despite this city being a trash fire, Gotham was still an expensive place to live. And college wasn't cheap! Buying textbooks for all the psychology courses that you were going to take in September would cost you. Even with the grants you were on! You watch nervously as your manager thumbs through your application idly, waiting for you to speak. He seems annoyed.

"Uhm," you mumble at first, but recover yourself enough to ground the uncertainty fluttering inside your stomach as you attempt a reply, "Yeah, that's the plan."

Your manager sighs.

"Look," he says, skepticism dripping from his tone like leaded water in an old pipe, "I didn't want to be the one who had to point it out to you but upper management has been cracking down on us lately. Our customer reviews have been too low for the past couple of months. You came up during our team meeting last Wednesday as a topic of interest. Several times, actually."

You blink, confused.

"Wait, what?"

You knew you weren't the best employee that the Cadmus Bar had. But, you knew that you weren't the worst either! Certainly, this had to be a huge misunderstanding. You ask for some clarification and your manager (with all the energy of a mildly disappointed father) begins to list off a series of ridiculous infractions, accusations, and "witness reports" that pegs you as the person who keeps breaking the smoothie blenders. Something that you, yourself, have been reporting (complaining) to management about since the very first day of your employment here.

"Annnd, we don't feel like you're smiling enough," your manager adds, placing the cherry on top of his corporate-talk cake, "You don't really portray the warm, friendly disposition that the Cadmus Bar is known for in its employees. Uh, one report we recently received about you seems to call you 'weird and off-putting'. Another one claims you're 'unhelpful' and 'have a rude attitude'. So, uh, you understand how none of this looks good, right?"

You scrambled for a reasonable explanation. Any explanation. However, what slipped out was half cooked mumblings that didn't sound convincing when spoken aloud: "I'll try harder. It's just been a rough couple of weeks and-"

Your manager holds up an authoritative hand.

"No, it's been a rough couple of months," he says, correcting you immediately with the slight bite of annoyance heard from every word that he spoke, "And look, we were willing to grant you a brief period after your accident so you could get reorientated again. But, this behavior has turned into a pattern."

He levels an accusatory stare at you.

"I..."

The world darkens for a moment as you process his words. Images flash before your eyes in quick succession: rain on the windshield, a blind corner of a lonely road, high beams and screeching tires that tore through the air alongside screams, fire, blood staining wet pavement... Your mouth goes dry. You feel numb inside. Somehow, it's like you are there, reliving that awful night all over again. Your manager brings you back to reality when he clears his throat, appearing uncomfortable with how you were handling this talk. He tries shifting your focus by telling you "the good news" about your predicament...

"The silver lining is we're not firing you yet. We've got that new trainee, though, so you might want to start seriously thinking about the future. All those college fees are going to be expensive. Maybe you can put some work into that smile in the meantime, yeah? Start wearing some pretty buttons on your vest to show our customers the real Cadmus Bar spirit."

You wished you had said anything other than the quiet, mumbled agreement that had slipped out of you. For some reason, the words you could've chosen just ran through your fingers like sand at a beach. With no refutes available, your manager sends you away, satisfaction on his bloated face that advertised (quite obviously) the pleasure he took in crushing your spirit and making you feel small in this moment. He tosses your file into the trash as you leave the office. The knowledge that your days working here were numbered became suddenly clear.

You decide to take your ten.

"They can't fire you!"

Inhaling a deep lung full of smoke from her joint, Zen medicated the rage she felt, then released it with a mighty exhale and a walloping cough. She passes the burning joint onto you, who partakes from it less aggressively, and continues her rant despite wheezing in between (her sharp-spoken) words.

"You and I keep this shit together!! If it wasn't for us, nothing would get done right. They think the evening prep gets done by Terry and his shift?! I can't count the times they've fucked the freezer up!"

You exhale a small stream of pungent marijuana into the air. Then, cough. Even though your chest seized, the relaxation you felt afterward was just enough to persuade you to take a second toke. It had been a stressful day for you already. And the day still wasn't over yet...

"I know," you agreed, grumbling at the hand your job was dealing you, "But, I don't "smile enough" for fucking Terry, apparently. I'm too 'weird and off-putting' and 'unhelpful with a rude attitude'."

"Well, that last one is true. You are pretty fucking rude sometimes," Zen replies, reaching out to take the joint you were offering back, "But, it's still bullshit! That trainee can't replace you. She's barely handling the dishwasher right now. A few weeks won't make a difference if she's that dumb and incompetent!"

"I know, right?"

"Like, who am I supposed to talk to about stupid shit all day?"

A sobering kind of silence fell upon Zen and you. Despite the city noise that pounded at your ears, the only thing you could hear was the emptiness that was forming in the slots of your daily routine and the dreadful monotony that would take your co-worker's place. While you knew Zen wouldn't totally disappear from your life, things would be different enough that you cringed just imagining it. You don't think you'd be able to stand working around anyone else. Sighing, you lean your head against the brick wall behind you and gaze up at the thin sliver of (overcast) sky above. This might be the last time you smoke with Zen in this shitty alleyway. You try to savor the moment but all you can do is frown as if you'd tasted something that had spoiled.

"You got me still, man."

Roach breaks the awkward silence. You turn your head to look at the homeless stoner that Zen and you had befriended (adopted) months ago when he'd first shown up in this alley, asking for a light, and rolling papers. With a frown, you realize that you'd miss him. Even if he did bum way, way too many cigarettes. Roach, in some weird way, was also a fixture of your daily life that you'd become attached to...

"Oh, sweetie. We love you but that's not the point being made here," Zen says, taking a quick hit of the joint before passing it along to Roach, "Point is-"

"The point is I'm screwed," you interject, "WE are screwed. Hell, I watched Terry throw my file into the trash! I'm getting fired."

Roach inhaled half the joint as he listened to you speak. Coughing, nearly choking on the cloud he made with his exhale, he summarizes today's ten minute break in three simple words-

"This sucks, man!"

-then, takes another generous toke. The cloud of smoke he made this time was (somehow) bigger than the last. Roach shook his head. Ran a hand through his matted, tangled hair and sighed. He looked genuinely upset. Your heart turned over a little seeing how much these people cared about you.

"Like, who am I gonna bum smokes from now?"

Nevermind.

A laugh rumbles deep from Roach's chest as Zen (and you) just squint at him. "Oh, c'mon! You had to know that was a joke. I'm kidding, I'm kidding! This is a huge bummer, though. I liked smoking with you guys. You aren't weird about how I look. You treat me like I'm normal..." He says this with a heavy frown that collapses very suddenly upon his face.

"Well, you're as normal as the rest of us!"

"Careful guys, they might send us to Arkham."

"Oh my god, I bet they'd put us in cells right next to each other! We could pass along little notes in between the bars or something, haha!"

You all laugh as a group...but it feels bittersweet. 

Zen and Roach give you the last hits off the joint, now merely a blackened nub. You were reminded of the time and realized that your ten was almost over. Zen must've been on the same wavelength as you because she groaned (loudly) when she'd checked her phone. She pouted for a second like a kid who'd just been told to go clean their room. You follow suit in your own subdued way, feeling the weight of each second that counted down to your inevitable unemployment.

Flicking the spent remainders of the joint into an ashtray, you take a breath, and mentally prepare yourself for the last hours of your shift.

"Ugh, time to clock back in."

"Same. I'll take care of the trash?"

"Thanks. I fucking hate doing the trash."

You spend about fifteen minutes lugging stuffed, Hefty bags out to the dumpsters. One split open in the middle of transport. Another was leaking a sticky, warm liquid that got all over your uniform, making your clothes smell like rancid candy and crap. On the last round of trash, Roach helps you toss an extra heavy one that you were struggling with throwing away. You try to thank him. He just shakes his head, though, insisting that no thanks were necessary among friends...

"You've been decent to a bum like me. This is the least I can do for you."

Still, you find yourself thanking him again. Then, turn to slouch back into the Cadmus Bar (where a new wave of customers were surely crowding at the cash register by now) but are stopped by Roach, who wants to give you something. From his stained jeans pocket, he pulled out an onyx black card. He hands it to you with a rare, serious look on his face as he explains:

"Look, I hate to see them fuck you over so here's the number to my cousin, Frankie C. He's a good guy when he's not drunk. He runs a temp agency in Otisburg. If you need some quick cash to get you by while you figure shit out, call him. He can set you up with a small gig just like that. It won't be enough to break even, usually. Sometimes, an opportunity comes in, though. Depending on the season and all that."

You shake your head while telling him that you'll be fine, that you already had a plan (even if you absolutely didn't and were panicking about the next few months of your life). Roach seemed to know you were lying because he refused to take the card back from you. He just kept redirecting the topic onto his cousin. Eventually, he shoved his hands deep into his pockets so he couldn't use them. You're forced to keep the card after that. Roach smiled when you finally slid the thin paper into your vest pocket.

"Just, uhhh, keep the Frankie stuff between you and me, okay? Don't wanna ruin a sweet deal like this on everyone!"

He winks, nudging your side with an elbow. You end up laughing despite your mood. It was hard to be sad around Roach. And you wish you could do more for him than just share your smokes on the days you were working here. You could keep his secret, however. Now, it was your secret, too. You pat your vest pocket and salute Roach as if he were the captain of a ship.

"My lips are sealed!" You exclaim, making a show of pursing your lips and sealing them shut.

Your shift flew by relatively fast. Before you knew it, you were riding the D-line back to Rosserie St. where the peace of your apartment awaited you. The trip was smooth, almost TOO smooth for an average Gotham evening. It had you gripping the canister of the pepper spray you kept hidden in your purse out of suspicion. But, the minute you made it to your neighborhood, you relaxed a little bit. With the GCPD so close to your home, crime here was more tame. The worst it usually had to offer came in the forms of muggings by average thugs. Or break-ins. It was partly the reason your parents had been willing to pay the deposit when you'd moved out. Through some miracle, you'd convinced them it was safe. It'd helped when you mentioned that the police station was just a few blocks away. You knew they regularly donated to the GCPD and their fundraising galas every year.

You spent the rest of your night filling out online applications and re-writing your resume, despite knowing that any place that would hire you likely wouldn't read it.

At 5 am, a loud banging on your apartment door startles you awake. An angry voice accompanies it. By the Pennsylvania Dutch accent, it was your landlord. Reluctantly, you peeled yourself off the couch and stumbled lifelessly through the living room to go figure out what he wanted. Because it wasn't the first of the month and you'd already taken care of the bills so there was nothing that sour old man could (possibly) want from you. A breath is taken before you open the door. A little prayer is said to whatever God was listening up there. You steel yourself, plaster a smile on your face, then open the door to greet your landlord. Your stomach drops when you see he's holding a bunch of envelopes that were addressed to each resident of the building.

"The rent's just increased," he says while handing you your envelope from his pile, "I'm gonna need the difference you owe by Monday, alright?"

Your landlord shoots this new information at you with such casualness that it makes you feel sick. He's staring at you as if you were an idiot for not knowing (or expecting) that this would probably happen. Fortunately, you recover from the shock  quick enough to form what you hope is a protest. It doesn't go well.

"I...already paid my rent, though."

"Yeah? Well, now the new payment is due."

"You can't raise the rent until next month!"

"Look, I don't know what to tell you. It's that "gentrification" stuff all those woke hipsters talk about on the social medias. Prices going up? The rent goes up. Pretty open shut case, alright? Not a lot of mumbo jumbo to it."

"This apartment is rent controlled. I made sure it was when I moved in!"

"Okay, then take it up with the housing authority and wait for them to call you back about it. In the meantime? I'm gonna need that money from you on Monday. 5 am sharp. Or you can move out of here and I'll rent this apartment to someone who would pay triple the new price!!" 

Your landlord's threat ripped the argument from your lips. He seems pleased when you fall silent and appear to crumple internally. You mask it by putting on a brave face...but your attempt isn't a convincing show of strength. Just as he's about to continue speaking, a (LOUD) meow interrupts him. Both you and your landlord stop what you're doing, pressing a momentary pause on your talk, to look towards the source of the noise that was growing more obnoxious by the second. You see that an orange cat was pacing back and forth on your balcony patio. Like it was waiting for you to let it in. Like this was a routine thing you did and not the very first time you'd ever seen it here. As you make the innocent mistake of giving it direct eye contact, it reacts by reaching up and eagerly paws at the sliding glass door.

Your landlord scowls.

"So, you got a pet?" He spits, raising an eyebrow at you, "That'll be an extra 200 for pet insurance. Cats piss and shit everywhere, ya know? Dirty lil' bastards. They'll fuck up my nice, clean carpets."

The carpets in your apartment were neither nice nor clean. Actually, they'd been stained and dirty since day one. The only reason they were decent now was all the steam cleaning you did to keep it tenable! Even then, your carpets were only a few more accidental messes away from being trash...

"That's not my cat," you state firmly, putting your foot down, "I don't have a pet. I don't owe you for a cat that isn't mine!"

Your landlord jabs his finger in the cat's direction and says, "If it's sitting on your fucking patio, it's your fucking cat! End of discussion. Don't need a brain to understand that, do ya?"

He smirks (again) when he sees frustration twist anew upon your face. It made the short-statured man happy whenever he could provoke this kind of conflict in someone. But, you were convinced it meant more to him when that person was you; which filled you with such impotent anger that it nearly blinded you. Dark thoughts about ripping the smirk off his lips and grinding it into the dirty carpets that he seemed so proud of swirled and spiraled around inside your head. You held back, however, because you also wanted to keep a roof over your head. Fall was just around the corner in Gotham. It was about to get cold. Really fast. It'd be iced-over mornings and winter storms before you knew it...

So, you bit your tongue and said nothing.

"You have to think about your future. No one is gonna do it for you," your landlord drives home the point he wanted to make even further, gently patting the frame of your apartment door with a faux concern, "Think about where you wanna be. You got until Monday to decide if it's here like an adult or out on the street in a cardboard box."

That was the second time your "future" had been mentioned. The sound of twisting steel hits your ears. Breaking glass shatters all around you as a tire, engulfed in fire, rolls past your mental vision. Someone is crying out for help. A scream crawls from your throat and takes the form of three tiny words that you speak in a defeated whisper:

"This isn't legal."

Your landlord laughs loudly and shrugs when he hears you, "This is Gotham, toots!"  

He walks away before you can say anything else. You're left holding the envelope he gave you with the cat you now, apparently, owned. Who hadn't stopped meowing, by the way. You could hear it practically yowling, clawing down the tempered glass of your patio door, trying its hardest to get your attention. Sighing, you shut the front door. Lock it tight. Then, turn to face the mess of your apartment. Was paying the rent increase worth it considering what a dump house this place was?? The question nagged you while you crossed your living room (stepping over piled books and dirty laundry that you'd forgotten about a week or two ago) to open the patio door. Immediately, the cat stopped crying once it'd been let in. You watch it make itself at home on your couch and begin to purr.

Nope, you were never getting rid of that cat. You could see 200 dollars literally flying away in this moment as you relented and sat down next to it on your couch. Your fingers ran through the cat's soft, pumpkin-colored fur. Maybe you'd buy it a collar the next time you got paid? Maybe one of those cute, themed ones that you'd (sometimes) see at Petco. If you still had a job by then...

Your head falls back against the couch as a slow and exasperated groan unfurls out of you. With a desperate eye, you search the cobweb cracks in the ceiling for clues on what you should do. Their answer is silence. You were screwed.

So, you decided that breakfast was the answer!

There was a greasy spoon diner down the street that served a (passable) eggs and hash. Despite knowing your wallet couldn't handle it, you found yourself sitting in your usual spot fifteen minutes after opening the envelope, hoping that a simple, hot meal would ease your turmoil. 1,500 dollars plus 200 extra for the cat that wasn't yours and an additional increase on utilities that you didn't use. Like parking. Or the community gym. That's what you owed your landlord by Monday. It was money you just didn't have! Even thinking about it made your eyes bigger than your stomach. You end up ordering way too much food, then regret it almost instantly. Today, the eggs are bland and unseasoned. The hashbrowns are burnt black at the edges. These flavors settled on your tongue, as disappointing as the debt you had to pay, and lingered there with the stress that hung over you like a storm cloud.

Technically, you had the money...but, it was your college fund.

You couldn't touch that.

When you had moved out of your parents' house, blessedly away from Metropolis, you'd promised yourself something; that one day, you'd get your bachelor's degree in psychology, start a practice of your own and finally prove to your family that you were a capable, independent adult. However, more than that bit, you felt a certain gravitational pull towards learning about how the mind works. Even at a young age, you were always absorbed in observations about the people (and the world) around you. You'd scribble them upon sheets of paper with crayons or colored marker or pen and pencil. Sticking them on your bedroom walls. It'd driven your parents absolutely insane. They had dreams (delusions) of you becoming a grammar school teacher. A "safe profession for a girl" that wasn't too ambitious and established your role in the family legacy. All Wrenns were educators. No deviations from the antiquated mold. Unsatisfied with this as you grew older, you tried arguing to your parents that psychology and teaching were similar fields. That they were (for all intents and purposes) practically the same thing! The result had been a disaster. And sometimes, they'd still laugh at the notion over holiday dinner, throwing salt on the wound by mentioning with a mocking scrutiny-

'Except you're not around crazy people!'

-to end the conversation. Not surprisingly, they'd been unsupportive of you the day you'd received your acceptance letter to GSU. They also weren't proud of the grants you'd earned to, in their own words, throw your future away on a crack career like head shrinking. And they didn't help you with anything other than the deposit on this shit hole you now hated renting in the city they hated you living in. Sometimes, your parents would call you to ask if you'd consider coming back home. They would suggest you enroll in the "nice community college" just a few blocks down from their house.  Or they'd sneak details into the dialogue about a new position at the elementary school your Mom worked in when they were feeling extra unhappy by your choices. You'd always say patiently: 'No, I can't. I'm staying in Gotham,' and they'd end the chat on a sour note. Lately, they seemed to really enjoy using how well your brother, Braydon, was doing in Metropolis.

Your college fund was the only thing standing in between you and returning back to your parents, crushed and defeated. You couldn't dip into it to solve your money problem. Doing so would only cement the quaint, milquetoast future that they determined for you. It would set you on a course of compromises until you became less an actual person and more a thing they felt entitled to "set right again." You knew, without any shadow of a doubt, that asking your parents for help in your current predicament would only result in a battle where they'd make you admit that you couldn't handle living on your own. They'd probably drive all the way to Gotham to come pick you up and take you back home. You'd wake up ten years in the future after that; a passionless, grade school teacher just like your mother. Probably married to a man you (barely) tolerated with a handful of kids you'd push into being an educator as you'd been pushed. Insisting they give up their dreams for your vision instead. For the only vision that a Wrenn was allowed. What a nightmare concept.

And yet, you found yourself texting your Dad. He had always been the more reasonable parent...

You: Hey, Dad. Can I ask you a favor?

You: Dad, I really need to borrow

You: So, something came up this month

You: Hey, how're you? How's Mom? [5:55 am]

The response came a half an hour later.

Dad: Isn't it a little too early for you? 😜 We're doing fine. Haven't heard from you in a while. How're things in Gotham? We heard there was a new madman running around the city on the news. [6:25 am]

By that time, you were already back home.

You: 🤷‍♀️ There's always a new madman running around Gotham. Dad, can I ask you Dad, I've run into troub I'm doing fine, tho. Just busy. [6:27 am]

Dad: That's good. Remember to put the GCPD on speed dial in case anything does happen, ok? [6:28 am]

You: I've got them on speed dial already. Don't worry. Hey, could we talk about something [6:30 am]

Dad: That's good, sweetie. Just want you to be safe. How's college been? Have you decided on when you'll be transferring over to St. Mary's? [6:35 am]

You stared at the message for a long time after it was sent and realized, with a sinking feeling, just how futile asking your parents for help was. They didn't want you to study at the GSU. They didn't want you to be a psychologist. Hell, they weren't even cool with you living in Gotham! Here they were, already pushing you to leave the city (and your dreams) behind. No, this had been a stupid mistake. If you had a problem, you were going to have to solve it yourself. Like an adult.

You: I'm staying at GSU, Dad. Classes are going really well. My teachers love me. [6:44 am]

The reply from your father came too quick to be anything good. It simply said-

Dad: Ok. [6:44 am]

-and nothing else. You don't text him back. You'd just be wasting time at this point. Instead, you fill out more online job applications. Even the listing you found for a janitor position at Arkham. Right now, you weren't being picky. When you'd milked all of Linked In, Craigslist, GothHires, and several local group forums, you funneled your anxiety in other ways; you began washing the dirty dishes that'd sat in your sink since...you forget, you pick up the books off the floor (putting them together on your shelf), and start sorting through the old laundry piles too.

When you grab your clothes from yesterday, you notice that something falls out of your work vest. It lands on the floor at your feet. You bend down to pick the thing up and peer at it (kinda baffled) and clueless before suddenly remembering what it was. This little black card was the contacts for the temp agency run by Roach's cousin. As you flip it over to see: "Frankie Cee, hiring agent. He'll see the potential in you!" printed on it with black ink and metallic foil, an idea strikes you. A genius idea...

What harm could a phone call do?

You begin dialing the number on the card.

"Hello, Frankie? Hi, uh. My friend Roach said that you hire people for temp jobs. Could I possibly set up an interview with you soon? My call back number is..."

Sandwiched between the glamour of the Bowrey and the government offices of the West End was a dump called Otisburg where all the dirt, sweat, and grime in Gotham collected itself. Comprised of crumbling brick and dark alleyways that were always littered with trash, it stood out against its wealthy neighbors, reminding everyone that just beneath the (gilded) surface was a festering sore left untreated within the city. And that year after year, Mayor Hill neglected it stubbornly despite his many "sincere" promises to do otherwise. It's inside this wound that you find yourself a couple of hours past noon, wondering (worrying) if you had gotten the address right?? Or if Frankie Cee had sent you the wrong pin on WayneMaps...

Because the place your pin had sent you to was a dive bar.

Brows furrowed in confusion, you quickly check  WayneMaps again. Nope! This was it. 4580 45th St (South). Right next to a bus stop and a row of condemned apartments that'd seen better days. Stashing your phone away, you peer at the neon sign that said "Stacked Deck" in mustard yellow and scarlet red with apprehension twisting your gut. Unless this (particular) hiring manager ran a bar or worked at an incredibly progressive, super chill, non-profit, having your interview here didn't make sense. Things like that were typically done in an office. You were starting to realize, albeit a touch late, that this whole situation was sketchy and your genius idea had been stupid! While you knew Roach was only trying to help, he'd set you upon a fool's errand, anyways. Should've stayed home and done job applications. You turn around to leave but surprise yourself when you walk into the bar instead as if a gravitational pull held your feet for ransom.

Suspicious stares fix themselves upon you when you enter the Stacked Deck. Some patrons even leer and throw lascivious comments out, hoping to rattle loose a reaction from you. One guy asks how much your hourly rates are? Another seems way too curious about why "a tiny little thing like you" has come to a place like this? Ignoring each prod and jab these bar-dwellers throw, you wade through the sea of cigarette smoke that hung in the air, focused solely on the long counter where drinks were being served. Unfortunately, you tug your hoodie strings while you do this, advertising the discomfort you felt to everyone regardless of the stiff upper lip you were trying (and failing) to portray. RIP you. After waiting a couple seconds, the next available bartender slides up to you and asks what you want to order with narrowed eyes full of skepticism. She's probably wondering the same thing everybody else is; what're you doing here?

In the back of your mind, you're questioning that too...

"Oh, uhh, no. No, I'm here for Frankie?" You reply, sounding uncertain, your statement forming into a question at the very end, "Frankie Cee? Do you know if he's around?"

Wordlessly, the bartender stares at you. When it was beginning to get super uncomfortable, you tried clarifying. Somehow, this makes you sound less confident than if you'd kept quiet: "I have an interview with him at 3."

The bartender continues staring. Her expression morphs from skepticism to abject disbelief. "You have an interview with Frankie Cee? You?? At this bar?"

"Yes," you say, a bit frustrated now.

She raises an eyebrow, "Are you positive?"

You absolutely weren't.

"Yeah," you repeat, firmer this time, "he gave me this address to meet up. I just didn't know it was gonna be at a bar. Uh, his text said to talk to the bartenders first." 

Judging off pure mood alone, you could tell that the bartender was done talking with you. Before she could show you the door, though, you reach into your pockets and pull out the onyx card that Roach had given you. You hold it up so the lady could see it, like it was an ID, hoping this would be enough to convince her to help you out or at least point you in the right direction. If you'd been thinking with your head on straight, if you'd only paid attention to the red flags, you might've realized how weird all this was. How wrong it felt in the pit of your stomach. But, the specter of lost college funds, homelessness, and your (almost certain) unemployment was blinding your sight to the bad omens surrounding you. You wanted money now more than anything else. Even the possibility of it seemed worth the potential risk.

The bartender sighed when she saw the card. It was obvious she was annoyed by the sight of it. "Well, fuck! Here I was thinking you were a lying bitch I could 86. No happy endings in Gotham. Yeah, Frankie's here. Give me a minute. I'll go snag him for ya. In the meantime, be a paying customer, buy yourself something, and go sit at those seats in the back. Or else I'll have to kick you out, anyway. Alright? So, what's your poison?"

You decide on beer. Something light, something without a high alcohol percentage. After all, you didn't want to get fucked up before the interview. The bartender sighs at your choice. With disgust in her tone, she grumbles 'of course' underneath her breath, then turns around to make your order after you'd handed her 15 crinkled dollars. Soon, with drink in hand, you hurry past the pool tables and the cue rack and the glowing neon sign that said: "Keep Gotham Weird". You slip into the end booth closest to the restrooms where a poster of Zephyrs of the Holy hung. Zen had once told you that the band was magical, so you'd thought it'd be a good place to wait. Maybe their luck would rub off on you?

You were half a beer in when Frankie Cee arrived. The man was not what you were expecting! Bald and beefy with black tattoos blazed up his arms, Frankie was the polar opposite of his cousin. He looked suspiciously like if Mr. Clean had joined a biker gang. The man glances at you (and your drink) once, chuckles to himself, then joins you in the booth. You swear you heard him whisper 'of course,' but you pretend not to hear it. Which was probably the best thing you could do in this scenario for more than one reason.

"So! My piece of shit, good for nothing, bum of a cousin sent you my way, huh?" Frankie asks you, grin on his face. Despite the twinkle in his eye, it was hard to tell if he was joking or being serious. That edge of uncertainty has you sweating bullets. You gape at him; frozen cold in the headlights by his question. You weren't sure how to answer him and Frankie seemed amused that you didn't quite know what to say. He continues speaking, taking a casual sip of the Tennessee Rye that was clutched in his hand while doing so, "You know, that fucker still owes me for the last favor I did. You wanna pay his tab for him?"

"Uhhh."

This interview was going great already! You were going to kill Roach when you saw him next. Your face twists up momentarily as you contemplate the logistics of murder...

The man must've sensed what you were thinking because he erupted with laughter. Wiping a stray tear from the corner of his eye, Frankie switches gears and decides to stop panicking you. "Nahh, I'm just playing' with ya! My cousin's decent when he's not on the drops. But he does owe me a pack of cigs the next time I see him."

"You and me both," you replied, a weaker chuckle than his escaping from your throat, still shaky on whether (or not) this was truly a joke. You try reminding yourself that if everything went wrong for some reason, you had pepper spray handy in your pockets. It was a weak reassurance but the only one you had at the moment.

"Right. Well, enough chit-chat. Let's get down to business." Frankie says, that merry twinkle in his eye becoming much sharper than before.

The man retrieves a folded paper from his pant's pocket, opens it up flat, then slides it over to you. It's a job application. Emblazoned on top was the logo for the temp agency (an eyeball wreathed in flames) with the company name orbiting around it. A small sentence follows underneath: "We can SEE the potential in you!". This agency definitely had their brand figured out, you thought, as the slogan hooked onto your brain like a Super Bowl commercial. Scanning through the rest of it, you find that everything seems pretty normal (about four sections dedicated to general info, medical history, driving record, and previous employers), but when you flipped the paper over...things got a little weird. 13 questions greet you, each more confusing than the last.

You squint at them.

Frankie senses your bewilderment and chuckles. "Just fill the questionnaire out to the best of your abilities, girly. Some of them are a little out there due to our clientele, but answering them all helps me figure out what gigs you'll best be suited for, you dig?? We wanna match our employees' skills to the needs of our clients."

You nod, then ask him a question. But he ignores this completely and asks you one instead. Which nags you in an insistent way. Something was off. Something wasn't right here. Something tugged on your gut for you to leave this place.

"Are you thirsty? I'm gonna snag something from the bar. I'll be back in a moment. Try getting that thing done, alright?? Just don't think about it too much."

Frankie drains the rest of his Tennessee Rye with a single gulp. An impressive feat considering his glass was practically full. He uses your stunned silence to make his getaway. You watch the man saunter towards the bar counter, greeting some new faces that'd just entered the Stacked Deck from the alleyside door. After a second, you turn your attention onto the paper. Blinking, still lost, you search for a pen inside your purse and begin to tackle the easiest parts on the front. That tug in your gut yanked harder. Finally, you arrived at the back page of the application. By that time, it felt like your whole, damn stomach was twisted into knots.

You poise your pen over the first question. Your hand is shaking slightly as you do...

1. How flexible are you willing to be with work hours?

Answer: All weekends and holidays.

That one was normal and simple to answer. You jot your response down without much hesitation.

2. Do you have any physical disabilities that would prevent you from finishing a task?

Answer: No.

This question was also pretty common. You have to have seen it printed on a hundred different job applications before.

3. Do you have any familial connections to law enforcement?

Answer: No.

Another inquiry that didn't appear abnormal. But you wondered, albeit briefly, why a temp agency would want to know that? You figure it was likely a conflict of interest deal for some of the clients. After all, you weren't a fan of the GCPD, either.

4. Do you own a firearm?

Answer: No.

Not an odd question to ask in Gotham. Everyone and their mothers kept some kind of weapon on them. The most efficient option being a gun. You had thought about owning one, back when you'd been planning to move to this city. Instead, your parents convinced you (wore you down) to buy a can of pepper spray. They were mortified by the idea of you shooting a pistol. Luckily, a year into GSU, your dormmate had shown you how to use one.

5. How do you feel about dressing in uniform?

Answer: I'm okay with it.

You supposed this one made sense? Every job in retail that you'd had made you wear a uniform or at least a company T-shirt. You hated the cheesy outfits of some places (like BatBurger), but right now, you weren't really in a position to turn down a paycheck. So, you lie on the application with a bold flourish of your pen.

The next question was where things got strange.

6. If you had a catchphrase, what would it be?

Answer: Ready for anything!

What?? You stare at the words until they seem to bleed off the paper. This HAD to be some sort of attempt at a psychology quiz! One of those lame passes a business would use to gauge your level of agreeability. You roll your eyes, jotting down a phrase that meant nothing to you...but sounded like something that a hiring manager would want to hear. You cringe at the dishonesty. Yet another wave of anxiety rolls over you. Perhaps this beer wasn't agreeing with your stomach?

7. Do you have any physical skills or talents?? Example: Could you scale a wall or jump over a fence? If you had to, could you run for longer than 20 minutes? Are you proficient in martial arts?

Answer: N/A

You blink. Again, the word "what" re-emerged as a question within your brain. You tap your pen on the side of your cheek, chewed it's cap anxiously for a moment while squinting at the query. What in the world kind of business would need martial arts skills?! Was this temp agency hiring people for a dojo? But then, your brain clicks into place, recalling a chat you'd had with Roach about the time he'd been a security guard. He'd quit the job after the first night when a league of black-clad ninjas stormed the vault he was supposed to be protecting. Looking at number seven again, you supposed that it made sense. This was Gotham and insane, crazy shit like that happened all the time.

8. If the police or any legal figures of authority were to ask you to give up the name/s of your fellow employees, would you?

Answer: _________.

How were you even supposed to answer that? Of course, you would have to comply with any legal authorities! What other choice was there? Unless this temp agency was working alongside villains or criminals, a question like this was just strange. You take a gulp of your beer to steady yourself in an almost instinctual reaction, feeling once more a tug at your soul that screamed: LEAVE NOW!!! Five minutes later, you'd drained the whole glass, but those twists in your gut had only grown into a briar patch of knots. You couldn't bail from this opportunity, you reason with the panic. A worse fate awaited you on Monday if you couldn't find another source of income. That fate freezes you to your booth. You decide to leave number eight blank and come back to it. There were five other inquiries to fill.

9. Do you have any medical conditions to your knowledge that may be triggered or worsened by unknown chemical gas?

Answer: I don't know, I've never been exposed before.

Chemical plants. This temp agency must hire for chemical plants and dojos. That had to be it! You mentally pat your own back, proud of your logic, and flawless sensibility. Gotham City retained a high demand for factory workers, chemists, and also...ninjas? Your hand darts out to take another gulp of your beer only to wrap around an empty glass. As you stare at it, the scream inside your head grows louder, evolving into a shriek. Leave now. Leave now! LEAVE NOW! Instead, through clenched teeth, you write the truth in the answer slot. A heavy weight, like you'd signed your death warrant, settled upon your shoulders. Your heart began to pound in your chest. You push on to the next question...

10. Theoretically, if you were thrown into a pit of acid, how would you react?

Answer: ____________.

LEAVE. LEAVE. LEAVE. LEAVE-

"Almost done with that?"

A gravelly voice interrupts your panic attack. You glance up to see Frankie has returned; two beers in his hands and looking a little drunker. He gives you a wink, then sets your glass down in front of you. It wasn't the brand you'd bought before. The beer was darker, almost orange, and foamed up so thickly at the rim that it threatened to spill out onto the table. Thanking the man, you move the application away from the glass just in case. You hear Frankie laugh. It sounds almost sinister. You weren't sure what was so funny, but you restrain yourself from asking. There were more pressing matters on your mind like these 13 questions on the page before you.

Frankie seems to sense your apprehension as he seats himself in your booth. "Ya know, if you have anything confusing you at all, just ask. That part on the back can really stump the newbies."

Running a hand through your hair, you decide to take the man up on his offer. Perhaps, maybe, it was only a misunderstanding and you were just being stupid.

"Uhm, okay. So, I am a bit, uh...unclear here about some of these questions. Cause they sound a bit-"

Weird.

Strange.

Fucking out there.

"-unconventional," you say cautiously, choosing the adjective with care, "I've honestly never seen anything like this asked on an application before and I've worked a lot of places in Gotham."

Frankie nods lightly, appearing receptive to your concerns. He stays silent. Allows you to continue rambling with an attentive focus stationed upon you.

"Like number 10. W-what am I even supposed to say to that?? Is this a legitimate concern I should be having on the job? What about number 11. Uh, heads or tails??? Why does your agency need to know that? Okay. And let's just take a moment to  appreciate number 13, because. I'm just...lost on that one! 'Thoughts on tea and scones? How do you brew a proper Earl Grey?? What are your full thoughts on cerebral manipulation via electrode and have you read Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll?'. Just what kind of clients do you have?!"

Frankie answers without skipping a beat, "We're a grassroots cooperative business catering to a high class, criminal clientele and providing them with necessary services."

Silence settles over you. For a few moments, you simply stare at the man, robbed of words to say, and devoid of thoughts to think. Frankie doesn't react, carrying on as if waiting patiently for your next questions. That twinkle gleaming in his eye got just a touch brighter and sharper. It doesn't catch your notice.

"What?" You ask, your mind finally rebooting and turning back on.

The man replies in a similar way as before:

"We're a traditionally-run recruiting agency that connects the criminal element to those in need of quick gigs or temporary employment. Usually, that first one, though, since our clients can be a little hazardous. But only if you're an idiot."

Frankie laughs while you gawk at him.

Swallowing thickly and with a hushed voice, you rephrase your last question again. You just want to hear the man say it another time in case you'd misheard him. Everyone deserved the benefit of a doubt. Frankie's laugh died down, immediately, when you asked him to repeat his simple answer for a third round. Now he was staring at you. You see a frown pull at his beer-stained lips. Another shift in gears brought a more serious tone to the man as he says, "We're a "Goon Hiring" agency."

...

Frankie Cee sneered, "What, my cousin didn't tell ya?"

"No."

"Well, that's just classic Roach, isn't it?"

...

Instantly, you stand up (ramrod straight) and get out of the booth. Plastering your best "customer service" smile upon your face, you thank Frankie for his time, collect your purse, and turn to leave. As you do, the sound of a gun clicking into place hits your eardrums. It's followed by a growl that commands you to sit back down. Trembling, you obediently comply and return to your seat facing Frankie who now has a Glock trained on you. You peer down the barrel of the pistol, eyes watering, heart pounding fast, and internally screaming at yourself for how dumb you were, how you hadn't listened to the red flags. If you were this fucking stupid, maybe it was a good thing you'd never go back to GSU? You could just die (right now) with the knowledge that it would've never worked out.

Still, your dream of being a psychologist spurred you forward...

"P-please don't k-kill me," you whimper, lower lip trembling like an autumn leaf.

"I won't as long as we can finish up this interview, girly. Now stop crying and drink your beer, we're almost through the paperwork portion."

With a shaking hand, you lift the perspiring glass up to your lips. Frankie lowers his gun as you do. The orange-hued booze that he bought you isn't to your liking. It's too strong, too bitter. It had an astringent aftertaste that clung your tongue and lingered there. Stubbornly. But, you couldn't risk being picky at the moment. Frantic, you wonder if anyone would step in to save you? Was anyone aware of this? Were they calling the cops already or rolling up their sleeves to give teach this man a lesson? At least with this question, the answer was obvious; nope. Everyone inside the Stacked Deck was ignoring you as if somebody pulling a gun out on someone else was normal. A tad late, you remember that you were in Otisburg. To this place, it WAS normal.

And nobody was going to come save you...

Frankie rests the gun on the tabletop in between you but still clutches it close, a warning (for you) not misinterpret his relaxed mood with allowing you a chance to escape. He heaves a sigh, looks at you wearily, and shakes his head. "Look, girly, you either leave because you aced this interview or leave with Tommy and Benny in a rug. Totally your choice-"

Was it really, though?

You gulp.

"-but save me the rug, okay? Those cost money. I can't keep buying more rugs this week. Plus, let's be honest: if you didn't really need this job, didn't reeeally need the money, you wouldn't have even called me. I can tell you need the dough, girl. You got that hunger just like me when I was your age. I promise if you come work with me, I'll feed that good. My temp agency ain't fucking Underworld Talent. We don't use algorithms but we're damn fucking good at what we do. You can't do better than me."

You couldn't do better.

He's right.

You feel like the walls were closing in on you.

Frankie continues his pitch, oblivious to your fear or simply uncaring. "You stick with me? Now, you got something good. Something that'll pay good. I've been doing this shit for years and I can see a future henchmen from miles away. And you? You got henchmen written all over ya, girly. Embrace that. Now, what'll it be...? A damn good job-"

He taps the end of his Glock upon your half-filled application. The sound, impatient, and urging.

"-or Tommy and Benny? And before you choose, think HARD about where you want your future to go. Who do you see yourself being in five years?"

Dead.

There was that question again. You swear, it was haunting you. The instant you heard it said, your mind floods with unbidden images. Bloody flesh on slick pavement. Twisted metal feeding flames  and smoke. A cry into the night, soon becoming a wail for help that would go unheard, drowned out by the roll and crack of thunder as it rattled the earth. Lightning flashing across the sky as if God himself was angry. And you, in the middle of it all, crawling along the ground like a worm...

Did you even have a future to imagine after that?

Did you even have a future?

Despair opened its mouth wide to consume you. Yet, before it could, another vision snatches you away from it. Inside the empty hall of an old and dusty classroom, a friend smiles warmly at you. They're patting you on the back as you dab your eyes with a tissue. 'Don't stress out! It's just one bad score. You're gonna make a great therapist someday, trust me.' They say this with absolute confidence. Suddenly, you snap back to reality. A feeling far stronger than despair sparks within you.

Hope.

"I-I want the job!" You exclaim, stammering, but raising your chin to portray enough confidence nonetheless.

Frankie laughs in reaction. He seems pleased by your final decision. "Now that's what I like to hear from newbies! I knew you were a smart cookie-"

The man smiles coldly with a sharp gleam in his eye. Unlike the times prior, you knew that Frankie wasn't joking now. He was being dead serious.

"-so, let's fill out that application, yeah? I got shit to do later."

Steeling yourself, you reach for the ballpoint pen that you'd abandoned on the table and pick it up (determinedly) in your hand. With renewed spirit, you begin tackling the application. You answered every question as best you could. Even the ones that terrified you and made no sense. At the end of the back page, beneath number thirteen, you finally get to the point where your signature was needed. You poise the pen tip over the blank line, take a deep breath, then chew the inside of your lip. After this, there was no turning back. But, it wasn't as if you could turn the ship around now, either. Not if you wanted to keep your roof or go to college next semester...or live long enough to see tomorrow.

Upon the document line, you sign your name. It's a messy scribble of a signature. But, it'll do.

Frankie takes the application from you moments afterward. The ink hasn't even dried on the paper and he's already folding it into his pocket for safe keeping. The man assures you that this was the best choice you could've made; that you weren't going to regret it so long as you did exactly what you were told and followed the rules. Fear seized your heart again. You tried to ignore it. The deed had already been done. The future depended on you making some peace with it...

Because hell or high water, you were going to be a psychologist!

"Well, now that we got that squirt away, let's talk about your first job. A great one just came in an hour or two ago, perfect for a beginner goon like you," Frankie says, not giving you a second more to ruminate before throwing you into the fire, "It won't be dangerous. Just a simple D-List task. If you ask me, it might as well be free money! You'll be cleaning out a warehouse, you feel me? You're in, you're out. Badda-bing, badda-boom! Easy as mother's pie."

"But, I-"

He talks over you, waving away your words with an imperious flick of his hand, "Don't worry, girly, I won't be sending you in alone. This time. You'll be working with a team of my other employees. All experienced with this kind of job. Just listen to whatever they say and you should be golden. They're my go-to squad. So, you're in excellent hands. Trust me."

Frankie snaps his fingers, calling for Tommy and Benny with a voice that pierces through the bar's ambient noise. You're soon joined by two brolic, rough-looking men who tower over you. Frankie asks them to bring him the 'Halloween crap from last year'. A few minutes later, which feels like a lifetime to you, they return, carrying with them a cardboard box full of gimmick masks. Stuff you would buy at a Spirit Halloween store for twenty bucks. Frankie instructs you to pick out one that you liked. Without giving it thought, your hands plunge into the box and pull out a mask at pure random. You blink when you process what you've chosen.

It's a red axolotl mask.

"Take it. Wear it on the job tonight," Frankie says, explaining the purpose of his gift, "Consider it a part of your uniform from now on, alright?? And congratulations, you're officially hired! Welcome to the family-"

He grins at you. His smile has icy shivers racing down your spine.

"-I think you're gonna fit right in."

[mcalhenwrites]

A lot of thoughts. Because I went job hunting instead of writing, and I'm beginning to think I'm a bigger failure than I ever realized.

I... have no degrees. No experience. Just a high school diploma. No trade school. No classes. I've worked retail previously (cashier as well as sales associate working with planograms to fill store shelves), but not even two collective years total. I volunteered a few times in high school at a daycare through a high school program, and I volunteered for two semesters at a dog rescue. I'm currently multitasking at a dog grooming salon. I answer phones, book appointments, log inventory, sell inventory, clean. And I'll be adding some baking assistant duties to that soon, tho I did help a little bit today in-between the other duties. (We make dog-safe treats in-house at one of our locations. I work at two different locations.) My other experience is related to writing, crocheting, etc. I spent most of my life focusing on writing. I am not actually good with using software like Microsoft Word or Scrivener. I just use them to write. I have to google how to do certain things with them all the time, often repeatedly, because... I just can't seem to retain the knowledge. I can figure a few things out on my own, but I suck at it. At work, I'm really bad at sometimes processing what people try to say, particularly on the phone. I'm a little... slow. I can do it, but if I were at a place that didn't have an understanding boss, I'd be pretty fucked and likely fired. (I'm nice, but oh god, people please stop giving your phone numbers and spelling of your names SO FAST. GO SLOW. I'm STUPID.) I'm easily overwhelmed even with my relatively slow-paced job, which has enough free time for me to draw and read and do a lot of things completely unrelated to my job. I'm learning as I go, and I don't think I'm TERRIBLE, but I certainly do wish I could be better at it. I don't want to work around customers outside of this particular job. I can't go back to full retail. Fuck that so much. Unless it's a cool indie bookstore or something? FYI, I like my job, I just can't survive on it, and it just doesn't pay enough for me. I also can only work about 3 days a week, I've tried 4 and it's killing me, so it's probably a good thing that my temporary 4 days was temporary. Especially when I'm going to be doing assistant baking closer to the holidays. I'm just... terrible at this life thing. How did I get so close to 40 and just fail this fucking hard? I know my parents weren't supportive of college or trade school or anything, really, and that everything I ever mentioned was thrown out. I know I have physical (and probably mental) disabilities. Everything I know - all that writing that people praise? It's self-taught. I took 5 years to complete high school, and I only managed to do it in that time because I had to go to summer school. I did well if I had a lot of help from teachers, but I couldn't do it without that. (I ended up going to an alternative high school where teachers could provide that one-on-one learning.) I think I write fantastic books. My mind is such a creative place, and I have such complex characters. I have a good grasp of writing topics like abuse. But what kind of specialty is that? I can't survive. I want to give up. I haven't yet, and I've done everything to try harder in the circumstances I'm facing, and... it's doing nothing. It's going nowhere. I'm so fucking unlovable and stupid.

[flyingpotstickers]

🎁

send me a 🎁 and I’ll write five sentences of what I’m working on and share one

I wasn't working on anything yet but wrote this instead so you get all of THIS.....) (reminder to donate to this cause if you enjoyed reading this!!!!!)

Word Count: ~1k!

Fandom: NCIS: Hawai'i

Ship: Kacy

Read it here on ao3.

@when-you-are-stranger you might like this :)

Kate naturally wasn't a jealous person. Normally, she was quite confident in who she was seeing and how they were feeling about her at any given moment. It'd never been a problem before, certainly, that she'd gotten hotheaded over a partner.

So when she snapped the pencil in front of Lucy getting flirted with--- well....that was a new experience for her. Lucy wasn't entertaining the flirtatious advances, of course. They were together. But that didn't mean Kate liked seeing it happen.... Right in front of her coffee, for fuck's sake!

Okay, so maybe while they were together, and that was factual, it wasn't exactly... well known to the rest of the team. They were keeping things down on the low, secret. Kate wasn't even sure why anymore. It had been her idea.

So Kate couldn't even get mad.

(More mad than she was.)

She wanted to get mad.

(Pencils be damned.)

She wanted to declare in front of everyone that they were a couple and to back The Fuck Off of her girl. But that was an angry thought, a thought based off fear of rejection. Instead, she commented on the pick up line with a dry look. "You broke my pencil by being bold enough to use that dull of a line." She drawled out.

Lucy giggled. Oh god, Kate wanted to give her the world. Kate sighed as she looked at Lucy, "what? Was it going to work?" she asked lightly. Trying to infuse in her tone of voice that she was not threatened by this man's "moves" or lack thereof.

Lucy rolled her eyes, looking only slightly apologetically at the coffee shop employee. "Sorry, but no. I've heard lines about these eyes longer than you've been alive, kid." She confessed. "besides that," she added. "I have a partner."

Kate tried not to puff up with pride at the words--- Or at the way the cashier deflated. SHE WAS THAT PARTNER!!!! Yeah!!!!!

Kate needed to get a grip on herself.

"Here's your order."

The barista called out after a pregnant pause --- the pause involving a very loaded gaze off between the two women. Looking at Lucy, Kate couldn't remember why they were keeping this - them - a secret. But she couldn't just out them on her own. No.... bad idea.

"C'mon," Lucy tugged Kate's sleeve along as they grabbed their individual drinks from the counter. "You're holding the line up, Whistler."

"I want to go out with you." Kate said intelligently, obediently allowing herself to be tugged away. "In public. With you. And I want to tell the world that you have decided to give me another chance. But only if that's okay with you! I understand if you don't want to, it's just." Kate gripped her drink almost a little tooooooooo tightly. Luckily, she realised in time and stopped: Stopped the squeeze, stopped the motion of moving forward.

"I understand if I've given off too many red flags for you to even really want to date me at all. But right here and now, all I can think about is kissing the foam off of your lips." Kate continued to ramble, and would have gone on to say more, really! She was prepared with a whole speech! Except!

Lucy kissed her. In front of all the coffee shop. In front of all the employees who had hit on her. In front of all the customers who were waiting on their mediocre coffee. And oh god, Kate could taste the coffee on Lucy's lips as the kiss intensified for three....four, no, five, seconds until Lucy pulled away smiling beatifically.

"I could think of worse things."

Kate couldn't think of anything, let alone "Things Worse Than Dating Her".

All she could think of was the taste Lucy had allowed her of a life that she So. Desperately. Wanted.

A life with Lucy Tara.

[the-void-and-the-mirror]

A Sense of Purpose

My entire life, I've fought to find what my calling is. Who I'm supposed to be, what I can capitalise on to make money with. I had hobbies, interests, and many little bits of inspiration that could have been "the reason I was put here". I use quotations for the last part as I don't know if I truly believe in a divine purpose anymore. But instead have fluctuated my thinking to "what would I be happy doing?"

Because my parents had always shat on what I said I wanted to do that didn't align with what they thought of me. I was interested in soldering and electricity for a bit, they were thrilled. But when I said I wanted to study bugs, I was told that it was a stupid hobby and to find something else. My interests never seemed to last long, and I felt intrinsically broken because I couldn't find something I loved to do enough to stick with it. Of course, my parents berated me along the entire way. Even when I was an adult and said I wanted to be an archaeologist, maybe, I was told I couldn't commit because I always dropped the hobbies they were interested in me keeping. And because my parents weren't supportive unless it looked good to them, finding anything that could maintain my interest or made me genuinely happy felt like grasping at straws. I couldn't find the things I liked because I had no idea what I liked. And the things I did find to "like" I wanted to maintain as purely hobby, because trying to push things into the "I want to make money on it" box often made my love for them die quickly.

I was good at editing and writing, but having to commit to them made me frustrated altogether. And honestly, I like writing for fun, not money. But it did inspire a bit in acting, so I took up voiceacting. And that's also a fun hobby, but I don't expect to be good enough to make money on it anytime soon, if at all. I know where I stand on it. But the thing is that I started following those little sparks of interest, to see where they lead. Because I was so desperate to find what I would want to do with my life so I wouldn't be damned to a world of jobs I hate. I wanted to make a difference, but cashiering isn't a difference that works for me. I'd get bored and miserable so quickly. So I had to find what I could do with the rest of my life.

I started by giving myself permission to find new things and to fail at them. But learning new things I wasn't "naturally gifted at" was difficult. I'm still trying to learn the bass. I want to. But sitting down and doing the actual learning is something I have to let myself sit down for, and it's hard to roll over to. I took questionnaires of passion and personality, and every one of them said I like to work with people. Which was always obvious to me. But depending on the settings, it could be equally as terrifying and unsatisfying. And everything I tried, I couldn't find the right kind of "purpose" in. I worried that maybe I was being intentionally difficult with myself, or maybe the thing that would make me endlessly happy to do doesn't exist. I wasn't denying that I could have bad parts of a job. But perhaps my expectations on a job that didn't make me feel miserable at some point was perhaps that itself could not exist.

I observed so many careers that worked with people, and all of them required schooling that I didn't have patience for. Many with a bachelors, but the ones I really had interest in required a Master's or higher. I live in the US, so taking school means a lifetime of debt. I can't just try classes to see what resonates, either. So if I had to go to school, I absolutely had to make sure I could tolerate the path to get there. And it was a very daunting path. But nothing I looked at was enough. Nothing called me enough to take the plunge. And I was so terrified of the plunge, because what if I decided I didn't like it at all part way through? I'd be in masses of debt with nothing to show.

I don't remember how I stumbled acrost it, but I found I was happiest giving others advice. I was always told by friends and loved ones (that weren't my parents) that I was insightful and gave perspectives they never thought of. And somehow, when that clicked, I did as much digging as I could to find ways to become someone who deals in life advice. I thought maybe to become a beautician, as someone you could talk to as a trusted friend, and I could give those words out more easily, and similar passions that were short-lived for that just-right fit. Eventually I found Life Coach, and it sounded perfect. It wasn't mandatory to go to classes, but I felt spending a few thousand dollars on a certification course would be worth it. Six months of school was easy. I got certified and was proud! But doing events to pull my own clients in is a bit of work I'm not quite ready for. So I started to further my journey.

I have many people who have supported my journey of discovery and my determinations of what I should become to make my dreams come true. At one point, I had decided to become some form of drama therapist (one of the ones that required a Master's) and had started conversations with one who could link me locally to making it happen. But, it wasn't long before I stopped responding. I withdrew. The thought of school too daunting, and when I stood at the edge to start, I simply couldn't. I couldn't find the will to follow through with it. The same happened when I decided to become a school counselor (a more gentle Bachelor's degree). When it came time to put plan into action, I stagnated. Something always told me this wasn't the "just right fit" I had hoped for.

My worries returned tenfold. Am I damned to do jobs that I hate for the rest of my life? I'm highly neurodivergent. I have ADHD, Sensory Processing Disorder (in all manners of the word. From textures, sounds, scents, and not being able to tolerate even fitting clothes), generalised anxiety disorder, have a hard time learning cues and being able to read between the lines of neurotypical expressions, and mistaking words for another meaning. If people weren't direct with me, and I always made that known to my employer, then I was going to fail. And that's not to mention a bajillion allergies I have thanks to chronic illness. I had a hard time keeping jobs throughout my attempts at a career. Except for jobs that made me miserable and took a heavy toll on my mental health. Because I can work, I would never qualify for disability. And that was even more worrying. When I accepted a career coaching job that I thought aligned perfectly, and then started becoming heavily criticized for not being able to do the job they wanted exactly, I became bogged down by that very fear: I can't find a job that makes me happy that would possibly want to keep me. I sobbed to my boyfriend about these fears, that I was inherently useless in an ableist society, because they wouldn't work with me to work with them. I couldn't stand the thought of doing the things that made me miserable to earn money even in my most desperate times anymore.

That's when it finally snapped. I refused to take work that made me miserable anymore. With my boyfriend's support, both financially and emotionally, I accepted unemployment (that I still haven't gotten the payment for, since it now takes a full three months for it to activate) and began searching for jobs that would grant me happiness. I looked at things I longed for that would accept my certifications, to new things that I might be interested to try. In the middle of November, I got a call for one of the new ones: Parks and rec. The phone interview went beautifully, and she was impressed with my answers on working with children. I was offered the job immediately, and I accepted. However, with all the paperwork, I only just started this past week. My main job is an after-school program with grade-schoolers. But my job also hosts events throughout the city.

When I went in to finish that paperwork, I was told about uniforms. I told her I was willing to pay for a tailor-made uniform to my specifications, and revealed my SPD to her and how I was trying to get treatment for it. She told me she didn't want me to pay out of pocket for that kind of thing, and that she would work with me on it. The more I talked to her, the more I realised she was accepting, so I got a little bold and revealed my transgender status. She welcomed it with open arms. And the kids call me "Mr. FirstName" with my preferred name. And it's so euphoric and humouring to listen to little kids say "she - I mean HE!" to me as they try to correct themselves. The few days I've worked, I see they give everyone their best chance. They hire others with gender diversity, trans and not, others with disabilities and encouraging them in their best way. And everyone just being so supportive of each other and doing their best to help these children out, but also help each other succeed. And at this past weekend's event, where I cheered kids on to eat smores and ask how they liked their marshmallows toasted, dancing to get attention (and keep myself from just standing still because standing still is absolute torture to me), and just genuinely interacting with others, I felt it. It finally clicked. I LOVE this job. I found something I could do for the rest of my life; it's fun, always changing, interesting, supports creativity and celebrates individuality. I love my job, and the people I work with. I called my boyfriend after the event in tears of joy. I want to be a beacon to people who are different, encourage them to be themselves, and support ideas and individuality too. I found my purpose. And I get to keep my hobbies on the side too, or implement them just as much as I want.

I know I'm lucky, that I'm a rare story here. But I also want to share with all of you that it's possible. I found happiness, with all of my problems and differences, that lets me be me and accepted for it. These things exist. And it doesn't have to be a job for sure. But if you're like me, dreading the existence of working because of how different you are and that no employer cares to understand you and how you can do your best, even when you give them the guidelines to help you succeed at what they want done, just know that it exists. That there is something you can do that will make you infinitely happy. Or even if you don't know what you want to do with your life, that you're damned to a life of school and debt to just find your passion, it's okay to start small. Find those little things that give you passion into your life, and crosscheck them to see if that's something you want to do to make your living. Or even if they're something you just want to keep on the side. Your passions can belong to different things.

And your passions don't even have to be your job. Something like helping others through a little blog that says, "I'm here and I see you; I understand you. And you're not alone."

[keefwho]

May 13 - 2024 Monday

10:36pm

6.5/10

I had a very busy day today. I woke up and immediately took my shower. Then got dressed and had mom drive me to the grocery store for the month's groceries. I ended up getting a LOT, more than usual. I went all out, maybe because I was starving. I don't regret it though, I just bought maybe 1.5-2 months worth of some foods. I nearly needed 3 carts to get it all, but that was due to paper towels and other such taking up volume. At the checkout I let this guy go ahead of me that was in a hurry. The cashiers knew him. He was very thankful, he said it twice. I had to insist that he go ahead of me because he declined the first time. I don't think I came off as weird or awkward like I usually do, I kept telling myself it's all just like VRchat. No one really cares that much, if anything the richness of life comes from all these unpredictable social experiences. I also made a little conversation with the old cashier lady. When it came time to check out, I had a little emergency because it turned out I didn't have my debit card on me even though I tried to make sure I had it before I left. I mistook the feeling of my ID for my card. I realized my dad never gave it back to me after he used it to take out my rent. I ran outside to mom where we tried to scrounge up $450 in cash but we were a hundred short. She let me use my dad's credit card which thankfully went through. On the way home I got a slim jim and played my vaporwave music over the car speakers. At home I put away all my groceries and joined BR and them in a VC while I ate "breakfast" which was a teriyaki ramen bowl.

In stream I warmed up with more torso stuff since I've been struggling with the subject lately. I realized maybe I was being too structured and mathematical about it all so I became looser with how I was capturing the forms. For work I finished the commission I was working on which came out great and I sketched SK's thing and got her payment. Also got GZ's Venus comic ready. I ended 30 minutes early since I had done all my work and needed time to think on an idea for a Venus fallout piece as requested by a Patron.

During lunch BR DMed me and invited me to join in her art server VC where FY was too. This is the first time I can remember her inviting me to anything directly in a long while so I couldn't say no. It was a fun call, she was drawing vore and everyone was just vibin. I got boolied a lot as usual but not in a bad way. For lunch I wasn't too hungry since I ate breakfast late so I just had 1/3 the jar of pizza flavored pringles. I played Roblox horses until it was work time, then I screen shared the request I had to do and the pic I'm working on for DS of her horse. Then I worked about 45 minutes on the world for PZ. The VC had disbanded halfway through that so I put a Minecraft stream on the side to listen to. DS called me near the end so we hung out while I finished and she worked on her fursuit hooves. We watched some furry con content while I played KSP and then a few episodes of Moral Orel. THEN a good episode of She Ra. As is common sometimes, neither of us seemed to have a good idea of what to watch or engage in. Usually I'm down to watch anything and watching is the only option since she's working on stuff. But I get that it can be fun to submit to someone else's suggestions so I want to have some ready. She headed upstairs while I made a chicken strip and fries for dinner. We did puzzlies and I started playing the PC Monster High game for her, we came up with a skeleton girl named Patella and I actually like her a lot.

[pbandjesse]

My allergies are going crazy today. I am not feeling amazing. I am trying to remain positive but I honestly just don't feel very good today. I'm exhausted. I was able to get some stuff done but not everything I wanted. I tried. I really did. But it just was a sleepy day and I am so tired still.

I didn't think I slept to bad last night. I wasn't particularly comfortable but I was alright. I briefly woke up when James kissed my cheek to say goodbye but was not awake enough to say anything.

I would wake up right before 8. I did not want to be awake but I couldn't fall back asleep. I was having a lot of aches today. I was not feeling very happy. I tried very hard to shake it off. Sometimes it helps to make a mental schedule.

Get up. Make the bed. Take a shower. Wash hair. Get dressed. Eat breakfast. Vacuum. I just kept repeating that to myself.

I used my new shampoo which smelled very nice. And I think worked well. I had to stop using my last new shampoo because the smell started to really make me feel unwell. I hate how quickly that happens to me. I don't even think it's a pregnancy thing because it's happened so much before that with deodorant and soap. I'm just weird about smells.

I got dressed and felt alright. The breakfast James left for me was nice. I got really mad at Sweetp jumping on my desk while I was eating. He knows he's not supposed to be on my desk. That has always been true. There aren't many places he isnt allowed but that has always been one that is always off limits. I did get him to eventually leave me alone. I was just already in not a very good mood. So it was just not an amazing morning.

I brought Ruby the Roomba upstairs to clean. And put some stuff away downstairs. Ran the dishwasher. I laid around for a bit. I really considered trying to go back to sleep but I really wanted to accomplish something today. I had wanted to go and look into getting a larger box for Crabcake. I also needed to get him another heating bulb. So that was my plan. I would drive out to Lowe's in Glen Burnie because the Petco is across the street.

And I thought I did a pretty okay job holding it together. I pretty quickly realized I did not want to be out in the world and I regretted not staying home. But I was out and wanted to try my best to accomplish something.

Lowe's was a bust though. There was so many workers doing inventory and I felt uncomfortable in the aisle. I did find a larger box but it was $65 and it wasn't even perfect for what I wanted. I will keep looking.

I spent some time looking at the plants too. A lot of them were half off because they were full sun plants but I refrained from getting anything. And just headed out of there.

I had better luck at the pet store. I thought I had $10 in coupons but I actually had $20 on my account! Awesome. So I would get another fancy ceramic bulbs rather then getting the cheaper option. And I got him some dried flower food. I also looked at all of the animals. Including the current Russian tortoises they have which were very small! I was surprised that Crabcake already seems big compatibility.

I showed the cashier pictures of my Crabcake and his enclosure and got to talk about how much of a sweetie he is. She told me about her snake and how he was cold recently and actually climbed back into his shed skin! Like putting on a coat! Silly.

I decided that since I was already out I would go to the value village and get Taco Bell. And I'm really glad I stopped at the thrift store because I would end up getting some excellent stuff.

Firstly I found a stair basket! Something I have been looking for Soni was really pleased. And it was only $5. I tried on some shoes but didn't buy any. Not even the very good baseball shoes. I did find a very good fleece with its original tags. Very soft and very sturdy. A little more expensive at $15 but I think that's because of the tags. I figured between the very good deal of the basket and the not as good deal for the fleece it evens out.

The best though was I checked the yarn section and would get 7 balls of yarn!! 5 of them being the fancy blanket yarn I love. The other two are a slightly smaller/thinner fluffy yarn but it is also really good. And at like a 1/3 of the normal price.

I was really excited for my purchases. None of the self check outs were open and I struggled to figure out where the cashier was but I eventually figured it out. Embarrassing though!

I drove across the street and got two tacos. I had a nice chat with the cashier there, who is also named Jesse. He told me he was named for the song Jesse's girl! Neat!

I had my tacos in the car. And started driving home. And started feeling very bad. I was just on the verge of tears like. I need to go home. I need to lay down. I was so upset. I was about 20 minutes from home and I was struggling. But I got home and didn't cry.

When I got back here I brought everything inside. Got thing put away. Set up the other heating element for Crabcake who noticed really quickly and seemed very happy. I tried on my new fleece and it's great. And eventually I would lay down.

Sweetp insisted on laying on my arm. I kept pushing him off but he kept doing it. Monster. I would sleep hard though. And had really bizarre dreams about crab princesses and scifi. It was intense. Sociopolitical. Intrigue. But I would wake up around 4. And my allergies went crazy because sweetp was basically sleeping in my face.

And that was most of my evening. Allergies going crazy. James would come home and tried to cheer me up. I took meds but it didn't help as much as I hoped.

James made salad and pizza for dinner. And I watched videos and they played a video game. And we just laid together.

After dinner I came upstairs to lay in bed. James got on a call to play DND with friends. And I have just been trying to be okay. I am just not feeling very well. I am trying hard to be okay but it's just not happening tonight I guess.

I hope to sleep in tomorrow. I have an event tomorrow evening and I am hoping it will be fun. And that I will feel great. Fingers crossed. Literally my only saving grace has been it's been cool out. I am very thankful for that.

I hope you all sleep well tonight. Take care of yourselves. Good night!

[fuck-customers]

I just saw another anon send in an ask that was similar to this, but lord. Why do some parents get so upset when you politely ask them to keep their kids seated or to be mindful of their volume levels? Servers are carrying hot drinks and food, along with sharp utensils and other potentially dangerous things. Not only is your kid in danger but so are the staff and other customers! I heard a horror story once about some kid running around and knocking into a waitress, causing her to drop hot coffee on a baby. It made me want to cry. How hard is it to teach your kids to sit down? And if they can't do that, they're probably too young to be in a restaurant imo.

Random rant, but when I was working in food service I had so many encounters with parents who let their kids wreak havoc and throw food and scream etc. etc. etc. It was exhausting. I don't hate or dislike kids at all, I think bad behavior like that is usually a reflection of the parents, and after growing up with a mom who taught me to be mindful of others and to not run amuck - destroying things, throwing food, screaming - I am kind of baffled seeing kids nowadays with parents who seem to either ignore or even encourage acting that way (not to sound like a boomer or anything, I'm in my 20s 😅) I had a kid run into the kitchen once and I tried to gently tell them that they couldn't come into the kitchen, and their mom came and started giving me shit?? Sorry for trying to keep your kid out of a dangerous space filled with hot stoves and sharp things I guess??

But yeah, sorry this was kinda long, just. Why do some people feel so entitled as to let their kids behave that way? It's in the same vein as letting kids harass animals and just laughing about it, or seeing them throw a tantrum when something they want is sold out and yelling at the cashier instead of teaching their kids how to deal with disappointment. Idk man. I don't ever want kids, but my sister is a great mom and seeing her be both respectful to her kids while also teaching them to respect others has made me feel like some of those shitty parents have no excuse.

And I know it can be harder with neurodivergent kids, but I'm also neurodivergent and when I had meltdowns or when I got overwhelmed in public, my mom took me outside or to the car to help me calm down. She didn't yell at me or hit me (which is a horrible thing to do to any kid) nor did she ignore it and let me scream or throw things in the restaurant. And I really appreciated that.

Uh tl;dr: please parent your children, especially in public. Thanks.

[songmingisthighs]

Hooked

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

ch. lxxi - really proud of you sweetie ❤❤

<< previous | masterlist | next >>

??? × reader, ateez × reader

A freshman hookup rekindled into something new. With an incentive, of course. But what would happen if your 'relationship' led you somewhere you never thought would happen to you ?

The whole time you went out to buy snacks with San and Jongho, you couldn't help but think about how Yeosang was still cold towards you.

"Okay, first of all, you're not gonna let that shithead get to you, you got me?" San firmly said as he threw a bag of chips at Jongho's head, obviously aiming at the basket in his hand but he miscalculated.

"Second, hasn't he opened up to you slightly? Pretty sure he said something to Hwa hyung about being a dick to you yesterday," San shrugged as the three of you walked towards the cashier.

As Jongho put the basket on the counter, he chimed in with his own opinion, "I say let him be all pissy and bitchy towards (Y/N)," he scoffed.

You let out a whine of protest and smacked Jongho on his arm. Though that barely did anything as he only grinned and pulled you into his arms. "I didn't mean that in a bad way, I just meant that if he decided to back off, the rest of us, aka ME, can have more of you," he whispered into your ear as he snaked his arms around your waist.

Though you were slightly affected by Jongho saying that there was a chance that Yeosang wanted to back off of your relationship, you couldn't help but blush and giggle at Jongho's rather possessive words and actions.

The three of you left the convenience store with two bags. Both of course being carried each by San and Jongho as you stood in between them with your pinkies linked to each other.

"You know, you COULD just show what Yeosang's missing, maybe then he'd realize how much of a bitch he was being and that he'd stop," San said, snickering at himself.

You thought over San's words and realized that he was right. Rather than thinking that you're the one at the disadvantage, you can simply flip things around and make Yeosang break.

So you concocted a plan in your head all the way back and as you got ready for movie night.

Whilst everyone was running around everywhere, pulling blankets and pillows from their rooms, you sat idly by and kept a close eye on Yeosang. The way you were looking at him made it seem like you're a predator and Yeosang's your prey.

As everyone took their seat, you slyly directed each of the boys to sit where you want them to sit, leaving the last comfortable position directly below you, by your feet. Since you know Yeosang tends to go to the bathroom last minute, it meant that he was going to have to sit at the available spot if he wanted to comfortably watch the movie.

Just as you expected, he walked back and froze for a second when he realized where he would be sitting.

"Yeosang, come on, we're gonna start now," Hongjoong called out from his position at the edge of the sofa.

Knowing he can't do or say anything, Yeosang gave up and went to take a seat by your feet. You smirked inconspicuously as you leaned against Seonghwa who was at your right. You nuzzled into him as your legs reached over to Wooyoung's lap on your left.

In the first ten minutes of the movie, you let Yeosang relax, not letting any parts of your body touch his. This seemed to be effective because his eyes were focused on the screen and his shoulders seemed very much relaxed.

But when he seemed to disregard your existence, you let your knee and fingers brush against the back of his neck. As your skin made contact with his, he visibly stiffened. Knowing him, his eyes were most likely bulged out and his grip on the blanket he and San shared tightened to the point that his knuckles turned white.

You smirked at yourself at his reaction, knowing that teasing him was going to be fun and that he deserved it.

The subtlety of your touch seemed to awaken something in Yeosang. Maybe it was his triggered frustration or it was just simply the fact that you hadn't touched him in the longest time.

When your eyes peeked down at him, it was evident that his mind was thinking a hundred thousand thoughts a minute. With his chest rising and deflating with each breath dramatically, you know it's time to take it up a notch and to test your hypothesis.

Sexually frustrated Yeosang + subtle teasing = boi-oi-oi-oi-oi-oing.

"Oops, almost forgot my popcorn," you muttered lowly but loud enough for Yeosang, Seonghwa, and Wooyoung to hear. Once Seonghwa and Wooyoung let their grip on you off, you proceeded to swing your right light over Yeosang and stepped diagonally. With the newfound balance, you leaned your body forward to pretend to reach for the popcorn bowl.

With this position, Yeosang was in direct eyeliner with your clothed core. The shorts you wore were not helping either. It was the pair you wore were the ones Wooyoung bought for you; very tight and short, the black, stretchy material both accentuated and covered only half of your ass.

To make things worse, you pretended to lose your balance and fell directly on Yeosang's lap with a high, squeaky yelp, albeit very fake. The close proximity between you two enabled you to hear the choked gasp that came out of Yeosang. Not only that, but you felt something hard pressing against your ass.

Either Yeosang hid the remote in his pants or your plan worked well.

You turned your face to look at Yeosang with a faux innocent, apologetic face, "Oops, sorry Sangie," you apologized to him, batting your eyelashes at him.

It seemed that Seonghwa and San had caught onto your plan. They were snickering at the scene unveiling before them.

Without saying anything else, you stood up. To make things worse, with your ass directly in front of Yeosang, you 'fixed' your shorts; pulling it up and exposing more of your ass.

"I'll be back," you told the room, to no one specific, before walking towards the kitchen.

You pretended to look around in there, trying to find something when suddenly a set of footsteps followed. Before you could even turn to look at who came, you had been swung and pushed until your back hit the fridge's door.

The sight of Yeosang's flustered face combined with his glare greeted you. You tried your best to not look so smug. On the contrary, you pretended to be confused.

With hands pinned at the sides, you knew you couldn't do much. You tilted your head at him and blinked innocently, "something wrong, Sangie?"

Hearing the faux innocence dripping from your voice only made Yeosang growl, slightly ticked that you dared play him like a fiddle.

"Something wrong? Are you seriously that ignorant or are you just pretending to be dumb? I don't even know which one is worse but I'm fucking sick of you flaunting your ass like a damn peacock trying to mate," he rambled on.

Your expression changed as a smirk broke on your face, "didn't know you're one to give in so easily, Sangie? You think with your dick now?" you poked fun at him.

Yeosang's left eye visibly twitched at your words. One of his hands let go of one of yours to grab at the back of your hair, tugging it back rather harshly, eliciting a moan out of you, "are you comparing me with one of the cheap boy toys that you played with when you weren't here? Didn't know your standards were lowered to that extent," he smirked, trying to push you the same way you did him.

A gasp and a low groan left Yeosang when you cupped his dick with your free hand over his pyjama pants, giving it a bit more pressure to feel how hard he was.

"No matter how much you call them 'cheap boy toys', they have bigger balls than you, Sangie. How long did you plan on being all pissy with me, hmm? Did it hurt your pride that I had to be the one who initiated direct contact with you?" you snarled at him.

You could see his eyes burn in anger with a tinge of shame. You knew you had struck a nerve in him.

All of a sudden, Yeosang pulled you off the fridge, turned you around and pushed you down by the shoulder to the point that your cheek was pressed onto the cold countertop.

Excitement filled you as you realized where this was going. Your formula was spot on, your H1 was accepted and H0 was rejected.

When you realized that Yeosang was not doing anything, you took matters into your own hands. You pressed your scantily clad core directly against his boner.

"Not gonna do anything, Sangie? Do I have to get one of the boys to show you how to use a dick properly? Or should I call one of Haknyeon's friends to show you? There's this one, Hyunjae I think was his name, he-"

You couldn't complete the sentence as Yeosang had slapped your ass so hard, you were sure he had left a purple handprint there.

As you were about to protest, Yeosang had somehow taken a clean rag and wrap it around your mouth as a makeshift gag. He leaned forward so that his chest was pressed onto your back.

"Be a good girl and keep your big mouth shut, yeah?" he ordered. His hand skimmed your waist down to your legs and it slowly caressed the back of your thighs, leaving goosebumps at their wake.

When he realized you didn't give him any response, his hands smacked the sides of your legs harshly, making you jolt up in surprise.

"Too dumb to answer?" he growled. Hearing the anger in his voice made you whimper out in fear and submission.

Yeosang smiled and pecked the back of your neck after you replied to him, your submission made him feel soft for a split second.

It wasn't until he pulled your shorts and panties carelessly along with his own pyjama pants and underwear that your brain finally registered that you're about to have angry sex with Yeosang. From how he had been treating you so far, you're at least 70% sure that there will be bruises all over you tomorrow.

Without hesitation, Yeosang shoved his dick deep into you, hips pressing against your ass as his hands found anchor on your waist. His grip was tight, vice even, it almost seemed possessive.

He set a harsh and quick pace from the beginning, not caring that your hips were smacking the counter nor the fact that literally anyone could enter the kitchen area.

Yeosang isn't one to talk much during sex, he tends to focus on the action more than anything else.

The feeling of him continuously entering you at such pace and vigour were intoxicating. Maybe it was all the pent up frustration and anger, but you swore your eyes rolled back even further each time his hips smacked yours harshly. You definitely won't be able to sit on your ass after this.

"Shit, I guess you were telling the truth when you said you weren't playing with your cousin's friends," he groaned out mid-thrust.

Yeosang suddenly pulled out, making you whine in protest.

If it weren't for the extreme sexual tension and both of your compromising predicament, Yeosang would've cooed at how adorable you sounded.

But that wasn't his priority at the moment.

Wordlessly, Yeosang pulled you off the counter to move you to the wooden dining table. He pushed you to lie on the table as he propped a leg up to his waist.

With this new position, you could see the defined lines of his chest peeking from his pyjama when he anchored himself above you. You thanked the workout regime he had been following internally because the sight of his muscles made your pussy throb.

Yeosang immediately went back to thrusting with an animalistic pace into you, pouring every bit of emotion he had into action. You could feel it. The way he was so close to you but still maintaining a certain distance, you knew that he was hesitating. The way he was avoiding your eyes and focus on where you both were connected, yearning for intimacy but scared to initiate it. But you also know that he wanted you beyond anything else and that he was sorry. He wasn't one to be good with words but luckily you know him well enough to understand him.

As he focused on pleasuring you both, you took the chance to prop yourself up slightly and pull the rag gag off your mouth and threw it to the side.

Your hand slapped his face, stunning him for a second. As his movements halted and eyes finally meeting yours, your grabbed his face and pulled him in for a deep kiss.

He froze momentarily, not knowing what to do. But when you pulled out to speak to him, you could see that his stubbornness began to chip away and crumble.

"You don't have to feel bad about what happened, I forgave you and it's about time you forgive yourself for being a jerk to me. And I'm sorry for leaving you to take care of everyone like that, Sangie. But can we please move past all that and go back to normal?"

His once vice grip on you loosened.

At first, you thought he was going to let you go and run away.

But he suddenly pulled you up and flush against him. He hugged you tightly, burying his face on your shoulder.

"I should've been the one to apologize first. I'm sorry, I love you so much," he said lowly against your skin. You knew that it was hard for him to be so vulnerable which was why you know him saying all that meant that he was being beyond sincere.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders as his wrapped around your waist.

Soon his thrusts continued.

The initial roughness and anger were replaced with longing and desperation.

Not long after, you felt that you were close to the edge. Your leg that was hoisted up on Yeosang's waist tightened and Yeosang immediately realized what it meant.

His hands slipped under your shirt to play with your chest. His fingers tweaking and pinching your nipples, adding to the pleasure that he gave. The intense arousal shot to your pussy and you clenched hard as you came.

Head thrown back, exposing your neck to him, Yeosang took the opportunity to mark you up as he liked.

The feeling of his fingers on your nipples, his mouth on your skin, and his dick still moving inside you prolonged your orgasm more than you liked. The intensity made you whine as overstimulation took over.

Luckily, Yeosang soon followed suit and released his load inside you. His hips stuttered and his teeth bit down onto your shirt-covered shoulder. You yelped at the sudden pain but the pain turned to pleasure, making your thighs shook and pussy once again clamping around Yeosang.

Yeosang let out a guttural groan that was muffled by your shoulder at the feeling, not denying how good it felt.

You both stayed there, trying to catch your breath. It was then that you registered the aftermath of your intimate activity with Yeosang. Your pants and panties had somehow stuck onto one of the drawer handles of where you were pinned down, the rag that was used as a gag had somehow made its way to the edge of the room, and Yeosang was still fully dressed.

When your eyes met his again, you see fondness and love in them, He was smiling down at you, fingers trailing down to intertwine with yours.

"What would it take me to get your full forgiveness?" he asked, head tilting to the side. His bangs moved to reveal the birthmark that he had told you a while ago he was insecure about. You leaned forward and pecked the adorable mark, making him chuckle.

"Just don't pull yourself or push me away again when things are hard, okay? The last thing I want is to almost lose you again," you told him.

He brought one of your intertwined hands to his lips and gave it a soft kiss, "there is no way on earth that you'd be able to lose me. I was actually thinking the other way around," he admitted shyly.

You bit back a giggle for his sake and opted to kiss him fully on his lips. "You would never lose me, Sangie, I belong with you, all of you," you assured him.

As he pulled himself out of you and began to clean himself up, he was reminded that the others were a room apart.

Yeosang visibly swallowed, suddenly turning nervous.

"D-do you think the others-"

"Seonghwa and San were well aware that we were having sex here, pretty sure the others heard everything as well," you said, cutting him off.

"Yeah we did! You both better clean and disinfect the heck out of the kitchen area," Seonghwa yelled out from the living room.

Hearing that, Yeosang blushed madly and moved to bury his face into your shoulder in embarrassment.

You couldn't help but laugh at him. But you wrapped your arms around him and stroked his back comfortingly.

At least you got the old Yeosang back.

taglist :

@raysanshine @peachy-maia @xuxiable @90s-belladonna @theclawofaraven @sanraes @sungiehan @felix-kithes @nycol-ie @superstarw99 @skkrtnawrskkrt @viv-atiny @the7thcrow @stfu-xeena @laurademaury @multihoe-net @daisyhwa @scoupshushushu @whyisquill @bikiniholic @yunhorights @exfolitae @simplewonderland @verycooldogblog @perfectlysane24 @hannahdinse8 @tannie13 @aka-minhyuk-kun @phebeedee @em0yunho @marsophilia @donghyuckanti27 @se-onghwa @malewife-supremacy @hyunsukream @peachyho@taejichafe @alliecoady98 @rdiamondbts2727 @hakuna-matata-ya @ohmy-fandoms @ateezminonspace @stray-bi-kids @imaaroy @fashi0nablee @rindomo @violetwinters @nabihwa @linhyyboo12 @mirror-juliet @bestboiericsohn @kpop-khh-writer-trash

[helloalycia]

overstepping [one] // jane banner (Wind River)

summary: after getting several voicemails from your colleague and best friend with her asking for your backup, you attempt to call her back, only to get no answer.

warning/s: mentions of rape, murder and injuries.

author’s note: this is a two parter because i finally watched Wind River and it broke my heart but also lizzie was v cute and i felt the need to write this, hope you like it x

part two | masterlist | wattpad

"C'mon, work you stupid phone," I complained for the millionth time, before standing on the chair to get a better signal.

When I saw the bars in the corner of the screen increase, a grin appeared on my lips. I loved my parents, but the fact that they lived in a remote cabin in Tennessee with zero signal was not my favourite thing.

When the bars remained, my phone decided to actually be helpful and receive all the messages, calls and voicemails I missed. I did a brief flick through, noticing nothing was too important that couldn't wait for me to return to work. As an FBI agent, I rarely got time off. And now that I had taken a two month vacation to spend with my parents, I was adamant on enjoying it, even if I was missing work a smidge.

Next were the calls, which I noticed were mostly from my colleague and close friend, Jane Banner. I furrowed my brows, realising she'd left me several voicemails, too, which was strange since she knew I was on a break from work. What could be so important?

I sighed, glancing down at my uncomfortable position standing on the chair and leaning above the wardrobe. It was the only place in the house with decent signal and the only other place that wasn’t in the middle of nowhere was twenty minutes out. Telling myself I'd just listen to one voicemail to make sure everything was okay, I played the earliest message.

"Hey, Y/N. I'm sorry, I know you're on a break, but I just had to talk to you," it began, and Jane sounded troubled. "I was in Vegas, as you know, but I've been called out to a reservation in Wyoming where this poor girl was–" She paused, releasing a shaky breath. "She was raped and left to die out in the cold. I thought I could send in another team to take a look – y'know, usual protocol. But the coroner won't rule it a homicide and you know what that means."

I swallowed hard, knowing exactly what that meant. If it wasn't ruled a homicide, no backup would come and we had to move onto the next case. But if this girl was raped and left to die, the rapist was still out there and wasn't getting caught by the FBI.

"I can't just leave it and go," Jane continued quietly, with that recognisable passion for her job evident in her voice. "I have to do what I can. But I... I can't do this alone. It's not like other cases, Y/N. It's different out here. And there's only so much their police department can do. I know you're on a break, but I was hoping that, maybe, you could come out here and help me? It's the Wind River Indian Reservation. That's it, I guess. Bye."

The message ended and I found myself chewing on my lower lip anxiously, unable to think about anything other than Jane now. She'd worried me with that one voicemail alone – I couldn't imagine what the others said.

She was usually so good at dealing with cases, but this seemed different. She sounded shaken up, attempting to put on a brave face by the sounds of it. What was so different about this case? She didn't need me. She was capable.

Curiosity got the better of me and I played the second message, ignoring the discomfort in my arms as I stretched to maintain the signal. It was left a day after the first one.

"Hey, so I just remembered that you said you don't get much signal up there with your parents," she began apologetically. "I don't mean to– shit, it's so cold..." There was a pause, a noise in the background, then she continued, "Sorry, just turning up the heating. Anyway, I was saying. I don't mean to intrude on your break. I just– I'm hoping you'll find signal and hear this because I could really use your help. I think we've got a lead on who may have done it. It was hectic today. Really could've used that backup."

She chuckled dryly at her attempt at a joke, but all I felt was guilt. She sounded exhausted within a day of being there.

"I hope you get this," she finished with a sigh. "I should go. Got a busy day tomorrow. Hope you're doing okay. Bye."

I wasted no time in playing the next message. Three days into her case.

"I don't know why I keep sending these," she began with a hoarse voice, and my heart clenched at the sound of it. "You clearly aren't getting them in time. But it's easier talking to you like this than not at all."

It went quiet, so quiet that I thought she may have finished and forgot to hang up. But then she spoke up again, a whimper escaping her lips.

"It's so hard," she admitted. "We've covered worse cases, but this one... everything about it makes me uncomfortable. Something doesn't feel right. I've got a lead – we think it might be the boyfriend who did it and we're gonna see him tomorrow. But I don't know."

I frowned, squeezing my phone tightly because I didn't recognise the girl speaking as my friend. This girl sounded broken and I wondered what she could have discovered that made her like this.

"I've got the police department with me for backup," she said with a sniffle. "And Cory, he's a hunter whose been helping me with the case. They're all gonna be with me tomorrow. But I wish you were here, too. You always make things easier."

The lump in my throat wouldn't disappear no matter how many times I swallowed it. She made things easier, too. Always. And all I wanted to was be by her side and be there for her like she always was for me.

"Sorry about this," she said with a watery laugh, and I could imagine the embarrassed smile on her face as she did. "I sound like such an idiot. Never mind these messages. Just enjoy your break. I shouldn't be worrying you like this. See you when you get back."

The message ended and I checked to see if there were anymore, but to my disappointment, there wasn't. That message was from a few days ago and she hadn't sent anything since which was concerning in itself.

Trying not to panic for no reason, I called Jane. Hopefully everything was okay and I was being stupid. She was a fully-trained FBI agent. She could take care of herself. Right?

The call rang and rang, but nobody picked up. One missed call. No biggie. She probably heard it and couldn't find her phone or something. So, I tried again.

More ringing and no answer. Okay, no big deal. Just try again.

Another call and no answer. The chewing on my lip became more intense. Why the hell wasn't she picking up? Was she still working the case?

I waited an hour, trying again at ten minute intervals, unable to fight my concern. But there was no answer every time and I realised that I couldn't sit and wait for her to call back. Not after how she sounded in those voicemails.

No, I had to go there. She needed backup.

—

Wyoming was way colder than I could have prepared for.

I mean, technically, I prepared for nothing. I bid my parents a goodbye, threw some random clothes in a bag and caught the next plane over there. I tried for Jane's phone constantly, knowing she was never one to ignore me for this long, but there was no point. She wasn't answering, which could only mean so much.

When I reached the reservation, I had no idea where anything was or what I was looking for exactly. I just knew that as soon as the taxi dropped me off in the centre of town, I didn't know where to go.

There were a lot of locals hanging around, so my first port of call was to ask them if they'd seen Jane around – or Agent Banner, as she may have introduced herself. I showed them a picture of her on my phone, described her with vivid detail, but they just stared at me like I was crazy. I was starting to believe I was at one point, until I stopped by the convenience store.

As worried as I was for Jane's whereabouts, the chill in my bones was real. Especially my hands, which I was certain would fall off any minute. So, I decided to buy some gloves and also ask the cashier if he'd seen Jane around or heard anything of her. Whilst I was doing that, a customer caught my attention, probably having overheard my conversation.

"Did you say Jane Banner?" he asked with a quirked brow, interrupting my purchase. "The FBI lady, right?"

I nodded quickly, facing him. "Yes, that's her! D'you know where she is?"

He nodded casually. "Yeah, she's in the hospital. That big shootout that happened a few days ago, right?"

My stomach dropped. "The what?"

"The shootout," he repeated, not aware of the concern in my face. "At the drill site. A bunch of officers were killed and the FBI lady was one of the only one left standing." He tutted as he shook his head. "Very lucky that one."

A shootout? The hospital? Only one left standing? No wonder she hadn't been answering her calls.

"Can you– do you–" I stopped, clearing my throat and trying to stop freaking out. "Which hospital?"

After getting the address from him, I caught a taxi to the only hospital in town and prayed to God that Jane was okay. The one thing she'd asked for was backup and I couldn't even give her that. If I'd just looked at my messages sooner... fuck.

Getting past the front desk and to Jane's room was no issue at all. A quick flash of my FBI badge was enough for the receptionist to give me the details and wave me through. My heart was constricting in my chest the longer it took. What if it was really bad? What if that customer's intel was outdated and Jane was– no. I couldn't afford to think like that.

Upon finding Jane's room, I spotted an older man leaving through the door, being careful to close it behind him. I didn't recognise him at all.

"Excuse me," I called, earning his attention. "Is that Jane Banner's room you just came from?"

He seemed surprised, glancing over his shoulder to make sure I was speaking to him, before nodding. "Yes. Sorry, who are you?"

I pulled my badge from my pocket and showed him, though I doubted anyone would take me seriously when my eyes were watering at thought of Jane being severely injured.

"I'm her friend," I said, swallowing down the lump in my throat before lowering my badge.

"Oh, you're the backup that didn't come," he said with realisation.

My eyes flickered to the floor guiltily. He wasn't exactly wrong.

"I didn't mean it like that," he added quickly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

I shook my head, lifting my eyes to meet his. "It's okay. I should've... I should've been here." It went quiet as he didn't know what to say, so I looked to him halfheartedly. "I assume you're from the police department, one of the ones who helped Jane."

"Not exactly," he said, before putting out his hand for me to shake. "Name's Cory. I'm a hunter by trade."

Returning his handshake, I recalled Jane's voicemail. "Oh, yeah, she mentioned you... thank you for helping her out."

When I couldn’t, I added in my head.

He offered me a small smile and I couldn't find it in myself to return it. I must have looked like shit, since he gave me a pitiful gaze.

"You want me to catch you up before you go in?" he asked, nodding to Jane's door. "She's okay by the way."

I nodded, sucking up a breath. My nerves were eating away at me the longer I didn't see Jane – half of me was terrified of what I'd find, and the other half was afraid she'd be upset or angry because I left her to it, even when she pleaded for my help.

Cory and I took a seat down the hall and he proceeded to explain about the case and how they found the guy who raped that poor girl. The shootout was the worst bit, making me shiver with discomfort. Apparently, Jane had gotten blasted with a shotgun, puncturing her torso and neck despite the vest she wore. All of the officers with her were killed and by the sounds of it, Jane almost was, too. But Cory managed to take out the criminals and the rapist himself. When he was finished telling me, I had no words.

"She's a bit shaken up, but her surgery went well," Cory reassured with a short nod. "Does she know you're coming?"

I shook my head, voice thick with emotion. "She wouldn't answer her phone. I guess I know why now."

Cory nodded, rubbing the back of his neck before sparing me a consoling glance. "She talked about you a lot. I think it'll cheer her up seeing you. You should go."

My eyes met his, teary and stinging with unshed tears. "Thank you so much."

He shrugged bashfully, but he didn't realise all that he'd done. I gave him a small, tight smile before standing up with a sigh. No point dwelling anymore – I had to see her.

Pushing my selfish feelings aside, I sucked it up and approached Jane's room. She would either want to punch me or not, but either way, I had to see if she was okay. And so, when I opened the door slightly, heart racing in my chest, said heart jumped in my throat at the sight of her.

She was laying on the bed with wires stuck in her and, only from what I could see, bandages were covering the side of her neck. I thought she was sleeping at first, but then her head tilted towards the door curiously, and bright blue eyes widened with disbelief.

"Y/N?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "What are you– how did you get here?"

I closed the door behind me and hesitantly approached her bedside, unable to stop my eyes from soaking in the sight of her. She looked so feeble and vulnerable and unlike how I saw her last. Then, Cory's words came back to me and I began to imagine the worst scenario of her getting shot, blood seeping from her wounds, the life draining from her eyes...

"Y/N," she called, and I looked to her startlingly, hoping I didn't look as troubled as I felt.

"Sorry," I said, clearing my throat. "I, er– the messages. Voicemail. I heard them and tried calling you back, but..."

She pursed her lips, exhaling with a wince and looking up at the ceiling, as if suddenly remembering she left messages in the first place.

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner," I said quietly, guilt seeping back in.

"No, no, don't be," she said, and I just about noticed the pink dusting her cheeks. "It's not your fault. I shouldn't have interrupted your vacation like that. I know you said you wanted a break and–"

"Jane, no, don't even say that," I cut her off, reaching for her hand in an instant. She looked my way, eyes flickering between mine nervously. I squeezed her hand gently and said, "I should have been here. You needed me and I– I didn't come. Maybe if I had, this could have ended differently."

She tried to smile, but I could see the discomfort in her eyes. "It's not that bad, honestly. It just looks bad."

I pressed my lips together, eyes falling to the bandage on her neck. Even though it was big and covered her wound, I could still make out the bruising around it from the impact of the shell. I didn't imagine the torso wound looking any different, and that thought alone made me regret leaving her alone. It was very much as bad as it looked; I knew that and she knew that.

Her lips trembled as she avoided my eyes, her own tearing up. I pushed away my guilt momentarily and changed the subject.

"So, I met Cory. He seems like a great guy."

She didn't say anything as she seemed lost in thought. Either that or she was trying not to cry in front of me. I hoped it wasn't the latter, since the last thing I wanted was to make her feel uncomfortable.

"You know," I said, when she wouldn't speak, "I'm pretty sure I told you to stay safe before I left for my vacation."

At my poor attempt to lighten the mood, she cracked a small, tight smile, but a smile nonetheless, and my racing heart slowed down momentarily.

"I'm glad you're okay," I said, now that I had her attention again, and she looked my way with a softened expression. "Kind of okay. But you know... okay."

Thankfully, she knew what I meant and her hand tightened around mine.

"I'm glad you came," she returned, and I couldn't look away even if I tried. She was always able to trap me with a single gaze.

With a tug of her hand, she motioned for me to sit on the edge of her bed, so I did. And then she began to ask me about my vacation, what I'd been up to this past month, how my parents were... basically anything and everything except for the case. And it was understandable, since she was reminded of it all the time. If I could be a form of escapism for her, so be it. It was the least I could do.

We spoke for hours until the nurse came in to let me know visiting hours were over and I'd have to come back tomorrow. With a regretful sigh, I got up from my seat on her bedside and stretched my limbs.

"Where are you staying?" she asked, a slight frown on her lips.

I smiled awkwardly, realising I didn't think that far ahead. "I'm not gonna lie, I don't know. I came straight here. There's gotta be a hotel or something in this town, right?"

She nodded and flicked her hand to the shelves on the other side of the room. "You should stay in my room in the inn. Key's in my bag over there."

"Oh, I don't have to do that–"

"Y/N, it's not like I'm going to be staying there anytime soon," she cut me off, smiling halfheartedly. "Please."

I chewed on my lip and nodded, giving in. When I grabbed her keys from her bag, I stopped by her bedside and gave her a supportive smile.

"I'll back first thing in the morning, if you don't mind," I said, and she finally gave me a smile that reached her eyes.

"I'd like that."

I nodded, resting a hand on hers and squeezing comfortingly. "Goodnight."

—

Though I knew Jane was okay, I still couldn't stop myself from thinking about her all night. The sight of her wounds and the broken expression on her face was enough to keep me awake. And the guilt that came with it all... why couldn't I have just picked up my damn phone?

As promised, I returned to Jane's hospital room the next morning, this time bringing some breakfast snacks from the hospital cafeteria since I knew the food would be much better than whatever they were serving her. Judging by the content expression on her face when I gave it to her, I was right.

When she finished eating, she was able to sit up slightly and move over on her bed, urging for me to join her and watch some TV with her. There was no way I was going to turn down that offer, so I slid next to her and kept a packet of sliced apples between us as we watched whatever was playing on the TV.

About halfway through watching, she spoke up randomly, taking me by surprise.

"When are you leaving?"

I tore my gaze from the screen and realised she was staring at me with intense green eyes.

"When you're well enough to," I answered truthfully.

She looked down to her hands. "You don't have to stay with me. You can go."

I studied her profile, knowing it was the wrong time to appreciate how stunning she looked even when she was makeup-free, sporting a bed head and tired.

"Do you want me to go?" I asked softly, afraid I may have overstepped.

She was quick to shake her head slightly, finally lifting her gaze to meet mine with glossy ones. "No."

I nodded, trying very hard not to smile, cleared my throat and grabbed her hand. "Then I'm not leaving. I'll be right here until you get better and I can take you home."

A ragged breath escaped her lips as she nodded in response. We both looked back to the TV and I noticed she didn't let go of my hand, her fingers warm to the touch and giving me goosebumps at the contact. But I wouldn't have had it any other way.

[leewritesstuff]

Lose You To Love Me |Tom Holland x Reader

Paring: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Losing someone hurts, but knowing that things get better, feels fine. You were dating Tom but feels as if you guys were slowly drifting away

Song: Lose You To Love Me

Masterlist

This is my first Tom Holland works, it's a little rusty since I haven't written something that isn't anime for a while.

You promised the world and I fell for it I put you first and you adored it Set fires to my forest And you let it burn Sang off-key in my chorus 'Cause it wasn't yours

Having an on-and-off relationship was difficult. Especially when the relationship was a secret. You wanted to come out and be public but Tom didn't. The excuses were 'They will attack you' or 'I'm just not ready' but to see him posing for pictures with other models and celebrities made you feel as if you were a secret as if he was a shame.

Moving from the kitchen to sit in the living room couches, you played with his hair, feeling his soft curls between your fingers.

"Tom do you think we could go to that new cafe that opens up down the straight? I hear that they sell amazing cupca-" Without looking up from his phone, he replies with "I would love to but I don't want anyone spotting us" "Well that's fine if they do, don't you think it's time that they know?" "I just want us to keep some stuff to ourselves, ya know?" Letting out a sigh, you leaned your body off of his, grabbed the remote to turn on the tv.

I saw the signs and I ignored it Rose-colored glasses all distorted Set fire to my purpose And I let it burn You got off on the hurtin' When it wasn't yours, yeah

"Who the fuck is her huh?! Is that why you can't hang out? Or why you're always so late? You never have time to spend with me, heck you don't even say sorry for missing out on our planned dates!" "For fucking sake Y/N! Not everything is about you! I told you I was running late because I was at a party for work! You of all people are supposed to know that!" "I wouldn't be feeling this way if people weren't taking pictures of you and that model! Friends don't act that way! You don't see me acting that way with Harrison!"

"I swear it's like you're my fucking mother. I'm a grown-ass man, I can do whatever the hell I want! Stop bitching every fucking time!"

You looked at him in shock, still trying to register the words he used on you. Some fans have been speculating that you and Tom were dating but that was quickly debunked when a few pictures of Tom and another model were 'rumored' to be dating.

At first the rumors didn't bother you. It was for an upcoming movie, but after a while of countless photos of them together, it started to make you feel a type of way, jealously, insecure.

You didn't exactly notice that your relationship was falling apart, only feeling the distance. You nodded your head at him, "Alright"

He watched you, anger from the fight filling up his veins. He was tired of having the same fight with you every time a picture of him and a girl gets posted.

He walked over to you and grabbed your hands, holding them tightly, "Look, I'm not cheating okay? You know how the paps get when they see something like a good story. I love you, and only you okay? You just have to trust me"

You leaned into his touch, hugging him back. Still not feeling secure but decides to ignore it.

He never did say sorry to those planned dates.

We'd always go into it blindly I needed to lose you to find me This dancing was killing me softly I needed to hate you to love me, yeah

After the incident that happens two weeks ago, nothing was the same. The relationship started getting more toxic, one of you would be yelling at the other or mentally abusing eachotherTom started coming home late and was spending more time outside than with you. He wasn't even home for your anniversary, instead, he chose to go to a pub. You tried to get Harrison to speak to him, but he would always come back at you, yelling at you for dragging his friend into his.

So you decided to go to the pub he was in.

You called up your best friend and got yourself ready. You didn't expect the pub to be so filled, but then again clubbing was never really your thing. Music blazing, the smell of alcohol in the air. bodies rolling on each other. Your friend asks you if you were fine then heads straight to the dance floor.

You head to the bar and asked the bartender for a drink. After receiving your drink you sat on one of the stools and drink it, looking around to see if your boyfriend was around.

Finishing the drink and not seeing him, you were starting to feel bad for doubting him, getting ready to leave, you got up but when you do, you saw someone who looks like Tom grinding into a blonde girl.Confusion written on your face. You walk up closer to get a good look, surprised, shock, and anger running through your veins.

You watched as he grinds his hips into her, feeling her up with his hands. It made you sick. Disgusted. What made you feel even sicker was when he turned her around and held a full make-out session with her. Feeling the tears flow from your eyes, you left and tried to find your friend.

You explained to her what happen and even in her drunken state, she tried to comfort you, you both left and head home.

So much for being the only one.

To love, love, yeah To love, love, yeah To love, yeah I needed to hate you to love me, yeah

For days you felt like shit, for days you ignored his calls, for days you hated him.

You couldn't stand seeing his face, seeing how he was trying to pretend as if ntohing ever happened. It hurt you to know that he was playing his pretend role as if he was acting about how he feels about you. He tried calling but his calls were always ignored.

Tom felt as if you were slowly slipping away from him. He didn't know what he had done wrong. He thought everything was going well. He tried calling one more time, then gave up, deciding to give you your space.

To love, love, yeah To love, love, yeah To love, yeah I needed to lose you to love me

Saying hello was always easy but saying goodbye was the hardest thing to do.Trying to shove all your clothes into the suitcase, shoving his hands off so your shoulder. You watch him, feeling no emotions, just blank. Empty. Nothing.

"I never thought, you of all people would cheat on me." "What do you mean? I never-" "Oh don't lie Thomas, I saw you, a few weeks ago when you were at the club. , If our relationship wasn't good why couldn't you have said anything? I spent days, weeks trying to get you to talk to me but no. I'm not even surprised, I mean they say actors lie about their true feelings, I guess I missed the warnings huh?"

Tom watched you in shock, not expecting you to call him out on that. He didn't plan for this to happen, it was supposed to be a one-time thing but the thrill and excitement he got made him feel something. He didn't mean to hurt you, but he did. And that was something that he could never take back.

"I'm sorry.." You let out a laugh, this whole situation was funny, "Now you're sorry, for what? For missing out on dates? Coming home late? Ignoring me? Oh wait is it because you got caught cheating on me with some bimbo right?"

"Don't call her that!"

"Ha, you even protect her... I thought you were different, but I guess I was wrong"

And now the chapter is closed and done To love, love, yeah To love, love, yeah To love, yeah

Months passed, four to be exact and you have been doing better after moving out of Tom's you were able to afford an apartment for yourself which you then rented out half to your friend. You got promoted from your job and now you're working for more money.

Standing in line, to order your favorite cup of drink, someone bounced into you, knocking their drink on you.

"Watch it you asshole!" "Y/N?"

You look up and notice Tom standing in front of you, holding two cups of coffee.

"Hey, how have you been?" "I've been good, have a few acting roles coming up for a new movie. How about you? I remember you were working for a fashion store"

"I became manager, the pay is nice. If I keep it up they might move me to another firm that pays higher"

He nodded his head at you, feeling a bit proud of you," Well I'm in town for a bit, I won't be leaving until next month"

"Nice" Que the awkwardness

"Hey look, I'm sorry for how things turned out, I didn't mean for it to happen. I was kind of hoping that we could probably talk like we used to, or go to dinner or-"

"Look, Tom, no hard feelings but I'm over that. I have a life now, you started this and you can't make me forget all the pain that you caused me. I'm over that, I'm done crying and you should too."

He nodded his head, trying to hide the disappointment he's feeling, he tried to put on a smile to play it off but you know better, "Well I hope to see you again"

Grabbing your cup of coffee from the cashier, you paid her and face time. You said something which made his smile dropped as he watched you walk out.

"And now it's goodbye, it's goodbye for us"

[wonunuu]

iris beauty ❀

18: unexpected night

✎ synopsis: falling for a guy is never easy, especially when your best friend of many years basically claimed him; you and mina have been friends for as long as you can remember, but your loyalty and trust are tested when she asks you to pretend to be her in meeting a guy she had been talking to online and you unintentionally start to develop feelings for him.

✎ genre: romance, angst, comedy, fluff

✎ pairing: reader x yoon jeonghan

✎ word count: 1.5k+

previous | mlist | next

a/n: i apologize in advance if there are some errors. this was not proofread and was written during the midnight :) always, send your thoughts!!! if you want to be tagged, add your url here!

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

After your short ten-minute break, you exit the locker room and head to the front counter, notifying your co-worker that your break had finished and that you were going to take over. Walking to the front counter, you greet a customer who was patiently waiting. 

“Good afternoon! What can I get you today?” you ask the woman, whom you’ve probably seen before. “Just chai latte, please.” She smiles. You punch her order in, she hands you the money and you take it, placing it in the cashier machine. You give her the receipt and her order number, then start preparing her order.

As you give her her latte, you are surprised to see a familiar face, carefully inspecting the menu. “Thank you!” the woman says before exiting the door. 

“What are you doing here?” You inquire. Jeonghan smiles at you, “Well, I was thinking we could go out tonight if you're free?” 

“So you came here knowing that there's a possibility that I wouldn't be free?”, you asked, a little touched at his subtle act of kindness. He nods. Putting his kindness into consideration as you contemplate whether to lie and say you have plans or, to tell the truth, and agree. 

Jeonghan bites the inside of his cheek as he awaits your answer, but lets out a breath of relief when he sees you nod. You agree for three reasons. One, not to make anything seem suspicious. Rejecting his offer to take you out will most likely make him suspicious as the real Mina, whom he’s been talking to, would say yes. Two, if he’s taking you out then that would mean you’d be eating real food, and not instant noodles that have been in the kitchen cabinets for God knows how long—they’re probably way too long past their expiration date. Third, you did feel bad that he travelled long distances to come to your workplace to ask you—as Mina—out on a date, knowing that you might not be able to go.

“I still have forty minutes left before I clock out, though”, you inform him, wiping the counter. 

“That’s okay. I can just wait ‘till you finish. It's my fault for coming here without notice,” Jeonghan nervously laughs. “But I’d like something to drink while I wait.” You smile, shaking your head out of amusement. His shamelessness never fails to make you laugh. Jeonghan fondly stares at you, proud of himself for making you smile. 

“Pick any, it’s my treat.” You tell him as you fiddle around with the cashier machine, preparing to put his order in. Jeonghan’s ears perk up at your words, specifically on the last three. He excitedly scans the menu again and picks a drink of his choice. You instruct him to sit on the empty table placed in the far corner of the room. Immediately, you start making his beverage, meticulously measuring the ingredients, and once finished, you walk to where he was seated and give it to him. “Thanks,” Jeonghan mutters before taking a sip, and you watch intently, waiting for his reaction. Jeonghan frowns, you start to get worried. “Is it not good? I can make you another one—” 

“I’m just kidding, it tastes amazing.” You were cut off by Jeonghan suddenly wrapping his free arm around your waist and nuzzling his face into your stomach. You were taken aback by his actions but quickly reminded yourself that this is normal between couples—not that you and he are together, but you as Mina and he are together. Saying it in your head, you realize how confusing this whole pretending thing really is. 

You roll your eyes and smack his shoulder, he lets out a yelp in response and rubs the spot, trying to ease the sting.

He giggles, “Go work now.” You give him an “okay” before leaving him alone for you to continue working. 

“So where are we going?”

The two of you walk out to the cafe towards his car. Jeonghan tried to hold your hand but was saddened when you hid them in your pockets. Nonetheless, he brushes it off and continues to walk beside you. 

“Uh,” he thought, looking up. “We have a few options, actually.”

You reach his car and he opens the door for you, acting like a gentleman—a tip from his friend, Joshua. You mumble a thank you before going in. He closes the door and jogs to the other side to go into the driver’s seat. 

“A, we go to the movies,” he waits for your reaction. You shake your head, he looks confused. “I thought that was what was your ideal first date?” 

You shook your head again, “I changed my mind. Tell me the other options.”

He clears his throat, “I—I actually don’t have anymore… I assumed you were going to agree to the movies.” He nervously admits. "I wanted to seem cool, you know? Like I have things planned." He looks at you hesitantly, embarrassed at his confession. You laugh, a little louder than intended, he laughs along. 

“I can't believe you. Let me look up some fun places we can go.” You say, emphasizing the word ‘fun’, Jeonghan rolls his eyes in response. 

Three long minutes have passed, lazily scrolling through your phone. Jeonghan, too, had his phone, looking for possible destinations that could interest the both of you. 

Earlier, you both discussed and agreed that you wanted something interesting to do on your first date; not sitting on some chairs watching movies. When you were about to give up, something caught your eye. You gasped, causing Jeonghan to whip his head at you. 

“There’s a night fair not too far from here! We need to go, please Han?” You excitedly squeaked, not knowing where the nickname came from. Jeonghan smirks at you, “New nickname? I like it.” Taking you by surprise, he grabs your free hand and places them on his cheek, caressing them gently with his thumb. “Give me the address, let’s go.” 

The two of you walk tiredly around the fair after playing dozens of games. You knew about each other's competitive nature, so the competition in trying to win the games came naturally. You personally think a little competition made the games more enjoyable. 

You'd say you guys are tied; even. You had won the ring toss, gaining a mug as a prize. He won the dart game, it turned out his aim was as accurate as cupid. Et cetera. 

Now, you were trying to find something to fill your growling stomachs. There were many food booths open and you had been walking around for what felt like hours. You couldn't seem to find the right booth that offered the food. Until Jeonghan suddenly grabs your hand and pulls you towards a booth around the end of the road. 

“Oh my god,” you almost scream out of joy. “How did you know?” 

“It's my favourite too.” He tells you, smugly. 

"Hello, can we get two nakji bokkuem, please? Thank you." He orders the food while you look around to find a table to sit at. Despite the number of people, you luckily find a free spot. You walk to the empty table, leaving Jeonghan to wait for the food by himself. 

As you observe the boy from your seat, thoughts flood your head. You were suddenly worried about what Mina's reaction would be when you tell her that you, pretending to be Mina, have been meeting up with Jeonghan while she was gone. You weren't bothered about being caught because you were sure that you were going to pull it off. But one thing you fretted about the most is his reaction when Mina tells him the truth. Mina had told you that when she would come back from her trip, she would tell Jeonghan everything. You were scared for your best friend; you don't want her to feel heartbroken. 

You push your thoughts to the side when you see Jeonghan approach, food in his hands. As he takes a seat, he wafts the smoke from the food towards you. You close your eyes inhaling the smell, causing your mouth to salivate. 

"Here you go." He places the plate in front of you and takes out your chopsticks. 

"You know I can do that right?" you laughed, taking the chopsticks from his hand. 

"I know, but I want to do it for you," Jeonghan chuckles. 

The table became silent when the two of you started to eat, of course, a few comments and giggles here and there. But the two of you were too focused on eating the food, that you forgot about each other's presence. Until Jeonghan started choking on his last bite, and you being you, you stayed seated laughing as you watched the boy struggle.   

"Why didn't you help me?" Jeonghan whines, rubbing his neck. 

"I was!" You exclaimed, trying to hold yourself from laughing further. "Moral support, you know?" you continue. 

Jeonghan is out of words. "Laughing at me as I choke is not moral support!" He cried.

Your night was definitely unexpected, in the most possible good way. Spending your free time with Jeonghan was so amazing that you forgot you were even pretending to be someone else. Though you do feel guilty, you console yourself by saying that you were doing it for your best friend. 

[dancingazaleas]

𖨆. 03 / all for us

summary: you’ve been gone for a while and haven’t been replying to any of your texts messages. you’re friends suspect something might be up.

note: the reader has been left alone continuously ever since she has been kidnapped. erwin and levi are the only ones who see her, and it’s usually only for an hour or two. this is because of her reluctance to be around them.

taglist: @voltairelesecond @the-sun-baby @uniquepickle @baelo80

word count: +3.0k

warnings/notes: cursing, vomiting, your friends are looking for you

PIECK knew something was up whenever bertholdt said you weren't answering his texts and hadn't been showing up to work before you even went on vacation. she knew you were on vacation and that you were pissed with her, but even so you never ignored texts from bertholdt.

her suspicions only rose whenever porco and reiner told her the same thing, that you'd suddenly gone awol on the two of them out of nowhere.

they were confirmed when zeke came back into town and said the same thing.

she sits on her couch, shoulders shaking as she cries with porco's arms wrapped around her. reiner, bert, zeke, and annie, who reiner and bert brought for some reason, stare at her in complete worry.

you went awol just this sunday, telling each and everyone of them that you were going on vacation and wouldn't be in town for a little while. bertholdt hadn't seen you at work for almost three weeks now, two and a half of them after your sudden vacation.

"she can't be on vacation," pieck sobs, "she always answers your guys' texts. no matter what!"

"maybe she's just in a different country? she might just not be able to get reception," porco seems unsure as he says this.

"she can't be. she would've told me, pieck, or even bertholdt. god, she would've told all of us," zeke's head is in his hands while his teeth grind together.

"okay, so where would she be if she were still in paradis," annie speaks up while gesturing her arm in a circle.

"who fucking knows," reiner sighs, "when'd you last see her, babe?"

"at work before she stopped showing up. she said she was gonna get coffee at that one café she loves going to. other than that, she didn't say anything about plans or going out with anybody," bertholdt is laced with confusion and his arms are crossed.

"we got into a bad fight that night," pieck sniffles, "she left the house a few hours later, i just thought she was going to stay with one of you guys or yelena."

"what'd you even argue about?"

she grips at her hair with tears rushing down her face, "i can't even remember. it was probably so petty and stupid. the only thing i remember is her telling me that she hated me and me telling her that she was a fuck up."

"i'm so sorry, pieck," porco squeezes her shaky form tight to his chest.

"wait," zeke's standing up abruptly and pointing at bertholdt, "she went where?!"

"oh my god, she went to café scout!!! maybe the workers heard something," reiner perks up along with everyone else.

"holy shit, maybe that one girl is there!! she probably saw something," porco smiles.

"louise! she definitely knows (name)! she probably saw something! let's go," pieck jumps off of the couch and stumbles towards the front door of her house.

the rest of them follow after, all deciding that bertholdt's van, he's usually the designated driver, is the car they'll get into. they all yell at a fumbling bertholdt to hurry up and unlock the car as they stand at the car. he does so while screaming, jumping into the driver's seat and starting the ignition. reiner's jumping in the passenger seat and annie's in the first row of seats behind bert.

before porco can even close the door behind him, bertholdt is driving off towards the café. porco is screaming along with pieck as they're thrown around the van due to their lack of seatbelts and the both of them standing to sit in their seat. their screaming has everyone else screaming as bert speeds up the car despite the oncoming speed bump. bertholdt and reiner hit their heads against the roof of the car, a loud bang resonating throughout the vehicle. pieck and porco's back hit the roof as well, but luckily for pieck she lands on the first row of seats next to annie.

porco, unfortunately, lands on the floor. zeke would've laughed if it wasn't for his own head slamming against the carpeted roof of the van. annie holds onto pieck's arm whenever she's in a sitting position, screaming along with reiner for bertholdt to slow the car down as they see another speed bump.

he doesn't.

porco is once again thrown against the roof.

bertholdt is speeding, even as he gets onto the freeway with other cars. he's stressed out.

when they get there, they all wonder how the fuck bertholdt didn't even get pulled over and how the hell they even managed to survive. bertholdt cries out apologies as reiner and porco puke their guts out in the huge parking lot while annie gags and tries not to vomit at watching reiner and porco do it themselves. pieck is holding her hand and trying to cover her eyes while zeke manages to cover her ears and cringes at porco and reiner.

bertholdt's now sobbing at annie, profusely apologizing, even getting on all fours and begging for her forgiveness.

"how are you gonna get on your hands and knees for annie but not for your boyfriend," porco coughs before he spits out saliva to get rid of the taste in his mouth.

reiner follows behind him in a grimace, hand grabbing at his now emptied stomach and the other going to wipe at his mouth.

"dude, gross!! don't wipe it off with your hands!! pieck and bertholdt usually have tissues on hand," porco shouts to reiner, who drops his hand halfway.

pieck and zeke comfort the emetophobe annie all while bertholdt gives reiner and porco tissues and a breath mint. he gives them hand sanitizer as well, and throws a pack of peppermint frost gum at the two of them, clogging his nose up.

they scoff but oblige, both now looking somehow decent and also smelling it. pieck's calming down a shaking annie, who's buried herself in pieck's warm arms, and zeke stands to the side awkwardly.

porco and reiner rush to the order counter when they all step inside, ordering instead of asking the cashier for the employee they were looking for. annie, who's now calm, pushes them aside harshly.

"ignore them, is that girl louise working today? we need to talk to her," she asks and the poor cashier is terrified at annie's deadpan face.

"n-no!! sh-she should be at home!!"

"give me her address," annie starts to lean her front over the counter, almost pushing the poor girl into a heart attack.

she grabs a napkin and a pen, hurriedly scribbling down louise's address and running off into the back.

"we can get food on the way there," annie shrugs nonchalantly, "preferably wendy's or something."

————

bertholdt and pieck almost feel bad for the poor girl whenever she answers the door.

with annie's glare piercing into her and zeke's towering over her, they were sure she'd pissed herself.

"y-yes... what do you need," she digs her nails into the door.

pieck shoves them both aside and steps forward, louise lights up with recognition.

"don't worry, they aren't gonna hurt you," she waves her hand, completely ignoring how they both still glare at louise even over pieck's shoulder, "i just need to ask you something."

"what is it?"

"have you seen (name) lately? the girl who usually come in with me."

"last time i saw her was around a few weeks ago," louise shrugs, "wait, did she go missing?!"

"yea, we're trying to figure out where she was last on the night of her disappearance. did she say anything to you...? anything at all," pieck steps forward with a desperate hand on her heart.

"she said something about going drinking with two friends... something about them being blonde and short," she scratches at her temple, slight pout on her face, "that's all i can remember."

"did she say what bar," pieck steps closer again, putting her hand on the door frame.

louise shakes her head sadly, eyes dropping down to their feet.

with that, pieck broke into tears again and was led away by porco and annie. the rest of them followed behind, leaving louise inside her home.

"she has to be somewhere," pieck cries into her hands, "she has to be!!"

zeke's got a hand on his forehead while he loosely holds onto his glasses with his other hand. he lets out a choked out sob, and everyone turns to him.

"zeke... are you... crying?" reiner turns to look at zeke over his shoulder.

"fuck.. yea. it just doesn't make sense. she's gotta be somewhere," he rubs the bridge of his nose.

"maybe the guys louise mentioned know something...," bertholdt inserts as he looks in the rear view mirror.

the statement has pieck shouting at the meek boy, "we don't know what they look like!!! all we know is that one is blonde and one is short! we're at a dead end! we're fucking stuck!!!"

bertholdt visibly flinches in his seat while his throat clogs up, hands gripping at the steering wheel. his eyes are welling up with tears that he doesn't let out. reiner's hand is on his arm in comfort, eyebrows bunched up in concern.

pieck wails once more, "god, i'm so sorry bertl. this isn't your fault. you were trying to help."

he sniffles, "it's fine. i understand. we're all just upset and desperate to find (name)."

"we'll find her soon enough."

————

the loneliness is getting to your head.

you're in the secluded dark even during the day.

you just crave to be with someone, so much that you're getting desperate.

a tug at erwin's sleeve has him stopping and turning back to face you. you've got tears spilling over your cheeks and snot running into your mouth while you lean on an elbow to hold onto his sleeve for dear life.

it's not even nighttime, it's early afternoon. erwin had just come into the room to feed you lunch and to just leave after that. but you couldn't handle it anymore. being alone made everything dark and silent.

even if the lights and televisions were turned on.

"please," you beg and rest your forehead against his arm, "please don't leave me alone."

erwin's cheeks are lighting up while his eyes widen. his hand comes up to stroke the back of your head as it now rests on his hip. he doesn't mind the wet spot forming on his pants, this was the first time you ever initiated anything.

"i won't, darling. i need to go put the tray in the sink and let levi know i will be in here," he's taking a step away from you, jumping at your sudden loud sobs and tugging.

"no! no! please, i don't want to be alone," your eyes are squeezed shut while you grip onto his pants for dear life.

"but i need to go put these dishes away. after that, i can—"

"no!" you scream and push your head harder against his leg, "no! please don't leave! i don't want you to leave."

he sighs, putting the tray of empty dish onto your bedside table. he grabs the room key out of back pocket before he picks you up bridal style.

"you run, levi'll break your legs," his fingers dig into your skin, but loosen at the frantic nod you give.

he manages to unlock your bedroom door in a complicated way, which you don't feel like questioning, and strolls outside of the room.

he goes out of your quarters, it's the furthest you've ever been. you're in a large room that connects into other rooms, the amount of doors is slightly overwhelming to you even as you look at them.

to your shock, you pass by people. living people.

they all seem to be staff, and the only sort of acknowledgement you get from them is a wide eyed stare with a dropped jaw.

"levi is still in his study, correct," he asks while shifting his hold on you.

a girl with ginger hair and auburn eyes speaks up, "yes sir! he requested no one to enter."

erwin nods and walks past the girl, who gives you a small friendly wave whenever you look out from erwin's arm.

you turn your attention back to erwin whenever you hear the sound of a door opening and closing.

you're in a new room, which is assumed to be levi's study, that's lighted up by the cloudy and grey natural light that shines through the blinds and windows. there are bookshelves on both sides of the room and you notice that on both bookshelves the order of the books goes from largest to smallest. levi sits at a desk in the middle of the room, facing the door, as his hand holding a pen runs across the paper.

"what do you need," levi looks up for a brief moment, but snaps his head up once more.

"what's the brat doing here," he motions to you in erwin's arms.

erwin's sitting you on a leather couch in the office, wiping away some tears with his thumbs. he steps away from you and takes ahold of levi by the arm, essentially dragging him to the door of the study.

the dawning realization that they're going to leave you alone has you tripping over your feet as you run to the door. your hand grips onto levi's shirt and you tug him towards you, pulling him away from the door.

"i don't want to be alone," you cry while shoving your face into levi's chest, he cringes at your snot and tears soaking through his shirt.

"oh," he blinks, awkwardly rubbing your back with his hand, "why'd you bring her here?"

"because she wouldn't let me leave to put her tray away, which i now need you to do. i'm going to get in the bath with her, which you are welcome to join if you'd like."

"i don't like baths, sitting in your own filth," he scrunches his nose up.

"to each their own," erwin shrugs, giving levi a kiss on his temple and grabbing ahold of your hand.

"come along, darling," he smiles at how quickly you intertwine fingers with him and join his side.

he leads you into a different bathroom than the one that you use. there's not much of a difference besides it size, the tub's size, and the long counter built for two.

"undress for me, love," his giant hands are massaging your shoulders before he pulls away and walks over to the tub.

you look to the bathroom door, only to find a doorknob with a keypad, something you didn't notice when you walked in, and frown. you just sigh and slip off the the pastel pink nightgown you were wearing, the fabric pooling around your feet as it drops to the floor.

you look up into the mirror, and you almost want to cry. you look nothing like yourself. you barely had any life behind those (eye color) eyes and your eyebrows were now naturally furrowed in sadness. you've got fading bruises on one side of your body, trailing downwards all the way to your calf.

you decide to take off your panties before you let your thoughts roam, stepping out of them after they've dropped to the floor.

you hear the door open, to which you and erwin look to. only it's not levi.

it's a young boy with ebony black hair and emerald green eyes that stands at 5'10.

you instinctively cover yourself up and turn your back towards him, embarrassing washing over you in waves.

erwin scrambles to block the boys view, who is seemingly enjoying it, and furrows his bushy brows.

"who are you and what are you doing here? where is levi?!"

"levi sent me sir. he gave me clothing for the girl and then said you would be in here," his eyes try to take a peek over erwin's shoulder.

erwin snatches the clothing out of his hand and slams the door shut in the boy's face. he scoffs in annoyance while he puts the clothes onto the counter, now focusing his attention onto you.

"i'm sorry about that, dear. are you alright," he puts a hand on your back and guides you to his chest.

"i'm okay," you sniff, "just wanna get in the bath now."

he smiles a bit, leaving a sweet kiss on your forehead before he steps away. you watch him rid himself of his white button up and try not to let your eyes bulge out at his body. however, you can't exactly resist the urge whenever erwin is finally naked.

erwin's stomach has abs carved into it, a well groomed happy trail leading to his cock. the thighs in his muscles and back are almost screaming out at you whenever he turns and lifts his hand to ruffle his hair.

you look down to his feet, feeling ashamed for even staring for so long.

he gets into the bath after a moment, knees spread wide for you to sit between. his arms are resting on the rim of the tub while he sighs at the hot temperature. you get in, goosebumps running up and down your body as the heat invades your colder body. you settle in between his legs and lean back against his chest, closing your eyes.

his arms wrap around you, pulling you closer to him than you were before. you put a hand over his arm, silently giving him a message to keep his arms where they were.

his lips kiss at the crown of your head, and it seems sweet enough to where you think you might be able to smile. but you don't.

watching your eyes flutter, he mumbles into your hair, "the hot water make you tired?"

"yeah," you hum, "don't really like the hot outside of this. i prefer the cold."

"so does levi," erwin chuckles as he draws circles into your skin.

"does that mean you like summer?"

"no, i prefer fall or spring. both usually have the adequate temperature," he sighs.

"erwin," you ask after a few seconds, "why is levi so cold?"

"why are you only now asking?"

"i meant to ask sooner but i was never really... given the chance," you say bitterly.

"well, levi has been through a tough life. he almost went to jail before i met him. but it isn't my story to tell," he smiles at the memory.

you nod and finally let out a yawn, "i'm going to fall asleep soon."

from then, erwin washes the two of you so you both can get out of the bath. during this, you find out he's actually quite playful. he gathers up bubbly soap in his hands and blows them into your face, hearty laughs following immediately after.

he stands before you once you're out of the tub, wrapping a towel around his waist and one around your shoulders. you look up at him while he brushes your hair and puts on a few drops of lotion on your face.

you're trying to ignore the voice in the back of your head that maybe he really does care. because at the end of the day,

you still have a collar and chain on.