#THIRTY TWO OVER 4 DAYS.................................... dangerously close to being full time . sick of this

[sunjoys]

my friends are FINALLY free for the summer (after ive spent 2 months wasting away waiting for them) and of course my work decides its the perfect time for me to go from 2 days of work every week to FOUR............ sick of this.

[screensirenfic]

Prelude - A Curse On Your Name

“Goddamit Izumi; if I’m getting so goddamn old, then why don’t you damn well leave then!”

The voice of an enraged Jujutsu Sorcerer pierced through the thin fusuma walls; the flimsy nature of the paper doing nothing to muffle his anger, nor his wife’s tears as they fought like cats and dogs in the silent halls of their small condo on the grounds of Tokyo Jujutsu High.

“Maybe I will! It’s better than waiting here worried half sick because one day you might not come back home!”

Izumi countered her husband’s rage with equal scorn and disdain, not afraid to call his bluffs and meet his threats head-on; the stubborn nature that he’d once fallen in love with now being used as a weapon against him.

“I’m a Sorcerer; Izumi! What the hell did you expect-?!”

His voice raised tenfold both in spite and volume; the sound of ceramic shattering cutting through the air like a gunshot as he took out his anger on one of the many knickknacks he’d brought home from his business trips.

“I expected you to give a damn; Masami! If not for me, then for your daughter!”

She retorted, not frightened in the slightest by his sudden outburst, long numbed to the man’s rage after 5 years of marriage.

“I do give a damn-!”

He replied, not willing to let the woman write off all the time and hard work he’d put in to provide for his family; to protect them.

“Then prove it; Masamichi!”

She spat, having heard enough of his excuses by now; their arguments revisiting the same ground over and over and getting nowhere.

“Prove it; or next time, don’t bother coming home.”

Her voice lowered; her tears smothering the flames of her anger, before the house shook on the sound of a door slam, the thunder of Masamichi’s footsteps following close behind as he hounded her through the thick wood of the bathroom door.

“Maybe I won’t, Izumi! Would that make you happy?! Huh?! Would it-?!”

He retaliated, yelling through door as he pounded on the wood, entirely unaware that they were no longer alone; a small figure having emerged from the closest bedroom, the dim light of the hallway illuminating the diminutive form of their 4 year old daughter in the doorway.

“Daddy..?”

She called out; one small chubby hand still clinging to the wooden frame of the sliding door, the other wrapped around the foot of a stuffed panda toy she refused to sleep without.

“Why is Mommy crying..?”

She asked; her voice sweet and soft as she stared up at him with eyes wide enough to swallow him whole, the love and concern held within unmatchable even for adults ten times her senior.

He hadn’t meant to wake her; the intensity of their arguments growing more and more out of control as of late.

He knew Izumi was never going to approve of his field work, but did she really have to drag the kid into this?!

“Daddy; is Mommy mad..?”

His only child continued to ask; all traces of any anger he had left melting further away the longer she spoke, the precious little thing completely unaware of the hold she had over his heart.

“No… She’s just tired…”

He lied not for the first time, crouching down to her height so he could take off his sunglasses and look her in the eye; her own deep green irises a mirror image of her mother’s, minus that simmering sense of resentment that seemed to grow in Izumi’s over the past couple of years.

“Will she be okay..?”

The girl asked; a frown pulling down on her chubby cheeks as she rubbed at her eyes; the sleep still not quite dislodged from her hazy mind.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine once she’s got some rest.”

He reassured her, ruffling her dark hair with one large calloused hand, determined for the one thing that brought him joy in life not to be sullied by the bitterness and isolation that Jujutsu Sorcery had seemed to have left a shadow upon.

“Why don’t we get you back into bed yourself so you can get some rest too; hmn?”

He asked, already back on his feet and reaching out to take her tiny hand in his own, leading her back into her room with minimal fuss and fanfare.

“But… I’m not tired…”

She muttered; the presence of a yawn betraying any illusions of her apparent alertness as he led her over to her raised futon; the mattress near hidden beneath an endless mountain of soft toys piled high above.

“Mhmmm…”

He hummed, unconvinced by his child’s protest as he scooped her up into bed; the girl not putting up much of a fight as she settled against the mattress, her eyes already struggling to stay open against the welcoming embrace of sleep.

“Somehow; I find that hard to believe…”

He replied, pulling up her bedcovers to tuck her in; the girl looking practically smothered beneath the ridiculous amount of stuffed toys surrounding her.

“But what about Mom..?”

She asked groggily; her mind still not put at ease despite his best efforts, those big green eyes still drilling into his own with a questing sense of urgency.

“Your mom will be fine…”

He insisted, leaning in to push the avalanche of toys out the way so he could plant a kiss on top of her head; fingers lingering as he stroked her glossy black hair once more.

“Now, please get some sleep…”

He asked of her, knowing better than just to demand it as he got back up off his aching knees; his joints not quite what they used to be anymore.

Izumi had been right about one thing right.

He was getting old; his body failing him before his spirit did as the years of fierce combat and Jujutsu overuse already began to catch up with him despite only being in his thirties.

He couldn’t guarantee that one day he might not come home to them.

Whether through Curses or some other Curse User, Masamitchi’s luck would eventually run out and prove his wife right after all.

“Daddy…”

That small voice called out to him once more, stopping him in his tracks.

“Yes, baby..?”

He replied, pausing at her door to listen, expecting another half-hearted attempt to stay up longer, or the usual request of a glass of water.

“I love you.”

She said; the sincerity in her high pitched voice breaking his heart in two entirely; that small girl more dangerous to him than any Cursed Technique.

“I love you too…”

He replied, squeezing the door frame beneath his fingers in a grip hard enough to dent the wood, pulling on his glasses once more to hide the tears on his eyes.

“Mika-chan…”

He muttered her name; finally managing to step out of the girl’s room without a second look back, entirely unaware of how many times he’d regret that in the years to come.

————————————————————

21 years later

“Yaga-Sensei; I thank you for accompanying me for this mission, but I’m pretty sure I’d be capable of securing the Cursed Object myself-“

Objected the young Fushiguro boy; one long slender hand lifting to sweep the bangs off his forehead, his graceful confidence reminding her far too much of an old friend long since passed.

Yet despite his pride and his skill, Megumi was still a child and her responsibility; she wouldn’t be reckless enough to let him do this alone.

“The fingers of Sukano are no simple artefact Megumi-kun, and I am still your teacher…”

She told him, secretly proud of how far the Zenin heir had come all these years, though she still had her reservations on letting him take on missions without backup.

He was still a Grade 2, and no matter what Saturo-chan believed; the kid wasn’t ready to shoulder the responsibilities that came with being a full Jujutsu Sorcerer.

“But Yaga-Sensei; Sensei Gojo already said I’m capable enough for a Grade 1 exorcism-“

The boy complained; and once more she found herself cursing the name Saturo Gojo, the ambition of the man nearly deadly when it rubbed off on their young susceptible students.

“Well; Gojo-Sensei is not here, and whilst you’re under my watch, you’ll be following my orders…”

She said; not leaving him any room to argue this time as they stomped through the marshy grounds of Susuwa High; the night’s rain having sunk into the turf and turned the grass spongy beneath their feet.

“Yes; Yaga-Sensai…”

The boy sighed as he traipsed ahead in a sullen silence, resigning himself to the role of reluctant student despite his grand designs of being something bigger.

“And Megumi…”

She called out to the boy, deciding to drop the honourifics considering their shared history went long past teacher and student.

“Call me Mikasama…”

She told the boy, granting him permission to use her first name, at least away from classes.

“Sensei Yaga is my father.”

She added, managing to quirk a little smile at the corner of the kid’s mouth, Megumi-kun not quite as serious as he tried to portray to the outside world.

[suhfleur]

dear, my dear • jaebeom (4/4)

• pairing: soulmate!jaebeom x reader

• genre: romance, angst, smut

• warnings: cursing, smut, smut, smuuuut

• word count: 4.3k

summary: in a world where a touch can lock the doors of the heart, his voice opened the doors to your soul as he filled it with joy.

a/n: there is going to be an extra chapter, probably by the end of the week i’m gonna post it! and honestly idk what to say, just want to thank all of you who sent me sweet words about this fic and everything. thank you. hope you guys enjoy.

• • •

Nothing. 

That was how Jaebeom felt about his life, at that time.

His days were gloomy. Sometimes, meaningless.

He didn’t have a lot of things that he appreciated that much anymore. 

Jaebeom loved his cats, loved his cozy apartment and how it was the best place ever when he was watching his favorites animes and series, he loved to wake up every day and drink his coffee in peace, but even though he loved being alone, he didn’t like feeling lonely anymore. It was something difficult to understand, maybe if you ask him he wouldn’t be able to explain it in exact words, so he started making beats and writing songs. Developing art was the best way he could express himself.

Music was everything to him, he loved doing it and dedicating his life towards this specific thing. Music was everything that he had left, the only thing that brought something else to his life, and when the only thing he truly liked started to feel like everything else, he knew that his battle was almost lost. Doing music without a real meaning felt wrong and distorted, and that feeling burned the things left on his heart.

He was tired of pretending, every single comment about his songs felt hollow, it didn’t felt like he was changing somebody’s life with it, Jaebeom didn’t feel like he was doing a good job. He couldn’t even change his life with his own music, what else he expected? That was something he thought about a hundred times, at midnight. He couldn’t sleep that much, sometimes he didn’t even sleep. Those nights where his mind was too full with darkness and he couldn’t sleep, he would sit down on his living room floor and watch the stars, his cats by his side and the silence. Jaebeom missed his parents, living alone was not that great anymore, maybe he should give up and go back to his old life.

But then, life showed him that she was a tricky thing and you showed up to make him rethink a lot of things. 

Your first words to him lighted up a fire that he thought was dead and gone. At least, at the end of the day, he changed your life with his music and he was happy about it. That happiness brought excitement, that excitement brought ideas and his mind didn’t stop crafting new lyrics, composing new songs. Inspiration showed up again. 

Saying that you saved his life was something that he didn’t know if it was the right thing to say, but he could say that your faith in him made his own faith shine again. It all depended on him but yes, he could say that you saved his life too. You started him again, as a musician, then as a person.

Jaebeom never had intentions of knowing more about you because he wanted something, that didn’t even cross his mind back then, being friends with you didn’t even cross his mind either. But he felt like he could trust you, musically speaking so, of course, he would reach out for you when he felt doubts about the songs, you were good to give advice for these things. And after that phase, everything else came naturally, he didn’t even saw it coming.

For years, Jaebeom had walls too thin and too big inside him, protecting himself. He came from a broken home, broken childhood, he was too broken in every sense of the word but you came and broke each one of these walls and he had no idea of who were you.

Messages that once was just about his songs, started to be something else.

Just wrote this on my way to work, what do you think about it?

I’m not working as a teacher anymore, I received a proposal to work as a producer, isn’t that nice? I’m finishing that song, also.

I had a meeting with some people from a record label, and guess what? They offered me a deal as a solo artist, like, officially. I’m signed up! They want me to drop my album in 5 months!!!

oh, do you like animes? I just saw a really good one, you should watch it too. 

just ate the best food in my life, do you know that red restaurant at itaewon? best pancakes ever

it’s so cold today, are you wearing warm clothes? don’t you get sick, ok?

how was work today?

At first, those things terrified him, a lot. The fast heartbeats every time he received a text from you, with your sweet or funny words, the way you took care of him even from a distance, brought an inexplicable sense of peace; made him feel so good that he knew it was over. He fought a lot of battles, every day, but against you… he could never win. With time, Jaebeom’s only wish was that he could see you, at least one time while he was breathing. He just wanted you to show up, wanted you to forget about your crazy deal and say “hey, let’s see each other?”. He was wrapped around your finger. 

Jaebeom realized that his heart was yours. 

Even when the girl from the subway made him feel kind of weird every Thursday, even though she was a hell of a beautiful girl, even when he touched her and his whole body wanted to run towards her.

His heart was still yours. And Jaebeom had no intentions in giving it to nobody else. 

He could feel everything coming back to life with you, like a blooming flower, he could see the true colors of life once again. It was a slow process, but thanks to your push, he tried again and here he was. Destiny could give up, he wasn’t going to accept nobody else but you, that was what he imagined.

But then, just like it happened to you, nothing prepared him for reality. 

Life and destiny had plans for both of you, an unreal reality.

Especially, this specific reality where your sleepy face is resting against his shoulder, with your eyes closed, lips touching his neck giving gentle kisses along his exposed skin, your arms wrapped around his waist, holding him dearly, he felt loved. He felt safe. He felt vivid.

Both of you were meant to be, and thinking about this he couldn’t feel more relieved. Soulmates. He didn’t have to worry anymore.

“It doesn’t make sense,” you broke the silence as you felt Jaebeom's fingers over the back of your neck, tangling in the strands of your hair. Both of you ran away from Jaehyun’s apartment and Mark’s confused face, you decided that you could explain everything later because your mind was off with so much information and plot twists. And right now, as your body is pressed against Jaebeom’s toned chest, laid on your bed, legs tangled in one another, nothing could feel more peaceful than this.

“What doesn’t make sense, baby?” Jaebeom asked with his lips brushing slightly your forehead. In the last thirty minutes, the word ‘baby’ became the thing you loved the most to hear, that word was never that powerful in your life before.

“The first time that we bumped into each other, it was early in the morning,” you reminded, putting your hand in his chest and resting your chin there, dangerously close to his face but you liked the way you could see every single detail of his sculpted pretty face and appreciate the brown galaxies on his eyes. “When you told me that you had found your soulmate, it was late at night. Around 9 pm. It doesn’t make sense.”

Jaebeom frowned, tilting his head a little bit to the side, like a confused dog.

“What you talking about? I sent that message to you right after I touched you at the station.” He said smirking. Now you were the one confused. “You seriously received the message late night?” You nodded. “Wow...” He laughed, slapping his forehead. “We could’ve figured out that we were soulmates way sooner. Jesus… Nothing helped with us, not even your phone service.” Jaebeom closed his eyes and laughed.

“I can say that it was kind of my fault too, right? I mean… The whole ‘please, don’t tell me your real name I don’t want us to get attached’ was king of stupid because I was already attached to you, but I was also scared. Like a lot… I didn’t like the idea of falling in love with you but being the ‘love’ of somebody else, you know? If we weren’t meant to be together then I couldn’t let those feelings flood my heart. It was a silly decision.”

“It’s okay, baby. I was scared too. I was in love with somebody I didn’t know, how messed up was that? How could I feel something for somebody like that, through texts?” He gave you a fond smile, tracing circles on your cheeks with his thumb. “I tried to hide it for months, but every day it was torture. I wanted to see you, to hug and kiss you, comfort you when you were stressed, I wanted everything with you but I had to respect your decision, I had to put myself aside and think about you. I loved you in silence because I didn’t want to cross a line and end our friendship, I didn’t know if you felt the same way but I wished that, a lot. It’s okay, baby. It was always okay. Today I am more in love with you more than I was yesterday... We lost a little bit of time but it’s fine, we still have time now. We will make up for the time we lost.” Jaebeom said brightly, hugging you even tighter, pressing several kisses on your face, making you giggle like a child. 

Both of you kept talking through the night, while all the city lights got out and only the darkness embraced the midnight. 

The intimacy that you two had through the phone, spread through the moment, both of you felt comfortable enough to take off your shirts and you felt comfortable enough not feeling ashamed of it, still laying down with him, pulling one leg around his waist, getting yourself more comfortable around him. His fingertips tracing a path across the skin of your thigh around his waist, running his palms in circles, back and forth, slightly squeezing your skin each time. Your lips touching his collarbone, while your hands ran through his neck, scratching your nails in his nape to his broad shoulder. 

His hands on your body were taking away all of your self-control, and he was barely doing anything. But the fact that he was this close to you, was enough to make your body shiver and the sleepy feeling was away.

Leaving aside the rest of your sanity, you took the leg that was on his waist a little further, supporting your body weight on your knees on top of his waist, taking your two hands to both sides of his face, kissing him hard while feeling his hands travel a path from your thighs to the end of your spine, pulling your body closer, raising both hands to the back of your neck while his forearms kept you attached to his body. Your teeth bit his lower lip, pulling it lightly, while tugging hard the soft hair at the end of Jaebeom's nape, just enough to make him sigh deeply.

“We can slow down, baby… I told you. We have time. There’s no need to hurry.” He said with eyes closed, chest heavily going up and down.

“There’s nothing to slow down here, Jaebeom. I know we have time, but I don’t want to slow anything down, not anymore.” Your voice expressed so much determination that it made him growl and throw his head back like you were tearing down each string of his sanity away. You took the chance and brought your lips towards his exposed neck, touching his skin with your tongue and teeth, gently sucking and biting the skin. You could feel the shiver through his warm body, running your hands through his chest until his hips, digging your nails into his abdomen. He surprised you when his rough hands squeezed both sides of your ass, harshly, making you moan and distract yourself. He changed the position, throwing you on the bed, getting on top of your, taking both of your legs and wrapping them around his waist while he supported himself on his elbows, both of them on each side of your face, his lips sucking your earlobe, then his teeth biting your jaw a bit, running his teeth until the connecting of your neck and shoulder, biting there even harder, making you whimper and dig your nails on his neck. 

“Let me take care of you, baby…” He whispered on your ear, in a husky and dark voice, pulling away from your skin just enough to look at your blushing face, running his thumb on your bottom lip, getting closer and sucking your lip between his, pressing his hips on yours, making you feel that specific hard part. “So beautiful… It’s so unfair that you can have so much power on me.” 

His lips and tongue traced a path through the top of your breasts until you could feel his sinful tongue was underneath the fabric of your bra while his indicator finger hooked in the middles of your bra, pushing it down, enough to show your erect nipples, making easier for Jaebeom’s tongue do what it wanted to do. You sighed feeling his lips wrap around your left nipple, with his tongue circling it precisely, making your hips move unwittingly. His right touched the top of your clothed center, pressing his middle finger precisely on your clit. The moan that came out of your lips was probably the most sinful thing he ever heard, it was extremely pleasing to hear and know that he was the one causing it. 

While his lips did the work on your upper body, his fingers pushed your wet panties aside and when he touched you there, he moaned on your nipple feeling the soaked situation down there. He sat on his heels, pulling away from you until he had a privileged view of his fingers on your pussy like he was mesmerized by that. His gaze on that part of you made your whole body hot, seeing his kind of lost face, appreciating every part of this, made you desperate. 

His index and middle finger dragged your lubrication to your clitoris, massaging him in slow circles, making your legs shake and your waist lift for more friction, digging your nails into the bedsheet. Jaebeom added more pressure on your clit, sliding them towards your wet entrance, slowly pushing then inside, receiving another of your moan*.

“That’s right, baby. Be vocal…” He laid down a bit kissing your lips while pumping fingers inside of you. “Can I eat you out?” He asked in a whisper, making you roll your eyes and moan at the thought of it.

“Why would you even ask me that? Do you think I can be capable of saying no?” You whined, rolling your hips towards his fingers that were working slowly on you.

“Just wanted to make sure,” he said laughing and giving a peck on your lips, before going down on you. “Gonna make you come now, baby.” He promised with his head between your legs, eyes locked on yours while licking a long, hot stripe from your entrance to your clit, still moving his fingers in and out. The image makes you shudder. That devilish gaze was something that would burn on your mind for ages and centuries, the slightest quirk in his eyebrow implying that he knows that he will tear you apart with his tongue. You threw your head back, putting your hands on your forehead, ‘cause that sight was the hottest thing you ever saw on your life. His large hands wrapped around your legs, keeping you steady and his tongue stroke against your clit, his hand gripping your hip harder, suing his tongue mercilessly on you, core clenching around his two fingers that kept coming in and out of you, curving them deep inside you. 

Jaebeom kept that same pace, driving you insane each time. His tongue twirling around your clitoris and his lips sucking it took you over the edge, and your walls tightened around his fingers, nonstop. Eventually, he lets you ride his tongue, rolling your hips back and forth as he buries his face further into you and sucks your clit gently, feeling your hands flown to fist his hair in your palms. He moans an appreciative, greedy sound as you cry out, sending the vibrations straight to your core. And Jaebeom works harder and faster until you are a sobbing mess. Your vision goes white as your thighs quake, short gasps coming out of your mouth, breathless, as you came around his fingers with your hips jerking into his face.

Even with a clouded mind for a few moments, you could still feel Jaebeom's fingers pulling your panties gently off your legs. His lips tracing a path back to your lips

“You good, baby?” He whispered with his left hand at the back of your neck, kissing you softly

“Wonderful.” You whispered back, opening your eyes and wrapping his waist with your legs again. “Wanna me ride you. Thought about that so many times, just listening to your voice...” You looked right inside his eyes, loving to see him roll his eyes.

“Don’t say something like that like this,” he growled, tugging your hair a bit. “Thought about that too. Even though you had no face in my fantasies, I thought about a lot of naughty things with you. Wrote many songs about it, the things I wanted to do with you. You gon’ ride me next time, but now, I want you like this. Under me.”

Did you feel his hand between you two, opening and pulling his pants and underwear enough to release his member, you felt his hard dick brushing against your wet core and moaned at the little friction. Jaebeom made sure to rub it on you several times, while his thick hands tightly gripped your ass, pulling you upwards, making the friction stronger and more needy for both of you.

“I want you like this every day,” Jaebeom whispered against your lips, positioning the tip of his dick on your entrance, entering in you slowly. “I want to make you feel good like this every day,” he gasped feeling your walls tighten around him as he moved slowly inside you, in and out. “Want to love you every day.” The head of his cock alone causes a burning stretch as it spreads you open for him, and his quiet moans making you shiver. He lets his forehead rest against yours whenever feeling you clenching hard around him with a particularly deep thrust, making you rake your nails down his chest in return. 

You cling to him as you wrap your legs around his torso, the change in angle allowing him to hit deeper inside you, both of you panting, you feel him nip at your earlobe. You clench hard around him and he moans directly into your ear, and then you feel him throbbing inside you. Picking up the pace, his thrusts become harder and quicker, more precise as he lifted himself up a little more to look at you, admiring how your eyes would roll back every time. Jaebeom crashes his lips to yours, growling into your mouth as your walls clamp down around his cock, his hand going down on you to firm circles against your clit until you can’t take it no more. You come first, moaning against his lips, Jaebeom comes next, letting tiny whines out of his mouth, and praises at you.

You both stay like that for long minutes, as you come down from your respective highs, sharing lazy kisses as Jaebeom keeps himself laid at the top of your body while you hug him, giving a little peck in his neck. When he rolls to your side his arms wrap around your waist and once again your head is on top of his chest.

“Ok, now we really need to slow down. I have no stamina anymore.” Jaebeom said pinching your ass. “Big spoon or little spoon?” He asks muffled against your skin, with his face stuck in your neck.

“You want to sleep already?” You ask making him look at you with a pout.

“What do you have in mind to keep me awake? It’s past midnight, baby. You need to rest.”

“I thought about show off my cooking skills to you, making that pasta that I know you love,” you received a long and positive ‘hum’ in response as if maybe he was not that sleepy anymore. “And after that, I’ll ride you on my couch.” The nasty words coming out of your mouth make Jaebeom whine.

“Oh god, since when you are such a pervert?” He asked, turning on his stomach on the bed, his face hidden in his pillows, while his broad back exposed. “I love you so much, but I’m starting to think that you don’t really love me.” He lifts his face to the side and looks at you. “Not even three hours of real contact with you and you already have plans about killing me. Don’t know if I can take that, where’s my almost pure Lily?” 

“So, you telling me you don’t want it?” You ask raising your left eyebrows.

“Never said that. I’m a hundred percent down, just let me pick the pieces of my soul and you can call me Khan, Mulan.” He answers quickly. “Yeehaw!”

“Oh god, don’t ruin Mulan with your dirty mind and lame jokes, Jaebeom!” You yell slapping his arm, laughing out loud.

“You are the one to blame, cowgirl.” He laughs too, showering you with kisses everywhere, as both of you roll between the sheets.

The following weeks went by radiantly for both of you. 

Being close to each other, face to face every day made even more difference in your lives, even when you thought it was impossible to him more, day after day being in love was something that continued to be reframed in your life. 

Both of you took small habits from each other. You now spent more time taking care of Jaebeom's five cats than he did himself, Jaebeom now had a habit of actually shopping and cooking, not just eating ramen because he was too lazy to move his own muscles.

You learned from each other daily, you learned more about each other, daily. 

Now, you know how Jaebeom has the habit of getting up early and reading on the floor because it’s cooler there, you know how he scratched his face when he is irritated by some mistake in the song he is working on, you also know that he is fascinated with taking pictures, especially pictures of you. 

You see and give him love in small gestures. You inspire him every day, to be a better and more grateful man. The support you give him is what keeps him going. He already lost count of how many times you stayed nights after nights sleeping on the sofa of his studio because he was worried about the release of his album that was going to be in 3 weeks. He would always tell you to go to bed and you would complain and tell him to shut up that you want to sleep, and he loved that you were even more stubborn than in the messages. He loved how you loved your friends, loved how you loved flowers and lived filling your apartment with jars and jars of it, especially of lily of the valley. He loved you and the way you made him appreciate life and its little details. Jaebeom loved you a little more, every single day.

So, when he asked you to live with him in his apartment, he never regretted it or thought he was going too fast. Now, seeing you carrying your stuff into his house, wearing one of his sweatshirts, he knew it was that. He wanted that for the rest of his life.

"Mark, watch out for my EXO cups! They're limited edition, if you knock them over I'll rip your lungs out!" He saw you yelling at your friend, pointing a finger at the red-haired guy and passing your finger on your throat right after.

"I'm helping you and you yell at me? Yell at Sunny too, equal rights." Mark defended himself, pointing to Sunny who was now placing several small boxes on Jaehyun's arm.

"Shut up, Mark! I'm listening!" Sunny responded by pulling her head out of the car.

"Everyone hates me around here!" Mark said placing the box on the pavement floor and placing both hands on his hips.

"I love you very much, but if you don't go up with this right now, I promise you that Yaya will be a widow even before she gets married." You threatened him one last time, throwing your sandals at Mark, who quickly grabbed the box and ran out to Jaebeom's apartment. Then, you turned towards Jaebeom, with the softest expression and a gentle smile on your face. "What is it, baby?"

He loved you even more now.

[onebadwinter]

can I totally send the ship thing in for Bucky and Kara

ULTIMATE SHIP MEME!

Send in two (or more) names and I’ll fill all this out about the ship!

General:

Rate the Ship -   Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs

How long will they last? - Well, Bucky is a mite bit of a difficult person, and can be, very often, angst heavy. So he’s perhaps often going to split on Kara, when triggered especially. But if Kara can get him out of that state, and deal with the other faults he still caries. They should last for a while.

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - More than definitely it was a slow burn kind of thing. Since Bucky doesn’t entirely believe he deserves these kinds of things, being that he spent the majority of his life feeling worthless and used. 

How was their first kiss? - Bucky definitely might be a good kisser, Though he might be a bit rusty, seeing as he hasn’t kissed much of anyone since being sent to war.

Wedding:

Who proposed? - Bucky, was born in the thirties, raised in the forties. That man definitely is the one that would propose. He would feel awful for not being the one. As he was raised ‘right’ to believe the man should ask the woman. As it’s much more romantic to him. Not that he would be against being proposed to. It’s just not something he would be in favor of, over the opposite. It’s more seen as respectful, in his eyes. Respecting Kara enough to propose to her.

Who is the best man/men? - Steve, of course.

Who is the braid’s maid(s)? - Sharon or Natasha. 

Who did the most planning? - Bucky is more used to the idea that the family of the bride does the planning. And seeing as Kara’s family is technically still alive (Pepper? Morgan?) and wealthy, and he is, well, not. It would be up to the Starks, or whoever Kara wishes, if not Kara herself? Though of course Bucky would more than likely speak up if he really wanted something. Maybe.

Who stressed the most? - I’d say neither. Bucky doesn’t try to stress over things since being freed from HYDRA’s control and Kara is certainly a calm well put together woman enough to not let a wedding get to her head, too badly.

How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - Thanos.

Sex:

Who is on top? - They are probably both very versatile. Bucky’s not one to debate it. Because sex isn’t really on his mind to be begin with, all that much. It’s a in the moment kind of ordeal, whatever’s comfortable.

Who is the one to instigate things? - Kara more than likely. Since Bucky is not quite comfortable with displaying the sort of things that would instigate, too often. 

How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now

How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

How long do they normally last? - Guess that depends on the situation. Now doesn’t it. lol

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - Oh yeah, Bucky would make sure. Even if he’s in a bit of a  dark and gloomy angst, rough, mood. He’d still allow Kara the same pleasures. 

How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? - This is a debatable situation, As he probably still doesn’t want any.

How many children will they adopt? They may adopt one or three. 

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - Bucky would definitely be willing to help out here, as he wants to be a part of the raising of any children between them one would think.

Who is the stricter parent? - They will probably both be fairly strict, Bucky definitely so.

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - Kara, more than likely. As Bucky plays by the rules of “Sometimes you gotta bleed a little to build character.” ahah.

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - They both are more than likely to be on top of this. 

Who is the more loved parent? - I’m thinking that it’s a balanced sort of thing. A team effort by both of them would probably result in the children liking them equally, even for different reasons. Idealic, anyway.

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? Depends on who’s readily on hand at that time. Probably Bucky, more often then Kara since he’s not got a lot to do these days, outside of random assassinations, for fun.

Who cried the most at graduation? - I’d imagine that both parents were proudly watching with teary eyes. But I wouldn’t think they outright cried.

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - I’d like to say neither. Bucky would be more of a “Commit the crime, do the time.” Kind of parent, as he wants his kids to ‘do better than him’ in this moralistic questioning. And, believes that bailing the child out will only instill in them that someone will always be their to bail them out. That’s just not how the world works, however. So Bucky would want them to learn a lesson here.

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - They probably both share in the cooking. If not including the entire family, for a fun activity and lesson in cooking.

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - Kara, one would think. Since Bucky wasn’t raised in a time where being picky was an option. And then there’s all the Hydra stuff. You think they let him pick out his own food?

Who does the grocery shopping? - They probably both will participate in this. As they are both adults and very capable of shopping for themselves and family equally. 

How often do they bake desserts? - Bucky would probably be trying to learn all this new modern stuff that he did not have growing up or captured by Hydra. So he is more than likely to be the one to cook this, yes. But he might also include Kara, for fun.

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - Bucky does love meats more than salads. As there were rarely any meat to have growing up, it was a privilege to have. Though he does like salads, Kara would be the one to suggest them more often.

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - They both probably would switch every other anniversary to do something. 

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - Neither probably, As Bucky’s no big on going out. But Kara is more inclined to it, since she was raised much more closely to a time where, going out was a thing. Or well, more THE Thing to do since she was raised in the modern era of wealth and prosperities that the Twenties lost away. Bucky, was lucky to have an EXPO around to ‘go out’ to. Then there are dance houses and the usual club or bar. But Bucky’s not in great need of visiting such places. He’s perfectly fine staying in with Kara and reading a book or enjoying some show or movie.

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidently while cooking? - I’d say Bucky, the first few times he’d tried to cook after breaking free of Hydra’s control. THOUGH, lately, no. Neither seems to be a better option. Cooking is not that hard, Bucky is learning how to improve his cooking skills as much as he can, to probably impress.

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - They both more than likely do this if they are both home. Or will be fine cleaning if one is not and the other is. So it’s an equal effort.

Who is really against chores? - Bucky might not be in the mood for doing chores all the time, I think.

Who cleans up after the pets? - They both will participate, given who finds the mess first, I would imagine.

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - Neither, what would be the point in it. Bucky’s mother would come out of her grave and beat him senseless, no doubt. Kara, despite growing up with in the Stark Household. Seems to, ultimately know better than doing such a thing, a swell. 

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - Bucky, he doesn’t like too many people around him. Or new people he hasn’t met before. SO it would be very tricky getting him on board with this sort of thing.

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - Bucky would definitely be more excited about finding a dollar between the couch cushions, given that money is still a thing that’s ‘not always available’ in his mind.

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - Bucky certainly takes a long time in the bath. He has a like of thinking to do.

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - They probably both would go on a walk together with the dog. Seems to be the best thing to do. Unless one is sick or unable to in some way. Which Bucky certainly would, then.

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - Holiday’s weren’t something particularly grand when he was growing up. Enjoyable to a degree, back then. Though he’s not a big fan of Halloween, now. He probably has gotten more into the spirit of holidays now that he can celebrate them in full of the modern day flair. 

What are their goals for the relationship? - To be with someone they could spend the rest of their lives with, even if sometimes they might want to claw each others eyes out over stupid arguments or something.

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - Bucky has a lot of Trauma and sleeping helps keep it away. But it also does not. So it depends, though Bucky is the more likely party to do so, being up and down all night otherwise.

Who plays the most pranks? - Not having much of a good childhood on top of getting drafted to war and used a a Hydra puppet, Bucky can be more childish and prone to pranks.

[senseandaccountability]

Fic: I have outlived the night

The prompt from @heyitsharding was “Somewhere in that library of the past”, a quote from Borges. And preferably Loghain. Title borrowed from another poem by Borges. Angst and characters and a couple of quotes from The Stolen Throne borrowed from Bioware. Ages are… estimations, I guess. Don’t come at me with numbers. And I think we’ve established by now that I emphatically do not write drabbles. If you can’t stand to read fic on tumblr, it’s also here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23971537

History is a broken circle:

1.

He’s a child, then a young man, and they hide from the usurpers on the throne.

Safely tucked in between the lush trees, Loghain’s father teaches him to fight and parry, to ride and hunt. They’re outlaws but they’re not outlaws; he explains the distinction thoroughly, tirelessly.

“You do right by the people who depend on you,” he says. “There is no excuse for a man who doesn’t.” —

He’s sixty-five and hides in a deserted hovel in a town marked by the Blight and even more so by a ruler’s mistakes and betrayal of his own people.

The irony is not lost on him.

2.

He’s nineteen, twenty, twenty-one and love burns in his chest; Rowan doesn’t want it and he has no use for it so he doesn’t understand why it doesn’t go away. It seems entirely unreasonable for his body to betray him in this fashion.

And then, suddenly, she’s in his arms and he _melts _into her in a way that is anything but dignified but he cannot find it in himself to care. Her hair is a fire around them and his hands gentler than he has ever willed them to be before; when she kisses him, finally, it tastes of salt and iron. It’s broken, whatever it is that they have; it’s more than enough.

Between the desperate charges and daring strategies he feels in every duel, every narrowly won victory, that one of them will die young.

He always assumes it will be him. —

“She asked for you.” Maric’s voice is ice inside the summer warm castle. It cuts through the room that separates them. “On her deathbed. I told her you were right beside her. She… lost her eyesight towards the end.”

His voice breaks something beneath Loghain’s breastbone. He curls his hands into fists where he stands by the window in this castle of ghosts. Rowan, bold and commanding, forever a breach between them and he knew it would be this way, knew it would never cease to be this way despite Gwaren and Celia and the endless string of days and duties that has followed. Rowan, lionhearted and daring, moves around them and he wonders how many times he must lose her.

“I’m-” he says but this grief that does not belong to him is beyond words.

There’s a faint sound of Cailan and Anora playing in the garden, their child-hearts sturdier, lighter. Or perhaps they simply scar in more subtle ways.

“Come,” Maric says eventually. “I’ll show you where she rests.” —

Celia dies slowly, a pain stretched out so thin over months and months that it hollows her out.

He’s not there for all of it, useless in the face of a battle that is not his to fight.

He’s not there for most of it, cannot bear the thought of her capable body and ferocious will being tempered by sickness, her loved features marked by fate; for as long as he lives he will never forgive himself for this particular weakness. He even tells her as much.

“Oh Loghain,” Celia murmurs when he sits by her side. “You never forgive anyone for anything. But you will have to forgive me for taking my leave now, I’m afraid.”

He’s there in the end and then there’s another grave that he never visits. —

He’s fifty-one and the funeral feast they hold for Maric cuts a hole in him, bleeds him dry.

It’s the last straw, he thinks, mercifully unaware of the endless losses that will soon follow.

3.

He’s nineteen and there are thirty men answering to him where he prances around in full disguise in order to be mistaken for a prince. To be mistaken for a commander though he’s still just a commoner and though he knows the only reason anyone listens to him in the first place is because he’s tall and broad-shouldered, stern like his father before him. Erratic and stupid as far as qualifications go, but it’s what he has.

He charges the tiny army up towards a patch of land they stand a chance of defending and they win, they do. After the next attempt, however, he carries two dead knights back to their camp and the blood never really comes away from the ridiculous shirt Maric has let him borrow.

“We’ll burn it,” he states, despising his own voice and how it shakes.

— He’s fifty-five and there are thousands upon thousands of soldiers in his ranks.

Staring at the attacking horde, keeping his mind clear and his hands steady, he sacrifices a few hundred of them as he walks away from the Blight. He knows their names, their villages; he liberated their nation so they could be born free and flock around the Hero of River Dane.

He rides back to Denerim in silence, denying everyone the right to even look at him.

“You heard the teyrn,” Ser Cauthrien snaps, a horse’s length behind him, an ugly echo. “Do as he commands.”

4.

He’s five and sees his father’s face through the gaps between the narrow planks in the barn where the Orlesian soldiers have stormed in, shouting at each other in a language Loghain does not understand. But he understands terror and he understands _hide, darling, hide and keep really quiet _and even if he does not see his mother’s face he can hear her breathing. Quick, pained, muffled - then nothing.

Nothing as he crawls up to her later, when the joyless laughter and strange grunting has subsided.

Nothing as he sees the blood between her legs, the strange angle of her neck. He’s almost a grown man before he fully grasps what they had done, truly done  to her and it makes him throw up in a bush, makes his first fumbling attempts with a girl clouded by fear of accidentally doing the same, fear of invisible lines being crossed and a bright, giggling voice in his ear I won’t break, big fellow, do you want me to beg? —

He’s fifty-five, has lived so many wars that he’s lost count and Arl Howe stands in the middle of Loghain’s office, folding his hands over his stomach.

“Highever is taken care of, my lord.”

Loghain looks into the goblet of spiced wine, pressing back the flurry of regrets and doubts.

“My men were thorough, my lord. They are dead. All but the oldest son - Fergus - though the Blight will certainly take him and we killed his heir, at any rate.” A quick, sly smile. “And made the wife spread her legs.”

The goblet trashes against the stone wall once Howe is gone, leaving a terrible noise in its wake.

5.

He’s twenty-two and it rains in the little village north of the Wilds where he encounters Mother Ailis again. The war is over, has moved from the battlefields into the ones who were there, conducting it. He breathes war, dreams it. When he turns, he expects to see attacking forces; around every corner there’s a corpse.

Despite the rain she takes him by the hand and leads him to the place where she put all the bodies to rest, the garden of outlaws that she had known that no one would acknowledge once the fighting had subsided, the souls she has guarded ever since.

“Here is your father’s grave,” she says, softly, pressing his hand between her own. “He was so brave.”

And Loghain cries.

“Forgive me,” he says, mumbles the awkward confessions against the soaked chantry robes as Mother Ailis takes him in her arms and holds him like the small child he feels like he never could be. “Maker, forgive me.”

For all that he has done, for all that he has yet to do.

“There is nothing to forgive, Loghain,” she says but they both know that isn’t true. —

“I yield,” he tells Bryce Cousland’s daughter, kneeling before her with his sword flat on the floor, his neck bared in defeat.

He’s fifty-six and it’s not forgiveness he’s asking but close enough, the closest he will ever be to it now.

6.

He’s eighteen and his father sends him away to protect the rebel prince who has put them all in danger but seems to have won the loyalty of Gareth of Oswin within seconds all the same.

“Don’t ask me to just leave you,” he protests, a dread so thick he cannot breathe through it is filling his entire body. He sees his father’s face through the narrow planks of the barn again, sees him return home that afternoon, drenched in Orlesian blood, telling Loghain they need to run. “I won’t do it.”

“That’s exactly what you will do,” his father replies and in that dreadful, shivering moment Loghain can feel his entire future unravel.

“Do your best,” his father says because that’s what his father always says, the only oath he will hold his son to. —

He’s fifty-seven with darkspawn blood in his veins and on his way to Orlais.

“Do your best,” Elissa tells him in Amaranthine.

Loghain nods, like he once nodded to his father. “Of course.”

7.

He’s eighteen and defiant, his fist in Maric’s face, the loss of his father raw and painful in his throat, twisting his voice into thorns.

“You can’t knight me to make me throw my life away for you,” he spits.

He’s wrong about that; he’s wrong about so many things. —

He’s older than he thought he’d ever be and the wars are still raging inside his bones. Other people’s wars for other people’s reasons though he has stopped to think of them as such, borders so easily dissolved in the face of old gods and holes in the fabric of the sky. Humbled at long last, perhaps. It’s about time.

In a recovered Keep in the middle of the desert, he sits wedged in between the odd agents of an Inquisition he has little reason to question, though even less reason to fully grasp the scope of.

The Fereldan Commander looks at him with the gravitas of someone with a purpose to his glances and Loghain searches his memory. He remembers most lieutenants, would like to think the same goes for the soldiers though time hasn’t sharpened every sense and the details of his years of command have indeed begun to blur. He wasn’t at Ostagar, at least, that particular event has bone-hard contours at the back of his mind.

“You helped Uldric overthrow the Circle at Kinloch Hold,” the man says, finally, when they’re alone under the stars. “I served there.”

“I see,” Loghain says, because suddenly he does. “Yes, that was - unfortunate. Though it was never my intention to cause a…”

“Bloodbath?” The commander sounds grim, but there’s a softer edge to his tone, a grim sort of humour pushing through. “I wondered why you did it, back then. Now - now I have an army allied with rebel mages.”

In the distance Loghain spots the Inquisitor, a battle-scarred noble carrying an exquisite longbow and a bravery that is laced with doubt. He feels the same kind of certainty around her as he once did at the Landsmeet, though he has no desire to delve deeper into that tonight.

“Do you think she’s the Herald of Andraste then?” he asks the commander instead.

“I don’t know,” comes the reply, then a hesitant, poignant: “I don’t care. She’s the heart of this order nonetheless.”

The commander clears his throat.

”I see,” Loghain says again.

8.

He’s five, he’s eighteen, nineteen, twenty, forty-six and fifty-five, he’s fifty-six, fifty-seven and ready to die.

Instead, he lives. —

He’s sixty-five, he’s ancient, and the nightmares of the Fade taunts him, without much success.

You destroy everything you touch, it says, as though his greatest fear would be the truths spelled out in plain sight.

“Welcome to the club,” Hawke laughs harshly beside him. “We hold meetings in Kirkwall every fortnight.”

“_I _should be invited after this,” the Inquisitor grunts, firing a burning arrow into the partly corporeal body of a rage demon.

They fight their own despair, they fight the Fade itself until the inevitable end.

“Fight well,” he says, glancing sideways into the monstrous being that blocks their only escape and he’s a young man again, looking into his father’s grim determination. “You won’t die while I draw breath.”

And raising his sword one last time he thinks of Anora, thinks of Ferelden, thinks of the oath his father made him swear. Do your best.

Perhaps he has, at long last.

History is a broken circle but the Fade snaps shut around him with a soft, liberated gasp.

[starblazerm31]

The Courtiers as Shitty Retail Customers

This HC of mine seems to have gotten lost in the miasma somewhere.  It was an ask I had gotten in response to the Main 6 as Retail Workers HC.

Now...as a note...everything I write here I have seen/happened to me personally. EVERYTHING.  These are not your typical “Karen” stories. 

Content warnings: Bodily fluids (blood, vomit, feces, etc.).  Blatant rudeness.  Flagrant stupidity. THEFT.  Disturbing malevolent behavior.  Unwanted butt pinching.

The Courtiers As Shitty Retail Customers (cont. of Main 6 as Retail Workers)

Valdemar

That customer who leaves unexplained blood spatters ALL OVER the single bathroom.  They didn’t seem injured when they went in...but after they came out, everyone swears they committed a murder in there.  Poor Julian got pegged to clean it up since he’s the one certified in hazardous spills and Muriel was off that day.

The customer who stares at everyone in a really uncomfortable way.  Like...are they planning on slitting someone's throat right here in the store?  Please don’t...the employees really don’t want to have to deal with the inquiry and paperwork.

The customer who will grab a worker and just...occupy them.  Talking.  Oddly.  About anything and yet absolutely nothing.  But still dropping the most uncomfortable TMI.  One time, they grabbed Asra and just HAD to go into explicit detail about how they skin an animal after hunting.  And how much they love Satan.

The customer who will ask a really dangerous request of the worker they swept up just hoping to see them get hurt.  One time, he asked Julian to check on a specific tire which was WAAAAAY up on the top of the huge tire rack.  Chuckled to himself when the tire fell on Julian and almost broke his arm while he was ten feet in the air on a ladder.

Gets really offended when an employee gets too close.  "Come any closer and I'll stab you."  Julian:  "Do it.  Five cameras can see you RIGHT. NOW.

*flashes a knife at Muriel*  Muriel:  "My dick is bigger."

Volta

That customer who grabs food off of the shelf, eats it, then deposits the empty (or half-empty) wrapper/bottle on another shelf in another part of the store.

She once stole some things from the store and got a big head about it.  So she decided to come back the very next night to steal some more.  All the employees were wise to her and watched her very closely.  She stuffed a bunch of items up her shirt and made her way to the door.  Nadia and Muriel were standing there waiting for her.  She panicked and dropped everything out of her shirt in front of everyone (all the employees proceeded to point at her and laugh) and then walked out in a hurry.

When free snacks are offered to customers, she proceeds to stuff her face while spilling the snacks all over the store.  She leaves a trail of chips/popcorn wherever she walks.

Somehow managed to knock down an entire shelf of gallon jugs of water.  The water jugs all exploded on the floor.  It looked like a Noah's Ark situation.

Walked by Muriel and proceeded to suddenly vomit onto the floor.

Will unfold and an entire shelf of shirts (about an hour's worth of work) just to be a bitch.

Tried to steal a "Try Me" stick of deodorant that literally hundreds of people had touched.  Saw that she was being watched by Muriel, so she proceeded to look Muriel right in the eye and apply the deodorant.  Muriel:  "...I hope she gets sick."

*grabs Nadia*  "I think that worker is spying on me!" *points to Julian*  "He keeps following me around!"  Julian is stocking shelves, not even paying attention to her.  "And his body odor is really offensive!"  *Nadia looks to her dubiously*  "I'm sorry about that.  Here, let me fix it."  *walks over to Julian, explains the situation, and then gets on the radio*  "Watch the customer in accessories, they are behaving strangely."  Thirty minutes later, Volta is being escorted out by police for theft.  Julian:  "Body odor!  *huffs* Enjoy the lockup BO you're gonna have tomorrow, bitch."

Vlastomil

Brings in Wiggler.  "He's my emotional support worm!"

Wiggler pees on the floor.  Is asked to take his pet out of the store.  Proceeds to scream about how the store targets the mentally ill.  (Muriel has to go to the back to rage in private with Asra)

Asks about products, and then proceeds to criticize the store for even carrying such  "ridiculous" items.

Brings a fuckload of coupons, and expects them to be applied to clearance items.  Finds out that coupons cannot be honored for clearance items, and leaves two whole shopping carts of random items for the staff to reshelf.

"I can't see myself spending $3 on THAT."

To Asra:  "I'm going to need your employee discount."  Asra:  "So...I can move in with you tonight?"  Vlastomil:  "What?"  Asra:  "Well, if I give you my discount, I will be promptly fired.  I have a snake to take care of.  If I lose my job, I lose my apartment and my ability to feed myself and my snake.  Since YOU would be responsible for my getting fired, I'd expect YOU to take care of me and my snake afterward.  So...I can move in with you tonight?"  Vlastomil:  "...nevermind."

"The handsome manager said I could get this item with a 10% discount because it's not the brand I'm wanting."  Julian:  "Lucio isn't here today."  Vlastomil:  "He said it the other day."  Julian:  "He has to actually be here and tell me that himself, sorry.  He'll be here tomorrow, try again then."

Went into the bathroom.  A few minutes later, came out and grabbed Muriel and said that the bathroom needed to be cleaned.  Muriel looked inside and was APPALLED by the sight of feces smeared EVERYWHERE.  The floor, all of the stall doors, the trash can, the sinks, the toilets.  Vlastomil:  "Yeah, I had an accident."  Muriel did not hide his disgust and went to get the cleaning cart.  Threatened to quit that night.  Muriel:  "This is the kind of stuff DOCTORS AND NURSES deal with!  They get paid at least $20 an hour!  I make MINIMUM FUCKING WAGE!!!"

Vulgora

The customer that snaps at every single employee that speaks to them.

"No one likes (sports team)!  Why the hell do you even carry merch for this shitty team?!" (because there are more fans of that sports team than of the team that THEY like in that particular area)

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE'S A PENALTY FOR LETTING MY LAYAWAY EXPIRE?!  I WANT MY FULL REFUND!!!"

"RETURN THIS ITEM!"  Portia: "We don't carry this item."  Vulgora:  "YES YOU DO, I BOUGHT IT HERE!!"  Portia:  "I'm sorry, but this item is exclusive to (different store)."  Vulgora:  "YOU'RE AN IDIOT!  LET ME SPEAK TO YOUR MANAGER!"  Nadia proceeds to tell them the EXACT. SAME. THING.  Vulgora:  "YOU'RE ALL MORONS!  I'M CALLING CORPORATE!"

"How do I install a trailer hitch?"  Julian:  "I'm sorry, I don't know."  Vulgora:  "Well they just need to employ a trained monkey here!"  Julian:  "We ARE accepting applications, you know."

"Is this shit real gold?"  Portia:  "Yes, 18k."  Vulgora:  "How much is it?"  Portia:  *looks*  "$250."  Vulgora:  "What gold do you have for $20?"  Portia:  "Nothing."

"I WILL CLIMB OVER THIS DESK AND MESS YOU UP!"  Portia: *points to the camera aimed directly at them*  "Do it.  I'll see you in court."

They lost their place in line because they had to go and look at something.  When the person behind them stepped up to the register and started to get their items rung up, they dashed back in front of the person and grabbed Portia's arm to stop her from ringing up the other person's items.  Drew back in shock and horror when Portia immediately balled up her fist and held it threateningly at them.  Nadia was standing right there next to Portia.  Nadia:  "You need to leave.  Right now."  After they left, Nadia looked to Portia and said: "You wouldn't have gotten in trouble if you'd hit them, you know."  Portia:  "No one grabs me.  No one."

"YOU'RE HIDING ALL OF THE STORE EXCLUSIVE POP FIGURES IN THE BACK SO YOU IDIOTS CAN BUY THEM ALL AND SELL THEM ON EBAY!!"  Julian:  "I'm sorry, but you're incorrect.  That Pop figure is $8, and no one here wants to lose their job over an $8 figure.  Plus...the figure you're wanting isn't at this store anyway."  Vulgora:  "AND WHY NOT?!"  Julian:  "...Because it's sold online only." *shows them the online info that clearly states "online-only"*

Valerius

The customer who expects an employee to follow them around with a basket while they shop.

"Is this organic?"  Julian:  "Yes, sir, it is."  Valerius:  "I don't believe you.  Places like this can't possibly carry organic items."

Left an ENTIRE. PILE. of tried-on clothes in the dressing room when the limit on items was 4.

Opened at least 20 different tubes of lipstick and swiped them on his arm.  Put them all back on the shelf.  Asra could be heard swearing as he had to pull each lipstick off of the shelf and dispose of them since they were no longer sanitary and could not be sold.  "Couldn't he just steal?  It would have been so much easier..."

Comes into the store drunk off his ass and acts belligerent to everyone he sees.  Gets so OFFENDED when asked to leave.

"Are these diamonds real?"  Asra:  "They are lab-grown."  Valerius:  "So they aren't real."  Asra:  "They are lab-grown, so they are synthetic diamonds." Valerius:  "So they aren't real."  Asra:  *sighs* "They wouldn't be sold for just $50 if they were."

Starts fights with other customers because he thinks "They're weird."

The customer who accosts other customers, thinking they work there.  Even though they AREN'T. WEARING. A. UNIFORM.

Stuffs a pile of clothes he decided he doesn't want behind the tampons.

Demands that the single bathroom be unlocked, even though the single bathroom being locked means that it's occupied.

"How do these pants make my package look?"  Julian:  "...I'm not going to look, sir.  But they make your calves look amazing."

Walked by Asra and pinched his ass.  Looked so shocked when Asra whirled around and yelled at him.  Valerius: "Hey, I thought you would like that!"  Asra:  "I CLEARLY DID NOT!  That is called SEXUAL ASSAULT!!!  YOU GO TO JAIL FOR THAT!!!"

[elane-in-the-shadows]

Red Queen Fan Fiction - Red Huntress Chapter 7

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Epilogue

Find this on Wattpad and on AO3

The journey to Trial took several days, more than a week. During this time, Diana was stuck in a number of vehicles, transports, farm machines and carriages where she often also had to sleep. She wasn’t to talk to the drivers, nor to be seen. She found that a bit silly but she guessed she was only useful as an informal supporter of the Scarlet Guard if she wasn’t known as one, not to be connected to any rebel who might get caught.

Her company was a woman about thirty, with short straight black hair and olive skin. Sometimes she drove their transport; the rest of the time she wanted Diana to prepare. Or rather “Tina”. To make her memorize her role, the operative never used Diana’s true name and neither introduced herself. Diana went along with that, eager to please, yet inwardly wondering how deep the operative had sunk into the game of changing identities. She instructed Diana in the duties of a Red civil servant, so strict and exact about the required meekness she could’ve been a maid servant herself. Or still was, like putting on a mask over her rebel self. As she also told Diana how to be a spy.

“You have only women as roommates on your floor,” the operative said when they eventually arrived at the dorm in Trial. The dorm was higher than any house Diana had ever been in before, and still it was surrounded by buildings even higher, reaching into the grey sky.

Diana swallowed her nausea that rose from sudden uncertainty. Don’t be such a bumpkin. To not let her rural origins show was precisely what the operative had reminded her about.

“Right”, Diana agreed to whatever she’d said.

The operative sighed as they entered the building and went up the stairs. “All inhabitants of this dorm are some sort of servant or other. Mostly with municipal jobs, like you.”

“Sure.”

The operative stopped her at the door of the third-floor-room “Tina” was to live in. She turned to Diana, glaring. “Don’t trust them.”

Diana raised an eyebrow. “As people? Or as sources?”

For the first time in days, the operative’s features softened, although one would hardly call it a smile. “I see you understand. As the former, of course. You aren’t here to make friends. Now come,” said she, and led Diana inside the room.

They dressed in uniforms of skirts and shirts, all in light blue shades apart from the scarlet neckties marking them as Reds, to undermine any chance at being mistaken.

Diana wasn’t sure what to think of the face she saw in the mirror. With her straight, pinned-up hair and the crisp uniform, it wasn’t the face she was used to, neither a strange woman of nineteen. She was not Diana Farley of Sieverling, but someone different, someone she’d have to get to know – and shape. Into the spy the Scarlet Guard wanted.

The operative nodded. “Let’s go introduce you at the office.”

Diana took a reassuring breath, glancing one last time at herself in the mirror. You can do this.

But it was winter, and she was glad the operative let her keep her coat from home, to cuddle in something familiar during their walk.

The work itself was dull. Sorting papers, carrying forms, copying them. She wasn’t good or fast on the typewriter, unskilled compared to her co-workers, and she feared this lack of experience had to out her false identity. She tried to improve and to shift typing to other colleagues, but she realized that she failed the Guard in this regard: If she had been a quick typist, she could type documents for the Guard besides her official tasks. But they knew this when they hired you for this job.

On the other hand, when she was free of the typewriter, she had enough time to gather the bits and pieces the Guard wanted. The municipal office stored many police data Diana was to search up in the archives, at other times she could trip over some rumours regarding the forces’ next steps, both information valuable for protecting Scarlet Guard operatives. Not that she had any idea about their dangerous operations as information only ever flowed one way – away from her. Like before, Diana was to organize forms and permits the Guard needed, sometimes by stealing, other times by leaving a door open at the right time. Most intelligence she was to deliver to a drop box that changed location every week. Occasionally, a handler expected her for a briefing, and quickly, she learned to censor her words to avoid suspicion. Keeping her routes hidden was top priority, of course.

Diana had feared her absences, her inefficiency, would be noticed and chided, but soon she had realized her co-workers also stretched their tasks to fill their days, without trying to impress the Silvers for the small hope of promotion. Was there a point in trying? She guessed the real “Tina” would want to impress, to keep this position, about also that her co-workers would know better than her. The Silvers underestimated all Reds, and showed that to Reds every day.

That was why Diana had learned to freeze, automatically, lowering her eyes and putting on the vapid friendly smile, when a Silver entered the office. She saw more of them there than ever before in her life and the shock remained fresh for her. She was never able to anticipate their orders, either filled with stupid and offensive remarks, or random tasks the Reds had to figure out on their own, with little hints how much extra time they demanded. Those occasions were only sufferable because the colleagues stuck together, to distract or subtly calm an agitated Silver and to share the work.

The worst was that Diana was either invisible or a tool to be used or a doll to be stared at.

She hadn’t been aware how much it hurt, to be gawped at and not seen as a person but an object. There was one Silver, a middle-aged man with long brown hair and cold beige skin, who always looked at her in passing, harder than the others. He never said anything and every time, Diana felt her 15-year-old self like never before.

From her first day, she’d kept her knife on her person, firstly because she was used to it, later because it gave her reassurance.

No one there knew she was a young girl. No one knew her name. And she could never let anything slip. Not even in the dorm, where most of her roommates were in their mid- or late twenties, could she let go. She feared they’d smell her secrets as she claimed to be close in age yet always remained a little bit off. They even talked different from her.

She tried though. Gone out with them in their spare time, to roam the city. She couldn’t get used to it, the grey concrete everywhere, the air, the fragrances. There was a river, yes, and many canals and wells, but hardly green. And the convenience. She didn’t have enough coin to buy more than what she needed to live, but she saw enough – more than enough. Medicines, clothes, books, tools, even electronic devices were available in Trial, things she found at home only a few times a year when the right vendors bothered to visit Sieverling to sell their decidedly smaller offers.

Just the chance to buy these things at any time, to have them at hand when needed, made her envious, even though they were still unaffordable for most Reds.

“They’re traps, you know,” her handler, a young man in his mid-twenties with golden-brown complexion, said once. “The shops.”

“Hm?”

“They’re to tell us what we’re supposed to crave in the Silvers’ eyes, to ignore what we really need.”

Diana understood him, truly. But those were a city man’s words, not of a person who would’ve given – or paid – anything for an expensive medicine to save a life when purchasing that drug from another place took more time than a beloved, dying, person had left.

Diana remembered when her mother had a fever after Madeline’s birth. Papa had been devastated, but he’d gotten that antibiotic to help her, as the drug vendor had travelled on just to the next village. His own mother, he said then, hadn’t been so lucky when she suffered and died from pneumonia.

One rainy evening in late March, Diana wasn’t with her roommates when they went out. She continued to keep herself apart from them, being a stranger as the city remained a stranger to her.

One reason for that was the curfew. She just couldn’t grasp it. Lord Isère took few measures to control the private lives of the people of Sieverling, but a curfew would’ve been beyond ridiculous. Telling peasants – or hunters, like her parents – not to leave their houses at night, when the best time for work could happen to be in the dark? When an animal – or a sick person, for that matter – might be in need?

Diana knew what the curfew was for, to control the Reds. To remind them the place they lived in wasn’t their own.

She stared out of the window, into the rain and onto the wet street. Her roommates had ways to deal with the curfew, knew the right bars and places to sleep in. It should’ve been enough; Diana was alone, could forget her façade for a night and imagine she was in another place, with someone else. She missed her family, GIselle, her life so much. But she was angry tonight, full of energy and considering how lazy she’d become with her office work and lack of training sessions. She cursed at hiding herself. It was fifteen minutes until curfew, and she decided to go out for a jog.

She despised the first metres but she bit through them, pulling up her hood against the rain. She wore dark clothes, pants and a sweater, clothes she also put on when training at home. She ran on until she no longer felt the cold gushes of the weather and instead had the warmth of the runner’s high rise in her. Finally, she smiled. And squinting her eyes, she saw the two watchmen almost too late.

Cussing silently, she dashed into the next alleyway to avoid a pointless questioning. She had little idea where it led, seeing only puddles and shadows in the tight gap between houses, until two people emerged from the darkness, pressed against the wall.

No, one person pressed against the wall by the other. Diana stopped, yet a puddle splashed as she stepped into it.

“Another customer?” one of them hissed. It was the aggressor, the person holding the other, a boy, in place. A woman, it sounded like, and she turned her head to Diana, letting go of the boy.

The boy stayed fixed on the wall and Diana ceased to breathe.

The woman had to be another guard, a Silver. And, she realized as the rain formed into icicles, a shiver who was able to freeze liquid matter.

Dina only saw a pale face framed by hair turned dark from the rain as the Silver advanced at her. She prayed for her training to kick in, to tell her what to do. She fell into a defensive stance as the Silver slid on the puddles in the alley she’d turned into ice, along with the icicles in her hand she began to throw. Only then did Diana remember her lessons.

You can’t defend against a Silver. You can only attack.

The Silver was inched away from her when Diana changed position and kicked at the Silver’s leg, shattering her balance. Passing her opponent, Diana slid onto the ice puddle herself, grabbing her knife as she spun at the edge of the ice.

The Silver seemed stunned, for she hesitated. Diana’s mind ran miles but she had no time to search her memories for a shiver’s fatal weakness. She just knew how much their surroundings favoured the Silver, with all the water to freeze and turn into weapons. There were already new icicles, growing sharply around the Silver.

Diana moved forward, afraid the shiver would use the puddle to pin her place, like she’d done with the boy behind her. She ran, her left hand lifted to protect her face against the icy projectiles that pierced her belly instead.

She couldn’t stop. She charged, crashing into the Silver and lashing away her arm with the claws of ice taking shape around it. They both fell, and Diana buried her knife in the Silver’s chest.

She breathed heavily, on top of the Silver woman. She pressed a hand over the Silver’s mouth and nose to stop her from screaming.

It felt endlessly. The woman was dying and still, her ability, her last breaths, tried to freeze Diana’s skin. But it was no use, and finally, it was over.

Diana thought she must’ve dealt a lucky hit, punctured a lung. If she’d pierced the stomach, it would’ve been her who lost her life.

Suddenly, she heard a crack and the boy stood right behind her, shoving her away. Diana crouched on her haunches, staring at the hesitating boy. Then he ripped a bag open and threw powder over the body. “Go!” he spat at Diana, and turned to dash down the dark alleyway, on some path only he knew.

Diana didn’t follow. She got up, stepped out of the alley, and ran home.

A/N: This chapter finally delivers after you had to wait so long for the opening line of the first chapter to become relevant.

@elliemarchetti @lilyharvord @mareshmallow @evervaleli @avid-author-activist @marecalrandomstuff @misslucyhutton @shadykittentraveler @olivegreenolives @gamer670 @neyrriz @scxrletguardsdawn @yjlover @loveverygalaxybouquetstuff

[3dmouseart]

Supercorp:  Heartbreak (Part 4)

In which Lena does something bad.  And the truth about her is revealed.

The art that was flagged by tumblr can be found here on pillowfort.

2066 words.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Lena stirred and tried to open her eyes.  Tears and sleep had caked on her long lashes.  She gently pried them open.

As she stumbled to the bathroom the music continued to play.

*Get up in the morning, look in the mirror One less toothbrush hanging in the stand, yeah My face ain’t looking any younger Now I can see love’s taken a toll on me

She’s gone, she’s gone Oh I, oh I I better learn how to face it She’s gone, and she’s gone Oh I, oh I I’d pay the devil to replace her She’s gone, and she’s gone Oh why, what went wrong? 

“Danielle, stop the music.”

“Certainly, Lena.  How else may I be of service: would you like me to run the shower now?”

“Wait till I’m inside then give me thirty seconds of cold water followed by warm, please.”

She undressed and sorted her clothes into different laundry baskets, then forced herself to look at her reflection in the full length mirror. It was the first time since they had become a couple that they hadn’t slept together (not counting trips and missions apart) and she missed Kara’s touch.  She really would need to fix herself before going in or people would see something was very wrong and send L-Corp stock prices plummeting.

She sighed and got into the shower.  The cold water made her gasp and she waited it out. The warm water that followed eased the tension of her body as her legs gave way and she sobbed.

*                                            *                                   *                                        *

Work was a relief: the million and one concerns of a successful and profitable business empire needed to be addressed, which kept her busy throughout the day.

It also helped that Alex called in sick for Kara, although she had planned to talk to Kara’s sister (as a kind of back door checking in), it was nothing that couldn’t wait.  She was still hurt, but was unwavering in her love for Kara.  It was also maybe time to tell her the truth.

She waited till she was home to check on her other companies:  it was one thing to be a billionaire when you could leverage your family’s pre-existing reputation, wealth and industries; it was something else entirely to build a billion dollar business entirely from scratch.  That was really “self-made”.   And what she had done as Leah Quint.

Her LeQuomm telecommunications was already a profitable concern before she took over Luthor Corp and relaunched it as L-Corp after moving it to National City.  That move provided the impetus to launch LooQ Sys: a vertically integrated system that provided telecommunications, internet service and electronic security.  Shell corporations within shell corporations kept her involvement hidden and pricing the hardware as loss leaders resulted in greater sales.

It took three years but now LooQ Sys was ubiquitous enough for her to initiate the 700Q533 protocol alpha test.  The timing and subject was not what she would have wanted it to be, but whatever.

But then maybe the timing was perfect, after all, because Kara and Alex would be horrified by what she was going to do now.  They would be appalled even if they weren’t the unwitting test subjects.

She took a deep breath and strode to the largest of her walk-in closets.  As she approached the cabinets housing her bags the gait analyzer scanned her.

“Stage one passed.  Hello Lena.”

The cabinet swung out and the wall behind it slid open.

“Stage two: biometric verification initiated.”

The retinal and palm scans were carried out efficiently.  She performed the cheek swab herself and a panel opened spoke into a metal grill as she dropped the swab into a glass cylinder.  “My name is Lena Kieran Luthor.  My voice is my passport. Verify me.”

A green light went on and the wall slid open.

“Identity verified.  Please proceed.”

Lena stepped into the room.  She called it a “no-room” after the construct in a popular science fiction book.  Its default (and minimum) surveillance countermeasure was red level which meant it was 99.0 % undetectable by anyone or anything on earth as well as low earth orbit.  Above red was scarlet which rendered it 99.99% undetectable even from deep space scans. Then finally crimson which rendered it 100% undetectable by anyone, anywhere– theoretically.  She was sure about the science and technology for that setting- all that was required was human testing with her as the subject.

She sat down in front of a console and switched it on: cool blue lights cast a soft glow and the screens on the video wall in front of her flickered to life.

The 700Q533 had actually been ready for months now, but other… tests, specifically the one in the floor below had kept her occupied.

She would have preferred different parameters for the alpha but this was as good as any.

“Danielle.”

“How may I be of service Lena?”

“Record and annotate everything until I tell you to stop.”

“Recording now.”

“Looksee protocol alpha test one point zero:  initiate.”

“What is the date and location?”

“Last night, 10:00 p.m.  Location is…” She paused; if she really did this there was no turning back.

“Do you wish to proceed with the alpha test?”

Lena took a deep breath and nodded.  “16 Hope Street, Apartment 4A.”

Images of Kara’s apartment from different angles appeared on some of the screens: they were from the building and room CCTVs, Kara’s cell, the cameras from her notebook computer and desktop.  Step one, but an elite hacker could patch into those electronics with ease.

The next step was the beginning of the real test.  “Initiate looksee protocol at this location.”

The other screens flickered to life with negative images of the apartment from other angles.  The protocol had turned the other appliances into sonar sources: on the V-darknet there had been talk of The Bat doing this on a city-wide scale.  She had borrowed the idea and expanded on it.

Now came the critical part.

“Stitch.”

There was a slight flicker as the room disappeared– replaced by Kara’s apartment.  She had done it:  she had turned the electronics in Kara’s apartment into imaging sources and the looksee protocol had stitched the data together to form an immersive environment in real time.  

She got out of the chair and walked around.  It was like being at Kara’s; the thought made her breath hitch and brought tears to her eyes.

Now all she had to do was wait.

It didn’t take long:  Kara zoomed in and still in her work clothes threw up into the toilet in the bathroom.

Lena watched her clean herself off and remove her uniform.  She ached to touch that amazingly toned, warm body.  Instead she watched Kara stare upward till sleep came and tears seeped from beneath the closed eyelids.

She stayed by Kara’s side while she slept then watched and listened intently as Alex visited and comforted her sister.  All in real-time simulation.

As the Danvers sisters gently snored, she wiped her eyes. “Looksee protocol alpha test one point zero:  terminate.”  Her voice caught on the last word.

Then she went to her bathroom and had a long soak.

*                                            *                                   *                                        *

It was something of a comfort to know that Kara’s infidelity wasn’t caused by attraction (physical, emotional or otherwise which would have meant that she was no longer the most important thing in her girlfriend’s heart) but by need (she had been obviously thinking with her vagina which was cold comfort and that irony was deliberate).  It could have been foreseen, considering the frequency of their “alone time” had taken on a decidedly upward trajectory.  Still, she wondered why the silly girl just didn’t—-

And then everything clicked into place: she didn’t because she didn’t know how!  “Self-care” would have been as alien to Kara as sex was before she deflowered the Kryptonian.

Strangely it made her feel much, much better.  And now she could forgive Kara. She dried herself with a soft fluffy towel and wrapped herself in a luxurious bathrobe as she padded barefoot downstairs to the most secure section.  Her verification was good for the whole day, as long as no one else entered: then it would have to be done again: this was the standard protocol, a countermeasure against shapeshifters.

While those were effective with a 99.99% confidence level, *this* section required 100% as the technology here was the most dangerous thing she had ever built.  That *anyone* had ever built in this era.

She reached a glass booth, and placed her robe on a peg and entered naked. This was the final fool-proof failsafe: a comprehensive DNA analysis.  While it was theoretically possible for the best shapeshifters to copy her form and mannerisms to perfection, it would be impossible for them to copy her genetic code because it was unique.

And not just the 0.1% that differentiated one human being from another.  

Her DNA was only half-human.

Lena Kieran Luthor, the sister of Lex Luthor, adoptive daughter of Lillian Luthor, two of the world’s most rabid human supremacists, was in fact a hybrid: half human and half Coluan to be precise, gifted with the best traits of both species.  The vast intelligence and longevity of the latter and the compassion, empathy and intuitive leaps of the former.

That genetic makeup alone would have been enough to make her a unicorn but her mother’s bloodline was peerless: she was a Dox.  Querl Dox was her son, making Lena the half-sister of perhaps the most brilliant Coluan to ever live.

There was a very good reason the Dox family was far more intelligent than the rest of Colu: recombinatant eugenics.  The first Dox to have attained twelfth level intelligence due to a genetic mutation was also farsighted enough to realize that it needed to be preserved in the bloodline but was also cognizant of the dangers of inbreeding.  The solution was the recombination of Dox DNA with the genetic material of the dam or sire (selected for desirable qualities) of whoever married into the family.  That way both parents would pass on the genetic mutation for twelfth level intelligence to their offspring.

After her mother, once Colu’s foremost researcher in twelve disciplines, suffered a calamitous drop in intelligence due to the deployment of a bio-weapon against Coluans designed for that express purpose, she changed her appearance via nanobot epidermal resequencing and exiled herself to 21st Century earth as her now seventh level intellect was now only slightly ahead of the planet’s inhabitants.

A chime sounded.

“Analysis complete:  DNA is hybrid human and Coluan.  Identity confirmed.  Hello, Lena.”

As she put on the robe a panel opened and a screen flickered to life.  There was a virtual keyboard with Interlac characters.  Lena keyed in Danielle’s original designation as the user name:  C-O-M-P-U-T-O.

The screen blinked green as the name was accepted and the characters changed to Kryptonian.  She smiled.  She pressed the equivalent of “r” then when it blinked traced a circle: the symbol for Rao.

The wall slid open soundlessly.  In the distance was a blue glow.  From the outside the space seemed as it would be very small, like a closet.  As she entered and walked towards the glow it was anything but- a space larger on the inside than the outside:  a tesseract.

The darkness gave way to glowing blue patterns on the walls and floor.  Quickening her pace she made for the center of the room where a spherical vehicle that had a steampunk-ish vibe was parked.

She called it the RiDire, a pun on the Irish name for a chess knight.  It was possibly the most dangerous invention in the world.  Using the here and now as an anchor the vehicle phased to a parallel dimension by moving sideways through reality’s spacetime.  Once in the alternate dimension it could move forwards or backwards in that dimension’s timeline, maintaining a phantom presence as its vibrational frequency was still anchored to the home dimension.

Dangerous, yes.  Reckless, absolutely. But this gave her knowledge that only gods should possess.  

Like what if she and Kara never met?

Or more chillingly:  what would happen if they became enemies?  She shuddered- the answer to that question could never be unseen.

She left the chamber in a rush and called Kara.

“Darling, it’s time we talked.”

* “She’s Gone” written by Daryl Hall and John Oates.  No copyright violation is intended.

(Author’s note:  This is where I was heading to from the start.  The amazing Katie McGrath, who puts so much love and artistry into bringing Lena Luthor to life, deserves more than being reduced to arm candy or a love interest of a non-lead character.  She is one half of Supergirl’s power couple after all.  CW Supergirl showrunners and writers:  elevate Lena Luthor to Supergirl’s level: this is one way to do it.)

[essaysbyciara]

Thy Neighbor (Chapters 13 + 14)

[Chapter 1][Chapter 2][Chapter 3][Chapter 4][Chapter 5 + 6][Chapter 7 + 8][Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11][Chapter 12] 

As you all can tell, I goofed about the rest of the story coming out all at once. I’m bad, y’all. The chapters are coming lol 

As always, thankyoux1000 for the likes, comments, repost, follows. Y’all had me dying when I came back from my fast. If you would like to be added to the taglist, let me know. Peace and love! 

Ciara’s chest grows hot with anticipation at the thought of performing a petty act or two at the expense of Trevante’s feelings. Watching as Yahya saunters into the last empty seat at the bar makes her eyes light up, more bright than her phone screen, Trevante texting her incessantly since she returned that gift. 

Trevante instantly felt sick when gym manager strutted her way into the living room as Ciara stood looking like a mix of anger and confusion. He knew his blunder but also knew to face the consequences of choosing to postpone dinner for a dalliance. Gym manager wasn’t there much longer after that. Lying about friends coming over, he quickly moved to get her out of his apartment. With even faster speed, he texted Ciara.

I’m sorry.

She’s gone. Can we talk?

Really, Ciara?

Can I come over and talk to you?

Let me make it up to you.

He desperately wanted to make it up to her. Trevante’s feelings for Ciara were a tad bit more complex than he could understand. He remembers their dinner at Sugarhouse vividly, this moment where they talked about their lives in such a transparent way. He remembers when she told him about how it’s hard for her to date because of her celibacy. Must men don’t get it, she quipped. Trevante thought of himself to be one of those men. But yet he felt this undercurrent of sexual energy from Ciara that pierced through him that entire night. It made him curious but also in awe that she kept those waves bottled up inside of her. He wondered if he could ever do that same. Sex became empty for Trevante the more and more he had it. But a necessary evil in his life because without that interaction, he’d feel the loneliness.

So as he continued to find himself around this unicorn that was Ciara, he felt emotions that were all-too-new. He wanted to pick her brain, spend more time with her, be around her energy, be a part of her space. But he found trouble reconciling with the idea that she wouldn’t want to consummate that energy. That was enough for him to lean on the side of not pursuing a relationship with her. He wanted the all that but needed the more. The more being sex.

Sex cascades Ciara’s thoughts as she stares at Yahya. His tall, milk chocolate complexion and long limbs push her mind into a very dangerous place that Mahalia sniffs out as soon as he walked through the door.

“Hey, Ash. You can close me out but can you put his drink on my tab?” Ciara points at Yahya’s tired body barely hanging on at the bar. Ashley closes Ciara’s tab, her left eyebrow perched in Ciara’s direction.

Ashley walks over to Yahya, a glass full of non distinct cognac in her hand. As she places the glass in front of Yahya, she turns to point at Ciara. Yahya’s face grows inquisitive. He bites his lower lip in approval once he lays eyes on who bought it for him.

He picks up his limber yet built frame and walks over to the now-empty bar seat next to Ciara. Ciara avoids eye contact for as long as she could, staring at the texts from Trevante. And deleting them as fast as she could.

“You made my night with this drink.” Yahya’s torso towers over Ciara. “Thank you…”

“You can call me C.”

“Well, thank you C. I think you need something too.”

“No, it’s late. I can’t…”

“Ashley. Whatever she’s been drinking on tonight.”

Ashley gives Ciara a look. Ciara shoots one back.

“Long day at work, huh?”

“Yeah. I’m an litigations attorney. Long day of work for you too?” Yahya scans Ciara’s frame with every long sip of his drink.

“No. I got stood up on a date. Shit happens.”

“He’s an idiot.”

Ciara leans back slightly in her chair. “Why you say that?”

“I’m looking at you. He’s an idiot.”

Ciara touches the broadest spot of Yahya’s left shoulder as a response to his sweetness. As she casually looks down, she notices a shiny object slightly blinding her right eye: a wedding band. In that moment, she felt the conviction that Mahalia and Ashley hoped she would find in this moment. She readjusts her body, moving the bar stool far away from Yahya. He’s too drunk on lust and Crown Royal to notice.

“I don’t think I can finish this drink. I should get home.” Ciara throws her phone into her purse, her body jumping off the seat.

“Where’s home?” Yahya gulps down the rest of his drink and gets up to stand alongside Ciara. His height made him even more daunting.

“Why? You can’t take me home.”

“You can take me to yours though.”

Yahya’s boldness catches Ciara off-guard. As her body and spirit beg her to leave, she decides to level a parting blow to his ego.

“You should probably text your wife that you’re on your way home. Have a great night.”

Chapter 14

Ciara wants to sweat last night out of her system. As she ran on the treadmill, she completely forgets about Trevante’s  five a.m. gym routine. The longer at it, the more endurance she gains. When she first started to work out, she could barely last thirty seconds. Now, she crushes two minutes of running under her feet. Working out relieves a ton of stress -- sexual and otherwise.

As  “Roll Some Mo” by Lucky Daye plays in his headphones, Trevante ignores the gym manager with a vengeance quite unseen. Feeling some type of way about Ciara’s ignorance of his texts, he barrels himself into the locker room. He heard Ciara’s door slam late the night before. He heard silence after that. He didn't want to admit to trying to hear on the other side of his wall where Ciara slept. He wondered if he’d get a repeat of the other night after their date, where he heard sounds so sweet coming out of a woman who hadn’t been touched by a man in a while.

So surprise cascades his face when he sees Ciara running on the treadmill. He picks up his pace to grab the treadmill right next to her. Ciara doesn’t notice Trevante to the left of her, so hellbent to melt last night away that the Big K.R.I.T. in her headphones helps her tune everything out. It wasn’t until she slows down her pace on the treadmill that she notices Trevante standing right next to her, looking at her trying to catch her attention. She tries to ignore him. His shirtless body makes it so hard.

Despite that, Ciara keeps her gingerly pace. Growing annoyed, Trevante hits the emergency stop button on Ciara’s treadmill.

“Negro... what…”

“Can we talk, please?”

“Nah, Tre. I think we’re good.”

They weren’t good. At least in Ciara’s mind. Although she’s still mad at Trevante’s lack of common sense, she still wants him to prove her anger wrong.

“We’re not good, Ciara. Come on…”

“Trevante. I’m not about to argue with you on a damn treadmill.”

“Let me drive you to school this morning, then. So we can talk. Please?”

Trevante’s face looks overly sincere and Ciara relents. She grabs her water bottle and leaves Trevante to run.

Ciara notices the NPR playing softly in the background as Trevante drives down South Broad Street. It was nice to know that she wasn’t upset that an airhead wanted nothing to do with her.

“Thank you for driving me to school. You didn’t have to do this…”

“Whatever I had to do to get you to talk to me, shit.”

“So what’s up.” Ciara turns in the passenger seat to look at Trevante. His button up shirt and slacks barely contain his body. Super snug to his frame, Ciara quickly notes that Trevante knows how to get attention. You can also count Ciara too.

“First, I want to apologize to you for last night. That’s my bad. I should have said something to you.”

“Yep.” Ciara feels the need to keep things short and sweet especially since she wanted to yell every emotion from inside of her.

“I promise you I’m not that type of dude.”

“What type of dude?”

“A dude who sleeps around like that, I swear.”

“Whatever, Tre. Don’t apologize for how you live your life.” Trevante feels bullied by Ciara’s words. Dismissed too. He wants to show her that he was a stand-up man, a man that could admit when he’s wrong. And that he’s not the worst of what Ciara may be thinking. Trevante is hoping for laughs, maybe giggles. He is met with silence. They both sit in that soundless space for the next few minutes of their car ride.

“What you getting into tonight?” Trevante asks, hoping Ciara would be free.

“I’m probably going to that Proverbs event you told me about with a few co-workers.”

“Oh, cool.” Wrong answer, he thinks. More silence follows.

“Tre. What are we doing? What is this?” Ciara broke the silence with the one question Trevante dreaded the most. He could never answer it in the way that left the one asking in a good mood.

“I think you’re a dope person. But I’m not looking for anything serious right now. It’s timing, it’s not you.”

“Nah, Tre. I’m not one of these girls you sleep with. I think you can be honest with me.” Honesty means telling Ciara that he would love to know what it would be like to belong to a woman like her but the no sex thing gets in the way of him committing full-stop. But since she wants honesty, Trevante feels called to deliver. Somewhat.

“I’m being honest. You’re dope as hell to me but I don’t think we’d work out.”

“It’s the celibacy thing, ain’t it…”

Trevante responds with silence. Ciara feels embarrassed. “There’s a El stop on the next corner, I’ll just take the train to campus.” Ciara grabs her book bag and gym bag and exits Trevante’s car. He wants to yell at her to get back in the car but the stop light is green. Ciara currently sees red.

taglist:  @blackpinup22 @voyagetoadinas9

[cookehenry90]

Reiki Chakra Agate All Time Best Tips

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Reiki Master Soul Collector

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How Much Reiki Session Cost

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[salty--alien]

Deeply Wired - cp. 9

Prologue | cp. 1 | cp. 2 | cp. 3 | cp. 4 | cp. 5 | cp. 6  | cp. 7 | cp. 8 | Ao3

Summary: It’s 2904. A mechanician known as the Doctor finds a broken android, Rose, and decides to take it with him and fix it. The two become closer quickly but soon a mysterious virus inside Rose starts acting up and revealing its true capabilities, changing everything. When Rose’s previous owner comes around and tries to get a hold of the Bad Wolf virus, the two are left with no choice. What lengths will they go to keep Rose away from the evil hands of the Master?

Pairing: Tenth Doctor x android!Rose Tyler (au)

Chapter: 10/11 (Counting prologue)

Rating: T

Wordcount: 3318

Notes: This is the last chapter before the epilogue. I’d like to thank all of you who have stayed with me through all this and given me positive feedback and supported me <3 You guys are the reason this story got this far. Beta’d by @wordsintimeandspace. A special thanks for @starlightkissedsmiles for helping me, too.

It was over.

The Doctor’s knees hit the ground and he slumped over, unable to tear his eyes away from the still form of Rose. His vision blurred with big, fat tears that spilled over and dotted the cold pavement.

“R-Rose?” he called out, reaching over to the android’s limp hand. “Rose…” the Doctor croaked as she remained lifeless, grasping her hand between his and holding them against his center. He stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, completely oblivious to the outside world. His Rose was gone. She was… she was gone. And this time there was no way for him to fix her. He could fix everything except the one thing that made Rose who she was.

A grunt of pain brought the Doctor back to his senses, reminding him he had company. Oh, that was right. Saxon. He was responsible for all this. He would pay. The Doctor would make him pay. He gritted his teeth, shaking from the growing anger inside him.

The Doctor slowly raised his head, bloodshot eyes staring at the man who was lying on the ground. Wait. Why was he lying on the ground? The Doctor wiped his eyes on his sleeve, not letting go of Rose’s inanimate hand. It looked like he was in pain, and while the Doctor was too angry to feel even an ounce of pity for Saxon, he wondered why regardless.

“Saxon?” he asked, voice tight. The blonde man rolled around, holding his head in pain.

“Fuck… fuck, FUCK!” he groaned. The Doctor furrowed his brows, glancing back at Rose and instantly regretting doing it. The rusty metal pipe was there, pierced straight through her throat… He couldn’t stand to look at her like that. It made him physically sick, and forced him to turn his attention back to the writhing, pathetic form of Saxon. Had Bad Wolf done something to Saxon? The Doctor had been so fixated on Rose that he hadn’t seen if Saxon had been hit by something. There wasn’t any bleeding as far as the Doctor could see, so he was pretty sure that whatever Saxon was struggling with was inside his head.

Him being hurt didn’t make the Doctor feel any remorse, though. He knelt over the cursing man, gripping his collar forcefully. Saxon yelped and tried to pry himself free.

“This is your fault!” the Doctor hissed, face twisted and mind clouded by anger. “You drove her to it, you made her do it!” Saxon whined at the accusation, trying to kick the Doctor away. His grip on Saxon was too strong.

“What are you talking about? Let me go, fucker, it’s already o– aaaARRGH!” Saxon’s words were cut off by his own, pained shout.

“...Why are you hurting?” the Doctor asked, forcing himself step back a little. The blonde man was holding his head again, growling like a mad dog.

“The stupid bitc–” “DON’T EVER CALL HER THAT!” the Doctor interrupted ruthlessly, almost crushing Saxon’s head on the hard ground.

“Why does it matter? She’s already dea–” Saxon began, but this time the Doctor actually did bang his head against the ground. Saxon’s sentence drowned behind the pained moan he let out. “Don’t. Say. It,” the Doctor demanded through gritted teeth, voice low and dangerous. Saxon let out a blasphemous laughter as soon as he had recovered from the hit.

“Say what? That she’s dead?” The Doctor pushed Saxon hard against the concrete, voice hissing as he spoke: “I told you. Not. To say it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry? Rose is dead, did you hear it this time? Your precious little plaything is de– OW! FUCK!” Saxon shouted as the Doctor’s fist connected with his face. The Doctor was panting from the sheer amount of anger and disgust he felt towards this man. Was he deliberately trying to get his ass kicked?

“Stop hitting me, moron! I’m already dying,” Saxon said, spitting blood from his mouth.

“...What?” the Doctor asked with a frown, pausing. “What do you mean?” “I tried explaining but you just fucking banged my head on the fucking ground!”

“Well you deserved it,” the Doctor replied coldly. Saxon sighed and grunted in discomfort.

“How do you think I was able to control her, smartass?” Saxon questioned, voice oozing with sarcasm.

“With the code?” the Doctor answered without a beat, confused by where this was going.

“Yeah, so you think a code would be able to identify me? My god, you’re much more stupid than I thought!” Saxon exclaimed. “Of course I have a bloody counter-chip in my brain to be able to… fucking hell, man.” Saxon tried to pry himself free again in vain.

“So you’re saying you got an actual chip there in your brain that was connected to them and now it’s just… self-destructing you? On purpose? How stupid are you?” the Doctor asked, getting the full picture now.

“Not on purpose. It’s her fucking fault for… hrrrgngh,” Saxon grunted, pained. Then he went totally pale. The Doctor shook him, trying to get him to continue. Then it hit him.

If Saxon died now, Rose would never get the justice she deserved.

No, no, no no no…

“Don’t you dare die now, Saxon! I’m not done with you yet!” the Doctor threatened, his pulse racing. Death was basically a jail-free card for this man! The Doctor shook Saxon harder, making him yelp.

“Ha… ha…” Saxon laughed, breathless. “Fuck you, Doctor. Seems like I’m winning after all.”

“NO! Don’t you dare,” the Doctor repeated, angry tears rolling down his cheeks. Saxon, however, didn’t hear him anymore. He grunted in pain, eyes closed. “The drums, the drums…” he groaned over and over, “make the drums stop, make them stop...” The Doctor could only watch as the man he so hated slowly stopped moving, slumping totally in his grip. The Doctor couldn’t feel Saxon’s pulse anymore. He was dead, killed by his own weapon.

The Doctor slowly let go of him and turned back to look at Rose before breaking down completely.

--------------------------

The Doctor had sat on the dead-end alleyway for a good thirty minutes. He just sat there, holding Rose’s hand and blaming himself for not being able to save her. For not being able to keep Saxon alive long enough for him to pay for his crimes. He removed the metal pipe out of Rose, not standing to see it there, reminding him of how she sacrificed herself to save the world. To save him, the brave, brave girl.

“Hey Rose,” the Doctor began after the white sound of silence began ringing too loud in his ears. His voice was hoarse from crying. “Let’s go home, yeah? I’ll fix you up in no time,” he assured, hands shaking. Seeing Rose so pale and lifeless for the third time in their time together made the Doctor feel hollow. It felt the same every time, only this time it was much worse because he knew he couldn’t bring Rose back. He couldn’t patch her up, not what was broken inside. He could bring Rose back physically but when it came to her personality, her memories… she would be just an empty shell that looked like her. More tears gathered at the corners of the Doctor’s eyes at the thought.

Picking up the android and cradling her close to his chest like a fragile little thing, the Doctor began walking to Saxon’s SUV. It was going to get them home.

The doors were unlocked and the key was still in the ignition switch. The Doctor gently laid Rose down on the back seats of the car, his slender arms already strained by the weight of her. Gently brushing back her hair, the Doctor kissed Rose’s forehead. Her words still haunted the back of his mind.

“I love you. Goodbye.”

The fact that she had uttered those words with a smile on her face made it hurt even more. It was like she had already accepted her fate. The Doctor swallowed, emotions welling up again. Truth to be told, he couldn’t tell how much of that had been Rose herself and how much had been the Bad Wolf speaking. The Doctor liked to believe it had been both of them, even if he hated the Wolf for essentially being the reason Rose was no longer here.

“I love you too,” he whispered shakily, looking at her peaceful face. Unable to look at Rose’s face longer, the Doctor closed the car’s door and went to take care of Saxon’s body.

--------------------------

The Doctor left Saxon to rot behind a dumpster in the alley. He hadn’t found much on the body anyway, just Rose’s ownership records that he did take with him. The Doctor also collected the flash drive Saxon had tossed aside for further investigation. He went through the man’s phone before smashing it on the ground in case someone was tracking it.

The whole drive back the Doctor felt a huge weight sitting on his chest. Flashes of gold kept flickering before his vision like memories, reminding him of Rose’s limp body stretched out on the backseat of the car. To distract himself, the Doctor pulled out Rose’s papers from the seat next to him and began half-mindedly reading them.

‘Model unit: R0-53

Model family: R0-5_

Serial code: 84DW01F22092899

Origin: The Powell Estate Factory, TPEF №2, New London

Day of purchase: 10.10.2899

Owner’s name: Harold Saxon’

Reading Rose’s official records felt weird to say the least. Seeing Saxon’s name in the papers, black on white. It made the Doctor shiver. Reading and driving simultaneously wasn’t a good idea anyway. Leaving the papers aside and making a mental note to improve them later, the Doctor pulled over next to his workshop. He collected everything from the car, Rose included. “Here we are, Rose. Home,” the Doctor said gently, pretending she could hear him.

--------------------------

Just as he’d promised, the Doctor did fix Rose up as much as he could. He worked on her destroyed neck night and day, making sure all the tiny wires and joints were connecting where they should. In the end, Rose looked like she always had; absolutely beautiful. Not a single scratch besides that faint scar she had on her right wrist. It was as if she was just sleeping, which of course didn’t fool the Doctor for a second since androids didn’t sleep.

“I’m so sorry, Rose,” the Doctor whispered. He couldn’t stand seeing her there, on the table, so still. Rose was no lab rat and she deserved a softer place to rest.

‘She’s not going to recover, Doctor. You know that, right?’ a faint voice in the back of his head reminded. Ignoring the voice, the Doctor hooked his arms under Rose’s back and knees, picking her up and taking her to the his bedroom. She could rest on his bed - it wasn’t like he was going to use it. Not when he had to figure out a way to fix Rose.

‘You know you can’t fix her. Let her go,’ the voice persisted.

“No,” the Doctor growled, fists clenched tight in denial. He smoothed the blanket over Rose before marching to his workbench and getting to work. He had to find a way to fix her.

He had to.

--------------------------

The Doctor broke down again in the evening. He’d worked all day, digged in the darkest corners of the internet and found nothing. Nothing but confirmation that Rose was truly gone. There was no way to restore her personality, memories, anything.

The Doctor began mentally beating himself up. Why hadn’t he predicted this? Why hadn’t he taken a back-up of Rose’s chip? Why hadn’t he made sure… Wait.

“A back-up…” the Doctor mumbled to himself, frowning. “A back-up… a copy…”

What if he did have a copy?

The Doctor scrambled up and ran to the SUV parked outside as fast as he possibly could, desperate. Saxon had a copy of Rose’s chip. Saxon had a copy of Rose’s chip. He’d overheard it in Saxon and Rose’s conversation. Saxon had taken a backup. It wasn’t in the same flash drive as Saxon’s corruption drive which he had used to override Rose’s system, but it had to be somewhere.

The Doctor kept rampaging through the black SUV in a frenzy, turning over every seat and locker and bag there was. He was so desperate, so desperate. Almost hopeful. He opened the locker next to the steering wheel, pulling out everything inside it. He discovered a car manual, a bunch of useless medical records that had nothing to do with Rose, and a half empty whiskey bottle. Nothing useful, then. The Doctor had checked everything. Window shades, under the seats, Saxon’s personal briefcase for God’s sake… Nothing. Saxon didn’t have it in his car. Bollocks.

The Doctor climbed out of the car, defeated. He took the car’s keys to lock the doors when his eyes suddenly settled on the key charm dangling from the keys. Only, it wasn’t a key charm. It was a micro-flash drive.

“R0-53 backup data 08/22”

The Doctor’s heartbeat sped up. It had been right in front of him all along. A relieved, shaky laugh escaped the Doctor’s mouth. He could fix her! He could… he could transfer all the data to an undamaged chip and install it in Rose and she would be okay! She would be just like she’d always been! They could have a clean start, he wouldn’t lie this time...

...Well. The Doctor’s smile fell a bit as he realised one thing.

Rose wouldn’t remember him anymore. She would only have all her memories of the time she spent with Saxon, since that’s when the back-up had been taken. And there was no way to tell what monstrosity he had put her through.

Not quite the clean start, after all.

--------------------------

‘Do you really want to do it?’ the Doctor’s mind asked. ‘Do you really want to bring her back to a world like this? Where she would remember all the horrible things Saxon probably put her through? Aren’t you just being selfish? Aren’t you just disrespecting her choices?’

There was no end to the questions. The Doctor had finished restoring the data to Rose’s new chip. It had taken overnight for all the data to transfer, but now the chip was ready to be put back into Rose. And she would wake up, she would be just like herself again. She would be back but she wouldn’t have any memory of their time together.

The Doctor buried his head in his hands, frustrated, Did he really want to put Rose through this again? Did he… He wanted to say those words back to her. He wanted her to know how much he… But it wouldn’t mean anything to her now, would it? She wouldn’t recognise him, she wouldn’t smile at him or say his name in that loving tone he had been trying to ignore before in his denial. He loved her. He loved her so much. But what if loving her meant letting her go? Or would she forgive him being selfish and bringing her back? He could take it, the Doctor decided. He could take Rose not remembering their time together. He could take the pain, he could do it all correctly this time. No secrets, that much he owed to her. He could be there for her, to help her heal from the times she had been under Saxon’s control now that she would remember it.

Rose had made her decision when she decided to sacrifice herself and now the Doctor was making his. And his decision was to not live a life without Rose in it.

--------------------------

The golden, rising sun shed its light on Rose’s beautiful face through the window. The Doctor sat on the edge of his bed, holding the android’s hand and swiping his thumb against her skin. It was only a matter of time before Rose’s system would restart itself. The chip was in there, so it would be any moment now. The waiting was driving him mad. It was also making him increasingly anxious, because he knew the moment Rose’s eyes opened, she would not remember him. To her, he didn’t exist. And although that was scary, his love for this woman overcame the fear.

When the sunlight of the dawn had reached the tip of Rose’s button nose, the Doctor felt her hand twitch slightly. Oh god, it was happening. The Doctor let go of Rose’s hand, not wanting to scare her, but also holding back a new wave of tears that were a strange mix of sadness and joy. Rose sniffed in a groggy manner before her eyelids fluttered open. The Doctor’s tears spilled over at seeing the sunlight pierce Rose’s whiskey brown eyes, melting them into a colour of golden caramel. He let out a shaky breath he’d been holding, a watery laugh escaping him.

Rose’s eyebrows furrowed a bit as she began discovering her unfamiliar surroundings. However, it was only as her eyes settled on the Doctor that his heart broke completely.

“W-who… who are you?” The look of uncertainty, the hint of fear in her voice… the way her eyes looked straight at him but saw nothing but a stranger. It was probably even harder than seeing the light leaving Rose’s eyes in the alley. The Doctor instinctively lowered his head, trying to hide his sadness. He swiped away the tears, forcing himself to be happy for having Rose back.

‘This is a new start. Remember? You can do this,’ the voice inside the Doctor’s head said, supportive for once. Or had it been telling the truth the whole time?

“My name’s the Doctor. I’m… I’m a friend,” he answered, looking back at the confused android with a encouraging smile. Rose seemed less scared now, but her face was still uncomfortable.

“Where’s my Master?” she asked timidly, making the Doctor’s stomach turn. “Where’s Mr. Saxon?”

The Doctor’s smile turned tight and somewhat forced as he responded: “He’s gone. He’s not coming back, I promise.” Rose frowned, licking her lips. Her demeanor was completely different from the Rose the Doctor had known, but not completely unlike the way she had been the first time they had met. And well… He had to accept that Saxon had probably had an impact on Rose’s behaviour along the years.

“So… you’re my Master now?” Rose asked, beginning to rise up from the bed and leaning on her elbows.

“What? No!” the Doctor almost shouted, making Rose flinch visibly.

“I mean… Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I… there’s a lot I’ve yet to tell you, love,” the Doctor said with a gentler tone, the endearment just slipping in accidentally. “But most importantly…” he continued, reaching behind him for a bunch of papers, “this is who you are now.” The Doctor gave the papers to Rose, who read them with a crease between her brows.

‘Model unit: R0-53 Name: Rose

Model family: R0-5_

Serial code: 84DW01F22092899

Origin: The Powell Estate Factory, TPEF №2, New London

Day of purchase: 10.10. 2899 ← birth year

Owner’s name: Harold Saxon No one but herself

Status: The most excellent, generous, kind android on this Earth.’

After a while Rose looked up from the papers, having read and seen the changes the Doctor had made to them. The Doctor awaited her reaction nervously, trying to read from the android’s blank look if she was happy or scared. A short moment passed between the two, giving Rose time to just look the Doctor in the eye as if she was trying to figure out whether or not to trust this strange man.

Then, a small smile formed on her lips, and at that moment the Doctor knew everything was going to be okay. He smiled back in the most brilliant way, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

They were going to be okay.

[yosttravis]

Checking in on Bill Mitchell, The Godfather of Being Wrong

I thought the Krassenstein Twins era would be the low point of Twitter. Remember the shirtless cartoons? Remember all of the conspiracy theories? I suppose Seth Abramson is still chugging along. While the worst part of Democrat Twitter is hunting for the latest and greatest ten-pronged Donald Trump conspiracy theory, the worst part of Republican Twitter is doing what they do best, full and unadulterated gaslighting. No one does this better than takist Bill Mitchell. Bill prides himself on Being Right All Of The Time -- he’s a few months away from betting Diet Dews against Skip Bayless. Anyways, the best of the best gaslighters in this niche do two things well: they signal boost when they were right, and they bury where they were wrong. Burying comes in the form of either pretending they never said that (Mitchell is an exceptional tweet deleter), or moving the goal posts (he’s even better here). Mitchell has had a lot of takes on the coronavirus outbreak. Like many of us, he has zero subject matter expertise. That didn’t stop him from screaming to a rabid, half-million follower base about the danger coronavirus didn’t present to the American public. Of course, as the obvious severity of the issue has become more and more obvious, Mitchell just changed his tune -- April has seen him spending his days begging for an economy open-up, pretending death counts are fake, and calling out people like Anthony Fauci as Deep Staters. It should be noted that math isn't particularly Bill's strong suit.

Interesting that ActBlue raised an average donation of $30.38. This would imply people are donating in uneven numbers, including pennies, which would be odd. OR it would indicate untraceable foreign donations and an exchange rate translation, which would be illegal.

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii) April 21, 2020

But it wasn’t always like this! One thing about Twitter is you can just .. kind of .. go back in time. January and February were reserved for occasional thoughts about the virus, China’s role, and the like -- mostly boilerplate stuff. In March, as limited cases spread into the States and concerns grew over the preparedness of the United States, Mitchell took it upon himself to carry as much water as he could for the federal government and their role in the pandemic. As time elapsed, Mitchell predictably transitioned his arguments and measurement criteria to whatever looked favorable for Donald Trump on a given day. Even a thirty day snapshot of this is comical. This is a daily collection of tweets from as far back as .... March of 2020.

Can you imagine the absolute PANIC if COVID-19 numbers were as bad an COMMON FLU numbers? https://t.co/hVzlwlbxWZ

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 1, 2020

Imagine if we ever hit 60K dead here in the States. Imagine!

The USA is one of the most traveled to destinations on the planet. The fact we only have 88 confirmed COVID-19 cases and 2 deaths is a true credit to President Trump's efforts to keep us safe.

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 2, 2020

Am I right in thinking the vast majority of US cases of COVID-19 were acquired outside the US mainland? So in essence, those really aren't US cases at all. They are international cases of people from the US.

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 2, 2020

COVID-19 began by people eating infected snakes from a Wuhan market. Wuhan death rates highest by far. Is this due to lack of care or because ingesting the virus in food makes it more potent? Is China slowing down because people are no longer ingesting it just as with SARS?

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 3, 2020

Imagine for a moment that COVID-19 targets only unborn children, killing a million American babies in the womb every year. The Democrats would be outraged, calling for Trump's impeachment for, "failing to protect the most vulnerable among us." We could rename it to ABORTION-19.

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 4, 2020

As you know, abortions are ... contagious?

And so what if the mortality rate of COVID-19 appears higher in some places than the flu? You will NEVER get 31 million cases of COVID-19 in the US. You will NEVER get 34,000 deaths from this disease. And for the flu, 34,000 deaths is a SLOW season. https://t.co/eMDKepUd2V

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 6, 2020

COVID-19 is serious and needs to be limited. But so is the flu - much much more serious. Closing down events, businesses etc. is overdoing it. The best solution. If you are sick, stay home. Don't go to see the Stones with the flu.

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 6, 2020

As biological weapons go, COVID-19 is pretty mild. I mean, compare that to some of the NASTY stuff they came up with in WW1.

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 6, 2020

COVID-19 isn't the flu. Until COVID-19 infects 31 million and kills 34,000 Americans, the flu is worse.

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 6, 2020

Coronavirus "survivor" had a 3 hour fever of less than 100 and not a single symptom since there.

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 7, 2020

So every time a new virus comes along that kills 3500 people worldwide we shut down modern civilization? COVID-19 seems to share a lot of common goals with climate change activism, doesn't it? Coincidence?

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 8, 2020

How big a deal is COVID-19?

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 8, 2020

(As an aside, this is one of any million of examples of Bill moving goal posts. First it was nothing, then it was real but not as bad as the flu, then it was like the flu. And so on. You may know this, but Bill Mitchell -- not a doctor.)

I am seeing more and more trollbot accounts calling themselves "Trump supporters" who aren't and are spreading COVID-19 #fearporn. This is a concerted effort by the left to over-hype this. It's obvious as yesterday they called for banning Trump rallies.

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 9, 2020

There are a bunch of these but Bill’s surprise that this global health issue may not be political and, well, Republicans can actually be concerned with their health ...

Will companies start mass-layoffs for the COVID-19 dip? Unlikely. Hiring and training new staff is EXPENSIVE and CEO's understand this is all hype-driven. They don't want to unleash their hard-earned staff so their smarter competitors can scoop them up cheap.

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 9, 2020

Certainly not an economist either.

How can Democrats say Trump is failing in his COVID-19 response when America is clearly outperforming the planet by leaps and bounds in prevention? More #FakeNews. https://t.co/VC1EO4J4nW

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 9, 2020

The amount of hyper-hype surrounding COVID-19 is truly without precedent. Other than 15 people who died at an senior acute care facility in WA known for poor virus protections in the past, SEVEN Americans have died from COVID-19. SEVEN. Did you catch that? SEVEN.

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 9, 2020

I've gotten a flu shot 3 times. 3 times I got the flu shortly thereafter. I won't be rushing to get a COVID-19 shot.

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 9, 2020

Not a doctor.

I've gotten a flu shot 3 times. 3 times I got the flu shortly thereafter. I won't be rushing to get a COVID-19 shot.

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 9, 2020

The media can bitch all they want about Trump's "failure of leadership" on COVID-19, but the bottom line is, in a nation of 350,000,000 souls, outside of one senior care center in WA, there have been just 8 deaths from this disease. That's REAL leadership and REAL results.

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 10, 2020

What will be the next Democrat manufactured crisis after COVID-19 fades away with the warm weather?

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 10, 2020

I keep hearing that deaths from COVID-19 are going to "explode" in the US any day now. WHEN?

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 11, 2020

Not an epidemiologist, either.

A month from today, how many American will have died from COVID-19?

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 11, 2020

This doesn’t have anything to do with Bill but boy is it depressing.

Just to be clear in case you missed it: 94% of all reported deaths from COVID-19 are in THREE countries. The largest of those 3 accounting for 70% of all deaths has slowed expansion to a crawl - they've beaten it. Take away these TOP THREE and you have only 291 global deaths.

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 12, 2020

Ignore the dead people and you have less dead people. An update to this one would be nice.

Looks like the COVID-19 updates are in: USA - 1 new death. 10 in serious condition. Hardly the zombie apocalypse we've been promised.

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 12, 2020

Other than Japan, the USA is clearly doing much better than any other major nation - and yet, the #Media is calling Trump's efforts an abject failure. Remove the 26 deaths from one nursing home and there have been only 15 deaths in America attributed to COVID-19. pic.twitter.com/nM2iZtGy3c

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 13, 2020

What do fake climate models, fake COVID-19 models and fake polls have in common? They are all fictional numbers created for one purpose, to provide a premise for that days #TDS news cycle. None of it is real.

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 13, 2020

March 13th is one of the earliest days where Bill began positioning his next line of arguments, transitioning from “the numbers don’t exist” to “the numbers do exist but now they aren’t real”.

I'm amused by people who say, "just the flu." The flu infects millions and kills 10's of thousands. When COVID-19 gets to that level, ring a bell so we'll know. https://t.co/ZUD9F54NZr

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 14, 2020

US testing for COVID-19 is really taking off. Expect infection numbers to spike and mortality to plummet. I'm guessing we'll be under 1% US mortality within 2 weeks and under .5% in a month.

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 18, 2020

Not a mathematician. Certainly not a freaking mathematician.

What makes the 127 lives lost to COVID-19 so much more valuable than the 50,000 lives lost to the flu?

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 18, 2020

Six weeks and annualized and .. yeah.

100% cure rate + warm weather = the end of the COVID-19 panic. Of course, the #Media won't want to let this go since it'a all they've got, but just a matter of time now. https://t.co/V0eIsydR4H

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 20, 2020

Mitchell has frequently criticized the media, an easy target with such significant failings on both sides of the political aisle. But he also will very quickly circulate anything that coincides with his unfounded, baseless, void-of-science beliefs. From those same media outlets. Every time. “Believe it only when I say so.” The usual.

No one cares about flu deaths because the flu is "common" and has no fear factor. It cannot be used politically. And yes folks, this is ALL about politics. This is all about beating Trump. It won't work. Tell me when COVID-19 reaches 55,000 US deaths.

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 20, 2020

Yes, tell Bill when we reach 55K deaths here in the States.

Dr #FearPorn Fauci is the designated Democrat Debbie Downer of the #COVID19 crisis: Vaccines are beginning trials! FAUCI: "Those will take years of testing."#Hydrochloroquine very effective treating COVID-19! FAUCI: "We need massive, slow testing before that is used." Jerk.

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 20, 2020

Bill Mitchell, not a doctor.

Here's the deal. If you are on Trump's COVID-19 Task Force, you DO NOT run to CNN and CONTRADICT the President unless, YOU ARE THE ENEMY. FULL STOP. https://t.co/72UdoU0p9I

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 20, 2020

See prior.

COVID-19 will be over as a serious global threat within 60 days, and perhaps sooner.

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 22, 2020

All of the arrogant liberals telling us COVID-19 is the worst disease ever to strike mankind will crawl back under their rocks in another 30-60 days when this is all over - then come back out next time some new fake disaster arises to harm Trump.

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 22, 2020

Studies have shown, as with H1N1, CFR'S tend to be inflated by a factor of 10 early as only the sickest are tested. As time passes this changes and CFR plummets by a factor of 10. In the end, COVID-19 will be no more deadly than H1Ñ1 which was no more deadly than THE FLU.

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 23, 2020

“H1N1 caused 18,500 laboratory-confirmed deaths with an estimated 151,700 to 575,400 deaths total in two years.”

Trust me, within 60 days, the #Media will be writing articles that COVID-19 was, "a scam by Trump all along." "He always knew there was a cure but withheld it for maximum effect." They'll even find some way to tie it to Russia. You KNOW it's coming.

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 23, 2020

NY is clearly the COVID-19 apex in America. Word is major #hydrochloroquine testing may begin there tomorrow. If that happens and shows results, it's just a matter of time before President Trump has defeated "a once in 100 years" outbreak, as the #Media loved to call it.

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 23, 2020

By wildly overhyping COVID-19, Democrats have set Trump up to be the GOAT when this thing ends in the next 30 to 60 days. They put the ball on the T for Babe Ruth with the bases loaded.

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 24, 2020

So far today, new COVID-19 are lagging yesterday's numbers. Of course that can still change, but we are NOT seeing exponential growth. This looks like the top of a bell curve. pic.twitter.com/Fj99H9q2kA

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 24, 2020

Not a mathematician.

My sixth sense is telling me that the research done on creating a COVID-19 vaccine will lead to a completely new approach to fighting viruses and a "Universal Virus Vaccine" which defeats all viruses ability to attach to and invade human cells.

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 25, 2020

By the 25th of March, we were in Bruce Willis territory.

History will look at COVID-19 as the greatest overreaction in medical history based upon politics.

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 26, 2020

There were about 15K dead globally at the time of this tweet. We are now at a quarter million dead, one month later.

Since the COVID-19 outbreak began, Diarrhea has killed 900,000 people. Can someone link me to the best Diarrhea Tracker? I'd like to avoid dying from Diarrhea. Thanks.

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 26, 2020

I don’t even know, I had to include it though.

If COVID-19 numbers doubled the seasonal flu, I'd be concerned. https://t.co/pZYZOgXPLh

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 27, 2020

A great goalpost move. A week prior it had to “match” the flu. Now it’s double. Then we can talk!

I would not put it past Cuomo to alter New York's mortality numbers. Are they counting deaths WITH or FROM COVID-19? Something strange is going on there.

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 29, 2020

Around the end of March, coinciding with the inevitable exponential growth being experienced in the States, Mitchell strengthened the transition from ‘not a problem’ to ‘not really a problem’ to ‘it’s not worth shutting the economy over’ to 'the numbers are fake’. Which is odd, because as far as I can tell, Mitchell has never disputed -- in the literal sense -- the existence of coronavirus.

I am seeing hundreds of tweets from people who had a "weird flu" in December. Many of the COVID-19 symptoms, but tested negative for flu. No one described this as "life-threatening," just the flu, maybe a bit on the mild side.

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 29, 2020

Not a doctor.

I take whatever mortalities I see reported in Italy and divide by 10 to get close to those actually killed by COVID-19. Their counting method is preposterous. 11% CFR is BS.

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 29, 2020

GOOD OLD DOCTOR DOOM IS AT IT AGAIN ON CNN, HIS FAVORITE SPOT TO DUMP ON TRUMP - Fauci: U.S. Could Have 100k to 200k Deaths from Coronavirus https://t.co/oB7nXarQo1 via @BreitbartNews

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 29, 2020

The States are over 60K dead as of today, so "Dr. Doom” appears to be forecasting with a reasonable degree of accuracy, unlike Bill, who is not qualified for any of this.

If 80,000 die from COVID-19 it would be roughly equivalent to a bad flu season we'd normally ignore.

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 29, 2020

(Goal posts. Now it’s 80,000.)

Seems as if the exponential growth in COVID-19 deaths is always, "The Day After Tomorrow." I was assured two weeks ago we'd already be at many thousands of US deaths daily by now.

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 30, 2020

It seems Dr Birx and Dr. Fauci are completely discounting the effects of warm weather and #hydrochloroquine on COVID-19.

— Bill Mitchell (@mitchellvii)

March 30, 2020

In summary: Bill Mitchell is a dangerous fool. And that is apolitical.

[starblazerm31]

(inspired by your “main 6 as retail employees” post) the courtiers as shitty retail customers?

8D  GAH!  YES!  *holds up The Hellraiser Box of Retail*  I HAVE SUCH SIGHTS TO SHOW YOU!!!

Now…as a note…everything I write here I have seen/happened to me personally.  EVERYTHING.  These are not your typical “Karen” stories.  Content warnings:  Bodily fluids (blood, vomit, feces, etc.).  Blatant rudeness.  Flagrant stupidity.  THEFT.  Disturbing malevolent behavior.  Sexual assault.

The Courtiers As Shitty Retail Customers (cont. of Main 6 as Retail Workers)

Valdemar

That customer who leaves unexplained blood spatters ALL OVER the single bathroom.  They didn’t seem injured when they went in…but after they came out, everyone swears they committed a murder in there.  Poor Julian got pegged to clean it up since he’s the one certified in hazardous spills and Muriel was off that day.

The customer who stares at everyone in a really uncomfortable way.  Like…are they planning on slitting someone’s throat right here in the store?  Please don’t…the employees really don’t want to have to deal with the inquiry and paperwork.

The customer who will grab a worker and just…occupy them.  Talking.  Oddly.  About anything and yet absolutely nothing.  But still dropping the most uncomfortable TMI.  One time, they grabbed Asra and just HAD to go into explicit detail about how they skin an animal after hunting.  And how much they love Satan. 

The customer who will ask a really dangerous request of the worker they swept up just hoping to see them get hurt.  One time, he asked Julian to check on a specific tire which was WAAAAAY up on the top of the huge tire rack.  Chuckled to himself when the tire fell on Julian and almost broke his arm while he was ten feet in the air on a ladder. 

Gets really offended when an employee gets too close.  "Come any closer and I’ll stab you.“  Julian:  "Do it.  Five cameras can see you RIGHT. NOW.”

*flashes a knife at Muriel*  Muriel:  "My dick is bigger.“

Volta

That customer who grabs food off of the shelf, eats it, then deposits the empty (or half-empty) wrapper/bottle on another shelf in another part of the store.

She once stole some things from the store and got a big head about it.  So she decided to come back the very next night to steal some more.  All the employees were wise to her and watched her very closely.  She stuffed a bunch of items up her shirt and made her way to the door.  Nadia and Muriel were standing there waiting for her.  She panicked and dropped everything out of her shirt in front of everyone (all the employees proceeded to point at her and laugh) and then walked out in a hurry.

When free snacks are offered to customers, she proceeds to stuff her face while spilling the snacks all over the store.  She leaves a trail of chips/popcorn wherever she walks.

Somehow managed to knock down an entire shelf of gallon jugs of water.  The water jugs all exploded on the floor.  It looked like a Noah’s Ark situation.

Walked by Muriel suddenly vomited onto the floor.

Will unfold and an entire shelf of shirts (about an hour’s worth of work) just to be a bitch.

Tried to steal a “Try Me” stick of deodorant that literally hundreds of people had touched.  Saw that she was being watched by Muriel, so she proceeded to look Muriel right in the eye and apply the deodorant.  Muriel:  "…I hope she gets sick.“

*grabs Nadia*  "I think that worker is spying on me!” *points to Julian*  "He keeps following me around!“  Julian is stocking shelves, not even paying attention to her.  "And his body odor is really offensive!”  *Nadia looks to her dubiously*  "I’m sorry about that.  Here, let me fix it.“  *walks over to Julian, explains the situation, and then gets on the radio*  "Watch the customer in accessories, they are behaving strangely.”  Thirty minutes later, Volta is being escorted out by police for theft.  Julian:  "Body odor!  *huffs* Enjoy the lockup BO you’re gonna have tomorrow, bitch.“

Vlastomil

Brings in Wiggler.  "He’s my emotional support worm!”

Wiggler pees on the floor.  Is asked to take his pet out of the store.  Proceeds to scream about how the store targets the mentally ill.  (Muriel has to go to the back to rage in private with Asra)

Asks about products, and then proceeds to criticize the store for even carrying such  "ridiculous” items.

Brings a fuckload of coupons, and expects them to be applied to clearance items.  Finds out that coupons cannot be honored for clearance items, and leaves two whole shopping carts of random items for the staff to reshelve.

“I can’t see myself spending $3 on THAT.”

To Asra:  "I’m going to need your employee discount.“  Asra:  "So…I can move in with you tonight?”  Vlastomil:  "What?“  Asra:  "Well, if I give you my discount, I will be promptly fired.  I have a snake to take care of.  If I lose my job, I lose my apartment and my ability to feed myself and my snake.  Since YOU would be responsible for my getting fired, I’d expect YOU to take care of me and my snake afterward.  So…I can move in with you tonight?”  Vlastomil:  "…nevermind.“

“The handsome manager said I could get this item with a 10% discount because it’s not the brand I’m wanting.”  Julian:  "Lucio isn’t here today.“  Vlastomil:  "He said it the other day.”  Julian:  "He has to actually be here and tell me that himself, sorry.  He’ll be here tomorrow, try again then.“

Went into the bathroom.  A few minutes later, came out and grabbed Muriel and said that the bathroom needed to be cleaned.  Muriel looked inside and was APPALLED by the sight of feces smeared EVERYWHERE.  The floor, all of the stall doors, the trash can, the sinks, the toilets.  Vlastomil:  "Yeah, I had an accident.”  Muriel did not hide his disgust and went to get the cleaning cart.  Threatened to quit that night.  Muriel:  "This is the kind of stuff DOCTORS AND NURSES deal with!  They get paid at least $20 an hour!  I make MINIMUM FUCKING WAGE!!!“

Vulgora

The customer that snaps at every single employee that speaks to them.

“No one likes (sports team)!  Why the hell do you even carry merch for this shitty team?!” (because there are more fans of that sports team than of the team that THEY like in that particular area)

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE’S A PENALTY FOR LETTING MY LAYAWAY EXPIRE?!  I WANT MY FULL REFUND!!!”

“RETURN THIS ITEM!”  Portia: “We don’t carry this item.”  Vulgora:  "YES YOU DO, I BOUGHT IT HERE!!“  Portia:  "I’m sorry, but this item is exclusive to (different store).”  Vulgora:  "YOU’RE AN IDIOT!  LET ME SPEAK TO YOUR MANAGER!“  Nadia proceeds to tell them the EXACT. SAME. THING.  Vulgora:  "YOU’RE ALL MORONS!  I’M CALLING CORPORATE!”

“How do I install a trailer hitch?”  Julian:  "I’m sorry, I don’t know.“  Vulgora:  "Well they just need to employ a trained monkey here!”  Julian:  "We ARE accepting applications, you know.“

“Is this shit real gold?”  Portia:  "Yes, 18k.“  Vulgora:  "How much is it?”  Portia:  *looks*  ”$250.“  Vulgora:  "What gold do you have for $20?”  Portia:  "Nothing.“

“I WILL CLIMB OVER THIS DESK AND MESS YOU UP!”  Portia: *points to the camera aimed directly at them*  "Do it.  I’ll see you in court.“

They lost their place in line because they had to go and look at something.  When the person behind them stepped up to the register and started to get their items rung up, they dashed back in front of the person and grabbed Portia’s arm to stop her from ringing up the other person’s items.  Drew back in shock and horror when Portia immediately balled up her fist and held it threateningly at them.  Nadia was standing right there next to Portia.  Nadia:  "You need to leave.  Right now.”  After they left, Nadia looked to Portia and said: “You wouldn’t have gotten in trouble if you’d hit them, you know.”  Portia:  "No one grabs me.  No one.“

"YOU’RE HIDING ALL OF THE STORE EXCLUSIVE POP FIGURES IN THE BACK SO YOU IDIOTS CAN BUY THEM ALL AND SELL THEM ON EBAY!!”  Julian:  "I’m sorry, but you’re incorrect.  That Pop figure is $8, and no one here wants to lose their job over an $8 figure.  Plus…the figure you’re wanting isn’t at this store anyway.“  Vulgora:  "AND WHY NOT?!”  Julian:  "…Because it’s sold online only.“ *shows them the online info that clearly states "online only”*

Valerius

The customer who expects an employee to follow them around with a basket while they shop.

“Is this organic?”  Julian:  "Yes, sir, it is.“  Valerius:  "I don’t believe you.  Places like this can’t possibly carry organic items.”

Left an ENTIRE. PILE. of tried-on clothes in the dressing room when the limit on items was 4.

Opened at least 20 different tubes of lipstick and swiped them on his arm.  Put them all back on the shelf.  Asra could be heard swearing as he had to pull each lipstick off of the shelf and dispose of them since they were no longer sanitary and could not be sold.  "Couldn’t he just steal?  It would have been so much easier…“

Comes into the store drunk off his ass and acts belligerent to everyone he sees.  Gets so OFFENDED when asked to leave.

"Are these diamonds real?”  Asra:  "They are lab-grown.“  Valerius:  "So they aren’t real.”  Asra:  "They are lab-grown, so they are synthetic diamonds.“ Valerius:  "So they aren’t real.”  Asra:  *sighs* “They wouldn’t be sold for just $50 if they were." 

Starts fights with other customers because he thinks "They’re weird.”

The customer who accosts other customers, thinking they work there.  Even though they AREN’T. WEARING. A. UNIFORM.

Stuffs a pile of clothes he decided he doesn’t want behind the tampons.

Demands that the single bathroom be unlocked, even though the single bathroom being locked means that it’s occupied.

“How do these pants make my package look?”  Julian:  "…I’m not going to look, sir.  But they make your calves look amazing.“

Walked by Asra and pinched his ass.  Looked so shocked when Asra whirled around and yelled at him.  Valerius: "Hey, I thought you would like that!”  Asra:  "I CLEARLY DID NOT!  That is called SEXUAL ASSAULT!!!  YOU GO TO JAIL FOR THAT!!!“