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[sgphysics]

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[nerdie-faerie]

Why is it that when I'm sick, finishing work late because a load of people didn't show up and ongoing work drama, stressed about my upcoming essay and still have a hour walk before I can get home, my dad is apparently kicking off and threatening to kick me out when I'm not even there??

[beneathashadytree]

HI GUYS! LONG POST, MAKING A BIG ANNOUNCEMENT OVER HERE! I WILL BE ACCEPTING WRITING COMMISSIONS FOR A COUPLE OF MONTHS, DUE TO THE FACT THAT I LIVE IN EXTREME POVERTY… PLEASE REBLOG!!

Here are my commision prices:

1$-2$ —> an SMAU (depends on length)

5$ —> a drabble (around 500 words)

10$ —> a oneshot (around 1000 words)

20$ or more—> a ficlet (2000-4000 words or more)

What fandoms I’m willing to write for (the ones in bold are the ones I’m best at and hyperfixating on):

Attack on Titan

Mr. Love: Queen’s Choice

My Hero Academia

Haikyuu!!

Jujutsu Kaisen

JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure

Moriarty the Patriot

Tokyo Revengers

One Piece

Bungou Stray Dogs

Kuroko no Basket

Ikemen Sengoku

Ikemen Vampire

Ikemen Revolution

Ikemen Prince

Love and Deepspace (my current fav)

How do I request a commission?

Either contact me via my DMs here, or on my Ko-Fi! I’ll be linking my account at the bottom of this post.

What’s the commission format?

Tell me your name or your OC’s name, their gender & pronouns, describe them to me both physically and in terms of personality, then tell me which character you want me to write them with. I’ll be writing “character x reader” or “character x OC” fics, so I need to know what I’m working with! Any extra details will help a lot. Of course, we will discuss everything concerning your commission privately.

If you want to check out my previous works to have a rough idea of how things will look like, be sure to check out my masterlist, which is my pinned post! Of course, my writing improves over time, so it may not be precisely as it is there.

How do I pay you?

You can pay me via my Ko-Fi account, which is linked to my PayPal! Here’s the link to my Ko-Fi.

Please consider helping me out, whether by requesting a commission, or by sharing this post and my links as much as possible!! I’m trying my best to do all I can now that I haven’t got many options left.

As some of you might already know, I’m a dentist, but still at uni. Sadly, studying dentistry is extremely expensive, and I can’t rely on my parents to pay my fees for me for a few reasons.

The first being that my dad is a heart patient, and can’t work anymore. The pension he receives is literally less than the equivalent of 90 dollars. Of course, that doesn’t provide anything in terms of food and living (we usually can only afford a meal or two a day) except for some of his meds—not even all of them. His health is steadily declining.

My mother is extremely narcissistic and very, very abusive. I’ve gone through hell living with her because I have to, but even she can’t even afford to take care of us because no one wants to hire her at her old age, and she’s used up all her savings on my dad.

I’m also physically disabled, and can’t move around often. I also have to have surgeries every now and then because of the chronic illness I have.

I am in serious, dire need of money, both for my tuition fees, and hopefully to be able to live. I have to keep us afloat until I can get married in a couple of years, since I can’t live alone. Besides, my dad doesn’t deserve to suffer with his heart problems.

I tried working with dentistry last year, and that worked for a while, but this year no one’s hiring due to the terrible state of our economy. I have no skills aside from my writing, so that’s what I’ll have to work with. I’m getting seriously desperate, so I hope you guys understand why I’m doing this, and hopefully feel inclined to offer any support you can—even if not financial, but just by reblogging this post!

[onceuponatown]

Elizabeth Cochran was born on May 5, 1864 in Cochran’s Mills, Pennsylvania. The town was founded by her father, Judge Michael Cochran. Elizabeth had fourteen siblings. Her father had ten children from his first marriage and five children from his second marriage to Elizabeth’s mother, Mary Jane Kennedy.

Michael Cochran’s rise from mill worker to mill owner to judge meant his family lived very comfortably. Unfortunately, he died when Elizabeth was only six years old and his fortune was divided among his many children, leaving Elizabeth’s mother and her children with a small fraction of the wealth they once enjoyed. Elizabeth’s mother soon remarried, but quickly divorced her second husband because of abuse, and relocated the family to Pittsburgh.

Elizabeth knew that she would need to support herself financially. At the age of 15, she enrolled in the State Normal School in Indiana, Pennsylvania, and an added an “e” to her last name to sound more distinguished. Her plan was to graduate and find a position as a teacher. However, after only a year and a half, Elizabeth ran out of money and could no longer afford the tuition. She moved back to Pittsburgh to help her mother run a boarding house.

In 1885, Elizabeth read an article in the Pittsburgh Dispatch that argued a woman’s place was in the home, “to be a helpmate to a man.” She strongly disagreed with this opinion and sent an angry letter to the editor anonymously signed “Lonely Orphan Girl.”

The newspaper’s editor, George A. Madden, was so impressed with the letter that he published a note asking the “Lonely Orphan Girl” to reveal her name. Elizabeth marched into the Dispatch offices and introduced herself. Madden immediately offered her a job as a columnist. Shortly after her first article was published, Elizabeth changed her pseudonym from “Lonely Orphan Girl” to “Nellie Bly,” after a popular song.

Elizabeth positioned herself as an investigative reporter. She went undercover at a factory where she experienced unsafe working conditions, poor wages, and long hours. Her honest reporting about the horrors of workers’ lives attracted negative attention from local factory owners. Elizabeth’s boss did not want to anger Pittsburgh’s elite and quickly reassigned her as a society columnist.

To escape writing about women’s issues on the society page, Elizabeth volunteered to travel to Mexico. She lived there as an international correspondent for the Dispatch for six months. When she returned, she was again assigned to the society page and promptly quit in protest.

Elizabeth hoped the massive newspaper industry of New York City would be more open-minded to a female journalist and left Pittsburgh. Although several newspapers turned down her application because she was a woman, she was eventually given the opportunity to write for Joseph Pulitzer’s New York World.

In her first act of “stunt” journalism for the World, Elizabeth pretended to be mentally ill and arranged to be a patient at New York’s insane asylum for the poor, Blackwell’s Island. For ten days Elizabeth experienced the physical and mental abuses suffered by patients.

Elizabeth’s report about Blackwell’s Island earned her a permanent position as an investigative journalist for the World. She published her articles in a book titled 10 Days in A Mad House. In it, she explained that New York City invested more money into care for the mentally ill after her articles were published. She was satisfied to know that her work led to change.

Activist journalists like Elizabeth—commonly known as muckrakers—were an important part of reform movements. Elizabeth’s investigations brought attention to inequalities and often motivated others to take action. She uncovered the abuse of women by male police officers, identified an employment agency that was stealing from immigrants, and exposed corrupt politicians. She also interviewed influential and controversial figures, including Emma Goldman in 1893.

The most famous of Elizabeth’s stunts was her successful seventy-two-day trip around the world in 1889, for which she had two goals. First, she wanted to beat the record set in the popular fictional world tour from Jules Verne’s Around the World in Eighty Days. Second, she wanted to prove that women were capable of traveling just as well as—if not better than—men. Elizabeth traveled light, taking only the dress she wore, a cape, and a small traveler’s bag. She challenged the stereotypical assumption that women could not travel without many suitcases, outfit changes, and vanity items. Her world tour made her a celebrity. After her return, she toured the country as a lecturer. Her image was used on everything from playing cards to board games. She recounted her adventures in her final book, Around the World in 72 Days.

In 1895, Elizabeth retired from writing and married Robert Livingston Seaman. Robert was a millionaire who owned the Iron Clad Manufacturing Company and the American Steel Barrel Company. When Robert died in 1904, Elizabeth briefly took over as president of his companies.

In 1911, she returned to journalism as a reporter for the New York Evening Journal. She covered a number of national news stories, including the Woman Suffrage Parade of 1913 in Washington, D.C. Elizabeth often referred to suffrage in her articles, arguing that women were as capable as men in all things. During World War I, she traveled to Europe as the first woman to report from the trenches on the front line.

Although Elizabeth never regained the level of stardom she experienced after her trip around the world, she continued to use her writing to shed light on issues of the day. She died of pneumonia on January 27, 1922.

[lowkeyerror]

The Family Business Ch.2

WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Ch Notes: No warnings for this chapter, Krolik=Bunny, Sestra=Sister

Summary: Wanda was sent away on important business, by the time she comes back you're all grown up and a part of the family company. Wanda doesn't come back home empty handed in fact she returns with a brand new wife.

An: Ok someone asked me for Ch.2 early and I had to deliver. Next Ch.3 will be up on Monday. Stay tuned and hope you enjoy.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

True to their word, the Maximoff’s provided you with a roof over your head and protection wherever you went. You never worried about your mother again and you saw your father whenever his schedule permitted. However, your primary residence was with the Maximoff’s. They were just as kind as they had always been.

Dragos and Flora paid for anything you could ever want or need. They paid for your tuition at NYU, though you tried to argue against it. You double majored in software engineering and physics. Without the constant insecurities that your parents piled on you, you were able to reach new academic heights.

Wanda had gone off right before her college graduation, Dragos said she was doing important work internationally. He didn’t know when she would be returning. There was a small part of you that hated that the woman didn’t come to your graduation, but a card from her in the mail was enough to make you smile.

Once you had your degrees you weighed your options. After multiple boring interviews and under stimulating work you finally asked Dragos if there was anything you could do in the family business. Pietro wasn’t thrilled about you wanting to be involved, but once he saw you at work, he knew you’d fit right in.

The crime was fronted by a legitimate business that Dragos owned. Which meant that you got to work out of one the tallest office buildings in New York. Your standing with the family also afforded you a desk pretty high up. When you weren’t hacking into competitors’ systems or running field operations, you did simple accounting for the company. It was easier that way, as the numbers for both the true business and the under-cover business were vetted by you.

“Y/n, come on a delivery with me?” Pietro pops his head into your office space.

“What kind of delivery?”

He smirks, “Special.”

You quickly grab your jacket and follow him out of your office. As you navigate to the bottom floor the two of you make small talk.

“So, when are you going to stop playing around and ask Monica out?”

Pietro rolls his eyes, “When you date someone for more than 2 outings.”

You feign a pained look, “Ouch, that one hurts Piet.”

“The truth often does.”

Once you both are out of the building and into the car your demeanor changes a bit, “So who are these going to?”

“Mr. H.”

You groan, “That guy’s sketchy, I don't like him.”

Pietro laughs, “I’m sure a lot of people feel the same way about us. “

“Whatever,” you mumble, scrolling through your phone.

The rest of the ride is quiet, until you pull up to the drop of location. “So, I’m going in and dropping the stuff off. You’re going to wait for me in the driver's seat.”

“Why the driver’s seat?”

He blinks at you, “In case we need to get away faster, you'll already be in here. Keep the car running, this should be quick.”

While Pietro goes in to handle the business, you let your mind spiral into thoughts about Wanda. You miss her and feel like it has been too long. Dragos said that she ended up staying in Russia for awhile before heading to their home country of Sokovia. Apparently, while he ran the business here, she ran the operations over there.

You weren’t surprised that Wanda was trusted with such an important role, she always had leadership qualities. For a long while you thought you wanted to be just like her. Instead, you realized that the older woman had been someone you were interested in. Wanda had nearly a decade on you in age, but how could you not like her as a young queer girl.

Sometimes you could still feel her hand delicately grazing your torso as she patched up the wounds your mother inflicted. For awhile in the Maximoff’s home everyone treated you as if you would break into a million pieces. Maybe Wanda did too, but it was different with her.

She wasn’t just careful with you because she was scared, you’d break, but she truly believed that you deserved the care. Even when you began training with her, she treated you delicately. You wanted to learn how to protect yourself and she stepped right in and became the perfect teacher. You also began going to the gym with Pietro at least once a week. You weren’t trying to be buff, but just in shape enough to defend yourself if you needed.

Even though your outward appearance changed to be stronger. You felt as though Wanda saw right through that into your deepest insecurities and tended to them accordingly.

Your daydreaming is cut short by Pietro busting out of the warehouse where the drop was supposed to take place, with the goods still in his hand.

“DRIVE! DRIVE! DRIVE!”

He jumps into the passenger seat, and you hit the gas. Pietro is talking to you, but your adrenaline is kicking in. Your fieldwork doesn’t really get this exciting without a debrief. Getaway driver is definitely a new change in speed.

Your eyes focus solely on the road, ignoring what the man is saying as his chest heaves up and down. A quick glance in the rearview mirror tells you that they are following you. While you are curious about what happened, those questions can be answered later. 

Pietro is actually mildly impressed with your driving skills. Your sharp turns and redirections are top notch in his opinion. Though you are doing great the guys are still tailing you.

You think for a moment, trying to remember the nearest parking garage. You realize that it’s behind you and brake hard, you weave through oncoming traffic to try to get to the parking garage.

“Get ready to hop out,” you say to Pietro parking the car. Once you do the blonde starts running on foot and you call after him. He stops in his tracks frantic until he sees you breaking into another car. When you get in you drive normally out of the parking structure and straight back to the office.

“Jesus Christ, Y/n I didn’t know you could drive like that?”

Pietro grabs the wooden box from his lap before walking to the elevator. He wipes his hands on his jeans and proceeds as though it was a just another day.

“So, what the fuck happened?”

He raises an eyebrow, “You weren’t listening in the car?”

“Duh, I was a little preoccupied with the whole driving for my life thing.”

“I guess you'll hear it when I tell Papa then.”

The two of you are definitely headed to the top floor of the building to inform Dragos of what has transpired. Pietro is never one for knocking and simply barges into the man’s office.

“Papa, do you have a- Sestra?”

Pietro’s sentence dies in his throat as he gets a glimpse of his older sister. He wastes no time sitting in the wooden box on a couch nearby and scooping up the redhead in a tight hug. You could hear them exchanging more words in their mother language. It’s an unexpectedly tender moment as Pietro tries to keep things on the light side.

Somewhere in the hug Wanda’s eyes land on you and they widen slightly. She untangles herself from her brother to get a good look at you. She’s older, as expected, but age had been more than kind to her. Wanda looks as elegant as ever, an air of distinguish surrounds her.

The way she looks at you makes you feel like a teenager again. You do your best not to squirm under her gaze. When a smile placed itself on her lips, you feel relief washing over you. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she pulls you in to a big hug.

Her hands rise to hold your face, pulling back just slightly. She wants to get a good look at you. The softness of her hands causes you to blush.

“You’ve grown up on me little krolik.”

She releases the hold, and you speak, “You’ve been gone a long time, Wanda.”

There it is, in your voice for the first time in years; That fragile tone that you had only ever allowed Wanda to hear. You hope it didn't sound as desperate to everyone else in the room and it didn't. But Wanda picked up on it instantly.

“I have, but now I'm back; permanently,” Wanda says, keeping her eyes on you.

“And she brought a friend,” Dragos interjects, and you watch Wanda roll her eyes.

“She’s more than a friend Papa, she’s my wife and she’s sitting right here. I expect you to treat her kindly.”

Wanda is married and to a woman. Your mind scrambles to piece together what had happened in the years that she was gone for this to be the case. It is hard for you to digest what the woman had said. Your breathing becomes a little shallow, but no one takes notice.

Finally, you take notice of the other woman in the room, sitting in the chair next to the one Wanda had just been sitting in. Your mouth dries at the sight of her. The woman is stunning. Her auburn hair is a few shades darker than Wanda’s. She has a button nose, soft pink lips and piercing green eyes. You couldn't be mad at Wanda for marrying such a beautiful woman.

“Sestra, you’re married?” Pietro exclaims, looking between the two women dramatically.

“Yes; Y/n, Pietro, this is my wife, Natasha Romanoff.”

Your eyes linger on the woman even when Dragos claps his hands together to get the attention of the room, “Piet you were saying something important. I see that Mr. H didn't get his package.”

Any further pleasantries would have to wait.

“Papa it was a bad deal. They tried short me on our exchange, so I told them they could either bring me the rest of what they owe, or I’d be walking. They planned to take the package from me, so I ran immediately to the car. Of course they chased after me, but thanks to need for speed over here we got away.”

Dragos pinches the bridge of his nose lightly, “Don’t I always say being back up?”

Pietro answers back, “I took Y/n.”

This causes Natasha to chuckle a bit.

Your eyes narrow at her, “Something funny?”

She doesn’t back down, “Well from the way Wanda described you, you don't necessarily scream back up.”

Your jaw clenches slightly and you steal a quick glance at Wanda, “Wanda hasn’t seen me in over 5 years. I’m not that fragile little kid anymore.”

Dragos nods proudly, “Y/n is the biggest asset we have in this organization. She’s by far the glue that holds this all together and I will not tolerate any disrespect thrown her way.” The final part of his sentence carries a lot of weight to it, it’s a verbal warning.

Wanda clears her throat, “Hammerhead is a loyal customer, why would he try to cheat us?”

“He could have a new dealer,” you speak up. “Someone who might be charging less for similar goods.”

“You think someone is dumb enough to try to undercut us?” Pietro questions.

You speak candidly, “I think that people in this city can be greedy, and greed blinds all good sense.”

Dragos clearly agrees, “We need eyes and ears on the streets listening to anything about dealers that aren't us. I need a meeting with Hammerhead to make sure he’s got that big ugly head of his on straight. Y/n if I can't sell this, I'm going to have see a profit of this quantity somewhere else on the sheets.”

“Let Natasha and I come with you to your meeting Papa. I want you to see what we're capable of.”

“Papa, is this woman going to be joining our group?” Pietro asks.

You turn your attention to Dragos, curious of what the man has to say. There is an unbridled shine in Wanda’s eyes and a small upturn of Natasha’s lip. They seem to think that the man would say yes immediately.

Instead, he heavily sighs, “For now Ms. Romanoff is simply Wanda’s… wife. There is a chance that she’ll be given access to join. However, her involvement isn’t guaranteed. So just to be clear, she’s not going to be sitting in on the meeting.”

Wanda wants to fight back, you can tell, but she refrains. The playfulness of her features dissipates as she responds, “Is she at least allowed to stay and watch them work?”

“Y/n do you mind if Ms. Romanoff shadows you for the rest of the day?” You know what Dragos was actually asking of you. He wants you to vet her.

Your eyes land on the woman, staring at her intensely, “Sure.”

She squirms in her seat which makes you smile a bit.

“Pietro,” Dragos starts.

“Eyes & ears I’ve got it Papa,” he’s out of the door fast, setting the plan in motion.

Dragos presses a small button on his desk, “Kate can you set up a meeting between Hammerhead & I. It needs to be as soon as possible. Make it clear that if I’m kept waiting, there will be extra fees to pay. Ones that can't be bought by money.”

“No problem Mr. Maximoff. Should I have Clint get the car ready?” She responds over the intercom.

“That’ll be great, thank you Kate.”

Now it is Wanda who claps her hands, “So I guess it’s time to get to work. Which mean it’s time to say goodbye to my beautiful wife and my little krolik.”

Natasha stands from her seat and places a gentle kiss on Wanda’s lips. “Be safe,” she murmurs, not quite ready to part from her wife.

“I’ll be fine Nat, it’s just business as usual.”

Something about the two women in the same line of sight together made you feel weird. You had seen beautiful couples before, but you seem to be a little mesmerized by the sight of Natasha and Wanda. For now, you would say that it was just the shock of seeing Wanda after all these years and being blindsided by the news of her marriage.

“Have you changed too much to give me a hug before you go?”

The teasing tone in Wanda’s voice makes you roll your eyes. You walk over to her nonetheless, “I hugged you earlier, you know.”

Wanda doesn’t hesitate to pull you into another hug. “I know, but maybe two is too much for the new Y/n.”

You look up at her, maybe for a second too long, and you can’t help yourself, “Don’t worry, part of me is still your little krolik.”

A slight blush paints over her features as she smiles at you, “Good, keep my wife safe, ok?”

Your eyes cut to Natasha, “Of course, I’ll leave you guys to it.”

You walk out of the office with Wanda’s wife trailing closely behind you.  

“So, are you going to show me what makes you the glue?”

Her words make smile tug on the edge of your lips, “If you’re lucky.”

[free-for-all-fics]

So I had this thought about The Recruiter from Squid Game and it would not leave my head until I wrote it out as a prompt! Pls tag me if you’re inspired by this at all, and I’d love to read it! 🔴🔺🟥

Before he became involved in the games, he grew up in a poor household. His parents were high school dropouts. They would have a lot to do once their baby arrived. While terminating the pregnancy had been seriously discussed, his mother ultimately decided against it. She thought of it as a happy accident. She had been an orphan and on the run all her life, but when she became pregnant, she finally felt like she put down roots. She didn’t care if the father, her boyfriend, didn’t want anything to do with her or her baby. She was going to have her baby and raise it well. She knew it was a jungle out there, and if her child took after her, they’d be a handful…but she wanted her child to be happy. She didn’t care if her baby was a boy or a girl so long as he or she was healthy. She thought if she lost her pregnancy, she’d look back on that time as a living hell. His father was nineteen and his mother was eighteen when he was born. They married before she was showing. The rumors were that he arrived sooner than either of his parents planned, conceived earlier in their marriage than expected, or that he was the result of indiscretion, a love child, and the premise for the marriage. While his existence lent itself to both predicaments, the latter could be corroborated by the testimonies that his father was "immature and not ready for marriage" nor "prepared to raise a family". He "felt trapped in the commitment that being a part of a family required and couldn't handle the responsibility of raising a child." It was very possible his father married his mother out of obligation or was forced.

Either way, it was to salvage her reputation. As a result of her pregnancy, his mother never got to fulfill her dream of going to college. All of the money she saved for her tuition went towards childcare. She was a stay at home mother, while he grew up watching her do all kinds of odd jobs like peeling and selling chestnuts, babysitting, pet sitting, sewing clothing or plush dolls, etc. in her efforts to put food on the table. She made sure he had clothes on his back and food to eat, nearly working herself to death while his father spent most of his days between jobs and unemployed. What paychecks he did bring home were mostly used to feed his alcohol, drug, or gambling addiction.

And then you came along many years later. You were also an unplanned pregnancy and, whether your mother couldn’t afford to terminate or she decided not to do that nor give you up for adoption, you lived under the same roof. Your brother was at least twelve years older than you and, within two years after you were born, your father, the coward that he was who always ran away from his responsibilities, just up and left. He was gone and all his belongings and all his money, what little there was, was gone too. He didn’t even leave a note. Your brother came home from school and found your mother crying at the dinner table. Without her saying anything, he just knew. You weren’t the burden, your deadbeat dad was. He hated his father. He was a shitty man, a shitty husband, and an even shittier father. He was little more than utterly useless, a total waste of space. If he looked at him for too long it made him physically sick. His father didn’t beat him at first, only his mom. He could’ve done something to stop it. But he didn’t. His father made his home a living hell. That’s why he was glad he was gone.

Despite the hardship your birth and your father’s abrupt leaving added onto his mother and himself, he could never hate you. You were just a baby. You were innocent in all of this. It wasn’t your fault you were born into a family living on or below the poverty line and that money was so tight all the time. It wasn’t his fault either. After your father abandoned you, your mother worked even harder to raise money. But her income wasn’t enough and, when he was still a minor, he had to make money by running errands or doing chores for neighbors and contribute his earnings to provide for you and get you through school. He had to help pay for your uniforms, books, and other supplies. But he loved you more than anyone and you loved him just as much. Instead of hanging out with his friends, he stayed home and babysat you. At first, you were resentful of being watched at all because you were going through that phase where you thought you were all grown up and big enough to be left alone for a few hours. But he had a way with kids, his energy so much like one that it was hard for them to hate him. In just a few hours you were best friends, thicker than thieves. Despite your big age gap, he loved spending time with you. He’d play with you and draw with you while watching you whenever your mother needed a break. He and your mother made sure you were raised well with proper discipline so you wouldn’t grow up spoiled but, at the same time, wouldn’t grow up traumatized like they were either. Once he was old enough to work, he opened his own bank account and worked his ass off at all kinds of jobs to make enough of his own money to pay his way through college. He’d be damned if he let his father come crawling back like a dog begging for scraps and have access to a single cent. But he saw what debt did to people, how it so easily spiraled out of control and destroyed lives. He’d be damned if he took out a loan he couldn’t pay back, he thought.

When there was no money for dinner, he made sure you still got to eat by either stealing from convenience stores or giving you half of his lunch. Even a cup of noodles or a bread roll was like a feast fit for a queen in your eyes. But the biggest dinner treat when you were a child was Happy Toast. Happy Toast was pretty simple. It was a piece of toast. With a happy face drawn on it in tomato sauce. Once or twice every couple of weeks, your brother would get you Happy Toast for dinner. Those nights were the best. You didn't have to use cutlery! You could eat with your fingers! Your brother would let you choose whether your Happy Toast had straight or curly hair! And, even better, your brother and you got to sit at the table and have dinner by yourselves. Mom would still be at work or already asleep, so that left you and your brother alone in the kitchen. Sometimes he’d make you what he called Shark Infested Beans to put on your Happy Toast. Before you were born, your mom would make him a bowl of baked beans, with little toast triangles standing up in it for the shark fins. Sometimes the toast fins would have bites taken out of them. She told him the sharks had been fighting and it was the funniest thing in the world to him back then. He was in his late teens when he finally found out that those bites were all she'd eaten that day. He did that with all of your meals to get you to eat your food, making a game out of it by pretending the rice was a spaceship, the vegetables were cars, the fruit were bicycles, the meat was airplanes, etc. But Happy Toast nights were amazing.

Your brother got his driver’s license and bought himself a car and rented a cheap apartment so he could move out as soon as possible after his 18th birthday. Even though it wasn’t the prettiest or most impressive car and was like a junker more than anything, it worked well enough to get him from point A to point B. The same could’ve been said for his apartment. Old and dingy, small and not very pretty, but clean and livable. He made plans to go off to college. He’d spent so many years working towards earning his college tuition, studying and preparing for graduation, and raising you that he’d accidentally let university applications fall through the cracks. But one day, he checked his admission results and…

CONGRATULATIONS! YOU HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED!

But it wasn’t like just anyone accepted could go to college. He needed money to go. He’d saved up enough money for the initial deposit - four million won - and he’d pay the rest off with part-time jobs while he was at school. It was amazing! God, he had a pretty rough day that day. But that result made up for all of that. He was a college student now. He got in. Very soon, he’d fulfill your mother’s dream of him becoming a college student. Her son was totally awesome, right? But just as he had all of that money saved up and was well into his third year of college, on track for graduation, the worst happened: Your mother died. She had worked herself to death, after all. When he got the phone call, he didn’t know how he managed to act like a normal, vaguely irritated son for the entirety of it. Inside he was white hot rage. The first thing he did when he hung up the phone was shatter it. His whole apartment became a particularly fragile punching bag. If anyone were to have come inside, they would’ve looked at the destruction with bewilderment and asked, "Did you get robbed?"

Stepping into his childhood home for the first time in so many years made him sick. He swore he could still smell your mother's perfume in the air, but he turned the corner and there was another woman cooking and prancing around in her fucking kitchen like she owned the place. She wasn’t one of the neighbors. She wasn’t anyone he knew. She said she was his father’s girlfriend and that his father was a truck driver now and so he wouldn’t be coming to his own wife’s funeral. He wanted to string her up by her intestines. To choke her with them. He wanted to kill her first and make his father watch the entire thing. But he couldn’t do that. So he’d have to just settle on making sure to psychologically torture her in some way to make up for it. But however painful the step-whore's death would be, he imagined that he would make his father's twenty times worse if he ever saw his face again. That would be for his mother and for you. But it would have looked suspicious if the older man died at home. So he waited, impatiently. His death would come someday and he had to stay alive to witness it.

Speaking of death… Maybe it was a little vindictive of him to call his father for the first time in four, nearly five years to demand he forfeit his parental rights and give him custody of you before his wife was even in the ground. But he was gonna get around to it anyways, eventually. It was not a request. He never asked his father for anything and he wasn’t going to start now that his mom was dead. But when he brought it up, your father laughed his ass off about it as if it was a joke. He laughed again when his son threatened to take him to Family Court. He needed money to send in an application or push forward a petition. Money his father knew he didn’t have. Though he couldn’t do anything in that moment, that topic of discussion was far from over.

You didn’t come downstairs when he first arrived and he wanted to roll his eyes at his father’s side piece telling him, "she's not usually like this, honest-" as if she gave a shit about you at all and wasn’t just there because his father told her to come in his stead to save face. He was the only one left alive who genuinely loved and cared about you. You were still just a kid. It wasn’t your fault your mom died, your dad was a piece of shit, and your dad’s new girlfriend was a useless whore. When you slinked your way downstairs and dragged your feet in that petulant way that only kids could, he started to rethink about not taking up the job offer he was given. You spent all of dinner not saying two words to your dad’s girlfriend, but you had the nerve to scowl at her the entire time like she was intruding in your house and you were wondering when she was gonna leave. Or die.

Circumstances being what they were, he had no other choice but to use his college savings for your mother’s funeral. He held your hand as you cried and comforted you as well as he could. But you couldn’t stay inside for long. You could barely breathe through your sobs already, and the air felt musky and you felt like you were suffocating with all those people around offering you their sympathies and condolences. He took you outside for some space and fresh air. But after the funeral was over, there was her memorial to worry about. If he didn’t make the payments, his mother’s pictures and the urn containing her ashes would be moved to storage. He learned that the hard way when he took you to visit her on the third anniversary of her death when you were thirteen years old, and she wasn’t there. You were crying, clutching a bouquet of flowers you didn’t know what to do with.

“Excuse me.”

“Yes?”

“Where's the urn that used to be here? Our mother's.”

“This one? Did you not know? The payment on this space is three years overdue now. And we couldn't get in touch with the guardian.”

“So are you saying you threw it away?”

“We didn't throw it away. We have it in storage.”

“In storage?”

“Yes.”

“How could you just shove it in storage because of overdue payments? Do people need to be evicted, even in death, due to rent overdue?”

“We have our internal rules as well.”

“How much money do we owe you?”

“Five million won.”

“What?”

“Five million won.”

“Five million?”

“Get out of the way. Can you keep things quiet around here?” A passerby trying to mourn their loved one asked.

“I apologize.”

“Let's continue this outside.”

“Please, sir. Can you take my mom out of storage? I brought a present for my mom. My teacher told me that you're supposed to give white roses to people you respect. Please, sir. Please,” you begged as you cried, not caring if it made you look pathetically childish or immature for your age. You didn’t know what else to do or say.

While you were in another room being watched over by a neighbor, your brother faced your mother’s urn, talking to it as if he were talking to her.

“Mom. I do have most of the money and I can take out a loan for the rest. Your wish was for me to go to college. Right? That was your wish. Well, I’ve been to college, but I don’t need to graduate. So I’m going to drop out now, okay? My sister can graduate college instead, right? I'm your son whom you're proud of, so I can drop out of college, right? I'm sorry, Mom. I'm sorry. I don't think I'll need to graduate college. I'm sorry if you’re disappointed, Mom. But I’m making this decision because I'm going through such a hard time. Things are so hard for me right now. I miss you so much, Mom. Sorry, Mom. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I miss you, Mom. I'll come see you soon.”

He took out all of the money he had in his savings and took out a loan for the remaining won he needed and used it to pay off the debt that was owed for your mother’s memorial. While he couldn’t graduate college now and had debts to pay, you were at least able to give your mother white roses and smiled as you talked to her.

After that, despite working a lot, he was still struggling financially, and had spent the last bit of his money on a few grocery items just to get through to payday. Three days later — and the night before his pay would arrive in his bank account — he had absolutely nothing to feed you for dinner. The fridge and pantry were bare, apart from a few pieces of stale bread, and the usual condiments.

"I'm hungry…” you complained. You looked malnourished. Like you hadn’t eaten in days.

He fought back the burning tears behind his eyes. And that was when it hit him. "Let's have Happy Toast!" He exclaimed, plastering a smile across his face. With great laughter and fun, you drew tomato sauce faces on pieces of toast, and you gobbled them up with the same reckless enjoyment he remembered having on Happy Toast nights as a child. Him? Oh, he didn't eat any. He supervised from the kitchen. There wasn't enough bread for him to have dinner and for you to have a full stomach. That night, after you were sleeping happily, he thought back to those Happy Toast nights as a child. From the perspective of an adult, their frequency made sense — his parents were paid biweekly; Happy Toast nights were probably the night before payday. And Dad was in the military — he could eat dinner at work for free (or close to it), which is why those were the only nights he wasn't home for dinner. And Mom? She made the exact same choice he did. Now, you and he ate "poor" food all the time. Your standard dinner was seaweed soup, made with small portions of the cheapest meat, lots of seaweed, and a sprinkling of soy sauce, sesame oil, minced garlic, and salt to taste. Your mother often made it for your and his birthdays since she couldn’t always afford rice cakes or actual cakes. But Happy Toast was a treat from that mundanity — and the real testament to both your mother's parenting, and your financial state.

While you ate, you started telling him things. “I hate playing happy family. Dad’s girlfriend only ever pays attention to me when people are around. She’s always gone and Dad never calls. I think they both wish it was just them, that I wasn't here—”

Your brother might not have been the most empathetic person around (obviously) but something about the things you told him made him feel for you. You had a sad little orphan thing going on. He didn’t know why he thought he should spend more time with you while he was home, but he did. Maybe it was because he knew his new job as a pink guard in the Squid Games was starting soon and that it was dangerous and he could get shot if he wasn’t careful. Maybe it was to better sell you the lie about what he did for work and explain how he’d suddenly have all this money to give you anything you asked for someday soon. You pouted when he told you he was leaving for his new job soon and would be gone for at least a week. Until he came back, he arranged for a neighbor to watch you so you wouldn’t be left alone in the house. You weren’t missing school or starving to death on his watch. The day before he left, he took you out to some diner he knew you’d like for a special "brother/sister" breakfast. You moped in his car, you stomped your way into the restaurant, and you slouched in your chair when you were seated. When he asked you if you wanted crayons to color with, you instantly knew that he was lovingly mocking you like he used to do. Sensing the game was on, you took a big sip of your water and tried to spit it out towards him like a super soaker water gun, hoping to wet him. It didn’t work, but he admired your spitefulness. When your food came, you only sat in silence, pushing it around your plate for a bit before you broke.

“Dad sucks. He’s not even here, and I hate him.”

“I know you do, but try not to. Don’t waste your energy on thinking about him. He’s not worth it. Indifference is so much worse than hate. Trust me, I know from experience.”

“I can’t help it. Even if I try not to think about him, I still do. I’m sure he hates me too.”

You didn’t start crying big alligator tears like he thought you would. He was already preparing for it, thinking about how he was going to have to bribe you with ice cream or something to stop you from crying. Instead you sunk further into your seat, like you wanted to melt there.

“He doesn't hate you.”

“He just wishes I was never born. That I wasn’t around...doesn’t he? Neither of them want me around."

“How did you know?” He asked, and then sighed. “Don’t take it personally. He was the same with me when I was your age. He’s never liked children, not even his own. That’s why I moved out as soon as I could. Don’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault he left. He would’ve found another excuse to go even if you hadn’t been born.”

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too. I’m sorry I couldn’t take you with me when I left home.”

He wondered what the hell your dad’s girlfriend was doing behind closed doors to make you feel the way you felt after your mom died. He knew his father was lousy, he'd already grown up with him. But your dad’s girlfriend had seemed normal. A little fake, but normal. He didn’t know what went on in that house before he got there. So you told him. About the neglect. The long hours alone that sometimes became days. By the end of it, your little hands were balled into fists and your food was ice cold. The entire time your brother sat quietly, hating himself for letting your suffering go on so long and despising your dad and his girlfriend even more. At the end, you regretted telling him anything. You started to turn to the window, ready to ignore him until he decided to take you both home. You turned back around when he said,

"Dad should’ve never been granted sole custody of you after Mom died. He is unfit to be a parent."

You blinked up at him, wide-eyed. You were shocked he took you seriously. "Yeah, he is." You finished eating your breakfast quietly but neither of you left the diner feeling the way you did when you came in.

The week he was gone passed by uneventfully. Prior to leaving, your brother ended the lease on his apartment and, when he came back from wherever he went for work, he stayed home with you. Even though it was very late at night, you were standing outside the neighbor’s house you’d been staying at to greet him when his car pulled up. When he took you home, neither your dad nor his girlfriend were in sight. You told him about school. About the things you'd been doing since you last saw him. About how you managed to watch some of the horror movies he snuck you, and you didn't even have to sleep with the light on afterwards. He sat through it all dutifully and maybe even with amusement. He sat shell-shocked for a minute. Frankly, he'd never talked to a kid for as long as he talked to you. You were not the same withdrawn kid you were when your mother died, that was for sure.

You curled up on the side of him and the two of you fell asleep on the couch together. He woke up a few hours later when your dad finally made an appearance, stumbling in with his girlfriend. They were both drunk and shushing each other too loudly. It pissed him off, thinking about how they'd have probably gone out on the town and left you alone even if he didn’t make arrangements to have you stay with a neighbor or if he wasn’t there to watch you himself. He wondered just how many times you were left alone in this house that was too big and lonely for him even when he was a teenager, let alone a fucking kid like you. When he ran into your dad and his girlfriend, they were in the kitchen, opening another pack of beer like they weren’t wasted enough.

"Thanks for finding someone to look after the kid last week. I know she can be a lot." His dad’s girlfriend said.

The words made him stop cold and he looked behind them, to the drawer that the knives were kept in and almost said fuck it. If the miserable bastard hadn't wanted to be a father this badly he should have kept it in his pants or gotten a vasectomy. He wanted to cut his dad’s dick off. He wanted to stab his dad’s girlfriend in her throat to make her shut the fuck up.

"Yeah, no problem." He had to leave before he killed either of them.

He didn’t wake you up so you could go up to bed on your own. For some reason, he thought about the last time he ever got carried up to bed and picked you up and took you there himself. He remembered the feeling of waking up, drowsy but safe on his mother's shoulder. Of being tucked in, and then waking up in bed later, only vaguely aware that someone else put him there. He was younger than you were then, that last time. But he didn’t think it mattered that much. He didn’t think you'd ever get cared for like that if he didn’t do it himself. Though your mother did her best, she was often too weak and exhausted to carry you, even when you were very little. He didn’t think it was enough and he wanted to make you feel as loved as he was by her. At least, when your mother was alive, she was there for you. So he put you into bed, and tucked you under the covers, and sat beside you for awhile, just staring. He looked up when he felt like he was being watched, only to find your dad in the doorway staring at him. Then the old man turned around and went to bed. He didn’t say a word to him about his behavior and poor decisions. Not even a goddamn fucking apology.

Whether or not it was a special occasion like a holiday or your birthday, your brother gave you a present: Your very first cell phone with his number already saved in it. He smiled and ruffled your hair, telling you not to be a stranger and to take care of yourself whenever he had to go away for work in the summer. He told you that if there was ever an emergency when he wasn’t there and you needed him, to just give him a call and he’d come running. Your dad stood so stiffly as he got ready to leave on a long truck haul again. He’d be gone for months, leaving your brother to look after you. He extended his hand towards your dad for a handshake, not wanting to put either of them through an awkward goodbye hug. He didn’t deserve such warm familiarity.

“These things aren’t human. They’re just trash, utterly useless in this world.”

He kept telling himself that and worked hard for a few years. Then they gave him a gun. It felt pretty good. Like his existence was acknowledged for the first time in his life. The months went quickly and, before he knew it, it was time to don his pink uniform for another annual round of games. But he wasn’t as excited as he thought he was going to be. He didn’t know why he was starting to get second thoughts. But he had a job to do and it was too late to back out of it now. The years went by quickly. A mass murder here, another one there, in between figuring out what to get you for your birthday or what color dress you preferred for a school dance. Life outside the games was hard, but inside it was easy. Despite real life creeping in and threatening to bleed over into the bottle world the games were held in, he had almost forgotten about his dad entirely.

Almost.

Summer hit again when it finally happened. He doesn’t know which year it was but one day he was about to shoot a man who had lost a game. The guy seemed familiar. His dad. His dad was suddenly standing right in front of him. He was in tears, desperately begging him to spare his life. His pink and black uniform concealed his identity. He didn’t say a word but, even if he had, the voice modulator would’ve masked his voice. He didn’t know it was his own son pointing the gun at him. And he never would know. There was crying, begging, pleading. He drew it out for a long time. At the end of it, his father was whimpering, staring at the bloodied corpses of other players and asking why. It was a question he didn’t deserve the answer to. So he shot him right in the middle of his forehead, and realized, “Ah. I’m cut out for this job.” He had absolutely no qualms about shooting his own father dead. No remorse or guilt. He killed him and it was his best work yet. He had plenty of practice over the years.

He was offered a promotion to be a recruiter for the games shortly afterwards. It was easy being a pink guard. He only had to work for a week out of the year. But being a recruiter would require him to work year round. Once the games were over for the year, he’d be as busy as ever. He’d need to find and recruit more players for subsequent years. He should’ve been eager to accept. But something was gnawing at him, threatening to eat him alive from the inside until he asked his superiors, hesitantly, "Since my dad died in the games… If I become a recruiter…what's gonna happen to my little sister?"

And there it went. The reason his stomach had been twisted up into knots. He killed his own father for failing a game. He couldn’t care less about that. His father had it coming for a long while. He had been as shitty as he could be, outright forgetting to feed you or pay the bills to keep the lights on. You were once hospitalized from severe malnourishment and food poisoning because of your father and his girlfriend’s incompetence and negligence. Two days after your eleventh birthday, you were sent to bed without dinner by your dad’s girlfriend. You were almost unable to sleep because you were so hungry it felt like you were starving. You had already run out of the candy you had stashed away in your room. Later, your sleepwalking got so bad that you got out of bed and went around the house, eating various non-edibles. First, you went to the kitchen and ate animal food that your dad’s girlfriend bought for her pet. Then, you went to the bathroom and ate from a tube of toothpaste. Then you ate the berries or seeds from a plant on the window sill because you confused them for edible sunflower seeds or berries. You thought all flower seeds or berries were edible. In your dreaming state, you didn’t realize what you were actually eating. Your dad didn’t want gossip, so he almost didn’t bring you to a hospital, just like how he never brought his wife to a hospital after beating her. It was his girlfriend who found you and called the ambulance, not him. He would’ve let you die and claimed it was an accident. Your brother was terrified and pissed when he found out. He got a speeding ticket on the way to the hospital and was there the entire time while they worked to save you from the toxins in your stomach. If he hadn’t swooped in and worked his ass off or stole food to feed you, you very well could’ve starved or been poisoned to death sooner.

Needless to say, his dad had been living off of borrowed time anyway. And as for his dad’s girlfriend… Knowing that appearance is everything, he made sure to publicly bond with her. He went grocery shopping with her. They got lunch. Anything to sell the image of a perfect family. Anything to alleviate suspicion when she wound up dead and her body went missing thanks to the connections his new job offered him.

But you? They weren’t planning on killing you. There were strict rules to the games. One of them was players had to be ages 18 and up to play. Minors were ineligible to play. They hadn’t killed any kids. And they never would. Ironically, when discussing how much fun and thrilling it would be to watch desperate people who were drowning in debt die in deadly children’s games - the thought of killing actual children or watching them die made the viewers and organizers uncomfortable. While it may not have seemed like it to the players, even those responsible for the games weren’t completely morally bankrupt. Even their kind of evil had standards. But what about the aftermath? He didn’t know what was going to happen to you if he couldn’t take you in. You were still a minor and had no other living family besides him. Were you gonna get carted off by the state? Or shipped away to some other family who couldn't give a shit about you? The thought made him sick, but he didn’t want to admit it. But his superiors told him they thought of that and the proper arrangements would be made so he could legally have custody of you. No matter how busy he was, he’d still be able to make time for you and keep up a somewhat healthy work-life balance. For him, they made an exception to the rule about recruiters needing to cut all ties with family to uphold the secrecy of the games. They let him keep you, someone from his past life in the outside world.

After the games were over, he was allowed to return home. He snuck back into his childhood house and you were just where he left you. Tucked in and sleeping soundly in your bed. He went to his own room and fell asleep with a smile on his face. He got up twice in the night, restless. Each time he wound up outside your door. Sometime later, police officers showed up at the front door, hats in their hands, and handed him a legal envelope with the signed transfer of custody papers. They told him that something awful was believed to have happened to his dad, though his body wasn’t found. He pretended to be shocked. He closed his eyes and tried not to think of how you were definitely eavesdropping, too impatient for him to come and tell you what was going on after the police left. It was to help with appearances, sure, but he was actually looking forward to looking after you. He felt a lot less smug when he turned around and you were sobbing your eyes out. The moment he sat down next to you, you threw yourself at him, clinging to him like he was a lifeline. And he was surprised at how quickly he wrapped his arm around you. At the way he rubbed your arm and squeezed your shoulder, trying his best to soothe you. You weren’t crying for your dad. You were crying for yourself.

“What's gonna happen to me, Oppa?" You wailed, helpless in the way only a kid could be.

He was looking down at you and, before he knew it, he opened his mouth and said, "Nothing's gonna happen to you. You're my sister. We're family. See this paper? It means I’m going to take care of you from now on." It didn’t make you stop crying but he kept saying it, over and over. “You're gonna be okay. Nothing's ever going to happen to you. I’ll take care of you, I promise. Come on, are you hungry? I could eat, so let’s eat. I’ll make you seaweed soup.”

You were better off with him anyways.

Looking back, your brother practically raised you even before your parents’ deaths, so him becoming your legal guardian didn’t feel that much different from how things were. You thought you’d feel some kind of change, but you didn’t. You’re an adult now. It wasn’t until you were much older that you really understood that Happy Toast wasn't really a treat - it just had good PR thanks to your brother. Though he helped you a lot throughout the years, you didn’t want to financially rely on him for everything. You wanted to be independent. You got a job and paid for most of your college tuition and living expenses including your car, apartment, and phone on your own. Whatever money you borrowed from your brother to pay for the rest, you made a budgeted plan to pay back in installments over a period of time.

“I can't take your money just because we're family! I donated that money to you!”

“What did you just say? Donate? Did you donate that money because you felt sorry for me?” You asked. You huffed and stood up. “I want to go home.”

“Where do you think you're going? You are home. You have a room here.”

You shook your head. “This is where you live, but I meant I want to go back to my own place.”

“Sit down. I know how precise you want to be with money, but don't do that to me. I'll wire the money back to your account.”

“No! It's your money. Just take it.”

“Would you take it if you were me? What kind of a man would take his little sister’s money...especially when she's doing financially bad! I'd be reluctant to take it even if you had lots of money.”

“Don't look at me like that. I think even family members should pay back what they owe. And I’m not even doing bad. I’m doing just fine. Better than fine. I can afford to pay you back. I may not be making nearly as much as you, but it’s not like I can't pay my rent if I don't have that money.”

“Don't you get it? I don't want it.”

“But I want to pay you back!”

“Stop being stubborn!”

“Oh, whatever! I'm leaving!” You got up and grabbed your coat, your purse, and your car keys.

“Hey! Stop right there! I'll count to three! One, two, two and a half, three...”

Ignoring him, you put your shoes on and left, his front door shutting behind you loudly even though you didn’t slam it.

He immediately grabbed his phone and called you. When you picked up, he said, “Hey! One, two—”

The line went dead again. You hung up on him.

“Hello? Hello? Hey! Hey!” He looked at the screen and then threw his phone on the coffee table in frustration. He couldn’t believe you were paying him back! And on top of that, you insisted on paying interest. He was so pissed! He would’ve smacked some sense into you if he could’ve.

~

It’s now present day and you haven’t heard much from your brother in the last two years. While others may find it odd, it’s normal for you to not hear from your brother much. You still don’t know exactly what he does for a living beyond working in business. All you know is that he’s often busy with work and is called away from home to go on long business trips all over South Korea, often to places where he can’t be reached by phone. But he always emphasized to you that if there was ever an emergency and you needed him, he’d drop what he was doing and come to your aid. Luckily, you haven’t had to take him up on that offer. In the past two years, though his communications were considerably less than previous years, he still sent you the usual birthday and holiday cards and called you periodically. That was enough to assure you he was well. As the saying goes: No news is good news.

But then, in his mad hunt for The Recruiter, Gi-hun discovers your existence and connection to the man he’s been after. The loan sharks he’s hired to investigate and search for him somehow find out this information through what seems almost like a miracle or lucky break and they relay said information to Gi-hun immediately after confirming it’s legit.

“Sir, we’ve been doing what we can to find that man. His whereabouts and identity are still unknown, but we found something. It might be a lead.”

“What is it?”

“He has a younger sister.”

“I'm sorry?”

“He has a younger sister.”

“Living?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. We cross-checked and verified the information multiple times. It’s legit. She lives in Seoul. But if we question her, a lot of craziness might go on all at once and, in the end, she might not be able to tell you anything if he’s kept her in the dark about these games to cover his tracks. She might be afraid if we just show up at her home or corner her in public. We don’t know if she still keeps in contact with her brother and, if she does, she may tip him off that we’re onto him and we may lose all of our progress, what little we’ve made, if she goes into hiding too. How should we proceed?”

Gi-hun tells them to watch you from a distance for the time being and, when the time is right, to question you subtly, casually. He tells them no matter what, to not let you know they’re looking for your brother, just that they’re looking for someone who might have seen something rather than someone who did something. No one thinks that their family or neighbors are capable of what The Recruiter’s done. He tells them that they should get started. After tailing you and monitoring your activity for days or weeks to learn your routine, the opportunity finally comes. They approach and give you a cover story that they’re looking for a missing dog that was last seen near where you live. They even show you a picture of the dog.

“We're hoping that you may have seen something and not even realized it. Maybe you have a neighbor who takes his trash out late, works on his car in his garage, anything that might put someone outside at an odd hour and give them the opportunity to see something.”

“I see. But it’s hard for me to remember things like that. Is there anything specific you’re looking for?”

“It won't be overt. Neighborhood kids probably aren’t afraid of this person.”

“They aren’t? The person you’re describing…is it possible they have an explosive temper?”

“Definitely. Why do you ask?”

“Anger wasn't normal at my house after my dad left. Usually when it happened, when it exploded, it was an anomaly. A surprise. My older brother was overly solicitous. Too nice. And if I wanted anything... Bicycles, toys, dolls... All I had to do was ask. But in public and in groups, he always held my hand. Always. Sometimes so tight, it almost cut off the circulation. But the weird thing is… I can never remember him putting me on his lap or carrying me in his arms or on his shoulders, holding me in any way beyond an arm around my shoulder or a quick side hug. He only ever held or carried me in his arms when I was asleep. And...my brother would always have these talks with me. He was terrified someone would take me.”

“Because he knew what was out there.” Men like him. Mr. Kim doesn’t say that last part out loud, only thinks it to himself.

“You know, maybe this person took your dog because he or she wanted to give a gift to his or her kid or little sibling, but couldn’t afford one. My brother used to buy me things all the time and, when he couldn’t afford it, he stole it for me.”

“What kinds of gifts?”

“Anything. Everything. I told you, there was nothing...” Your eyes lock with a dog as it passes by, being led by their owner on a leash.

“What is it? What else is on your mind?”

“My whole life, there's only one thing I wanted that I couldn't have.”

“Which was?”

“A pet.”

When you were seven years old, you found a puppy on your way home from school. You ran all the way home with this little ball of fur. You were so excited. And when you got to the house, your brother was the only one home. He was nineteen and was visiting during winter break. You gave him the puppy to hold while you got it some milk. You didn't have dog food, but you thought, well, a puppy's like a baby, so milk, right? You heard the puppy yelp and when you got back, your brother was in the bathroom and he turned and told you to put the milk away before it spoiled. You didn't understand. He told you that your mother didn't need the hassle of another mouth to feed and you were never to do that again. He tilted his head and you saw the puppy limp in his arms. Dead. You started crying and you could swear he looked like he was having fun. He buried it in the woods or in the backyard before your mom got home and swore you to secrecy by scaring you, telling you that you’d both get in a big heap of trouble if she found out what you guys did. Cruelty to animals is part of psychopathy. You know that now. But what you don't understand is that...

Your phone alarm or reminder goes off, breaking you from your trance and deep thoughts. You’re running late. “I’m sorry, I have to go. I hope you find your dog. Good luck.”

After meeting you, Mr. Kim and Mr. Choi are in Jonggak Station, eating vending machine food that is less than appetizing and bemoaning their lack of progress even after questioning you. And then it happens. They hear a loud clacking. They look up and see your brother, throwing down a red paper ddakji tile and slapping a man. When the man wins, your brother hands him 100,000 won. The clacking continues and your brother applauds the man when he wins again. Mr. Kim’s hand is shaking as he holds up his phone to call Gi-hun.

“We’ve found the guy. It’s him.”

“Are you sure?”

“The ddakji, slapping, and money. It’s just like you said. He’s handing over the card now.”

“Where are you?”

“Jonggak Station, but he’s leaving.”

“I’m on my way. Follow him carefully, and keep me updated on his location. Stay on him until I get there.”

“I got it. I’ll be in touch.”

Mr. Kim and Mr. Choi tail him as he buys a hundred bread rolls at a bakery and a hundred scratchers at a convenience store. They follow him down the street.

“Hey. He’s gone into Tapgol Park.”

“I’m heading there now. Do not approach him. Wait for me.”

“Okay. Hurry up.”

They follow him into Tapgol Park, pretending to read newspapers and watching as he approaches every homeless person in the park one by one.

“Excuse me, sir. Hello. You seem to be struggling, living a life with no future. I have a little gift for you today.”

“A gift? What is it?”

He holds out bread in one hand and a lottery scratcher in the other. When the homeless man tries to reach for both, he pulls his arms back and up and shakes his head. “You can only have one. Bread, or lottery. You have to choose one.” He holds them back out.

The man picks lottery. The Recruiter holds out a coin.

“Ah…you lost.” He holds out his hand. “The coin, please.”

The homeless man gives it back and the Recruiter picks up his grocery bags and briefcase and moves on to the next person. And the next person. And the next person. So on and so forth.

“Woo-seok.”

“Yes.”

“What do you think he’s doing?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he’s a good guy. I’m confused.”

“How come he’s not giving us one?”

“Beats me. Man, I had a lucky dream last night.”

The Recruiter stands in the middle of the park and dumps all of the leftover bread onto the ground.

“What is he doing?”

“Why would you throw away perfectly good food like that?”

When the homeless man tries to grab the bread, The Recruiter stomps on it, nearly crushing the homeless man’s fingers as he squashes it beneath his shoe. He gave them all a choice between prioritizing survival by choosing the certainty of the bread, or choosing the random chance of the lottery scratcher that they were likely to lose. While he approves of the very few people who picked the bread, he has nothing but contempt for the many people who chose the lottery and continued to gamble instead of focusing on staying alive.

“I gave you a chance, and you made your choice. I’m not the one who threw these away. It’s you, ladies and gentlemen.”

He grunts as he’s more than happy to stomp on and kick the once perfectly good bread just to spite the homeless people. Unbeknownst to Mr. Kim and Mr. Choi, he was like the game players and homeless people at one point in his life, having hit rock bottom. He spent years doing all kinds of grueling work, all to pull you and himself out of the hole you were both born into. And sometimes, when he made progress, something unforeseen happened in his life to set him back. It felt as if he climbed closer and closer to the surface, just about to claw his way to freedom, to a better life, only to have more dirt shoveled into the hole, making him slip and fall deeper into it. He hates his past self. His actions in the park are an expression of self-hatred and an attempt to set himself apart from the vagrants. And then he just combs his hair back and tucks his tie back into his suit blazer like nothing happened. His social experiment complete, he gets into an orange taxi.

“Where are you? Are you coming?”

“I’ll be there soon.”

“This guy is a total nutcase. He’s in a cab now. I’ll keep you updated, but hurry!”

“I got it.”

“I’ll send the address. Call when you arrive.”

“Where’s Seong?”

“He’ll be here in ten minutes.”

The Recruiter walks down an alleyway.

“Hey, we might lose him if we wait. Let’s just get him by ourselves.”

“By ourselves?”

“That’s right. Are you scared? It’s two against one. Don’t be a coward now that you’re married.”

“It’s just that something seems off with that guy. You heard what his sister said. Besides, Seong told us to wait until he gets here.”

“But what if we lose him? What if Seong doesn’t give us the money? Woo-seok, it’s a billion won!”

“You’ll give me half, right?”

“Don’t you trust me? I officiated your wedding, for God’s sake. Come on.”

They run down the alleyway, chasing after The Recruiter who leisurely strolls down the way and turns the corner like he’s going on a nice, relaxing walk and isn’t being pursued.

“Hey, you! Stop!”

“Stop! Hey, you!”

Although it’s two against one, they’re no match for The Recruiter as he subdues them both easily, knocking them out cold after a few hits with just his briefcase. He watches from the top of a building as Gi-hun runs around the alleyways below. He pulls out his phone and calls you.

You pick up within three rings. “What’s up?”

“Would you come over?”

“Now?”

“Yes, now.”

“No. I’d like to, but I can’t. I should really focus on this project I’m working on for a client. The deadline is coming up and I haven’t made as much progress as I would’ve liked to by now.”

“It would just be for a few minutes. An hour at most.”

“An hour is a long time when it’s the afternoon and you have a deadline like I do.”

“Come on. Please? I miss you and it’ll make me feel better to have you here so I can see your face. Don’t you miss me too?”

“Of course I miss you, but—”

“It’s important.”

“More important than my work?”

“Yes.”

“How so?”

“Remember how you always asked me what I did for work in the summer and I was always very closed lips about it all?”

He hears you snort over the phone.

“Remember? It’s impossible to forget. You always used to say you’d tell me when I was older. A phrase which you know always upsets me. I gave up on asking after a few years. Figured you were never gonna tell me and it’d be a secret you’d take to your grave.”

“But I wasn’t lying. You deserved an explanation, and I really did want to have a conversation and explain everything to you one day when you were older. And, well…that day has come.”

“What are you saying?”

“If you still want to know what I really do for work, come over. You’ll see when you get here.”

“Okay. But just for a few minutes to an hour at most. I’m going to hold you to that. I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay. See you then. I love you.”

He doesn’t say ‘I love you’ to you often. He just isn’t that kind of person. So when he does say it, you know he really means it.

“I love you too. See you soon.”

Unbeknownst to you, he had hidden cameras installed in every room of your apartment or house after you moved in to keep an eye on you. After you hang up, he taps an app on his phone, switching over to the live feed of your apartment or house. He watches you. Ever since you nearly died while sleepwalking, he had to follow you around every night whenever you had an episode since you couldn’t afford treatment or medication. He was afraid you might kill someone. Or yourself. Though you’re on medication now or otherwise have taken the proper precautions and have your sleepwalking under control, he still worries. Better safe than dead.

When you arrive at his place, he welcomes you inside, taking your coat and your purse for you. He leads you upstairs. You don’t know what to make of the scene in front of you. It isn’t at all what you thought it would be. Underneath the chandelier, there are two men tied up in chairs in the middle of the room. But not just any two men. You recognize them as the men who questioned you about a missing dog earlier in the day. Now they’re both gagged with black dog bone shaped gags and blindfolded with black blindfolds. Their skin is bloodied as if your brother got physical with them. Your brother removes their blindfolds and turns on the gramophone. “Nessun Dorma” begins to play loudly. What the fuck is going on? What you’re seeing before your very eyes brings back all the memories you tried so hard to repress. Looking back and forth between your brother and the bound and gagged men, your past traumas end up knocking on your door once again. It feels like the air is being dragged out of your lungs with punches to your stomach. Your thoughts are spiraling out of control and there is nothing you can do. Seeing them bloodied like that, they look eerily similar to the boys that you dated and even the ones you didn’t. Boys that all had one thing in common: They broke your heart. Whether it was because they cheated on you, dumped you for other girls, stood you up at a school dance or on a date, or asked you out as a cruel prank. For a minute that feels like an hour, you dissociate. Your mind is thrown back into the past when you were a teenager.

~

When the sound of the door opening brought you back to your senses, you dried up your tears and put on a happy face to greet your brother, except that when his eyes met yours, he could sense something was wrong. You tried to pretend like nothing happened, you really did, but nothing ever escaped your brother’s eyes. When he arrived home with his usual attire and briefcase and saw your figure laying on the floor, close to a corner of the room and shaking your way through an episode of heartbreak and betrayal, he felt his blood boil despite his cold exterior. Underneath the impassive mask, his eyes were taking in account every detail, from your body posture to your wet eyelashes. He was a very attentive man after all, he didn’t get his job as a recruiter for nothing. Seeing you clutching to yourself as your life depended on it, desperate to relieve the emotional suffering, he couldn’t do anything else but clench his jaw, body stiffening due to the urge to protect you from any harm, be it emotional or physical.

“What happened? Who did this to you?” It was a shot, knowing you well enough to bet that your state was caused by someone else rather than yourself.

Despite showing worriness, his voice also carried danger. And you, poor thing, you were being washed away by tides of confusion and sadness. You couldn’t bring yourself to speak up, the only sounds leaving your mouth being sobs. You wanted to crawl towards your brother but wouldn’t he think you were pathetic? In any case, you didn’t move. Upon seeing you having trouble breathing, a million things crossed his mind and yet he didn’t rush to your side. He went through his usual routine of undoing his tie and taking off his jacket. This time, however, his movements seemed slightly stiffer and more aggressive than usual. Despite not knowing what he was thinking, it was the silence that was killing you. He was a dangerous man beneath that charismatic facade and a part of you knew that. But another part of you also knew that he promised that no harm would come to you and you believed his words faithfully. How much of his words were true at that point? The uncertainty caused you to sob as uncontrollable tears escaped your eyes. You were completely shaking under the stressful emotions that took over your body. Your brother, on the other hand, picked you up from the floor and helped you walk to the couch, ignoring your tense fingers grasping and wrinkling his perfectly ironed white dress shirt.

“Who did this to you?”

You had a feeling he already knew. He made it clear to you in the past that it was pointless to hide anything from him. You didn’t answer.

“Tell me who did this to you,” he tried once again, more firmly this time.

Upon still receiving no answer, his fists clenched and unclenched as his blood boiled. It became impossible to keep his cool when you were hurt like that. Fuck, he would even kill the person who did this to you.

“Who are you protecting with your silence? Why?” he spat, voice rising as his emotions took control, but he didn’t dare yell at you. “Hm?”

You barely managed to say the boy’s name before he sat down next to you and continued to demand to know. Your brother was persistent, he would not give up until he had what he wanted. His breathing became shallow, fast, and he was rabid. So you gave him what he wanted — a name. You managed, between sobs, to whisper the name he was looking for. The name he already knew, but wanted you to corroborate. He gave you a light pat on your shoulder, content with you obliging but with fury running through his veins. Suddenly, his hand was itching and the gun inside his briefcase felt heavier than before. A hand landed on your trembling shoulder before his expression softened. He waited until you had your attention fully on him before he decided to speak up in a stern voice.

“We have two options,” he raised two fingers in front of your eyes, giving you the false sensation of choice and comfort. He took one finger down and held up his pointer finger. “Option One: I’ll take care of you at this instant and everything will go back to normal, or—” He held up a second finger so it looked like he was making a peace sign. “Option Two: I’ll find a way to make him pay. Right now. What do you say? Which one is it?”

Surprisingly, his voice soothed your nerves and you stopped crying. Still, you could only sit there, apprehensive for the outcome and having these faltering feelings for this recently discovered darker side of your brother. His temper didn’t show, but you knew from that moment on that he was capable of anything. You ended up picking Option One, too tired to take care of yourself so you let your brother do it for you. You despised violence and would much rather let things go as if nothing ever happened. You only hoped your now ex-boyfriend would be safe from harm. Your brother thought it was unbelievable how you were worried so much about the person that put you in that situation. What you didn’t know, however, was that he was going to make that stupid boy pay anyway, despite your obvious concerns. He had the means to do it and, whether you believed it or not, he would hurt or kill others for you, even if you didn’t ask him to. Later that night, he ended up helping you bathe and dressed you in more comfortable clothes before cooking you dinner - seaweed soup. When it came time to go to sleep, he placed you in bed and tucked you in. It was all just like he did when you were a kid.

“I told you to stay away from that boy.”

“I know. I’m sorry I lied to you. I shouldn’t have, but...”

“I’m going to ask you one more time. And this time, I want you to answer my question and I want you to answer truthfully. What exactly happened?”

It was about time that he figured out what you were hiding.

“He…and his friends…they… At first he was so cool, he bought us all booze and cigarettes. He had a car and his own apartment. We were kinda going together for about five months. Tonight, I was at the beach with some of my and his friends. I was flirting with him, you know, a little buzzed. Then another car came driving onto the beach and there were a bunch of girls in it and…it was dark but it was still so hot outside… He asked me to grab more drinks from the extra cooler he left in his car and when I came back…she was laying in the sand topless, her swimsuit bottoms halfway down her legs while his head was…his mouth was…he was… He never cared about me. He was just using me to get closer to another girl. To make her jealous until she took him back. You were right. I should have known better, but I considered him a good friend and loving partner! He…he shared his food with me.”

Out on the streets of your neighborhood, starvation was one of the most common causes of death, right after death from exposure, drug use, alcohol poisoning, and murder. Sharing food was a big deal. And growing up the way you did with your brother, the only man who loved you, how could you not have seen it as an act of love? Because of your brother’s gestures of platonic and familial love with food, you were confused and misconstrued your ex-boyfriend’s similar gesture as an act of romantic love.

“You’re telling me you were secretly dating? That you snuck out and went off with your friends to meet that boy and have a party at the beach when you should’ve been at home studying or asleep in bed?”

“I know. I’m sorry. I thought he loved me, but he tricked me.”

“And if it was all a trick? If any of that food or those drinks had been spiked? You could have been kidnapped or hurt or assaulted.”

“I know that, too.”

“Then why did you do it? You're smarter than that.” He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “From now on, don't cry in front of any other man besides me. If you do, I'm going to get mad at you. They’re not worth your tears. They’re not worthy of you or your heart. Don’t give your love away so cheaply,” he said to you, wiping away your tears.

You nodded and fell asleep soon after.

While you were asleep, he quickly left you alone in the house and disappeared into the night, determined to solve the situation whether you or his superiors approved of his methods or not. Whatever happened next, he’d clean it up and take care of it. His years spent working as a pink guard meant he was good at cleaning up messes and destroying all traces of evidence. Next thing you heard was the sound of the key rattling and turning in the lock of the front door in the wee hours of the morning just before there was a soft click as it shut. Your brother was home, and you had no idea he even left.

You didn’t see your ex-boyfriend again after that. You didn’t see that girl he cheated on you with either. They didn’t show up to school the next day. They didn’t show up to school at all. They just stopped coming. But there weren’t any missing persons reports made for either of them. Some said they transferred schools. Some said they dropped out. Others said they ran off and got married. It was all rumors. Nobody knew the truth. Except for their murderer.

~

They were the first, but they weren’t the last. Whatever the offense was, your brother made every person, man or woman, wish they hadn’t hurt you. Dating and romance was difficult for you because of your brother. He’d be damned if he let history repeat itself and you ended up marrying a man he considered to be a lowlife or deadbeat like your father. But at the same time, it was as if no man was good enough for you in his eyes. Everyone else in the world apart from you and himself were pieces of trash, there were just some who got lucky and made it out of the dumpster. Every man was somehow beneath him and, by extension, beneath you. There was always something about your potential partners that caused him to disapprove. You were exasperated and it got to a point where you wondered if he was going to arrange a marriage for you. You even confronted him and asked him if that was the case, but he said no. He did have an ulterior motive, but it wasn’t that. Unbeknownst to you, he blackmailed or bribed every single man who was interested in you to stay away from you and never contact you again. And those he couldn’t scare away or buy off ended up dead. He wasn’t totally unreasonable. You could have male coworkers and friends. Even best friends. Of course you could. Just not male lovers. Unless you found one that met his impossible standards. Because of his weird superiority complex and classist ideologies, for the longest time, you were an adult virgin who had to use sex toys or your hands to find release. That very well might still be the case to this day. After one too many awkward dinners or gatherings where you tried to introduce your potential partner to your brother, you gave up on love and dating. You instead focused your time and energy towards your career. Just like he did. He never had a girlfriend or fell in love as far as you knew. But you had a feeling that, even if he did, he wouldn’t tell you about his love or sex life. If it wasn’t for your own life experience, you wouldn’t think he was even capable of love. Though you tried to block them out from your memory, you’d be lying if you said there weren’t times your brother frightened you.

This is one of those times.

“These men here… When you met them earlier today, though it was the first time you saw them, it wasn’t the first time they saw you.”

“What?”

“You didn’t realize, but they’d been following you. They were watching your every move, studying your routine.”

“What? Why?”

“A man hired them and a bunch of other loan sharks to find me. He offered to pay one billion won to whoever succeeded. During their investigation, they learned you were my sister.”

“How?”

“I left the information for them to find. All that time spent staking out subway stations and they still had nothing to show for their two years of work. No leads, no clues. Their incompetence was amusing at first, but I eventually grew bored of hiding from and evading them. So I gave them a nudge in the right direction.”

“You led them to me?”

He nods. “But they still didn’t know how to approach you. So they followed you and watched you for an extra week before finally making a move.”

“So their story about the missing dog…?”

“A ploy to get information about me out of you. They thought maybe you knew something about my work. Now you see I had good reason for keeping you in the dark all these years. I knew that the less you knew, the safer you’d be. But all things kept in the dark must come to light eventually. And so here we are.”

Your legs feel like they’ll buckle underneath you. You fall onto the purple couch in the room. It’s one of the only things of color in his entire house. Your tastes in home decor are completely different from his. Apart from your bedroom here, which he lets you decorate however you want because it’s your space, everything else in his house is black. Everything. The curtains, the chairs, the tables, the shelves, the clocks, the dishes, the appliances, the record players, the shower, the closets, his bed, the elevator. Even the walls are painted black and the floors are black tile or black wood. You complained that so much black was suffocating and reminded you too much of death, that it was like he lived in a funeral home. Even funeral homes had more color than this. You told him he needed a pop of color somewhere in his living space too, so he let you pick out this purple couch yourself as a sort of compromise. You put your head in your hands. A part of you can’t believe this is happening. The other part of you realizes that all of the clues about the man your brother really is underneath the facade he put up were always there, you just couldn’t or refused to see them.

“What’s going to happen now?” You ask hesitantly as you pick your head back up and look your brother in the eye.

“These men here will be very sorry. They'll wish they never involved themselves with you and that they could have done something to stop me. They'll wish things could be different. They would do anything for things to be different. So…” He puts his hands on Mr. Choi and Mr. Kim’s shoulders. “You’re going to play a game now. Rock, Paper, Scissors, Minus One. I trust you know the rules. You form a shape with each hand, then take one away. The game is decided by the remaining hands. Of course, there’s a penalty for the loser.” He pats them on their shoulders.

He picks up a gun. Oh, god. There’s a gun. You didn’t notice it before. How did you not notice it?

“I’m sure you’ve seen this in movies. It’s called Russian Roulette.”

“No! You can’t be serious!” But you know he is. Dead serious.

He ignores your protests. “I’ll place one bullet into a revolver and close it. I’ll point the gun at the loser’s head and pull the trigger.”

You’re so scared when he puts the gun to his own head.

“Your odds of death are 1 in 6. Your odds of survival are 5 in 6.”

You notice his finger is actually on the trigger.

“Wait, don’t—!”

He pulls it, making you flinch even though it’s a blank. The gun clicks but, as fucked up as this situation is, you’re relieved. You don’t want your brother to die. He’s the only family you have. You don’t know what you would’ve done if he blew his brains out just then.

But he whistles as if what he just did was nothing.

“Not that bad, right?”

The men look towards you, their scared eyes pleading for you to help them even though they know you can’t. You left your phone in your purse downstairs. Even if you try to make a run for it, your brother’s legs are longer and his stride is wider than yours. He’d easily catch you before you made it three steps towards the stairs leading downstairs. And then what? Would he tie you up too? You’re being held captive just like they are. You’re just the captive audience. Your eyes are just as scared and helpless as theirs even though it’s not your life on the line. You just want to apologize to them. But you know it won’t do any good.

“Please... Please, don't make me watch.”

“What?”

“You never let me see you angry, right?”

“I’m not angry, little sister. Far from it.”

“Please, don't make me watch this.”

“You don’t want to watch? But this is what you wanted, isn’t it? Once this is over, I’ll tell you the whole truth and nothing but the truth about what I do for a living. But first, I’ll show you. Give you a little taste.”

“And then what’ll happen to me? I know what happens to people who know too much.”

He laughs as if you just told a great joke. “Nothing will happen to you. These men here…they aren’t the only ones who were watching you. When you became an adult, I told my superiors you could and would keep the secret, even if you didn’t do what I do. But they had to be sure, so they watched you too.”

“For how long?”

“Years. I finally got their approval to tell you everything and I just had to bring you here to celebrate.”

“Celebrate? This is like a celebration for you?”

“Of course. This is like a ‘take your little sister to work day’ for me. You can think of it like that if it’ll make you feel better.”

“It won’t. Please, let's just leave.”

“I can’t leave just yet. These men have something I need first and one of them is going to give it to me. But not before I have my fun.”

“If you make me watch this, I will never forget it. I will never forgive you. Please, Oppa…” You hope the term of endearment will get through to him.

It doesn’t.

“Why are you acting so squeamish? It’s nothing you haven’t seen before. You told me you watched those horror movies I sent you and didn’t need to sleep with your nightlight afterwards.”

“I lied. I didn’t watch those movies at all.”

He sighs. “I had hoped you’d get over your strong aversion to blood and violence as you got older, but I see you still haven’t.”

“You don't have to do this to prove a point, Oppa.”

“Oh, but I do. I’m not just proving a point. I’m doing this for your benefit. Even at your age, blood and death still makes you physically ill. It’s my fault. I coddled you just the right amount when you were little, but I did it too much when you were older. I didn’t do enough to desensitize you from those things, and I need to fix that. Rape, assault, fraud, arson, murder... Why do you think these crimes are punishable by law? Why is it that they are prohibited by law?”

You don’t answer.

“That's because they are part of human nature. Left to our own devices, humans will rapе, steal, and kill each other. That's just who we really are. But there are no laws in this room. Isn't it a waste to not do any of those things? Such human nature empowers us!”

You curl forward like a shrimp and put your head to your knees. You feel as if you’re on the verge of vomiting.

He tsks at you. “Stop fucking around. You’re younger and smaller than me, but you’re tough. I know you are. The fun is just beginning.” He grabs a waste basket and puts it down next to your feet. “Fine. If you really can’t stomach this, then pull your hair back and vomit into this.”

“I don't want to stay.”

“Oh, now you don’t want to see what I do for work? Too late and too bad. You’re staying. Consider it tough love.” He turns to Mr. Kim and Mr. Choi. “All right. Now, let’s play. On my count. Rock, paper, scissors.”

While Mr. Kim follows the rules and forms a rock and scissors with his hands, Mr. Choi’s hands are shaking too violently. He doesn’t make any shapes.

“You didn’t play. You broke the rules for the first round. Disqualified.” He points the gun at Mr. Choi’s head and pulls the trigger. Blank.

You flinch.

He spins the cylinder. “Now, let’s play again. Rock, paper, scissors. Minus one.” He points the gun at Mr. Kim’s head and pulls the trigger. Blank.

You flinch again. You hate this. You can’t watch but you can’t look away either.

Your brother pulls out a handkerchief and dabs the sweat off of Mr. Kim’s forehead. “Don’t be so nervous. Like I said, your odds of survival are 5 in 6. Let’s play again.” He spins the cylinder. “Rock, paper, scissors. Minus one.” He points the gun at Mr. Choi’s head and pulls the trigger. Blank.

God, it doesn’t matter what the odds are. You flinch every time.

“It’s getting a little boring, isn’t it?”

Oh, God. Your entire body is filled with even more dread, if such a thing is possible. So much that it threatens to overwhelm you.

Your brother puts more bullets into the cylinder. “Let’s reverse the odds now, shall we? Your odds of survival are now 1 in 6. Your odds of death are 5 in 6.” He spins the cylinder. “All right, let’s play again. Let’s speed it up, okay? Rock, paper, scissors. Minus one. Rock, paper, scissors. Minus one. Rock, paper, scissors. Minus one. Rock, paper, scissors. Minus one. Rock, paper, scissors!”

It all goes by so fast. Too fast. Your head is swimming and spinning at the same time from the whiplash of looking back and forth between the three of them, your eyes darting all over the place and not knowing where to keep focus.

He pauses for dramatic effect, letting the suspense linger painfully. And then… “Minus one. Too bad. You didn’t take one away. Disqualified.”

The opera music crescendoes and climaxes as he points the gun at Mr. Kim’s head and pulls the trigger. You flinch and cry out at the loud gunshot. Mr. Kim’s blood splatters on your brother’s cheek, but he’s unfazed and only admires his work. The music stops. You can’t hold it in anymore and vomit into the waste basket.

You feel like you just spent an eternity in an unbearable hell where your brother played God or The Devil. Time moved so slowly, to a crawl. In reality, it was no longer than five minutes.

“Congratulations on your win. Now, can we have a talk?” He looks at Mr. Choi and then back at you from over his shoulder.

You lift your head from the waste basket and look up at him. You know that once he’s done talking to Mr. Choi, you’re in for a talk too. While you look at his face, really look at it for the first time while his mask is completely off and you stare deeply into his eyes, your brain doesn’t even have room to be shocked or traumatized by what you see. A part of you always knew, didn’t you? You knew how tired your brother was. You knew how exhausting his life is. You watched him live it. You watched him fight it. And you saw the man he was becoming, saw the man he really was underneath the facade and you did nothing. Because you loved him. Because he was all you had in the world. You saw how desperately he wanted to be different. You watched him try so hard to be a good brother and, in many ways, he was. But in the end, he just couldn't stop the other thing.

After sweating him for a few minutes, he gets what he wants out of Mr. Choi and knocks him out again. You and your brother are alone.

“Now that that’s taken care of, I believe you and I have a pressing matter to discuss. But let’s do it over a hot, home cooked meal. I’m so hungry I could eat a horse!” He tries to joke.

You don’t laugh.

When you make no attempt to move, he grabs your arm and helps you up. You and he go downstairs together and he pulls out your chair for you, helping you sit down at the dinner table before he pushes your chair back in. You sit there silently and watch him as he takes off his suit blazer, rolls up his sleeves to his elbows, and puts on plastic gloves to make seaweed soup. Prep time for seaweed soup is ten minutes. While his back is turned, you see your purse hanging by the door. You debate making a run for it. You move your legs to the side. Your chair squeaks from under your shifting weight. Damn it.

“I wouldn’t try it if I were you.” Your brother says without even turning around or looking up from what he’s doing at the stove.

You freeze and stay seated, painfully listening to the wall clock tick. There’s nothing else you can do. Cooking time for seaweed soup is thirty-five minutes. Additional time is usually around five minutes.

He sits across from you at the dinner table and serves the food when it’s done. While his appetite is larger than ever after killing a man, yours is completely gone. He notices you playing with your soup instead of actually eating it.

“You should eat.” He taps your bowl with his spoon.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You should be. You just emptied your stomach a few minutes ago. Don’t worry. This is just the start of your desensitization training. Whether you witness it or commit it, the first murder is the hardest.”

“The first? There’s gonna be more?”

He nods. “Being surrounded by death is hard at first, but it will get easier with time. Now eat. I made it with higher quality meat and seaweed, so it should taste even better than what we used to eat as kids.”

You reluctantly take a couple bites. It does taste a lot better than you remember. But you don’t have it in you to savor the taste. Your brother eats with relish. You eat with obligation.

“You know, people who grew up by the seaside cook this soup with rockfish, not beef. Once you’ve had it that way, its memory follows you all the way to the city. You can’t replicate that childhood taste, no matter how hard you try. But some are beaten for not getting it right.”

You swallow nervously. You know he’s talking about himself and your mother, how your father used to beat him and her for nothing and anything.

“Before you were born, we always had seaweed soup at home. At first, I thought it was because Dad liked it. I only found out later that Mom had never gotten it after giving birth to me. Mom never had a mom, and that haunted her throughout her life. The day she was beaten by Dad and taken to the hospital with chipped teeth… I saw her cook seaweed soup and eat it in the kitchen in the dark. To think he did that to her… All over something like seaweed soup. Every time she was hurting, and every time she was beaten, maybe she thought it would heal her, or maybe she believed her fate was sealed because…because no one had ever made her that soup. To me, seaweed soup is a reminder of death.”

You freeze, your spoon halfway to your lips. You lower it and stare at your bowl of seaweed soup. After your father was presumed dead and the police came with the custody papers for you, he made you seaweed soup. The night you went to the beach, after you told him your boyfriend cheated on you, he made seaweed soup for dinner. In that moment, it finally and suddenly clicks for you that your father didn’t die in a vehicular accident. Your ex-boyfriend and the girl he cheated on you with didn’t transfer, didn’t drop out, didn’t run away and get married. They were murdered. By your brother. And those are only the ones you know about. How many others had he directly or indirectly killed? A pit forms in your stomach at the question you don’t dare to ask. Even if he knows the answer, you don’t want to know.

He looks at the time. “You should head home now.”

“What? Are you seriously kicking me out?! You promised me that you’d give me an explanation! That you’d tell me everything!”

“I did. But it’s been an hour.”

“So?”

“When I called, I told you it’d be no more than an hour. You said you’d hold me to it. So you should go home and work on that project of yours. I’ll explain another time.”

You narrow your eyes at him as he smiles at you. “I know what you’re doing. Stop it. Forget what I said. You were right. This is more important.”

“Are you absolutely sure you want to know? Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”

“And satisfaction brought it back. We’ve passed the point of no return. You might as well tell me everything. Now. Stop playing games.”

“Oh, but I can’t. Playing games is my job.”

Your seaweed soup grows cold as he takes his time to tell you everything and answer your questions. He’s a recruiter for something called the Squid Games. Children’s games with a deadly twist where elimination means death. He finds and lures in desperate people who are drowning in debt so deep there is no chance to come up for air with a game of Ddjaki and the tantalizing offer of 100,000 won for every time they win. But for every time he won, he’d slap them instead. That was just one of many tactics he employed. Before he was a recruiter, he was a guard. He killed players and burned their bodies. He directly and indirectly killed a lot of people before you were a teenager, including your own father. You wish you could shed tears for your old man, but you can’t. Your father was horrible to you both. Your brother once told you...the best day of your lives was the day your father went missing and was presumed dead, because his abuse finally stopped and you would be happier and better off now that it was just the two of you. But did he deserve the fate he was dealt? You don’t know about that.

What you do know is your brother is a sadistic killer who gets his kicks from other people’s misery, misfortune, pain, desperation, and fear. And that could very well include your own now. But despite everything that’s happened…you still don’t hate him. You don't hate him. You don't. You try, but you just don't. No matter what else he is, he's your brother. Now, you're not responsible for the things he did in the past or the things he’ll do in the future. But you can't change the fact that to you...he’s still your brother. Your brother who played with you, fed you, comforted you when you cried, took you shopping, and tied your shoelaces. Your brother who helped you through the awkwardness of your first menstrual cycle because your mom was already dead and couldn’t do it herself and bought you everything you needed including chocolate, a heating pad, tampons, and pads, and showed you how to use them. Your brother who bought you a large bouquet of your favorite flowers and stood up and clapped loudly when it was your turn to walk on stage and accept your diploma or degree for your high school and college graduations. Your brother who told you how proud he was of you and how proud your mom would be for graduating college with flying colors. But you just feel like he's winning if you don't hate him. But there’s no real winning, is there? There's just...living. Moving forward. And if you keep doing that... You'll be all right. Is that true? It is for you. It has to be. You’ll never get to apologize to any of the victims. Nor the families of the men and women your brother directly and indirectly killed in the past and will kill in the future. If only you could just apologize to one family that had been hurt that way... But it wouldn’t be good enough.

After taking your and his dishes away, your brother rolls down his sleeves and puts his suit jacket back on, buttoning it. He tells you he’ll clean up his mess upstairs when he gets back but, for now, he’s going to play another game of Russian Roulette, but with a twist: To make the game appear a little more serious, he and Gi-hun will each take turns pulling the trigger without spinning the cylinder again. The bullet will be fired within six attempts, and the game will be over. He’s thought of every possible outcome so that, no matter what happens, he’ll make it out alive and return to you. His suit is already rigged with piping filled with fake blood and he has a fake bullet that’s painted to look real to the naked and untrained eye. He can quickly swap out the real bullet for the fake one without Gi-hun noticing by using sleight of hand if the bullet comes up on his turn. In his line of work, it isn’t enough to be just one step ahead. He has to be at least five steps ahead of the other person he sees as an opponent. No matter what happens, whether or not he has to fake his death, he’ll get up and walk away. He’ll have to go back into hiding for a while. It’s up to you whether or not you come with him.

He goes off to face Gi-hun, taking Mr. Choi’s tied up and unconscious body and Mr. Kim’s corpse with him. He’s going to stage the former in a hotel room and dispose of the latter. He leaves you alone in his place to mull over his offer. You can’t leave even if you want to because he’s taken your purse and locked all the doors and windows that only he has the keys or knows the passcodes to since he changed them all. There are bars on the windows or the glass is so thick they’re practically impenetrable and there’s nothing you can break them with. There’s no landline phone or internet connection. You’re trapped until he gets back. You have a choice to make now. Go back to your old life and carry on as normal, or join the games as a recruiter. As a recruiter, you won’t have to see any violence or bloodshed like you would if you were a guard. You’ll just have to lure players in. Like fishing. But if you go into the field, he will be responsible for you in the beginning until you get your bearings and then you’ll be responsible for yourself. Though you’ll work together or independently, you will still be a team working under the same people and towards the same goal. Either way, you have to keep the secret if you want to stay alive. If you try to snitch, he can’t protect you then and you’d only succeed in getting yourself killed. You don’t know what to do. Stay in your old life or go into a new one. By making this irreversible choice, you will carry the burden of knowledge and alter the course of your entire future no matter what you decide.

[dragqueenstarscream]

In relation to your Starop Library au post:

-Starscream suddenly starts going to the library more often, asking for assistance finding books all the way at the other end of the library despite already knowing where they are whenever Optimus is on staff.

-Star starts sitting near Optimus' desk, occasionally staring at him and taking care of his appearance even more than usual. (He'll deny it to the end of the Earth though)

-In some places (*cough cough* Amarica *cough cough*) the average salary of a librarian can be pretty low compared to living costs so if Starscream finds out Optimus has trouble with living costs he mysteriously gets a raise.

-Whenever Op has trouble finding someplace in the city due to being from the country, Starscream would immediately assist him. Trying to find a good coffee shop or bookstore? Need a ride home since it's dark outside? He'll jump at the opportunity to be near Optimus longer, although he'll probably act annoyed about it.

-If Optimus is in collage on scholarship (or highschool based on how old they are) and needs an expensive textbook(s), brand new copies of them are mysteriously donated the the library by an anonymous source, or Star would let him borrow his if he had it.

Sorry if these are out of character, I just like sharing my StarOp brainrot

-💌 anon

see you get it!! you see the vision!!

as for the out of character worry, remember that, in some iterations, starscream was actually a very different person before the main war happens, like in skybound. since this is an au where nothing goes horribly horribly wrong and nobody dies, i think we can play with that possibility here. anyway!

- he would. he absolutely would. he'll ask for the same book several times even when he should know where it is by now. he thinks he's so sly, but optimus caught onto what starscream was doing a while ago. he just plays along because he thinks it's cute.

- i could definitely see starscream switching his usual study sessions from his dorm to the library so he can be near optimus. it's no coincidence that he also wears nicer outfits and fixes up his hair on his study days. maybe he'll throw on some jewelry if he's feeling especially fancy.

- i imagine in this au, optimus is working at the library to help with paying tuition while the rest of his money goes to food and rent. starscream comes from a family rich enough to afford the full ride, so he's a little shocked. cue a "mysterious donor" paying rent for optimus and his roommates. i wonder who that could be!

- starscream knows a good opportunity when he sees one. if optimus is looking for a nice place to treat himself with his christmas bonus, starscream has a recommendation. new movie out that optimus wants to see? starscream knows the best theater and can pay for the best seats. optimus needs a ride back to his apartment because his pickup truck is in the shop? starscream drives him in his rolls royce. he acts annoyed, but really he's just emotionally constipated.

- college textbooks are ridiculously expensive, so if optimus is having trouble affording the pricey physics textbooks he needs... oh, wow! someone donated a bunch of physics textbooks to the library! how kind! definitely without any ulterior motives of any sort!

also, what would their names be in this au? i imagine optimus' would be orson ryan pax, but he always goes by ryan or orion because he sees orson as an old man's name. what about starscream? something fancy and british probably

[lexxierave]

When Fate Intervenes- tasm!Peter Parker x Reader Part 1

It was a wonder you and Peter Parker never met each other until you were both forced to attend a mandatory pre-midterm conference with Mr.Hertz, your physics professor for the fall semester, of which you were currently running late for. Then again maybe it was all part of fate's funny game it wanted to play on the two of you. 

You had completely forgotten what day it was earlier this evening and went straight home from work instead of heading in the opposite direction to your college.

You were recently new to New York, settling into a small and cheap apartment on the outskirts of Queens. It was all you could afford after you packed up and moved across states to attend college, preferring to be as far away from your family as you could get. 

You used what was left over from your college tuition to make the down payment for rent. After that you found a job at a small corner store. Just around the corner actually and you happened to find out they needed help by chance when you went there for basic food supplies. It wasn't much but they were willing to work around your college schedule and let you do your homework whenever it got slow.

You had just finished your shift at work and were completely wiped from working all day and thinking about the mountain of assignments and reading you still had to do.

You envied the rich college kids if only for the facts that they didn't have to worry about that. Didn't have to worry about failing or surviving in the real world. While you never had a moment's rest. Never stopping and allowing yourself just to breathe and live.

You didn't come from a happy home. No, you came from a broken home. One that taught you terrible habits, like avoiding your problems. Or people in general so that you don't get attached, get let down and have more problems.

Anxiety was a constant in your life so much that you always wore out. Which was why you decided a nice nap after work sounded better than starting your schoolwork.

You woke up to your phone going off about an hour later.

You looked blinked that sleep away and picked up your phone to see your college's name rolling across the screen.

Puzzled and tired you answered it. The sleep is evident in your voice.

"So it's not just my class lectures you tend to be late for." The voice on the other end spoke after you said your typical greeting. The exasperation evident in their voice.

It was clearly your physics teacher, you'd remember that voice from everywhere. Having been scolded by him multiple times this semester for arriving late for his early morning class but it was challenging when you usually had to work the evening shift at work then stay up late to finish up your course work before the next day.

It was not an ideal balance but it was one you had to manage for the time being. Your job wouldn't give you the morning shift and the college only offers this class during one time this semester and you would rather get it out of the way fast then wait to do it plus it was a prerequisite for a handful of your other classes.

"I am so sorry I thought it was Tuesday for some reason. I'll be there in about 30 minutes." You apologized for the tenth time for letting the meeting slip your mind and lied through your teeth about when you'd be there.

Which is why you were running across campus to one of the buildings in the back to meet your fate.

Meanwhile in another part of campus Peter hand touched down from swing to one of his emergency backpacks that he left for when he was running late for something on school grounds, like right now. 

He knew what time he had to be at the meeting for Me. Hertz but you try to tell that to highspeed bank robbers going in the opposite direction. They'd laugh at him and then blow smoke from their getaway car in his face.

Peter shook his head at the mere thought of it before jumping on his skateboard and jetting over to the backside of campus. 

He needed to get this over with face and get back to patrolling. He knew it was not about his grades, he's one of the smartest students in class. Probably is the smartest but he'd never give himself that much credit with his classroom attendance. 

That's probably what this is all about. He's attendance or lack thereof, especially of late. Peter really only took some easy college courses to get Aunt May to stop worrying about him following Spider-Man around all day long.

His heart and head weren't in any of it. He'd rather be stopping bad guys so no one got hurt like Gwen did or Harry.

If only Peter could save the people he cared about most. It was a guilt he'd carry like a scarlet letter forever.

With all of Peter's thoughts consuming him it didn't take him long to reach Mr. Hertz's office. 

He kicked up his board and reached for the door handle, mentally preparing himself for the lecture he was about to receive. But who can prepare for what fate has in store for them?

Part 2

[nova-alien-rants]

sometimes it can be really fucking scary to achieve the things you've always wanted.

i think i need to put this out there not just for myself, but for anyone else who may be having a hard time coping with change in their lives, even if it's for the greater good.

this past wednesday was genuinely a really hard day for me. like, really really fucking hard. one of my best and oldest friend bailed on me along with her entire family which i considered to be my own, my parents acted disgusting toward my brother and tried pulling the same shit on me, i came back to my dorm after 40 minutes of driving to discover someone came into my room and touched my shit, and then had some stupid freshman act like a brat when i brought it up to the RAs. i haven't felt as low in a LONG time as i did by the end of that day.

but while i was driving back to campus, feeling completely alone and like i had no one to talk to, my grandparents ended up calling just to chat. i was crying so hard that i couldn't stop myself and spilled everything that had happened to me that day, and to my surprise, they were... really nice. they comforted me and even offered for me to move in with them once they get settled in their new house. i told them i felt really worried about how my parents would take the news of me moving, but my grandma said not to worry about that and she'll take care of it. for once i'm actually glad the people in this family are crazy.

all i've ever dreamed about for as long as i can remember is getting away from my parents. no longer living with them, no longer being controlled by them, no longer being physically and mentally broken down by them. my life goal has been to break free from my parents permanently. not a career, not material possessions, none of those things can ever come close to that goal. but now that it's happening, i'm filled with a kind of fear i've never experienced. there's so much uncertainty about literally everything in my life now.

will this thing with my grandparents' house even work out? how will my parents react to it? how am i going to manage to move all my shit into my grandparents' house even if i am able to stay there? what will happen when next semester starts? if i move in with my grandparents, my parents will cut me off financially and i won't have any help paying for my university tuition and/or housing. how will i finish my degree? how will i be able to afford going to graduate school? how will i pay for my medical bills?

i know in time all of these questions will become trivial, and i'll be able to look back eventually and be able to laugh about the fact that i was ever worried. the universe always works in my favor, even if i can't see it at the time. things always seem to have a funny way of working out but it's scary in the moment to not know what's going to happen. i'm a person who desperately craves stability and concrete plans in order to function, so all this uncertainty is... a lot to deal with.

but i think all this is happening so i can shed my old life and start another chapter in which i can finally heal for good and stay that way. even if our old lives suck, we can get used to them anyway and changing them can be absolutely terrifying. i think that's why leaving one's comfort zone can feel so hard. we don't know what to expect, so how are we supposed to protect ourselves in the event that something goes wrong? but i've come to believe that things don't go wrong, they simply don't go the way we expected them to. and that's scary, but it's also okay to sit with that fear. everything happens for a reason.

i'm not one of those people who will say to just "be happy" under circumstances such as these, even when your feelings may seem irrational and/or confusing to you. we're human, we're not fucking robots. we can't go through life stone-faced. change is hard. it's scary. it's overwhelming and full of so many questions no one may ever have the answers for. it's okay to take some time to cry, to scream, to get those feelings out. our brains are trying to keep us safe, and it's our job to let our brains express themselves. not every feeling has to be rationalized. it doesn't all have to make sense. sometimes it's okay to Just Be.

i personally believe that the world would be a much better place if we all took more time for ourselves to really feel our shit, because that's the only way it's going to get processed and let go. if you're someone like me whose BPD makes every feeling seem like a nightmare straight from hell, or whose alexithymia confuses you about what you're even feeling, that's okay too. again, you don't have to have all the answers. let yourself cry. let yourself lie on the floor. let yourself engage in your comfort activities. let yourself rest.

change isn't supposed to be all sunshine and rainbows. it's hard work, but it will all be worth it in the end. after every single one of my darkest times, i found myself shining brighter than i ever did previously. i don't know why we have to go through certain experiences, but it will all make sense one day. every single person on this earth has trauma, even if they may not have been abused or deal with a form of a post traumatic disorder. we're all just oversized children who are scared and need a hand to hold as they navigate life. we're human, and we're allowed to feel. we're going to get through this.

there's a reason why people say bravery is being scared while doing it anyway. change really is fucking scary, regardless of how good it may be for us. i'm going to keep saying it. hold your breath and do the thing anyway. let yourself be scared. feel that fear. make room for it and live with it. your brain loves you and is trying to protect you, even if it seems misguided. it's doing its best to be there for you, so you may as well at least humor it, right? how beautiful is it that your brain loves you enough to constantly try and protect you, regardless of the circumstance? i think it deserves love back. love those parts of you which have always loved you.

you're going to make it. you love you.

[militantinremission]

The 2024 Presidential Debate: Time for New Blood?

In a word, The 1st Presidential Debate of 2024 was BRUTAL! Both Candidates took personal shots at each other; but Joe Biden- to his Credit, offered more Substance than Donald Trump. Trump avoided questions on rising Child Care Costs, Drug Overdoses, & Israel's 'War On Gaza' to name a few, but Biden wasn't able to capitalize on his lack of Policy Measures. Joe Biden came across as 'Too Old for Primetime', & appeared to be regurgitating Talking Points more than confidently articulating his Agenda for the next 4 Years. Donald Trump rambled on & embellished the truth for most of The Debate, instead of answering questions directly. BOTH had moments where they were less than honest. Trump focused on Biden's Job Performance more than articulating his Own Agenda for the next 4 Years. Joe Biden seemed more cognizant AFTER The Debate, than during it.

Donald Trump- to his Credit, was more reserved than he was in the 2020 Presidential Debates. Ironically, it was Joe Biden who initiated the insults, but Trump apparently didn't take The Bait. BOTH performances were subpar for a Presidential Candidate; I understand why Robert Kennedy Jr. was kept off that Debate Stage. NEITHER Candidate offered a Real Solution to Black Specific Issues. Instead, Both pivoted to the Reliable Standard of including 'Hispanics' & 'Minorities' into the Black American conversation. Donald Trump commented that Illegal Immigrants were stealing 'Black Jobs'. Mainstream Media & some Blackfolk were insulted by the statement, but Black Men have been literally pushed out of Union Jobs; particularly in the Field of Construction, in favor of Immigrants. People seem to forget that Black Men have traditionally been Blue Collar Workers. Trump is a virtual King of 'Off Color Comments', but many of Us understood what he was trying to say.

From a Black Perspective, the pivot away from Black Specific Issues speaks volumes about BOTH Party Agendas. Most Black Americans can't afford HBCU Tuitions, so funding them is a Moot Point to Us. Offering Black Students Free or Lower Tuition to State Universities would make more sense. Joe Biden offered a $10K Tax Credit to Black 1st Time Home Buyers, but didn't elaborate on it. He appeared strongest on the topic of Abortion, but allowed Trump to flummox him on the topic; particularly Late Term Abortions. Donald Trump appeared strongest on the issue of Immigration & put Biden on the spot several times, but didn't offer a Specific Agenda on how he will tackle it. Trump also lacked a Policy for lowering Inflation, other than extending his Tax Cuts to Corporations. Joe Biden's Economic Plan, is the continuation of 'Bidenomics'- A Plan that many are already concerned about.

Political Analysts & Pundits covering the Debate were quick to point out Joe Biden's performance. Most felt that he missed several opportunities to catch Donald Trump in blatant lies; they also questioned his Physical & Mental Fitness. He was supposed to reassure his Base that he had the Strength & Mental Competence to Serve another 4 Years, but critics are questioning his ability to finish the 1st Term of Office. Several Democratic Strategists called Biden "feeble & weak". Joy Reid said that Dems she spoke w/ are bordering on 'panic'. Rumors are spreading of a possible intervention asking him to step down, but it might be too late to change Candidates. CNN was accused of Stacking the Deck in favor of Joe Biden, but Trump appeared comfortable w/ the format. Both Moderators allowed Donald Trump to embellish w/o fact checking him; was that their job, or Biden's to do?

Democrats are calling Joe Biden's performance 'A Bad Night' (citing a Cold & scratchy throat), while the GOP applauds Donald Trump for 'Doing what he had to do'. I thought that BOTH Candidates were mediocre. Trump is being congratulated for Side Stepping questions & presenting a Vision of Smoke & Mirrors. Biden took a week off to prepare, but instead of repeating his State Of The Union Address performance, he stumbled through most of the Debate. Mainstream Media tried to predict This Debate would rival the Kennedy vs Nixon Debate of 1960, but it wasn't even close. The best dialogue between the Candidates, was about their Golfing Handicaps. America deserves a President that will move Us forward, but We have 2 'Old Dudes' caught up in their Own Egocentricity.

Donald Trump admitted that he's only running again, because he didn't see a GOP Candidate that could defeat Joe Biden. There are GOP Moderates out there that Republican Leadership & Voters could legitimately support. A few might even sway Independents, Libertarians, & disaffected Democrats; but grassroot support for the 'MAGA Agenda' has silenced most, out of fear of being labeled 'RINO'... I thought that This 'Pre Baby Boomer' Generation was willing to pass the baton when Barack Obama was Elected, but it seems like they've Doubled Down since he left Office. We currently have a Congress run by folks adamant about holding Power until it's pried from their Cold Dead Hands. The World Dynamic is changing & America needs to adapt. The Era of 'Neo Conservatives' & 'Neo Liberals' has run its Course- BOTH allowed the development of a Plutocratic Billionaire Class that has literally choked the Middle Class.

The Future Generations of American Society are NOT expected to outperform the previous Generations. Gen. Z in particular, is DROWNING before They can even Start; but Our 'Elder States[Wo]Men' don't seem fazed by This. They ALL seem content w/ taking The Country Down w/ them.

-It's TIME for New Blood!

[etceteraon]

echoes of exile | chapter one

pov: female reader pov

genre: angst, sci-fi, series, slow-burn

warnings: space, sci-fi themes

word count: 7.8k

summary: After the long awaited return of the space program, seven crew members were finally announced to take the long awaited leap into space, their mission to find a safe location to build a liveable society. Their mission could take years to successfully finish, but the crew is loyal to their duty, unaware of the fact that their government is only using them for something more sinister.

a/n: This is the first chapter of a series I have been building for a few years now. The first few chapters will be introductory, but I hope you enjoy the eventual lore drops and in-depth world building that will come! For now, I will be keeping any romance and potential pairings tight lipped since I intend for this to be a slow burn. Chapters may be a little slow, but more will be coming soon.

Waking up in the comfort of your own bed was nothing new to you. In fact, it was something you had grown accustomed to. That was nothing out of the ordinary considering most of the population was used to sleeping in their own beds, wrapped in their comforters, either with a partner or alone. For you however, it wasn’t always normal. You had grown up in a normal household, it wasn’t exactly the best, but you were never considered ‘poor’ just middle class or blue collar. Once you got out of highschool however, things changed. After applying for college, all of the scholarships and money you received went straight to tuition. Unable to afford to live in the dorms or have your own place, you were constantly couch hopping, sometimes sleeping on a park bench or in a homeless shelter every now and then. It wasn’t ideal, but it got the job done. After four years of this, you graduated with your masters in engineering. 

Now, with a masters in aeronautics and a minor in electrical engineering, you could do a lot of things. Find plenty of jobs that paid the bills. But the job you had chosen wasn't exactly the most mainstream. You had decided years ago that you were going to be an astronaut. So, the first thing you had done once you received your masters was apply to the space program as an intern. Luckily, being an intern in the space program paid more than normal jobs, so you weren’t hurting for money anymore. You were able to afford a small apartment with the help of another intern you were roommates with, a male by the name of Felix who had his masters in computer science. He was also looking to become an astronaut, and luckily for the both of you, it seemed that once you had done your due diligence for a few years, you would be placed in the same crew. 

That was, until you were introduced to a pilot. Christopher Bang, he was a very well-known pilot with a masters degree in physical science. He was a genius in every sense of the word, so when you and Felix had been introduced to him by the grace of Seungmin, the flight director for mission control, you were both in shock and awe when he kindly offered to teach the both of you to pilot a jet. It would make things a lot easier for the both of you since it would only require 1,000 hours as opposed to a few years working in the field. Of course the both of you had taken him up on his offer, now spending the majority of your time learning the ins and outs of piloting a jet, eventually getting up in the air. After about a month, you were able to pilot the jet on your own, Felix as well. Another month or so later, the both of you had completed your 1,000 hours as a pilot-in-command.

Now all you two had to complete was the long-duration flight physical and you both would be deemed astronauts. The timing was almost too perfect since the space program had just announced they would be looking for astronauts for a new mission they were launching. You and Felix had decided you were going to be on that crew no matter what it took, and it seemed like Christopher had the same idea. He hadn’t originally planned to be an astronaut according to his own words, but once he had heard about the mission and heard you and Felix were aiming to be on the first flight out, he wanted to join. He stated that it was a once in a lifetime opportunity and he had nothing better to do. You weren’t so sure of that, but you let his excuses slide. 

The long-duration flight physical wasn’t easy to pass. Not in the slightest. Of course Christopher had passed without much of an issue. Felix passed the third or fourth time around, meanwhile it took you around six times to actually pass. Along with the help of Christopher and Felix both instructing you on what to do and helping you work out your body in specific areas. With that done and out of the way, you were now finally able to rest after years of hard work. Simply waiting for word back on whether or not you were accepted as a candidate for the mission and interviewed along with the other candidates. 

So here you were, lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling after a long, well deserved rest. You could hear Felix rummaging around in the kitchen, a sure sign that he had been up and about for a while. Glancing over at the digital clock on your nightstand, you were made aware that you had slept in for much longer than you had intended, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you wondered why your alarm hadn’t gone off. Slowly peeling yourself off of the mattress, you rubbed your sleep ridden eyes, yawning as you kicked your legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Stretching your arms over your head, you stood there for a moment, letting your body relax and wake itself up before heading over to the bedroom door and propping it open slightly, just enough to peek out and see if Felix had anyone over. 

You didn’t see anyone besides the brunette male, so you decided to step out of your bedroom in your strapped tank and shorts that were meant to be worn for workout purposes, but really only got worn to bed. You hadn’t even brushed your hair, so you had no idea what state it was currently in, but by the amused look on Felix’s face when he caught sight of you, it most likely wasn’t pleasant. “Well good afternoon. I take it you slept well?” He teased, raising an eyebrow as he continued to work on what he had set in front of him, cutting up various vegetables and other assorted items. A quiet hum of acknowledgement was all that left you at first, walking into the shared kitchen and opening the fridge, browsing through the contents before simply pulling out a bottle of water and cracking it open. Once the cold beverage passed your lips you sighed, closing the fridge and looking directly at the freckled boy. “Slept for much longer than I intended. My alarm didn’t go off for some reason.” 

The statement made Felix snicker for a reason unknown to you. He stopped cutting for a moment to look at you, a smirk tugging on his lips. “Your alarm did go off. I had to go into your room and shut it off since you didn’t even wake up.” Your eyes widened at the sudden realization, placing the cap on the bottled water as you approached the lanky male. “You didn’t think to wake me up? What the hell Lix?” 

“Hey, don’t get mad at me. I figured since you didn’t wake up to your alarm that you needed the rest. I didn’t want to wake you up just for you to not get enough sleep. Besides, it’s not like you have anything to do today right?” He posed a question, tilting his head slightly before going back to cutting, focusing his attention forward. “Well actually I did have plans today. But now I’m going to be la-” You paused your reprimands when you heard Felix’s bedroom door open and close, revealing none other than Felix’s boyfriend of a few months, Hwang Hyunjin, the public affairs officer of mission control. 

The tall male only paid you a glance before a smirk similar to the one Felix had worn not too long ago adorned his features. “Oh? You have plans? That’s new.” The long haired boy commented, clearly having been listening to the conversation that had nothing to do with him. “Oh shut it Hyunjin, not like you’re any better than me considering the only place you go besides work is here.” 

“She does have a point.” Felix muttered, causing the long haired male to groan in frustration. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

With a roll of your eyes you opted to exit the kitchen, heading back to the safety of your room to get dressed and ready before you were much later to your plans than you wanted to be. Before you shut the door to your room, you glanced back at the two males, clicking your tongue at them. “Next time you spend the night, tell me. I’d rather not wake up to a strange man in my apartment.” The door was closed before any protests could leave Hyunjin’s mouth, quiet giggles could be heard from Felix, but nothing more as you went over to your closet and started picking out your clothing for the day. 

You were never one for really dressing up, mainly because you could never really afford it, but also because it just took a lot of time and effort that you didn’t really have. So when you were able to afford a nice wardrobe, you mainly stuck to a business casual look. It also made work life a lot easier since you didn’t have to think much about whether what you were wearing was ‘work appropriate’. Everything in your wardrobe was. So, today was no different, picking out a high-waisted pair of black slacks, a white cami top and a brown blazer. You decided shoes would be an issue for later, setting your clothing down on your bed before heading into your bathroom, turning on the shower before peeling off the clothes you had been in all night and half of the day and then hopping in the shower. 

It wasn’t long before you were clean to your standards, stepping out of the shower and drying yourself off with a towel. You then brushed through your hair as you walked back out into your bedroom, glancing at the door to make sure it was locked before ridding yourself of the towel and getting dressed in what you had laid out minutes before. As if on cue, there was a knock at your door, signaling someone wanted your attention. You looked over as if you could see who it was through the wood, tilting your head slightly. “Yeah?” 

“Are you going to eat before you leave?” Felix. Of course it was. You thought about his question for a moment, deliberating on it for too long according to his liking, causing the male to huff. “Yes? No?” He prodded, earning a groan from you as you went over to the door and unlocked it before opening it, going over to your closet and pulling out a pair of black strappy heels. 

“Probably not considering I’m going to be eating there.” You answered his question, thought it seemed your answer only gained more questions from him. Feuling his curiosity. “There? Where is there? Are you meeting someone? Is this a date? Oh my god if this is a date I’m going to be so mad that you didn’t tell me. Who is it?” For the second time since you had awoken, you rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you made your way back into the bathroom to pull your hair up out of your face, Felix trailing along behind you. 

“First of all, this is not a date. You of all people should know that I don’t date. I don’t have the time or energy for a relationship. Secondly, I’m going out for lunch. I was invited to this new place not far from work, I think it’s called Vincenzo’s or something. Lastly, if you want to know so badly who it is, you can figure it out for yourself when he gets here.” You stated matter-of-factly. Felix frowning and folding his arms across his chest as he leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom. “So, you were invited out to lunch by a guy… who is picking you up and taking you there? Sounds a lot like a date to me.” He muttered, his eyebrows creased. 

With your hair now in a ponytail, you turned to face the slightly older male, sighing quietly. “Lix, why would I lie to you about something like this? It’s just lunch. It’s a nice thing people do sometimes. It doesn’t always have to be a date. The only reason I’m not driving myself is because my car is being worked on, remember?” Felix seemed to lighten up a little once he realized he wasn’t being lied to, nodding his head slowly as he lifted himself up. “Yeah, sorry. You’re right. I’m just being nosy since you’re usually busy with work or just holed up in your room.” 

You nodded in understanding, paying him a small smile as you stepped past him into the bedroom, putting on some earrings and placing your watch on your wrist right as the doorbell rang. Felix’s eyes lit up and before you could tell him to open the door, he was already there. You shook your head at his eagerness, spraying some perfume on and giving yourself one last glance in the mirror before grabbing your purse and exiting the room, closing the door behind you. Sure enough, there stood none other than Christopher Bang in the doorway, Felix bombarding him with questions that male the poor male’s head spin. You looked over to your friend's boyfriend, motioning towards the smaller male. “Can you control him please?” There was a long stare shared between the two of you before the long haired male sighed and went over to his boyfriend, pulling him back by his hips and whispering something in his ear which made Felix stop asking questions. You were curious as to what was said, but before your curiosity could get the better of you, Chan stepped into the apartment, looking around. 

He had never been to your apartment before, so it only made sense for him to take everything in. You stood in silence for a while, glancing down at your feet before looking up at the pilot, noting his all black decor. It was different in comparison to his pilot uniform that you always saw him in, that or the uniforms you had been provided while training for the long-duration flight physical. He was clad in a long sleeved button up shirt along with some jeans and tennis shoes, making him look much more casual than you, but nonetheless still somewhat classy with the button up. His dark brown hair was of course in its natural state, curly and unruly. He had stated many times that despite trying to work with it, it never seemed to want to agree with him. So he let it do its own thing. 

“I take it you’re set to go?” His voice snapped you out of your trance, quickly raising your gaze to his and putting on a smile to hide your embarrassment from being caught staring. “Yeah, all good to go. Thanks for picking me up, it would have been a nightmare to have Felix drive me.” A chuckle left the pilot's lips, nodding as he stepped back out of the apartment, leaving you enough room to follow behind. 

“It’s not a problem really. I figured I might as well since I was the one who set everything up and asked you to join me. Which reminds me, did I ever tell you the occasion?” He questioned, not stopping his descent down the stairs towards his parked car. You hummed in thought before shaking your head, realizing he hadn’t told you why he had offered to take you to lunch. “No, you didn’t.” You finally answered, causing Christopher to laugh quietly to himself as he reached his car, ignoring the stares from Hyunjin and Felix.

Once the car was unlocked and you were both inside, you took a moment to take in the state of his car. Clean, so clean that it almost seemed like the car was never used. There was the scent of cologne however, which made you wonder if he had sprayed it before leaving the car. Before you could see if there was a bottle of it lying around, Chan decided to break his silence about what this lunch was really for. “Seungmin rounded up the Mission Operations Directorate Manager and apparently he wanted to talk with you. So uh, really, this is kind of like a business meeting. For you anyway. I’m already acquainted with him and Seungmin.” Your eyes widened as you turned to face the pilot, jaw dropped in shock as he simply smirked, pulling out of the parking lot and keeping his attention on the road. 

“You didn’t think to ask me if I wanted to meet him? Or even inform me beforehand? I’ve heard the guy is a total asshole and I don’t think I even want to be in his presence.” You growled, earning a scoff from Christopher. “He’s not an asshole. He’s just strict when it comes to work. Which he should be considering where he works and what he does. There’s no room for error. Besides, if you want to be on the next crew out of here, he’s going to be in charge of you. You might as well get to know him now and get on his good side, no?” He countered, making you puff out your cheeks in irritation because, goddamn it he was always right. 

“I guess.” You muttered, having no good comeback. Of course, Christopher knew that he had succeeded in winning the argument, so he stayed silent, simply smiling rather smugly in the driver's seat. The rest of the car ride was spent in silence, Christopher parking the car not far from the restaurant’s entrance once you arrived. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you leaned back in the seat for a moment, taking a deep breath and closing your eyes. It was your way of calming yourself down before something stressful, Christopher knew this since you did it almost every time you were about to fly. So, he left you to it, not saying a word as he stepped out of the car and shut the door behind him. After a minute or so, you had managed to control your thoughts, keeping your anxiety at bay. As you stepped out of the car, you noticed Christopher had been leaning on the hood, waiting for you. A soft smile formed on your lips, but it quickly faded when he turned to face you, an eyebrow raised in question. 

“Yeah, I’m all good.” You assured him, not even needing him to ask the question to know what he was going to say. He nodded, pushing himself off of the car and making his way to the entrance of the restaurant. Like the gentleman he was, he propped open the door for you, letting you enter the building first before following close behind, looking over you to see if he could spot Seungmin and the Directorate Manager. You were about to talk to the lady at the front counter when Christopher placed a hand on your shoulder, motioning to your left. “They’re over there.” He stated, nudging you slightly. It wasn’t anything invasive or pushy, just enough to get your attention. Glancing over, you saw that he was indeed right, though you only recognized Seungmin. You let him go over towards the table first, informing the server where you would be sitting with the rest of your group before following behind the pilot. Putting on a smile as you approached the other males, you noted that they didn’t stand despite acknowledging yours and Christopher’s presence. 

Before you could pull out a chair for yourself, Christopher took the liberty of doing it himself. A mumbled thanks left your lips as you sat down across from the unfamiliar male, Christopher sitting beside you and across from Seungmin. You placed your purse on the back of your chair, trying your best to avoid eye contact with anyone since it felt like all eyes were on you. You opted to look at the menu that was set in front of you, fumbling through the pages as Christopher cleared his throat, trying to fill the awkward silence. “So, Mister Lee, it’s been quite some time. It’s nice to see you again, I know you have quite a busy schedule.” A quiet chuckle could be heard from in front of you, but you kept your eyes glued to the menu, not even focusing on the words despite skimming them over and over again. 

“Chris, how many times do we have to go over this? You don’t need to call me by any special terms when we’re not at work. It’s just Minho, you are older than me after all.” Shocked by the relatively easy-going nature of the Directorate Manager, you lifted your gaze, only to see he was looking right back at you. Your eyes widened slightly, your breath caught in your throat as he smiled, tilting his head slightly. “You must be y/f/n y/l/n. I’ve heard a lot about you, moving up the ranks pretty fast hm?” 

You weren’t sure what to say, so you simply nodded, a nervous smile the only thing you could manage. How did he know about you? You weren’t the only person who was trying to become an astronaut. There were thousands of other people shooting for the same thing, Felix and Christopher included, so why was the focus on you? You couldn’t recall doing anything spectacular to gain any attention. Your mind was spinning with questions, but before you could ask any, Minho continued on. “Before you ask, I do research on everyone. I found your background quite interesting. Perfect scores throughout middle school, high school and college. Then once you became an intern, all anyone had to say about you was good things. Christopher tells me that your piloting skills are nowhere near subpar, so I have to ask, is there anything you can’t do? Or are you just another genius we have on our hands?” 

To say you were at a loss for words was an understatement. Your jaw nearly dropped at the blatant compliments and praises that were leaving Minho’s mouth, looking to Seungmin for some kind of confirmation, he simply smiled and shrugged. You then turned your attention to Christopher who chuckled at your expression, shaking his head. “You’ll have to excuse her, she doesn’t know how to respond to compliments, especially from you.” 

“Ah. Well please, don’t worry too much about your image. I know perfectly well about your work ethic and that’s all that matters to me. Feel free to be yourself outside of work, I’m just here to get to know you a little better. That’s all.” He assured, easing your nerves just slightly. Taking a deep breath and laughing quietly to yourself, you sat up straight, setting the menu back down on the table and clasping your hands together on top of it. Returning your gaze forward, Minho’s piercing gaze was still locked on you. Gulping down your anxiety, you forced a smile, ignoring the stares from Seungmin and Christopher. “Well, thank you for the kind words. However, I’m not a genius like Christopher I can assure you. I simply aced my classes because I had to. Nothing more. As for what you’ve heard about me at work, I’m glad they are all good things, but once again I must tell you that I feel like what you’ve heard is blown out of proportion. I do my work and I go home. It’s not like I’m going out of my way to do anything major.” 

A scoff could be heard from beside you, Christopher leaning forward to try and catch your gaze with a disapproving look. “That’s not true. Anyone who works with you knows that.” He grumbled, Seungmin clearing his throat to finally speak up. “I agree with Christopher. You may not think that you do anything major, but if you really aren’t trying that hard like you say you are, that only makes it more impressive.” 

“I hardly think that’s true. I-”

“So you are a genius like Christopher. Good to know.” Minho cut you off, a smirk tugging at his lips as he picked up his menu and started browsing. He seemed awfully smug with the fact that he had shut you up, causing you to huff and mutter a few things under your breath as you picked your menu back up, the server approaching just moments later. After asking the table what they wanted to drink, everyone ordered their assorted beverages, the server then leaving to give you more time to consider your meal. Silence gripped the table. Not one person speaking a word as they looked at the menus. It felt awkward, you weren’t sure why, but you weren’t about to ask. A few minutes passed before the server came back with the drinks, setting them down and earning a plethora of thanks. Once asked if everyone was ready to order, Minho answered for the table, ordering first, followed by Seungmin, then Christopher, then you. 

After everyone had ordered their meals, the server left the table yet again, leaving the four of you to your devices. You were half tempted to pull out your phone, but you knew it would be rude, so you fiddled with your hands in your lap, looking around the restaurant for some form of entertainment or stimulation. There was a couple with a baby in a high chair who was less than happy to be there, something that you saw almost anywhere you went. An old lady seated by herself, which seemed sad at first glance, but after a few moments a younger woman who looked like her daughter came out from the bathroom and sat across from her. You smiled at this, happy to know she wasn’t alone. Apparently you had been tuning out and a conversation had started at the table. Christopher nudging you and calling your name snapped you out of your trance. 

“Hm?” You looked to the pilot for some sort of explanation. “Minho was curious what made you want to become an astronaut.” He reiterated, glancing over at said male who nodded in agreement. 

“It’s not exactly a job everyone wants. Sure, we get a lot of applications, but compared to the population, it’s miniscule. I don’t think you just woke up one day and decided that you wanted to do this. Especially since your masters is geared towards the career.” Minho stated, resting his chin in the palm of his hand as his elbow rested on the table. You nodded slowly, trying to figure out the best way to word it. “Well, I’ve always been interested in life beyond Earth since I was little. I read lots of books about space and astronomy, the public library was where I went everyday after school.” You recalled, smiling fondly at the memories. 

“When I was first asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I told everyone I wanted to be an astronaut. The older I got, the more people told me that it was unrealistic, and that I should try to shoot for something else. I’m stubborn though and I decided that no one was going to tell me what to do, so here I am. I guess you could say that I wanted to become an astronaut out of spite.” You snickered, Minho chuckling at your honest response. “Well, that’s the first time I’ve heard that.” He admitted, Seungmin and Christopher agreeing in amusement. 

“I mean, Chris has said that he only applied because he had nothing better to do. I guess geniuses have nothing better to do with their time besides do things out of spite and boredom.” You shrugged, Christopher nearly choking on his spit beside you. “I- That’s not-” He stammered, Minho laughing out of pure amusement. 

“Sounds like something he would say.” He stated cooly, running a hand through his auburn hair which was clearly dyed, but it looked good on him, natural even. As you were noting his other features, eyes that reminded you of a feline, a gaze that could kill, his lips seemed to be permanently curled up into a half smirk. If you hadn’t known any better, you would chock it up to him having a big ego and cocky attitude. It didn’t seem that he was like that with what he had said to you earlier, but nonetheless, he still gave off those vibes. His nose was similar to Felix’s. You hadn’t realized you would recognize something like that, but considering you had been around Felix for so long, perhaps it was something that was just in the back of your head that hadn’t come up until now. 

“Y/N?” You looked around the table, only to realize that the person that had called out to you was the man you had been staring at not so subtly. Of course it had to be him. You could feel your cheeks heating up with embarrassment, one hundred percent sure that he was aware of your staring. You opened your mouth to apologize, only to be cut off. It seemed Minho was good at doing that. “You seem to get along well with Christopher and Felix, am I right?” He questioned, catching you off guard once again. 

Nodding your head in response, you fought the urge to look over at Christopher who seemed tense beside you. You weren’t sure why, but you made a mental note to ask him about it later. Minho hummed, leaning back in his chair, seeming to think about something. Just then the server came to the table with everyone’s food, setting them down and asking the usual questions before retreating from the table once again, Minho sitting up straight and clasping his hands together. “How do you think you would feel about them after spending two years of training with them followed by spending years with them in space?” The question in itself wasn’t really surprising, but it was the look that Minho shot Christopher when he asked you. You couldn’t quite place what it was, but it didn’t exactly seem friendly. “Uhm, well… I’ve already spent over a year with Felix as a roommate and a co-worker, so I’m sure I could manage with him. As for Christopher, I haven’t known him as long, but we’ve never had any big disagreements or arguments. We get along fairly well I think, so I’m sure I could handle him for a few years.” You giggled out the last part, finally looking over at Christopher who paid you a soft smile. It looked like he was hiding his true feelings, like he was being insincere, but you couldn’t think of a reason he would be, so you brushed it off. 

“That’s good. I’m glad to hear that.” Was all Minho said in response before starting to eat, Seungmin following suit shortly after. You figured that was a signal that you could eat as well, so you picked up your utensils, only to see that Christopher was just staring down at his food. You raised an eyebrow in confusion, nudging him slightly. He didn’t look over at you immediately, taking a few moments before actually facing you. You tilted your head, motioning towards his food. “Aren’t you going to eat?” Clearly concerned, you set down your own utensils, catching the attention of the other two males across the table. Their gazes seemed to bother Chris more than yours, causing him to pick up his own utensils with a forced smile. 

“Yeah, sorry. I just got lost in thought.” The pilot then started to eat without another word. Everything suddenly felt off, but you knew it wasn’t your place to ask any questions. Keeping to yourself, you picked your utensils back up, lifting them to your lips right as your phone went off in your purse. Quickly, you set everything down, turning around to fumble through your purse to find your phone. Once you had, you were prepared to turn off the ringer, only to note the number that was calling you, the selection board. You nearly gasped, placing your hand over your lips before looking across the table at Minho who had a knowing look on his face. “I’m sorry, I need to take this.” You apologized, Minho shaking his head and motioning to the side.

“No worries, go ahead.” Nodding, you stood from your seat, pushing your chair back before heading out of the restaurant, standing by the door as you answered the call, placing the phone up to your ear. “This is y/f/n y/l/n.” 

“Miss y/l/n, this is Taehyun Kang from the selection board. It is my pleasure to inform you that you have been selected for an interview.” Your heart nearly leapt out of your chest, but you knew you had to keep it together and keep it professional on the phone. “Thank you so much, this is great news. What time and what day will the interview be?” Information, that's what you needed right now before you got too ecstatic. 

“This Friday at 6pm. Does that work for you?”

“Of course. I’ll be there.”

“All right. We’ll talk to you then Miss y/l/n.”

The call then went dead, leaving you to your own devices. You hadn’t even realized you were shaking, a chuckle of disbelief left you as you clasped your phone in your hands. This was actually happening. You were actually going to be interviewed by the selection board. You had to make it to the second interview, you had to make all of this hard work count. If you didn’t get selected then all of this was for nothing. The stress and anxiety was starting to set in, your lip suffering due to the pressure you were putting on it. Biting your lip had always been a nervous tick of yours. 

What had you been expecting? You had applied as a candidate fully expecting for it to work out, so now that things were going in your favor, why were you so surprised? Maybe you hadn’t really thought about it much as you thought you had. Your head was spinning with questions and worries. What were you going to wear to the interview? How would you get there with your car still being worked on? How were you going to tell Felix? Had he been called for an interview? What about Christopher who was right inside, waiting for you. Right, you had people waiting for you. 

Turning, you pushed open the door to the restaurant, stepping back inside and trying your best to act as natural as possible. All eyes were on you once again as you approached the table, sitting back down and being sure your phone was on silent this time as you placed it back in your purse. Picking your utensils back up, you finally began to eat, the food was a little cold, but overall it was still palatable. Of course, you couldn’t ignore the stares for long, Christopher being the first to speak up. “Who was that on the phone?” You nearly froze, swallowing what you had in your mouth before you had the chance to choke. “Uhm, well- actually…” You tried to figure out how to phrase it, figuring Christopher hadn’t been contacted and not wanting to somehow end up hurting his feelings. 

“It was the selection board.” Minho suddenly piped up, your eyes widening at how sure he sounded. Christopher turned to face you completely now, his eyes lighting up as he smiled. “Was it really? Did you get an interview?” Gulping, you smiled sheepishly, nodding your head. 

“Y-Yeah, they set an interview for this Friday at six.” You admitted, Christopher seeming overjoyed at the news, Minho acting as if he knew it was coming all along, meanwhile Seungmin was tuned out, focused on the food in front of him. “That’s so great y/n, I can drive you to the interview if you need me to. Will your car be out of the shop by then?” You were surprised at Christopher’s reactions, something not adding up. Was he really this happy for you if he hadn’t been selected for an interview himself? 

“Chris, did you not get called for an interview?” Finally you had amounted the courage to ask. Christopher paused for a moment only to chuckle and rub the back of his neck as he looked away. “Actually, I was called for an interview last night. I didn’t want to tell you in case you didn’t get a call.” He admitted, a gasp leaving your lips. “Well that’s not fair, you should have told me. I would have been more upset if I hadn’t been called and you didn’t tell me.” 

Shrugging his shoulders with a sigh, Christopher picked up his drink, taking a few gulps before setting it back down. “So, I’m picking you up on Friday, five thirty?” He had just completely ignored what you had said to him, but that was nothing new. If he didn’t want to address something, he wouldn’t. “I don’t think that will be necessary.” Minho suddenly spoke up again, earning both yours and Christopher’s attention. 

“Felix will have an interview at the same time. You can ride with him, right?” So Felix was going to be interviewed as well? Oh the boy was going to be beside himself whenever you got back to the apartment. His poor boyfriend was probably having to deal with his spastic energy right at this moment. “I mean, yeah. I’m sure that will work out just fine.” You mumbled, noting the slight glare Christopher sent in Minho’s direction. 

The younger male seemed to pay no mind however, simply smiling and nodding his head in agreement. “Then that’s all settled. Congratulations on your interview y/n, I can’t wait to see what else you accomplish.” He sent you a wink before standing up, Seungmin following suit quickly after. It looked as if Minho had hardly touched his food, Seungmin had eaten pretty much everything however. Minho made his way up to the front counter, paying for his and everyone else's meal. Before leaving the restaurant, he turned to face the two of you that were left at the table. “I’ll see you around y/n. Nice seeing you Christopher.” He offered a small wave before leaving the building with Seungmin in tow, Christopher muttering a few things under his breath that you couldn’t make out, but it didn’t sound pleasant. 

“What was that all about?” You questioned, looking at the pilot who now had an unreadable expression on his face. It was definitely one you had never seen on him before. You knew something was going on between him and Minho, but you couldn’t tell what. Christopher had just been talking about how Minho was a good guy, just strict when it came to work. So why was he sending him glares during lunch? What was going on that you didn’t know about? Christopher forced a chuckle, shaking his head as he raked a hand through his dark brown curls. “Nothing, just thinking.” Setting down his utensils, he leaned back in his seat, looking over at your plate which still had most of the food still on it. 

“Did you want to get a box for that?” He questioned, making you frown. “Chris. You’re changing the subject because you’re lying to me. I’m not an idiot. You of all people should know that. I can see right through you. You’ve been acting weird since our food got here, what’s the deal?” 

Biting down on the inside of his cheek, Christopher looked up at the ceiling, staying silent for a while before sighing and hanging his head. “I don’t know, something about how Minho was talking to you gave me a weird feeling. I’m just worried about you and what he’s planning.” he admitted, causing you to furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Christopher bit at the skin of his lip before rubbing his face with one of his hands, clearly struggling with whatever was going on in his mind. “I know Minho, and he’s not a bad guy, but I know that there’s more that goes on in his head than he lets on. He’s not the directorate manager for nothing. I just think it’s odd. He’s never taken an interest in someone like he is with you. Sure, he does his research on everyone, but he’s never explicitly wanted to meet someone like this. Especially not an intern.” You frowned, folding your arms across your chest while tilting your head. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I’m not trying to say that in a degrading way. I could care less that you’re an intern, you’re smarter than half of the people I work with who aren’t interns. I’m just saying, Minho is someone who cares about status and hierarchy. Normally he wouldn’t even look in an intern's direction. So for him to be going out of his way for an intern, it’s weird. It’s not normal. He’s pulling strings behind the scenes for you and this is his first time meeting you. It’s like he knows something I don’t and I don’t like it. Not only that but it’s almost like he’s trying to push me out of the picture, or make me out to be the bad guy? I don’t know. Maybe I’m just thinking too much because it’s uncharacteristic of him. All I’m trying to say is that I’m worried you might get hurt or used.” It took you a moment to process everything that Christopher said, but once you had, you simply sighed. The server came over to your table just then, asking if you wanted a to-go box, you obliged, watching as they scurried off to get one. You then turned your attention to Christopher who was watching you intently. 

“Listen, Chris. I appreciate your concern, I’ll keep what you said in mind, but like I said before, I’m not an idiot. I’m fully aware that he’s never met me before, I think I would have remembered meeting him. I’m cautious of everyone I meet and I know when someone is trying to use me. This doesn’t feel like that, it seems like he’s just trying to be nice and give someone an opportunity. I’m not going to turn it down just because you think something weird is going on.” You watched as Christopher took a deep breath, almost as if he was containing his anger or irritation. You couldn’t tell which it was. “Y/n. I’ve never said you were an idiot. I’m fully aware that you’re not. I’m just trying to tell you to be cautious with him, please?”

“Here you go ma’am.” The server set the to-go box down in front of you. You thanked him quietly before filling the box and closing it, getting to your feet and slinging your purse over your shoulder. “I’ll think about it.” Was all you said to Chris before turning and heading out of the restaurant. You could hear an exasperated groan leave the pilot, but you chose to ignore it, going over to his car and leaning on the passenger door as you waited for him to leave the restaurant.

Why had Christopher even driven you here if he was so worried about it? What was the point of him saying all of this stuff when he had just told you that Minho wasn’t a bad person? None of this was adding up, it was just making you more confused the longer it went on. You just wanted to go home and lay in your bed at this point. You were so tired of thinking. However you knew when you got home you wouldn’t have the option to just lie in bed. Felix was going to be off the walls with excitement and he was probably going to want to do something with you and Hyunjin to celebrate. You wouldn’t have the heart to tell the male no either. You were just going to have to pretend everything was fine and that you weren’t losing your mind. 

The sound of the car door opening snapped you out of your thoughts, Christopher simply raising an eyebrow at you before he got in the car, starting the engine. You opened the door and got in yourself, Christopher not saying a word as he waited for you to buckle your seatbelt, only pulling out of the parking lot once you had. The drive home was spent in silence, much like the ride to the restaurant had been. You were sure Christopher was upset with you for not listening to him, but you weren’t going to cave because of it. You would figure out Minho for yourself, you didn’t need Chris telling you what to do. You were a grown woman and you could make your own decisions. Christopher wasn’t your dad, nor was he your boyfriend. He was a friend, a co-worker. Nothing more. You would heed his concerns, but you weren’t going to completely avoid Minho or look into every little thing the male did. 

You were on the other hand going to be paying close attention to Christopher from now on. It seemed like he was hiding some things from you, and you were going to find out what that was whether he liked it or not. If he was going to put himself in the middle of your personal life, you could do the same. Your apartment wasn’t far from the restaurant, so you arrived fairly quickly. Not waiting for the car to come to a complete stop, you unbuckled your seatbelt, grabbing your purse and to-go box before practically kicking open the door. Before you could exit the vehicle, Chris grabbed your arm, pulling back on it slightly. “Y/n. Please don’t be mad at me. I honestly wasn’t trying to offend you or make you upset. I’m just trying to look out for you.” A scoff left your lips as you removed your arm from his grip, turning back to glare at him. “I can look out for myself. I’ve been perfectly capable of it my whole life. I don’t need your help, thank you.” You huffed, stepping out of the car and shutting the door behind you. 

You didn’t leave him any room to say anything more, making your way up the stairs to your apartment before turning the knob and opening the door, not at all surprised to see Felix clinging to his boyfriend as he celebrated his invitation for an interview. You put on a smile, closing the door behind you without a second thought, leaving Chris alone in his car as you forced yourself to celebrate with your best friend and roommate.

[cripple-punk-dad]

I find it exceptionally frustrating that people don't realize just how many barriers there are in front of trans people and our access to college/university/higher education. I'm mainly talking about the United States here, but I know other countries are just as bad or worse.

There's the obvious bias present in the application process, but there's also things like systemically unequal access to well-paying jobs because of unchecked discrimination in the hiring/onboarding process (you getting outed because you have to show an ID that doesn't have the correct gender marker) which prevents us from getting enough money to pay for tuition without going into debt.

There's bias present in housing availability. Not just because of a lack of income, but because again you will, more likely than not, have to out yourself for identification. I didn't move out of my parents house until halfway through my first semester. That meant I was commuting an hour and a half on public transportation every single day, 6 days a week just to go to class.

There's the lack of access to trans-specific healthcare which negatively impacts mental and physical health, which seriously impacts our ability to focus on schoolwork. I know that here in Utah, there are two or three gender clinics IN THE ENTIRE STATE. It can take forever just to get an appointment, and then most insurances don't cover treatment which means you're paying out of pocket. HRT and surgery are often prohibitively expensive. That obviously goes hand-in-hand with able-ism, because god forbid you be trans AND disabled. Or trans and any other marginalized identity.

Along with that, there's the stress that comes from attending courses in an increasingly transphobic country that has a history of violent, life-threatening attacks on visibly trans people and college campus' in general. And, of course, there's the constant misgendering and micro-aggressions that come from fellow students and faculty, which also add to the seriously declining mental state of the average trans college student.

I'm stealth in most of my circles, meaning that as far as most people know, I'm a cis guy. But the amount of mental and physical energy that I have to exert in order to maintain that stealth status is exhausting, even without acknowledging that I am physically disabled. When half of your energy is going into survival, you can't exactly do well on your finals, can you?

Anyways, this scholarship is for trans people attending college. I encourage y'all to fill it out if you need the money.

[johnnyxedge]

Drum Corps is not for everyone, but should it be?

I've said this for years, and I have meant and agreed with the idea that drum corps is not for everyone. While the activity in it's current form is celebrated for its precision, complexity, difficulty, and overall power and emotion of it's performances, it hides a lot of the less attractive sides of the season from it's fans and prospective members. Current members/alumni/staff of corps are quick to extol the virtues of competing for a summer in a DCI tour (and DCA to a lesser degree for other reasons), but slow to tell of the harder parts of a tour away from home. I understand that as a defense mechanism, we focus more on good memories and recollections rather than the bad ones, and even the bad ones are retold in a more humorous and softer manner.

On the whole, drum corps as it is now is not for everyone. I would even go so far as to say it is not for most people. Most people with physical and developmental disabilities/differences cannot partake in a season. People that cannot afford to pay the tuition, either through their own income or money generated from gifts, philanthropy or scholarships cannot partake in a season. People that are unable to handle the rigors of life on the road for several weeks cannot participate. People that have food allergies or overly specific diets may not be able to participate. Even people that are physically capable may be excluded if they cannot meet physical requirements set by the staff.

Hearing people talk about the differences from the 60s and 70s to today's current corps, one of the biggest changes is the consensus is that there is no place for the average youth in a drum corps today. They say the days are gone when a person can walk into a rehearsal, be handed a horn or a drum or a flag, and be taught how to use it. While I know some corps will teach people, especially in the brass realm, and also take preference to people that were unsuccessful in their primary audition, these corps are the exception and not the norm.

The point of this line of thinking aloud is to ask these questions: Should drum corps return to it's roots of being an activity for everyone?

I don't think there is a wrong answer on this, but I do have some opinions. I think regardless, the current model of the activity is untenable and eventually will crumble. Hopefully DCI sees this and helps to make positive changes that will benefit all corps. Things like a regional tour over national tours, with a final trip to Indianapolis for Finals could massively help reduce a corps' budget for travel. Because of this, the corps could lower their tuition a lot, and allowing more people to be able to afford it.

However, I do prefer that drum corps stays on it's current path of being an activity that focuses on excellence and performance for the audience while pushing physical and creative bounds. The drum corps I marched in may not have had the most talent, money or the best design, but we did have the drive to squeeze every last bit out of a show to make it as good as it can be. I also liked how everyone was there for that mostly singular reason. One of my biggest frustrations when I did high school band was that some people like myself enjoyed band for what it was, and others were there for social reasons and didn't have the same level of care as I and some others did.

So what about the people that could benefit from being in an activity like drum corps, but have no experience? Depending on their geographic location, I think the SoundSport and All Age(DCA/Senior corps/whatever you want to call them) groups can definitely fill that role if they want to, and many do already. But for others, I think things like a recreational band or sports league or arts program or anything of the like would be just as good for people. Drum corps in and of itself is not the important part of being a positive thing in people's lives, it's the act of being active, doing something you enjoy that brings people together. If you can create a community for people from a league that plays baseball, or a local band that plays in parades or gives concerts at a local social place like a park or ampitheater, than that is just as valuable to the individual and community as the corps were back in the 60s and 70s.

[studypalacehub12]

MBBS Abroad: A Guide for Aspiring Doctors

Studying MBBS abroad has become a popular choice for many students, especially for those who aspire to pursue high-quality medical education at an affordable cost. Countries like Russia, Ukraine, the Philippines, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, and others offer excellent opportunities for students to realize their dreams of becoming doctors.

Why Choose MBBS Abroad?

Affordable Tuition Fees:

The cost of studying MBBS abroad is significantly lower compared to private medical colleges in India.

Countries like Russia, Kazakhstan, and Kyrgyzstan offer affordable programs without compromising on quality.

Globally Recognized Degrees:

Many universities abroad are recognized by international bodies like WHO, UNESCO, and the Indian National Medical Commission (NMC).

Graduates can practice medicine in various countries after clearing licensing exams like FMGE/NExT, USMLE, or PLAB.

No Donation or Entrance Exam:

Unlike Indian private colleges, most foreign universities do not require any donation or capitation fee.

Admission is typically based on marks in 10+2 (Physics, Chemistry, and Biology) and NEET qualification (for Indian students).

English-Medium Instruction:

Many universities offer MBBS programs in English, ensuring ease of learning for international students.

International Exposure:

Studying with peers from different countries helps students gain global exposure and learn about diverse cultures.

Advanced Facilities and Practical Training:

Universities abroad have modern laboratories, research facilities, and hospitals for hands-on clinical training.

tudying MBBS abroad is a life-changing experience that provides quality education and global opportunities. With proper planning and research, students can successfully achieve their dream of becoming a doctor!

Would you like information on specific universities or help with creating content for your YouTube channel about MBBS abroad?

[mochi-shortcake]

Late Night Studies

A small sound resonated through the dimly lit hallway, startling nineteen-year-old Tim as he worked through his pile of homework. The hands of a worn-out clock ticked slowly toward 1 a.m. He took a swig from his energy drink, doing anything to keep himself awake. Organic chemistry was going to be the death of him. He face-planted onto his desk. Was it too late to reconsider his major?

He turned his head toward the sound and stood up, wincing as pins and needles shot through his legs. He hobbled past the clutter on the floor and out the door. He looked around.

A textbook lay fallen on the floor in the living room. He rushed to it. It was a rental! He quickly checked for damage but saw none. He sighed with relief and placed the advanced physics textbook back on the messy coffee table. He couldn’t afford to pay for damages, not with rent and tuition already draining his wallet.

Returning to his seat, he plopped into the chair and turned back to the list of formulas waiting to be memorized. The dim lighting made him strain his eyes toward the textbook. Maybe studying at the library would’ve been smarter—if only he wasn’t hiding from the head librarian, who had been on his tail for weeks about an overdue book. He’d gladly return it, if only he could just find it.

The dying lightbulb overhead flickered once, twice, then plunged the room into darkness. Tim groaned. He had replaced the lightbulb last week! He stumbled through the apartment, making his way toward the junk closet.

Tim lived on the thirteenth floor of an apartment building ten minutes from his university. Unable to afford dorm fees, he’d desperately searched for affordable apartments that didn’t require a long commute. Luck had led him here, with rent so cheap it seemed too good to be true. Several tenants on other floors had warned him about bad luck living on the thirteenth floor. Tim had to keep himself from rolling his eyes at their superstitions, but he thanked them politely before he proceeded to sign the lease. Only after moving in did he realize he and his roommate were the only ones living on the thirteenth floor.

He had lived there for about a year now, and nothing unusual had happened—at least, nothing too unusual. Sure, the lights went out randomly, but that was a small price to pay for cheap rent.

Tim reached into the closet, feeling around until he found a lightbulb. He replaced the dead bulb, and the yellow light flickered back on. Time to get back to work.

He sat back down at his desk. About an hour later as he was finishing up his chemistry homework, he heard the front door open.

“Welcome back,” he mumbled to his roommate.

It took him five minutes—five long, tired minutes—before he realized something that made his blood run cold.

His roommate was staying at his partner’s place tonight.

Fear crept up the back of Tim’s neck as he slowly rose from his chair. He grabbed the nearest textbook – the advanced physics textbook – as a weapon and crept toward the front hallway. Just as he rounded the corner…

Tim blinked. He removed his glasses, pinched the bridge of his nose, and glanced at the clock on the wall.

1 a.m.

He groaned inwardly. It was late, and he still wasn’t close to finishing his work. Organic chemistry formulas danced before his eyes, blurring under the dim light. He took a sip of his energy drink, the overly-sweet taste doing little to jolt him awake.

A small thud echoed from the living room.

Tim stood up, wincing as pins and needles prickled through his legs. He trudged out of his cluttered room, following the sound. In the living room, he found his advanced physics textbook lying on the floor, pages splayed open. He sighed in relief—it was a rental, after all—and carefully placed it back on the messy coffee table.

Back at his desk, he glanced at the formulas again. The flickering lightbulb above buzzed in protest, then went out completely, plunging the room into darkness.

"Great," Tim muttered, standing up again. He fumbled his way to the junk closet, his fingers searching blindly for the spare lightbulbs. After a moment, he found one and swapped out the dead bulb, flicking the switch to restore the dull, yellow glow.

Finally, back to his work.

Tim settled into his chair, eyes straining against the dim light. He'd barely begun reviewing the formulas when he heard the front door creak open.

“Welcome back,” Tim called over his shoulder, assuming it was his roommate.

Minutes later, he froze. His roommate wasn’t supposed to be coming back tonight. 

Tim stood up slowly, heart pounding in his chest. Grabbing the nearest object—his advanced physics textbook—he crept toward the front hallway. His knuckles whitened as he held the book like a shield, inching toward the door.

Just as he rounded the corner…

Tim blinked. He removed his glasses, pinched the bridge of his nose, and glanced at the clock on the wall.

1 a.m.

He groaned. It was late, and he still wasn’t close to finishing his work. Organic chemistry formulas blurred before him, and the dim light overhead flickered once, twice—

A thud from the living room.

__________________________________________

There was a tragic story from over ten years ago about a college student who was brutally murdered in his apartment. The tenants had woken to a blood-curdling scream, and when they rushed to his door, they found him—lifeless, covered in blood. They didn’t know him well, but the whole building mourned his memory.

But that wasn’t the end of the story. Not for the ones who stayed.

Every night, just after 2 a.m., it happens again. First, they hear the footsteps—slow, steady, like someone pacing. Then comes the scream, sharp and sudden, cutting through the quiet halls. And then… a thud. Always the same. Footsteps, scream, thud. Footsteps, scream, thud. No matter how many times the tenants checked, the apartment was always empty. But the sounds—they never stopped.

Footsteps, scream, thud. Like clockwork, every night.

One by one, the residents packed up and left, unable to shake the sense that they were living alongside something not of this world. Soon, the entire building stood abandoned. The owner tried to sell it off, but word got around, and no one wanted any part of that place.

They say if you pass by the place late at night, you might catch a flicker of light from the thirteenth floor, even though the building’s been empty for years. And if you listen closely, you might hear the faint sound of a young man’s footsteps, pacing in his room—forever stuck studying for an exam he’ll never take.

__________________________________________

Let me know if you like it! :)

[bottombillyapologist]

why i've been offline

This is mostly just to vent, tbh, bc I know I'm not really a large enough voice online for my absence to be noted. but I feel there's some weird deep level of irony in my writing where I project my worries, fear, or trauma and then those things self realize in my life.

tw for talks of abuse (?) and weight ment.

In summary, Ive had a gap of a few years between high school graduation and college. Nearing the end of summer I was like. scared but hopeful? there were a lot of changes happening at once, I was supposed to move out and start a higher paying job and ofc start going to college. and due to reasons, I have heavily discounted tuition but I can afford dorming or a meal plan. but Back In The Day of the 2008 housing crisis my parents were going to lose our house so we moved in with my grandparents, and then the mortgage was forgiven, so my dad still owns that house, it was just empty (or mostly empty) for like 15 years. it had (and has) problems, but the plan was for us to fix it up over the course of 9 months and I move in when the semester starts bc it's like 15 mins from my school, and a lot just... happened. I bought a car and it died four months later, my brother's car died, my partner bought a car that never drove and then his next car died, so he had to buy a third car. my brother had bought his car on refunded tuition that it turned out he wasn't supposed to get (every friend INCLUDING ME told him not to spend the money because the amount was wrong and he did anyway, he also bought the car without consulting my dad, a hobby mechanic and got screwed) and he had to leave school for a semester and my dad had to bail him out and pay it back. We didn't have the money to fix the house and he didn't tell me, a habit he picked up from not being able to tell my mom anything without her breaking down.

So I was pulling 16+ hour days. I would work 4am-noon, drive to the house in my mom's car and work there 1pm-9pm, then drive home. A few times I got interrupted by errands or had other plans and was out of the house until 1 or 2 in the morning. I didn't do it every day, but 2-3 days a week I would if I had the car. We just got closer and closer to our deadline of the start of semester and I was in too deep to back out, not to mention I didn't want to back out because I couldn't wrap my head around continuing to live with my mom, driving 40+ minutes to school, working, and doing homework. All of my partner and I's stuff was in the house. The last thing we had to finish was hammering a new drain pipe in and sealing the wall back up, and that was already on my first day of orientation for the semester. I had already quit my job and started a new one 2 minutes from the house.

In hammering the pipe in, the other old pipes cracked and water started running down the walls in the first floor. We had to shut all the water off and my partner and I packed backpacks to go back home. First the pipes would be fixed in a few weeks, then a month, then whenever my dad had the money, now it's nearing finals and the plumber is ostensibly starting work next week, but we have to replace all the pipes and tear out the entire bathroom.

I have lived in my empty bedroom out of a backpack since. My little brother was supposed to get my room so he's sleeping in my parents bedroom. This is already long so I can't possible cover all the details but a) my mom is mentally ill and physically disabled, she is fine on her own if absolutely nothing goes wrong but if anything does she is incapable of solving the problem on her own and i am the default caregiver when my dad isn't home. she is explosive and can get physical with people or our pets, but she is incredible sweet and kind when not triggered. b) my family/parents are kind of hoarders. not trash or like... living in filth but every available space is full of stuff.

I had to quit my new job. my partner's new job fell through, so I had been stretching my last paycheck for like a month before I started borrowing money from my dad because I knew any money I asked for would just take it away from my younger brother or fixing the house. in the midst of this my second partner also broke up with me, we'd been growing apart due to a lack of time or attention on my part, which is on me to a point. My partner got a job a couple months ago. I finally got a new job like three weeks ago, I've been dealing with classes well but for a while I was living off the food pantry and emergency funds from my school. thankfully I am still medicated, but due to an insurance issue I didn't have my adhd meds or antidepressants for the first week of the semester. I've lost like 30lbs and I don't recognize my face anymore. I'm still finding happiness in the small things but it's hard to find the time or energy for creativity when I'm trying to figure out what possessions I have that I could sell so I can buy groceries or get my partner a christmas gift bc neither of us could afford to do anything for his birthday. idk. part of this is just a vent? the other is me laughing at the deep irony of using fanfiction as cathartic escapism. and being unable to get to the Good Healing part of the story bc apparently I'm designed as a being to be karmically punished. I planned to get back to writing some after finals, but I now have two jobs and I'm still trying to get out of the hole of not having a job for months. my first paycheck is already gone to house supplies and I guess I have to find a way to buy a space heater too bc the heat is off while the plumber works.

Idk. I don't vent to anyone in my real life because I don't want a pity fest. I feel privileged that I still have food and a place to live and I can go to college, I'm just pushing more and more to the upper limit of what I can do. I thought about doing art or writing commissions but I don't think it'd be enough money to justify the time I could be working on homework or working on the house, and i'm not sure I'd even have time with the two jobs. any money I have immediately goes to house stuff or some menial gifts and I feel like I'm being crushed by Guilt Of Being Alive from every angle.