#but still. it’s only about a dollar above minimum wage so it’s like

[apprenticestanheight]

I have,, I have two things to look forward to this week, and it’s my 60 hour vs my 20 hour. I’m gonna get paid on one of my off days but spending 60 hours at work, plus like five in commuting to and from versus 55 at home??

unless the contract gets extended (I need the money but kind of don’t like my job so I hope it does but also hope it doesn’t) I only have four more weeks. four more weeks of this.

four more weeks. I am STRONG!! I CAN HANDLE IT!!

[ms-demeanor]

if we're like, showing graphs and stuff, this is the type that i think a lot of people on tumblr are thinking of when they think about the economy.

Only one third of people with family incomes below $50k spent less than their income each month. I would guess that a lot of people on tumblr who get aggro about this topic (and the vast majority of people on r/povertyfinance, who discuss this sort of thing a lot) fall into this earning category.

Real wage increases only matter if you got a raise (one third of workers got a raise last year, which means that 2/3rds didn't - included in the economic wellbeing report linked above). Whether or not rent is outpacing wages only matters if you're not going to be rent burdened (more than a third of renter households are cost burdened in every state and 12 million rental households spend more than half their income on rent). Employment rates lose a lot of meaning when you're working multiple jobs to make ends meet (the percentage of multiply employed workers was falling in the US from 1996 to the 2010s, when it plateaued, then it started rising slightly then collapsed in 2020 and has been rising steeply since then and it's too soon to tell if it's going to go back to the plateau or keep going up).

Four in ten adults in the US is carrying some level of medical debt (even people who are insured) and 60% of people with medical debt have cut back on food, clothes or household items; about 50% of people with medical debt have used up all their savings.

Tumblr is the broke people website and yeah, people who are working two jobs to afford $900 for one room and utilities in a three bedroom apartment are not going to feel great about the economy even if real wages are raising and inflation-adjusted rents are actually pretty stable. "The Rent is too Damn High" has been a meme for 14 years so, like, yeah. Even if it's pretty stable when adjusted for inflation it is stable and HIGH.

It's hard to feel good about the economy when you're spending the last few days of the pay period hoping nothing unexpected hits your account, and it's VERY frustrating to be told that the economy's doing well when you've had to start selling blood to buy groceries.

Sure, unemployment is low, that's neat. It's good that inflation has stabilized (it genuinely has; prices are not likely to fall back to pre-inflation rates and eventually you'll likely be paid enough to reach equilibrium, but a lot of people aren't there yet).

But, like, it costs eight thousand dollars a year out of pocket to keep my spouse alive. I'd guess that we've paid off about a third of the 40-ish thousands of dollars he's racked up since his heart attack. His medical debt is why I don't have a retirement plan beyond "I guess I'll die?" So talking about how good the economy is kind of feels like being chained in the bottom of a pit that is slowly filling with water while people on the surface talk about the fact that the rain is tapering off. Neat! That's good! But I can't really see it from where I'm standing.

Inflation really is getting better. My state just enacted a $20 minimum wage for fast food workers. The Biden administration has worked hard to reduce many kinds of healthcare costs. A lot of people have had significant portions of their student debt cancelled.

But a lot of people are still having trouble affording groceries and it doesn't seem helpful to say "your perception of the economy is decoupled from the reality of the economy" on the "can I get a few dollars for food today?" website.

[redrose10]

Here is the first part! There will end up being a second chapter.

CEO Yoongi x Female Barista/College Student Reader

Title: Cold Brewed Love

Summary: When you begged the owner of Jin’s Java House to hire more employees you didn’t mean for him to stick you with the cold, rude, arrogant CEO Min Yoongi. Over time something begins to brew between you both and you end up forced to make decisions way above the pay grade of a cafe barista.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, hints of smut(nothing explicit), Yoongi is mean but we all know he’ll turn fluffy later, violence, kidnapping, mention of a gun

Word Count: 6,934

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You walked into work today at Jin’s Java House filled with dread at the situation. Lately things had been a nightmare there and you definitely didn’t get paid enough to put up with it. The only reason you hadn’t quit like everyone else was because the owner Jin was very flexible with your schedule and would accommodate your college schedule around your shifts, plus he let you have unlimited free coffee and snacks any time you wanted which really helped your already small bank account.

Your plan was to only work here a few months until something better came along, but now here you were two years later still at the same position as a barista at a coffee shop in the lobby of the largest office building in your city. It got your bills paid and you figured once you graduated college soon you could move on elsewhere.

After you clocked in Jin asked you to meet him in the office so you followed along hoping for good news.

“Y/N this is Jungkook. He’s the new employee I was telling you about. Please make sure he gets up and running before you move to the evening shift.”, he said before walking away to answer a phone call.

“Hi”, Jungkook nervously smiled.

“Hi”, you smiled back, “So the easiest thing to learn would be the register so we will start there.”, you said motioning for him to follow.

Thankfully he was a pretty fast learner. After just about an hour of you showing him the register he was already taking some orders by himself which you were very grateful for and thought maybe things were finally starting to look up.

After the morning rush you were just mindlessly wiping down the counter when Jungkook walked over to you.

“Who is that?”, he asked almost in awe.

You rolled your eyes after quickly recognizing the man walking by in his perfectly tailored suit and slicked back hair with a piece that fell perfectly against his forehead, “That’s Min Yoongi. He’s the CEO of MYG INC.”

“Wow he’s beautiful.”, Jungkook whispered.

You chuckled, “Yeah unfortunately his personality doesn’t match his appearance.”

You braced yourself for a fight with him, but thankfully it seemed like Yoongi was going to pass on the coffee today and headed straight for the elevators instead.

“I take it you’ve had some bad experiences with him?”, Jungkook asked.

“Yeah you could say that”.

You and Yoongi have a difficult history. You are about the same age, but he runs a successful billion dollar company while you make coffee for barely above minimum wage and also take classes at the local college which makes you feel intimidated by him and maybe even a little jealous. And he knows that.

His order was the first one you had ever made. Not only were you nervous because it was your first time, but he was also one of the most handsome men you had ever seen and you developed almost an instant crush on him. You were so nervous in fact that you dropped his cup of coffee making it spill all over the counter and right onto his expensive leather shoes. He was quick to reprimand you to the point his assistant Hoseok stepped in and pulled him away from the counter while giving you an apologetic smile. Hoseok returned later that day to apologize for his boss’ actions and offered to buy you lunch from the neighboring Thai restaurant.

Then just a few months later you had been asked by Jin to take up several cases of pastries to Yoongi’s office for some big meeting they were having. After you placed everything in the break room you quickly moved trying to hurry back down to the cafe to help out your co-worker who was working alone during the breakfast rush in your absence when in your haste you turned and ran right into Yoongi causing the stack of documents he was holding to fly everywhere through the office. He had a scowl and some choice words for you once again while you crawled around on your hands and knees trying to reorganize the mess and not cry in front of him. Hoseok was quick to save you then too and that’s how your friendship with ‘Hobi’ started.

Ever since that day though, Yoongi was always rude to you while ordering his coffee. He purposely got your name wrong even though it was right on your name tag. He hardly ever looked up from his phone and if he did it was only to look down on you and try to make you feel small. You hated him. But you hated it even more that no matter how much you hated him you couldn’t abolish the little crush you had on him. He was easily one of, if not your least favorite customer to deal with and you couldn’t ever see that changing.

A few weeks go by and thankfully Jungkook was getting faster and faster, but at the end of the day he was still on the newer side. Jin hired two more people, Jimin and Taehyung but they weren’t going to be starting for another week. Taehyung was going to work mornings with Jungkook and Jimin was going to work the evening shift with you. Today was your last morning shift because your classes started in a couple days so you begged Jin for a few days off to relax and reset which he approved after convincing his sister to come help out at the cafe for a few days.

Jungkook was manning the register as usual since he was much more of people person than you were while you worked away at making the orders.

It was a particularly busy day, worse than usual. There was a huge conference being held in one of the offices bringing in lots of out of town customers as well as your regulars. Jungkook was doing his best to take orders on his own leaving you to have to do all of the prep and stocking as well as make everything ordered.

You stared out at the sea of people letting out a sigh before returning back to the drink you were working on.

You were making a particularly difficult drink when Jungkook nervously stepped up next to you. “Y/N there is a customer at the register that wants to speak to the manager.”, he whispered.

You technically weren’t a manager, but you were the closest there was so you made a mental note to talk to Jin about a promotion and a raise before taking a deep breath to steady your nerves.

“Please hand this drink to order 613. I’ll handle the complaint.”, you said before grabbing a few free drink coupons as an apology.

Stepping up to the counter you felt your stomach twist at the sight. This wasn’t going to be any normal complaint. Not only did you have to apologize for something out of your control, but you had to apologize to your least favorite customer, Mr. Min Yoongi.

He didn’t even give you a chance to speak before he started, “The wait time is ridiculous. There is no reason that it should take nearly twenty-five minutes in line to get a mediocre cup of coffee.”

“I know Sir. I apologize. It’s just Jungkook and I and he’s still pretty new. We’re trying our best.”

“Clearly your best is not good enough. I don’t know how you can get any lower than a measly coffee maker, but maybe you should try something else.”

“Again I apologize Sir. Here are some coupons for free drinks and I’ll make sure to speak with the owner about improving our processes.”, you said still trying to be professional.

He scoffed, “Do I look like I need coupons for a free drink?“

“No, but there is not much else I can offer you. I apologize for the long wait, but as I said we’re trying our best.”

“Do better because this is unacceptable.”, he spat before leaving his coffee and walking way.

At that point the wall you built up crumbled and tears began to fall freely.

“Hey go in the back and take a few. I’ll be okay.”, Jungkook said.

“No it’s okay. I have to make the orders.”

“Y/N, go. I’ll be okay. I’ll make some of the drinks that I know and then ones I don’t I’ll just wing it. I mean they can’t get any more upset than they already are so what’s a wrong drink going to do.”, he chuckled.

You nodded and walked to the back for a few minutes.

You couldn’t believe the audacity of Yoongi. Like sure the wait times were terrible, but it’s not like he couldn’t afford to just order coffee from somewhere else or send Hobi to get it. You felt like he purposely just wanted to ruin your day and that hurt more than it should have.

After taking a small break you returned to the front thankful that Jungkook had everything taken care of. It seemed like most of the line left after Yoongi’s spectacle and you walking away so there were only a few people left.

“See I told you I could handle it.”, Jungkook smiled as he was clearly making the wrong drink, but judging by the puppy dog eyes the girl at the counter was giving him you didn’t think she’d really care anyways.

“Thank you Kookie. That break really helped.”, you said giving his arm a squeeze.

When your shift finally ended you said goodbye to Jungkook and left for home. Exhausted you plopped down on your couch taking out your phone.

You: Is your boss PMSing or something? He was an even bigger jerk than normal today.

Hobi: Ohhh that’s probably what he was mumbling about when he got in.

You: What?

Hobi: Nothing, it’s nothing. Yeah sorry about him. He’s trying to close this really important deal or something. He always gets like this when he’s working on that. Plus I think his parents are on his case about something.

You: Well he should learn to keep his emotions to himself before he really hurts someone.

Hobi: I thought you said he was an emotionless robot…

You: 😑

Your mini vacation was much needed especially after your latest Yoongi encounter, but it went by way too fast for your liking. Classes started up again and they were already kicking your ass. You moved to the evening shift at work which was a nice change of pace. It was a little slower than the mornings and although you missed Jungkook you were getting along great with Jimin.

Earlier today Jin had texted you to let you know a new employee would be starting at night. He didn’t give you much info other than he’d only be working part time and you were oddly warned not to have sex in the office because this guy was apparently super hot. You were just excited to get another worker so maybe you could eventually reduce your hours a little and take some of the stress off so you weren’t going to complain.

Your shift was going by extremely slow so you had your back to the counter as you wiped down one of the old machines trying to accomplish something for the day. From behind you someone cleared their throat making you jump a little.

“Hi welcome to Jin’s Java House how can I help you today?”

You stopped in your tracks feeling your heart speed up, “M-Mr.Min?”, you asked.

He rolled his eyes before grabbing an apron from the rack.

“Uh Mr. Min?”, you questioned.

He looked more pissed off than ever.

“Y/N”, he said finally looking at your name tag, “I guess I am your new coworker for the next several weeks. Maybe I’ll be able to to come up with a better system to solve the slow service around here.”

“Umm uh sir? W-what do you mean coworker?”

He rolled his eyes again, “Obviously I mean we are working together.”

“I know what a coworker is. My question is why is a successful billionaire ceo working at a coffee shop for minimum wage?”

“Because my lovely parents think I need to learn some humility and how to talk to people other than just demanding things. They said I do this or they’re removing me from the company so I have no choice.”, he said picking at some lint on his shirt.

“So I’m working here for a little. I figured if anyone knows some humbleness it’s a nobody coffee maker.”

Being the reliable hard worker you are you sucked it up, “Okay sir. The easiest thing is to learn the register first.”

He followed you over to where the computer was located.

“Okay so this row is the specials. This row is basic coffees. Then when you select a coffee it asks if you want to add any thing. That’s where you’ll find the flavorings and toppings. This row is cold drinks. This row is baked goods.”

You noticed he was very quiet so when you looked up you weren’t surprised to see him staring at some blond in a very short pencil skirt sitting at one of the cafe tables. It did make you feel a sting of jealousy, but you quickly shook that away.

“Are you even listening?”, you questioned.

“Y/N, I run a billion dollar company. I think I can figure out a few buttons on a computer screen at a coffee shop.”, he smirked.

“Okay, here’s your first customer.”, you smiled as Mrs. Kang walked up to the counter. She was a familiar regular who was notoriously difficult and you couldn’t wait to watch Yoongi crash and burn.

“Hi, welcome to Jin’s Java House, how can I help you?”, he greeted her as cocky as ever.

“Sure can I get a medium coffee with two pumps of hazelnut, half a pump of vanilla but make sure it’s only half a pump. Last time they definitely put too much. I want the coffee fresh brewed but a mix of the house blend and the cinnamon nut. Then also add a caramel swirl and use half oat milk half almond milk that is warmed up so it doesn’t cool the coffee too much. I also want a banana nut muffin on the side but warm it up also.”

You felt a deep sense of happiness as you watched Yoongi’s fingers hover over the buttons unsure of how to complete the order. Reluctantly he looked at you for assistance.

You showed him how to type in the order while Jimin got to work making it.

That was definitely a humbling experience for Yoongi who was much more open to help after that.

The following few weeks flew by between your classes and shifts at the coffee shop. You and Yoongi were working surprisingly well together. He was actually a decent worker and wasn’t as insufferable to be around.

“Y/N please stop calling me Sir.”, he said one evening.

“I’m sorry it’s just a habit.”

“Well please just call me Yoongi. Sir is reserved for other things.”, he smirked.

You quickly turned away hoping to hide your blushing cheeks from him.

He even apologized for always treating you so coldly, especially that one day he made you run in the back and cry. He chuckled saying Hobi heard him ranting about how much of an idiot he was. He said he came down later in the day to apologize, but you were already gone and he said it bothered him ever since. There was a small shift in your relationship after that.

He had texted you earlier today to let you know that he was going out and wouldn’t be working tonight which kind of made you feel a little as as you had grown to look forward to working with him.

“I strive to be like him one day. Rich, successful, good looking, always having a hot woman on my arm.”, Jimin sighed.

You spun around just in time to see Yoongi walking through the lobby towards the door with the pencil skirt blonde tightly clinging to his arm as he licked his lips while looking down at her.

You don’t know what you expected when he said he was going out or why that sight made your chest tighten, but you quickly returned to portioning out coffee beans so Jimin wouldn’t see your eyes watering.

Maybe you were naive or just had too much wishful thinking, but you had really thought that maybe there was a small chance Yoongi was starting to like you too. You noticed his gaze lingering a little longer than it used it. How he’d “accidentally” bump into you or brush his fingers against your skin. How he started showing up a little earlier every shift and would immediately make his way over to you. But apparently it was all in your head. The more you thought about it the more you felt silly for thinking someone like him could ever be interested in someone like you. So you spent the rest of the shift trying to keep your thoughts away from what Yoongi was up to.

After last night you were thankful it was Saturday because Yoongi never worked weekends which meant you could avoid him for a couple days.

Unfortunately for you, luck was not on your side because when you arrived for your shift Yoongi was already behind the counter.

You faked a smile as you rounded the counter to grab your apron with Yoongi following behind with a red drink in his hands.

“I got you a smoothie from that health place down the street.”

You looked at him confused.

“I just thought you might be sick of coffee.”, he said feeling self conscious all of a sudden for some reason.

“Oh thank you. I’m sorry. I just wasn’t expecting you to be working today.”, you said taking the drink from him.

Shyly he scratched the back of his neck, “Oh yeah I figured since I couldn’t work yesterday I’d pick up a few hours tonight.”

You nodded before clocking in and heading over to wipe down the already clean counter just to avoid him. Being around him made you feel so confused and conflicted and you didn’t have it in you to deal with that right now.

“How was your date last night? She was hot. I bet you had a good time with her.”, Jimin smirked as he handed Yoongi a cup to fill.

You happened to look up noticing Yoongi quickly turn away from you, but you didn’t miss the slight blush on his cheeks.

He turned back to Jimin, “Yeah she was alright.”

“You gonna see her again? Does she have any single friends or maybe a hot older sister?”

You rolled your eyes before walking away not really wanting to hear Yoongi’s answer anyways.

As days went on you got over Yoongi and the pencil skirt incident until it was Friday and yet again Yoongi texted you that he couldn’t work because he would be going out.

Before he left the office he stopped over at the coffee shop.

As much as you wanted to you couldn’t stop staring. He looked good. His suit jacket was thrown over his shoulder. The sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up giving you a great view of his hands and forearms that you weirdly loved. His hair was messily styled after the gel gave out from hours of work. As he walked up to the counter you were hit with the scent of his cologne, a comforting cinnamon and vanilla that made you think of eating Christmas cookies by the fire place.

“I thought you were going out?”, you asked sounding more hurt than you wanted.

“Meeting that hot blonde again?”, Jimin asked wiggling his eyebrows.

Yoongi chuckled, “No not tonight. I’m just meeting my parents for dinner at that new sushi place everyone’s talking about. I thought I’d stop by and see if either of you wanted me to bring you something back for dinner.”

Your heart felt warmed that the once cold CEO was now going out of the way to see if you wanted food and you also selfishly felt joy at the fact that he wasn’t meeting that woman again tonight.

“Oh my god yes! I’m starving!”, Jimin excitedly exclaimed making you and Yoongi laugh. As you watched Yoongi write down Jimins order someone walked up to the counter and cleared their throat. Expecting a customer you were happily surprised to see Jungkook.

“Kookie!!”, you shouted jogging around the corner and into his arms missing the scowl that crossed Yoongi’s face.

“What are you doing here? I feel like I haven’t seen you in months.”

“I was in the area and thought I’d stop by to get a coffee and say hi.”

As you walked over to the register to ring in an employee drink Yoongi leaned forward over the counter motioning for Jimin to do the same.

“Who is that?”, Yoongi whispered.

“Ummm that is Jungkook. He works on the morning shift. Haven’t you seen him before?”

Now that Jimin mentioned it he did remember seeing this kid working at the coffee shop. He didn’t like him back then and he really didn’t like him now watching him as he flexed his muscles in a tight black tshirt while you excitedly told him about the paper you were writing for your philosophy class. Yoongi wondered if maybe he should start going to the gym more. He also felt a bit of jealousy watching you so easily talk to Jungkook. You always acted so scared of him which he knew was mostly his own fault, but still. He wished you could freely talk about your life with him or that you would act that excited when he walked in. He also wished Jimin would stop bringing up that woman. He didn’t even remember her name. He had zero real interest in her and just wanted to have a distraction to try and stop his growing crush for you because he knew at the of the day you deserved better than him. But then he saw the look on your face as he walked out of the office building with her that night and he couldn’t take it. He gave the woman some money to buy dinner as an apology and also keep her quiet and went home by himself wishing he was as work with you instead.

And now here you were flirting with this Kookie guy right in front of him.

“Hello earth to Yoongi.”, Jimin said waving his hands in his face.

“Sorry what was that?”

“I changed my mind. I want a rainbow roll instead of the eel roll.”

“Oh yeah sure. Whatever you want.”, he said going to write that down when he saw it. You using your fingers to trace over Jungkook’s new tattoo as he conveniently flexed his bicep at the same time and that was it.

Yoongi never thought of himself as a jealous man because if one woman broke his heart he could have another replacing her that same night, but there was something different about you. And watching this all unfold made him turn green with envy.

He took out his wallet and handed Jimin a card, “Here take my card and go order whatever you want. Get something for Y/N too. I’ll cover your shift while you’re gone.”

Jimin looked at the shiny black card and wasn’t about to question him so he happily threw his apron down on the counter before sprinting for the door.

Yoongi picked up the apron putting it on trying to cover as much of his outfit as he could regretting not bringing a change of clothes since Gucci and coffee didn’t really mix.

As he walked around the counter you looked at him stunned, “What are you doing? I thought you had to meet your parents? And where is Jimin?”

Yoongi finished washing his hands before he walked back over to you, “I gave Jimin my card and told him to go get us dinner. Seemed like he needed a break. My parents will understand. I mean, me working here was their idea to begin with.”

“Oh okay.”, you replied still suspicious but there wasn’t anything you could do anyways.

Jungkook was quick to sense the tension in the air so he gave you both a goodbye before grabbing his drink and practically jogging out of the building.

“So uh how are your um classes going? What’s your major again?”, he nervously asked.

“Oh they’re alright. Lots of work.”, you chuckled, “My major is in marketing with a minor in communications.”

“Wow that’s pretty amazing. You must have big plans for once you graduate.”

“Yeah I guess. Maybe I’ll work for one of your rivals one day.”, you joked getting a laugh out of him.

Jimin seemed to be taking his time getting dinner which left you and Yoongi alone with each other until a familiar face showed up at the counter.

“Hey Namjoon, what are you doing here?”, you asked.

“Hi Y/N, I’m checking out the new art exhibit up the street and thought I’d grab a coffee first. I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Yeah have to get myself through college somehow.”

“Hey a jobs a job. Did you get your results back from Mrs. Cho’s class? That test kicked my ass.”

You giggled, “Yeah tell me about it. I studied for days and still barely squeaked by.”

Yoongi watched the scene unfold before him. “What is going on around here tonight?”, he thought to himself. You flirting with a tall handsome guy with cute dimples who was smart and artistic and friendly and Yoongi felt his blood boil again as he watched him flirt right back. He knew he couldn’t take much more of this.

As soon as Namjoon said goodbye he walked up next to you.

“Maybe we should call Jimin. Knowing him he’s probably going on a shopping spree with your card right now.”, you laughed turning to look at Yoongi.

He stood in front of you not saying anything. His hands were sweating and he felt like he was going to throw up. He leads very important meetings with some of the most powerful people in the world with ease. He’s had to fire people two days before Christmas and didn’t think twice about it. He’s faced his parents and told them off like he had a death wish but it didn’t phase him. But standing here in front of you was the most nervous he had ever been.

“Will you go out with me?”, he blurted out unsure of where this sudden confidence boost came from.

“I’m sorry what?”, you questioned.

“Y/N, will you please go out with me?”

“Like on a date??”

“Yes…like on a date…with me…Min Yoongi…and you…”

Internally you swooned seeing how nervous and flustered he was, but you did your best to remain cool on the outside.

“Yes, I would like to go on a date with you…Min Yoongi.”

You nervously paced around your bedroom that was littered with different dresses and skirts and shoes. Sure you had been on dates before but never with enemy turned lovers that were also successful billionaire ceos.

“Seriously, Yoongi isn’t going to care what you wear. He doesn’t worry about stuff like that.”, Hobi chuckled from where he was laid out on your bed snacking on some of your chips.

“Yeah well I’ve seen the women he’s left the office with over the years and I beg to differ.”

“Yeah and 99% of those women were one night stands that he just used to get his dick wet. Y/N trust me. He likes you more than that.”

“Really?”, you questioned.

Hobi nodded, “He’s been a nervous wreck all week. I swear I’ve had to cancel fifteen different reservations because he never thought the restaurant was good enough. He’s called every florist in the city looking for a bouquet that he felt was pretty enough for you. And you didn’t hear this from me and I’ll throw you right under the bus if you say you did, but he even had Jimin come up to our office yesterday and I heard Yoongi asking him for romance tips.”

“Whaaattt?”, you stated in shock.

“Mmhmm yes ma’am. I know it’s hard to believe, but Yoongi doesn’t usually do romance. He’s more of a fuck ‘em and leave ‘em kind of guy. So he is really trying to impress you.”

You knew Hobi was trying to help, but now you were even more nervous than before.

After settling on a simple black dress with your “comfy” heels Hobi left you with a hug and made you promise to text him afterwards so he could get all the details.

Yoongi was exactly on time as he nervously handed you a beautiful bouquet of red, white, and pink roses.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful.”, you smiled quickly placing them in a vase of water.

Offering you his hand he lead you out to a waiting car that quickly sped off to your destination after you were settled in.

“You look very nice tonight Y/N.”, he blushed.

“You looking really nice yourself.”, you added. And he did. He was dressed down from his usual business suit, but somehow still dressed up for the date. He wore perfectly tailored black dress pants and a slim fitting black dress shirt tucked in with the sleeves rolled up just like you liked. He had a few dainty bracelets and some earrings on to accessorize the look which was finished off with his hair lightly styled. His cologne was intoxicating like something you’d never smelled before. Masculine but yet soft and gentle much like the person who was wearing it. He looked incredible and it took everything in you not to beg him to take you in the back of the car right then.

The restaurant, of course, was fancy and expensive and you would have never even set foot in it if it wasn’t for Yoongi.

“I hope this okay. Now that I think about it should’ve asked you where you wanted to go. I’m sorry. We can go somewhere else if you would like. I don’t know if you even like steak.”, he ranted after noticing you staring in awe.

You shook your head, “Yoongi this is great. Everything looks so good. I can’t decide what to get.”

“Well order whatever you want.”, he smiled trying to relax a little.

Dinner went smoothly. The food and drinks were good. Yoongi was a great conversationist once he got rid of some of his nerves. You had a great time and when he walked you back up to your apartment you felt a sense of nervousness about what the next move should be.

As you awkwardly stood in front of your door you could feel the tension between you both until Yoongi broke it and chuckled, “I’m sorry I’m kind of new at all of this. I don’t usually take women on actual dates.”

You laughed along with him, “That’s okay. Just do what feels right to you.”

Taking a step forward he placed his hands on your hips, “Right now it feels right to kiss you.”

“Then do it.”, You replied trying to hide the quiver in your voice.

A simple kiss turned into another turned into hands wandering and undoing belts and removing clothes until you were both naked under the covers of your bed entangled with one another.

When you woke up the following morning with Yoongi’s naked chest pressed closely against your bare back and his arms still tightly wrapped around your waist you felt the most content you had in a long time. A feeling you didn’t know was possible.

“How was your date with Yoongi last night?”, Jin questioned when you walked in for your Saturday evening shift. You looked around surprised. The only people that new about your date were Hobi and Jimin. You knew Hobi and Jin had never even met let alone talked so you through a glare in Jimin’s direction who put his hands up in defense as if to say he had nothing to do with it.

Jin continued, “It’s all over the internet. I knew the two of you would end up together. That’s why I said no office sex.”

In a panic you took out your phone and started searching. Sure enough the first headline you read was ‘MYG INC.’s Min Yoongi Finally Settling Down?’ Another one read ‘Who Is the Mystery Girl That Stole the Heart of One of the Worlds Most Wanted Bachelors’. Both were accompanied by photos of you and Yoongi at the restaurant, driving in his car, and even walking into your apartment building.

“What? I didn’t know we were even being followed.”, you whispered to yourself.

“I wouldn’t worry about it. Must be a slow news day. It’ll be forgotten about by tomorrow.”, Jimin said while clocking in.

You pulled out your phone about to call Yoongi when you already heard his voice behind you.

He leaned on the counter giving you a sad smile.

“What are you doing here?”, you asked.

“I have some work stuff I need to get done so I thought I’d come into the office. I’m guessing you saw the news?”

You nodded, “Yeah I have.”

You noticed that Yoongi seemed uncomfortable maybe even worried about something.

He shook his head, “This is so fucked up. I didn’t think anyone would follow us. The last thing I wanted was for it to get out that I was dating you.”

You looked at him with wide eyes, “Are you embarrassed to be with me?”

Yoongi looked like he could cry. Frantically he reached over to grab your hand shaking his head, “God no Y/N. I would never be embarrassed to be with you. There’s just a lot of crazy people in this world you know and I just want to keep you safe. That’s all.”

Something about his words didn’t sit right with you, but in the moment you chose to let it go.

“I have to get upstairs, but call me at the end of your shift.”, he said leaning in for a kiss before deciding against it after noticing a customer walk up to the counter. Instead giving your hand a quick squeeze before walking to the elevators.

Before you knew it your shift was over. Taking out your phone and sitting down at one of the empty tables you called Yoongi who answered on the first ring like he had been waiting all day for your call.

“Hey baby, How was work?”

“Alright. Jimin tripped and fell face first into a piece of chocolate cake he was carrying which was pretty hysterical.”

Yoongi chuckled at that, “I wish I could’ve seen that. Where are you now?”

“Just sitting next to the cafe. I think I’m going to go home and get something to eat. What about you?”

“I have to have an emergency meeting in a few minutes with our partners in Japan. There was a big dip in profits in that market so we need to figure out a plan. Shouldn’t be too long though.”

“I know you’ll figure it out. Call me when you’re done with your meeting.”

“Hey uh Y/N, how about you go to my place instead?”

“Okay yeah that sounds good? I’ll just stop home and change and then head over.”

“No!…I uh…I mean why go out of your way? My place is just down the street from the office building. I’ll call the guards and let them know to let you in. I’ll text you the address and the entrance code. Just go in and shower, find something of mine to wear, get a snack if you want. I’ll let you know when I’m on my way and I’ll order us dinner.”

“Okkkkaaaay. I’ll see you later.”

“”Alright babe I gotta go. I’ll see you tonight.”

You hung up feeling very confused if not even concerned. You knew you would eventually go to his place, but you didn’t expect it to be so suddenly and with him being so pushy about it too.

“You hanging out with Yoongi tonight?”, Jimin asked taking a seat next to you.

“Uh yeah I guess so. He wants me to go straight to his place.”

“Wow he doesn’t waste any time does he? He’s a man who knows what he wants.”, Jimin chuckled.

You laughed with him, but then were smacked in the face with a sudden realization.

There was no way in hell you were going to let Yoongi, the guy you’ve been dating less than a day and also successful rich ceo, see you in your purple polka dot granny panties and mismatched sports bra. You hadn’t even washed your hair from last night and you definitely could already feel some stubble on your legs. None of this would bother you if you two had been together for a while but with the relationship being so new you still wanted to impresses him. Yoongi did say to head straight for his place, but you knew his “quick” meeting was probably to going to be a while so you could make it home, shower, and change into something nicer and then head to Yoongi’s and he’d never know and you were sure he’d appreciate it.

“Great work today Jimin! Gotta go.”, you said jumping up and running towards the door leaving Jimin behind looking dumbfounded.

Once in your bedroom you grabbed the white lace lingerie set that you thankfully decided to splurge on as a birthday gift to yourself a few months ago and started heading towards your bathroom when you felt someone grab you from behind.

For a minute you thought maybe Yoongi’s meeting really had been quick and he beat you home until an unfamiliar voice spoke, “Gotcha! Don’t fight or make this difficult. It’ll only make it worse for you.“

You tried your best to break free elbowing the guy in the throat and you managed to escape to the bathroom slamming shut and locking the door behind you.

You knew you should’ve called the police first, but at that moment there was only one person you could think about. Quickly you dialed Yoongi’s number, but it went straight to voicemail. He must still be in the meeting and had his phone shut off.

“Yoongi please help me.”, you screamed., “I went home. I’m sorry I know you said not to but I didn’t think anything would happen. There’s a man here. He broke in and he’s trying to kidnap me or something. I need you Yoongi.”Just as you hung up and we’re about to call the police there were now two men who busted through the bathroom door that was separating you from them.

“I told you not to make this difficult.”, the man from earlier spat as he picked you up by your wrists and began dragging you down the hallway. You tried to fight back but ultimately they overpowered you.

“For fucks sake I didn’t think that guy was ever going to shut up.”, Yoongi groaned with a stretch.

“Yeah that meeting took a lot longer than it should have. I’ll have the summary notes typed up and on your desk within an hour.”, Hoseok replied.

“No it can wait until Monday. Go home and relax.”, Yoongi said with a smile.

“Ahhh so not only does my best friend enjoy the benefits of boyfriend Yoongi but I also get them?”, he smirked.

“Go, before I change my mind.”

Hoseok laughed, but quickly exited the office knowing his boss really could change his mind.

Yoongi finally pulled out his phone noticing the missed call and voice email from you. He didn’t think much of it at first until the recording started playing and all the blood drained from his face. He felt like he could pass out.

He grabbed his keys and began sprinting through the office building out to the garage. He jumped in his car speeding off completely barreling through the security gate. He tried calling you over and over but there was no answer.

His car stopped in front of your apartment. Yoongi reached over into the glove box grabbing the loaded hand gun he had hidden there and thanked the stars he decided to drive himself to work today instead of having a driver pick him up like he usually would.

He ran up the six flights of stairs to your floor like they were nothing. The adrenaline running through his body made him feel like he’s was on a high and unstoppable.

Entering your apartment he drew his gun, but then immediately saw the clear signs that there had been a struggle. He checked every room, under the bed, in the closets. He screamed your name, but there was no answer.

He dropped down on the couch before running his hands over his face and groaning, “Fuck! I fucking knew something like this would happen.”

He stood up and walked to the door where right in front of his face was a note that was stabbed into the wall with a bloody knife,

“Min Yoongi, We told you not to fuck with us, but you didn’t listen. Now we have your girl and one of you is going to pay the price to make things right.”

[dstryvampres]

Lab Assistant

MINORS/AGELESS BLOG DNI !

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader

Warnings: smut LOL, dub con, pnv, unprotected sex, use of fear toxin on some dude, he smacks your ass like once

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: this is my first time writing just pure smut, sorry if the set up is super long.

For the past week your heater had been broken, and despite multiple calls to your landlord which always ended up with the promise that he would come over to fix it eventually, you were still freezing. Though you could escape the biting cold throughout the day by taking up a second home at your university, you always had to eventually come back to your shitty studio apartment and suffer through the night. You’re excess time spent on campus was well spent, studying in the library, napping under stairwells or in-between shelves in the library, stirring around coffee you didn’t even like but knew you have to drink to stay in the cafe, or staring longingly at your psychology professor Dr. Crane. The lack of any privacy throughout your day had started to get annoying after the first three days, not helped by the fact that because you saw Dr Crane more than you usually do, leading to you feeling more high strung. Gotham was not treating you kindly.

“Excuse me,” a voice called out quite loudly above you, forcing you out of your final exam induced coma. You gritted your teeth, knowing that you were likely overstaying your visit to the campus library, especially since you had just finished your last exam of the season, who knows how many hours ago.

Looking up you were met with the face of your favourite professor, Dr Crane. Another horrible coincidence, it was embarrassing for someone so put together and professional to find you so vulnerable, especially someone who you had in mind when your hand was shoved down your pants most nights. 

“The library is closing soon, I would recommend getting your stuff and heading out,” Dr Crane says, his voice oddly empathetic. A jarring contrast to the usual mix of hostility and boredom his voice held during lectures. He sighs and takes off his glasses, pinching his eyebrows together, seeming conflicted over what he wants to say next, so instead you fill the space with your own voice.

“Of course, I’m so sorry sir. I seemed to lose track of time, and was too exhausted to walk home. Again, I am so sorry. I should have set a timer or just maybe not sleep in the library, that was so-“

“You have been spending a weird amount of time on campus for the past week,” Dr Crane interjects, giving you a once over. “Is everything okay at home?”

The question was so genuine it made your brain short circuit. Why would he even care about you?

“Not really,” you laughed, the two words coming out of your mouth before you had time to think. A habit only recently picked up due to sleepless nights.

A smile crept over your professor's face, one that didn’t seem to reach the rest of his face. You couldn’t tell if it was from the shock of your honesty or something more sinister. He sat down in front of you, scratching his nose, letting a silence stretch out. Just long enough for pricks of discomfort to stir.

“Well, I’m running a program here at the university over the winter break. Just need an assistant to help me over at Arkham for an experiment I’m conducting. The job would include housing closer to Arkham, since it’s a little out of the city, and it pays about a dollar over the minimum wage. If you’re interested,” he slides a business card over the table, smile now dropped, “just email me in the next 48 hours.”

Taking the card eagerly between your fingers, mumbling a small ‘thank you’ under your breath before pocketing it. When you look up he’s already halfway gone. Packing up your things as fast as you can, you leave the library and hop on the train back to your shitty apartment. An email is sent to Dr Crane that night, and the following day you are confirmed as his assistant for this experiment the next day.

𝜗𝜚

The space provided for your three week stay was slightly better than your studio apartment, mostly because it had heating, but also because you shared a wall with Dr Crane. Besides the housing, the internship also came with an average pay, some work experience, and enough credits to compensate for one class. Your first week there had mostly been mundane tasks, taking notes outside of interrogation rooms while Dr Crane interviewed patients, making coffee for the two of you, making patient profiles, and making sure no one took any of Dr Crane’s “special medicine” for the experiment. Despite the easy work and the decent benefits, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something more sinister that Dr Crane wasn’t telling you about the experiment. With a thesis based around the concept of fears, you had yet to notice any great dive into the topic beside a few one-off questions.

“Before we start this week,” Dr Crane starts, sitting down in the chair opposite to you, “I want to just warn you that this is when the experiment starts to become a little more intense.”

He holds a coffee mug in his hand, as he talks the liquid sloshes around the cup. It's all information you already know, you signed an NDA, he trusts you, do what he says, and that he needs you to stay out of the room no matter what. Last week you learned just how Dr Crane enjoys his coffee, no milk and one sugar, you can’t understand how he can drink it. One sugar can’t mask the bitter taste. He drinks it quickly though, remembering the taste makes you gag.

“Before we begin today, can you prepare the variable today in syringes? I will be introducing it into the experimental group today.”

He sets down the now empty mug, a loud thump echoes through the room, startling you. Dr Crane smiles at your reaction, it’s the same one he always gives you, the one that doesn’t reach the rest of his face. You ignore the stone that has formed inside your stomach, picking up your clipboard and pen.

“I’ll meet you in room 283B,” your professor puts a hand on the small of your back, leading you both out of his office. A shock is sent through your body at the contact, once out of the room you turn to look at him, but his hand is gone and he’s headed in the opposite direction as you.

Something else that you have noticed throughout this week is just how close Dr Crane is now. He’s more touchy than you would pinpoint him as. Which isn’t saying much, but the small lingering touches he lays on you, a hand on your shoulder, maybe on the small of your back, doesn’t seem to be too professional. One… two… three millilitres of solution per syringe. The questions he asks also seem to be a little weird, especially due to the matter of the study. A common thread being his prying into your fears, and a look of hunger when he asks the questions. Soft thud of the storage container hitting the ‘chemical waste’ bin. Though you can’t really complain, this past week has given you enough content for your late nights to satisfy you for your whole university career, Masters program included. Laying out each of the syringes in a row on the tray, and counting them out. Three syringes on the top tray, six needles on the lower tray. Rolling the tray out of the room and over to the elevator to head up to the second floor.

You softly knock on the door, waiting for Dr Crane to open up the door to the observer section. The door opens in a matter of seconds, only a crack for a couple more seconds, before it is completely opened. 

“Thank you,” Dr Crane says, looking down at the tray of syringes. He takes one in his gloved hand, holds it up to the light and nods, a stamp of approval given to your handiwork. “Remember: that if anything goes wrong, do not enter the room, just call security, and take as detailed notes as possible on the patient’s behaviour and the levels on the monitor.”

You nod, taking a look at the monitor set up beside the one-way glass, all vitals seem to be steady at the moment. The door to the room holding the patient opens up and shuts quickly, Dr Crane slipping in and greeting the patient, thanking him for his time. The patient seems to be a middle aged man, scars run across his arms, roughed up from whatever he did before his time in Arkham, he’s bald and seems to be displeased with his situation. Still, when Dr Crane comes to insert the syringe into his arm he stays still and takes it. The opaque liquid disappears as Dr Crane pushes down on the syringe, removing it once all the liquid has entered into the man’s system. A ‘thank you’ is expressed by Dr Crane before he exits the room, syringe in hand. Once the door is locked, Crane disposes of the syringe in the toxic waste bin in the observer’s room.

“The solution will take about five minutes to kick in,” he says, looking at you and it’s now that you realise just how excited he seems to be. 

The heart rate on the monitor starts to speed up, taking your attention away from Crane, and noting it down.

“Are you sure you estimated the time correctly?” You ask hesitantly, not wanting to offend your professor.

“I did. No worries. Injections can do this to people.”

The next five minutes pass by slowly, Dr Crane behind your chair, his breath tickling your ear. It’s almost impossible to focus like this, you just want to do something about the growing wet spot in your pants. Screaming immediately breaks through the tension you were feeling, you look at the patient. His eyes are wide, his pupils expanded, and his heart rate reaches around 140 bpm. Alarm sets into your own heart, you didn’t expect this big of a reaction from the patient. Dr Crane nudges your shoulder, reminding you to start writing your observations.

11:06: patient’s heart rate reaches 140 bpm

11:07: patient starts uncontrollably screaming at seemingly nothing

Your continued scribbling of notes doesn’t seem to discourage Dr Crane from talking.

“I didn’t know it would be this effective. I’ve been waiting years for this to be approved and this is better than I could’ve ever expected.”

Nausea settled from the mix of pleading for mercy and screaming from the patient, and Dr Crane’s glee from his reactions. Unsure how you could continue on with doing this almost every single day for the two weeks. Writing soon became sloppy due to your own lightheadedness and nausea, every moment you begged someone to make this stop. It was too much. It stretched on for over fifteen minutes before the patient finally came back from whatever drug induced hallucination he was forced into, yet he was still crying. Wanting to distance yourself so far from this experiment, you place the clipboard down.

“Wonderful isn’t it?” Dr Crane asked you, placing a hand on your shoulder. Whatever response you thought you could muster was stuck in your throat, so instead you nodded. “I call it my ‘fear toxin.’”

Once his hand left your shoulder, you immediately stood up, head spinning so much that you stumbled right into Dr Crane.

“Are you okay? Did the ‘fear toxin’ effects startle you?” He asks, putting his hands on your shoulder to stabilise you, his voice bridges between mocking and actually concerned.

“I just need to go to the bathroom,” You squeeze out, stumbling into the hallway and waving goodbye.

Stumbling around, unable to find the bathroom, you slide down the wall of an empty hallway. Sitting on the floor and curling up into the fetal position. Nausea slipping out of you slowly, eyes closed, just wanting to forget about the whole experience. What substance could even make a man react so horribly? Why would anyone make that in the first place? What purpose could a substance like that even serve? How will this even help-

“There you are,” a voice comes from above you, Dr Crane. You open one eye up, becoming flustered at your unprofessionalism, and enraged at the sight of your cruel professor.

He kneels to your height, offering you his soulless smile. “I’m sorry if that startled you, but I thought you would be better than them. I thought you could fully see my vision, look past the gruesome bits and understand what I’m trying to do here.”

His words both enrage you even further and make you feel even more embarrassed. He created a horrible substance, tested out on a man that, from what you know, didn’t deserve it, and essentially tortured him. On the other hand, this is a man who you have dreamed about and only want to please. For the past three years, you have sat in his class and dreamed about only him. For him to think that only you could understand his plans and dreams, is a flattery you could only dream of.

“Maybe I just didn’t prepare you well enough for this. Can I make it up to you?” Dr Crane asks, offering his hand to you. It takes a couple seconds, but you take it and he leads you upwards. 

His hand is oddly cold, his grip on your own hand is firm, but not harsh. His skin is smooth. It’s embarrassing that he has to lead you out of this room, has to coax you to continue.

“Let’s go to my office, hm?” Quirking an eyebrow, but not waiting for a response he led you down the hallway.

Everything seemed to blur together for you, the trip to the elevator, down the elevator, and into his office. He clicks the door shut, locking it, then turns to you. Stepping forward until he’s cornered you onto his desk.

“You think I don’t hear you at night. Calling my name. The walls in that place are very thin,” Dr Crane whispers into your ear, his hand slithering up your thigh.

A gasp escapes your lips, both at the hand now dangerously close to the warmth growing in your pants, and also because you didn’t think he would be able to hear your late night pleasure sessions. Soon he’s cupping your sex and you moan into his ear softly, earning a hum from him. Finger wander up from your sex to cup your chin, he brings you into a kiss. It’s bruising and hungry, he’s biting at your lower lip and you swear you can taste your own blood. His fingers make quick work unbuttoning your pants, sliding them down your legs until they drop to pool around your ankle.

“You're so wet already, how interesting,” He teases, tracing a finger over your clothed slit. Moaning in response you chase after his lips, but he pulls away. 

Your underwear is pushed over to the side, and his middle and ring finger breach your entrance. A loud ‘oh’ comes from your mouth, crane presses his lips to yours again to silence you. His fingers move slowly in and out of you, he catches each moan you let out with his mouth. His lips are soft, but the kiss is rough, his fingers speed up. They stretch you out so nicely it stings a little bit. It’s been so long since someone else has pleasured you, at all.

His fingers pulled out of your sex slowly, deliberately. A painstaking motion that left you close to pleasureless as he pulled out of your kiss. Quickly flipping you around and pressing you into his desk, the shock between his warm body behind you and the cold desk pressed against your front sent you spiralling. There was shuffling behind you, before you felt him lineup his cock with your cunt.

“Beg for it.” 

Your mouth opens and you spew out a string of ‘please’s and ‘need it’ that seem to satisfy him enough for him to push inside of you. He’s girthier than you expected, but not as long as you expected, which is fine for you. The stretch makes you ache and he won’t be bruising your cervix. Without giving you a moment to adjust he starts to move in and out of you.

“You have to be quiet, okay?” He says, before picking up his speed.

He sets up a consistent speed, hitting a spot inside of you that makes you grip the edge of the desk so intensely that your knuckles are turning white. The desk creaks as he moves in and out of your cunt, his breathing speeds up, one hand twists into your hair pulling your head back and you can’t tell if it’s to ground himself or as a reminder for you not to be too loud. Another hand comes to smack your ass, it's a swift hit, but it makes your knees buckle. 

“You're so much better than I thought you would be,” Dr Crane strains out between grunts.

He presses his front to your back, the hand in your hair softening its grip but not leaving. His breath tickles the back of your ear, the grunting coming from him makes you bite your lip to suppress your moans so hard there will be an indent left there tomorrow.

“Dr Crane, can I cum? Please, I’ve been so good, please let me cum,” you babble, the side of your face pressed into his desk making your words slur a little bit.

“Cum for me,” he says, moving the hand not tangled in your hair to your clit. Pressing small circles into your clit, he starts to speed up. 

Soon the pressure in your stomach releases and it goes black for a couple seconds. You feel Dr Crane’s hand press into your mouth to silence you as your legs buckle. Once you’re conscious again, he has already pulled out of you and you can hear him zip up his pants. You stand on your shaking legs and follow suit, trying to press your hair down into a more professional shape.

“I would recommend you get cleaned up,” Dr Crane says, giving you a smile, “Was that enough motivation to continue aiding me in my experiment?” “Uh- Yes,” you answer, not fully aware of what you were even saying, too embarrassed and lightheaded to even compute anything he was saying besides ‘getting cleaned up.’

“Perfect. After you get cleaned up, please meet me in room 256B. We can meet again here tomorrow during our lunch break if you continue to need the motivation provided,” He pats you on the shoulder, and leaves you in the room alone.

[0pinnable0]

TailPipe Chastity Bootleg

$500. Five hundred dollars for a chastity cage. 

How can a cock cage with a plug be worth that much money? 

Despite his huffing, Blake knew exactly why it was so expensive. With nanotech smart technology, the ability to shift form upon command, a plug that wrapped under the groin, and a host of other features made possible by a remote control made the LABRATory Tailpipe Chastity well worth the price. Blake unfortunately made just above minimum wage and with rent, bills, and student loans to pay off, he couldn’t go splurging on luxury purchases as much as he wanted to. He scrolled through the rest of the website, everything more enticing than the last, harnesses, masks, plugs, suits, toy models, and everything more expensive than the last $1000, $5000, $10,000, there was even a seven foot lion toy going for $25,000. 

Do I buy a new car or a lion dom top?

Blake closed out of the website. He looked at the jar of cash he had been slowly saving up for personal treats like the chastity plug he’d been eyeing for a while. Sadly broken appliances, and accidentally mismanaged payments had leached the jar to a little over $200, and that had taken almost a full year to build up to. He sighed loudly, closing his eyes, thinking of the months he’d have to wait. A thought made him open his eyes and look back at his computer screen.

Hmmm, maybe someone is reselling one, or something like it for cheaper. 

Blake had been determined to buy the goods brand new straight from the source, but his patience was finally wearing away. He put the desired keywords in quotes into the search engine, clicking through each link, only to be disappointed with the same price, or an ad, or something different altogether. He was just about to give up when he stumbled upon what seemed to be a knock off Craigslist. The toy in the pictures was almost identical. Same shiny black rubber cockcage with a tight loop to go around the balls, and a strip of rubber connecting to an egg sized plug.

“1 BRAND NEW CHASTITY PLUG UNIT”

“TECHNICALLY LISTED AS FAULTY BUT FUNCTIONS NORMALLY”

“ONLY CONTACT FOR SERIOUS INQUIRIES”

“$100”

Only a hundred?! But what does faulty mean?

Blake messaged the seller.

“Hey, saw your listing for the Chastity Plug, what exactly do you mean by faulty?”

“Yeah, the remote is a little fritzy, but it still works just the same you just have to be patient with it.”

“And it's from the same company, LABRATory right?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s still available then?”

“Yeah, if you want it, just put in your card info and shipping address and it’s yours. Just so you know, no refunds or returns, once it’s your, it’s yours.”

Blake was more than skeptical, but at the same time it was one hell of a deal.

“Just curious about why you’re selling it, can it not be fixed?”

“I mean, yeah, you could probably get it fixed, it’s also just not my kind of thing this specific toy. If you want it lemme know soon, I’ve got other people looking at it too.”

Blake thought hard. Sure it might be partially broken, but at least I’ll have one, and I could get it repaired… maybe… 

He sent over his info choosing to believe this was too good and true.

DAY ONE

It was sitting in the stairwell of his apartment when he came home from a mind numbing day at the office. A medium sized non-descript cardboard box with an unnecessary amount of packing tape sat on the landing.

It’s here! It’s finally here!

Blake grabbed the box and scurried into his apartment. He took his keys and started ripping up the tape on the box. With a deep breath he opened it. Nestled on a bed of plastic packing material, wrapped in a LABRATory plastic sleeve bag was the chastity plug he’d been waiting so long for.

Hell yeah, come to papa.

He pulled it out of the bag. It was surprisingly heavy, much denser and weightier than all the other sex toys he had used before. Most of the weight came from the plug which was firm but still with a nice give. The cage and loop were also flexible, but not so much to be useless as a chastity device. It was the same shiny black material, except for a band of bright blue running around the cage.

Didn’t notice that before. Oh, where’s the remote?

Blake dug through the packing material, but he couldn’t seem to find a remote. He searched until his fingers brushed up against something.

Huh? That’s too big to be a remote.

He lifted the object out revealing a black mask. It was distinctly feline, like a simplistic tiger’s face made of some black rubbery or neoprene like material. It had a short but distinct muzzle and what seemed to be a rubbery tuft of the same blue on the top of the head not unlike a stylized mohawk. Blue brows above dark tinted lenses. The cute triangle nose was the same blue as the hair as well as a single thin strip of blue coming out from the nose on either side, going right underneath the eyes, before swooping down to the bottom of the face. Blake was too distracted by the very suggestive O shape of the mouth to notice all those details. He turned the mask around seeing not only two holes meant to slide up the wearer’s nostrils, but a cock shaped hollow mouth gag more than a couple inches long. 

Whoa, that’s cool, but it's definitely not the remote. 

He gave it a closer look, the border of the mask unnaturally smooth with no straps and not nearly enough material to wrap around the head.

How would you even wear it, would you just have to keep sucking the whole time? That can’t be right. 

He lifted the mask, he could see through the lenses like sunglasses. He brought it closer opening his mouth, tasting the rubberiness of the gag. He almost pushed it further before the nostril tubes tickled his nose and he pulled it way.

Oh that feels so weird.

He put the mask to the side. He dumped the box upside and kept searching for the remote, but now with a creeping feeling he understood why he got these items for such a steal. After a good ten minutes of hopeless searching Blake gave up.

There’s no remote. There’s no fucking remote. Of course. Of course it was too good to be true.

He went back to his computer to pull up the seller’s page, just to be certain, but the page was gone, not even clicking through his history pulled up the page, just 404’s all around.

God I should have just waited… but still…

He looked at the toy. 

I can get it fixed. I’ll get it fixed, and sure getting it fixed might be close to $500 dollars, but now I have a kinky mask to go with it. Even without the remote it’s still usable as something.

***

After a quick shower and some prepping, Blake stood naked in his bedroom, chastity plug and a bottle of lube on the nightstand. He dolloped some lube on his hand, reaching around to slick up his hole. One finger, then two, just enough to loosen him a little, but not enough to give him a full blown erection. He brought the excess around and lightly coated his cock from the tip to base.

Alright, here we go.

After dropping some into the cage, he lined up the head of his penis with the hole and slid it inside. “Ah,” there was an unexpected ribbed texture inside that caught him off guard, and he felt the blood start to pump.

Gotta work fast.

He slid his dick the rest of the way in, feeling a tightness surrounding and holding it in place, and with some strong stretching he got the loop around his balls. The grip wasn’t too bad, like a hand firmly holding onto him. He sat there enjoying the look and feeling before letting out a content sigh.

And now for the plug.

Blake leaned over the bed, holding the plug in one hand, slightly spreading his cheeks with the other. He pressed the tip of the plug against his hole. He shivered, a little chilly, but as he held it there, it started warming up. He kept pressing, lightly put constantly, feeling it sink in little by little. Just as it reached the widest part he let out a big breath and it slipped all the way in.

“Mmmm, there we go.”

He gently clenched enjoying the fullness and the slight prodding against his prostate. He looked between his legs and was caught off guard by a soft blue light.

What is that?

He sat up looking down at his crotch. The blue ring had lit up, gently pulsing light.

What does that mean? Is it-

“Ah! Fuck-” He felt a tongue lap against his constrained cock. It licked up and down, under the head, occasionally flicking.

Oh it works! It still works! Oh wow it- oooo, it works.

He laid back, gently moaning. The licking eventually turned into lips, latching onto the head and then engulfing his dick. “Mmmph, fuck yeah,” Blake could not believe his luck, the toy was working and he was fully enjoying the feeling of something leisurely sucking him off. After a few moments he felt something lap at his balls.

But there’s nothing there to…

Blake stared down watching as the shiny black material swelled covering his junk entirely.

I don’t remember that feature.

Still sucking it eventually formed into a smooth round bulge, the blue ring slowly reforming into the shape of a lock. He reached down prodding the bulge. It squished beneath his touch, but somehow he could only faintly feel it, only really feeling the sucking and licking.

What?

He grabbed the bulge in his hand and squeezed. He felt that, but only just, the simulated mouth sucked hard and he fell back onto the bed.

Well, this isn’t bad, it’s just… different.

And with that he felt the plug pulse.

“Oh, okay, what-Ah,” the plug pulsed again and he swore he felt it get bigger?

Now what?

Blake face his mirror and turned around, spreading his legs. He stared, mouth agape, as a small indentation began to form at the base of the plug just outside his hole.

What is- “Fuck, oh fuck,” the indetation pressed inwards and grew bigger. It grew in size as it pushed inside of him. He panted and stared as the anal sheathe formed, his hole kept agape as it pressed in further, like someone with a thicker than average dick slowly spreading him open before eventually stopping a couple inches inside. He clenched but his hole still gaped. He tentatively brought a finger to his hole and touched it, sending a quiver up his spine. 

A lot more sensitive than usual.

He pressed inward, biting his lip. Past the lip of his hole he felt a smooth ridge, then another, and another.

Fuck, I’m ribbed for pleasure.

He waited for more changes, but after a minute it seemed nothing else was going to happen.

Alright, that’s not too bad.

Fully laying down on his bed, Blake started to finger his hole with one hand, squeezing his bulge with the other, thrusting into the fake mouth sucking him off. He built up a rhythm until he felt his body take over, inner walls clenching, hips thrusting-

Shit, I’m gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna-

And then it was gone. All feeling, the sucking, the sensitivity gone in an instant.

Come on!

He panted, pent up and desperate. Slowly sensation started to return. The faint feeling of licking was first, but he was distracted by the chime of his phone. A text from his manager asking him to come in early tomorrow morning.

Goddamit.

He texted back, confirming he’d be in and put the phone down.

Guess I’ll have to put you away for now.

He felt at the bulge trying to find the seam between his crotch and the rubber… but he couldn’t find one.

Come on.

He felt around the side, and underneath, but no matter where he pulled or dug his fingers in, nothing would lift the material up.

Are you kidding me?

He reached around behind him and felt the ring holding his hole open and tried to get a grip, but his fingers kept slipping. He tried to push it out from within, but it wouldn’t budge.

Just my luck, the faulty product won’t come off. I guess it is meant to be a chastity device and without the remote, gah, this is so annoying.

By that point the sucking had returned and his hole was sensitive once again.

I just gotta… I have to sleep and then I’ll get in early, get out early, and I’ll get this whole thing figured out.

Blake went about his daily bedtime routine, washing his face and brushing his teeth, all the while trying to ignore the toy stimulating him below. He went to bed with a white noise video playing, hoping the sound would help distract him from the pleasure radiating below.

DAY TWO

Blake woke with a buzz, his alarm and the plug going off at the same time. “Ah, come on!” He turned off the alarm, but he couldn’t turn off the buzzing. It hadn’t been a restful sleep, still feeling mentally and physically exhausted, but he got out of bed nonetheless, trying to ignore the vibrations aimed directly at his g spot.

Just gotta, “ah,” get through the day.

He dressed, packed his bag, and drove off while the sky was still dark, the hole plug switching up its vibrations, small and fast, low and slow, even a ripple starting at his hole and going up to the tip inside. When he finally arrived outside the office, he was just about to get out of his car when he realized

Oh shit, I can hear it vibrating… other people will hear it.

Blake hoped with the early morning nobody would be around to hear and hopefully the toy would move on to some other method of stimulation. He walked into the office, thankfully empty as far as he could see and headed to his sectioned off cubicle at the end of the hall. He was especially grateful for the modicum of privacy this allowed. He got to work. He had grown used to buzzes at this point, though combined with the oral stimulation he wasn’t his most productive. Everything was going well until a couple hours in and he heard the tell tale footsteps of his manager.

Shit, shit, shit, would do I do?

He looked around his desk for anything, any noise making object that wouldn’t make him look totally insane. Just as his manager rounded the corner, Blake started rather vigorously tapping his pen.

“Morning Blake!” his manager rounded the corner all smiles.

“Morning Greg!” Blake gritted his teeth. He prayed the tapping would cover the vibrations which he swore were getting louder.

“Thanks for coming in early, everything good so far?”

“Good, great.”

“Not anxious are you?” Greg stared at the pen tapping a mile a minute.

“Just getting some energy out, you know.”

“Sure,” a slightly confused look flashed across Greg’s face, “Think you’ll get the orders in by end of day?”

“If I buckle down, no distraaa-actions,” the plug was shifting, “I should be able too,” Blake twisted his mouth into a semblance of a smile.

“Great to hear. Don’t work yourself too hard okay?” Greg said starting to walk around the corner.

“Okay!”

Blake watched Greg disappear out of view before dropping the pen and collapsing onto his desk.

Fuck, what the hell is it “mmmmmm,” Blake fought back a moan, what is it doing now?

Slowly, little nubs started to form all along the plug, pressing against his walls.

“fuck fuck fuck fuck,” Blake tightened his fingers into fists, curling his toes in his shoes, panting, face against the desk, trying to gain control.

Just get the work done.

He started to type, but with each key he pressed, one of the nubs would spring to life for a moment, all the while the tongue flicked the head of his cock. After hours of torture, he could finally go home. He stood up with a wobble, hurrying past his coworkers, down the stairs, despite the added stimulation of each step rocking the plug, to avoid any potential elevator nonsense and into his car. He drove like a madman before racing up to his apartment, slamming the door behind him, and once again feeling like he was about to burst before all feeling faded away. 

“Come On!”

He fell to his knees, taking deep breaths.

I gotta get this off, I gotta this thing off of me.

Pulling up his laptop, he scoured the LABRATory website until he found a customer service number which he dialed. A chipper almost robotic voice responded.

“Hello thank you for calling LABRATory customer service, if you are currently unable to speak or use your hands please moan or groan twice and we will transfer you to a different line. If you are able to speak freely please press one.”

Blake pressed 1, and after a tone, was greeted by the same happy tone.

“Hello, thank you for calling LABRATory, I’m PETRI, how can I help you?”

“Hi, yes, I seem to have um, gotten myself stuck, or rather one of your toys is stuck on me?”

“Ah, sorry to hear that, would you mind telling me which kind of toy?”

“It’s the uh, um, the tailpipe chastity.”

“The what?”

“The Tailpipe Chastity! Sorry,” Blake blushed.

“Alright and you are unable to take it off?”

“Yes.”

“Have you tried turning it off with the remote?”

“I uh… i don’t have a remote, I uh, lost it.”

“Oh dear, well you should be able to come in and we can get you sorted, or we can try the manual method over the phone and try to get it off now.”

“Yes, now, please,” the sensation of the mouth sucking was returning.

“Now if you reach to the base of your crotch in between your groin and rear end you should feel a round indentation.”

Blake felt around, finding nothing.

“If you hold it for thirty seconds, the emergency release should activate.”

“I don’t have that.”

A split second pause.

“What?” the cheery voice of PETRI asked.

“I don’t have a button or whatever down there.”

Blake listened, a pause over the phone.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Sir would you mind describing the toy for me?”

“Uh yeah, it’s a cock cage in the front, a plug in the back, and there’s a blue glowing lock symbol on the bulge in front.”

Another pause.

“Hello?” Blake broke the silence.

“I’m sorry to hear about your predicament, but it seems you have the wrong company. We do not sell a black and blue model of that toy.”

“What?”

“We sell in exclusively solid colors, what you’re describing sounds like a custom job which we have no record of on our part. Would you mind telling me where you got your hands on a product like this?” There was a sudden icy serious tone to PETRI.

“I… ” Blake hung up.

Shit. If I tell them where I got it they’ll probably arrest me for buying illegal goods. Fucking fuck!

He took a deep breath trying to calm down, but failed as he watched the shiny black rubber start to spread out from the toy.

Of course, of course it had to get worse.

The material crawled along his skin, a gentle tickling, until it covered him as much as a pair of briefs would, up to the waist and most of his ass.

Well, that’s not too bad… there’s gotta be someway of taking this thing off.

Blake went to his room to the mirror, looking over every part of the material to see if there was anything new, any lift, any possible seam. Nothing. Nothing except the nubs starting to squirm which in turn made him squirm. He fell back onto his bed, writhing, feet pushing, fingers grabbing sheets, his insides wracked with pleasure.

At least it feels amazing.

He groaned and squeezed his bulge as the mouth started sucking in earnest.

Wait, no, it’s just gonna edge me again.

He pulled his hands away, trying to fight the pleasure, and he stayed there all night. The nubs wiggling and occasionally buzzing, tossing his head back and forth until he passed out.

DAY THREE

Blake woke somehow even more exhausted than yesterday, but more importantly feeling full, almost too full.

God what is it today?

He got up out of bed and looked in the mirror and gasped. It was like he was wearing a latex singlet, from his clavicle to the tops of his knees he was covered.

Shit that can’t be good.

He had to admit though, it did look good. The material hugged him tightly and smoothed everything out, creating a trim toned build. The same thin blue line tracing along the side of his torso and thighs, wrapping around his back and delving between his cheeks outlining his hole.

Oh wow.

His hole was gaping already, but today was something else. He could now easily fit three fingers inside of himself, which when he did sent a delightful shiver through his body, his inner walls involuntarily trying to clench down.

That explains the fullness.

He dressed, learning to push through the licking, and surprisingly able to hand the full sensation in his rear. He got to work early again, the less people he had to be around the better. Settling in at his desk, he got to work.

I can do this. I can totally do this.

As he was working, he searched on his phone in the LABRATory user forums on possible solutions. Nothing seemed to match his situation until a post caught his eye.

“Oh yeah, you gotta be careful of copycats out there. I heard this story of one guy, he thought he was getting this suit for a great deal, but then he started having some issues, and turns out he had bought something that had found its way out of the sex toy black market whatever that is. Apparently he vanished out of thin air one day after he started having issues. They found him months later in some wealthy guys mansion trapped in the fucktoy suit. Zonked out of his mind. The real scary thing was the guy who bought him, didn’t even know there was a real person inside, he just thought it was a toy.”

“Why’d they raid his house if they didn’t know a real person was inside?”

“Oh, they caught him trying to sneak a rhino onto his property, a real endangered rhino.”

The post continued on with the drama surrounding the purchasing of endangered species, but Blake’s mind was racing.

Oh god, what if this is a black market toy? Someone’s probably looking for it aren’t they? I mean, probably.

Blake tried to think, but was interrupted by the plug shifting.

Oh no.

He felt it form into a larger than average cock and thrust into him.

“Fuck-” Blake caught himself, stifling the sounds he couldn’t stop from making. The plug already easily seven inches deep inside him, with a girth approaching a soda can started to gently thrust in and out, in and out, never leaving his hole, just working from within.

Oh god, oh god, I gotta get out of here.

Blake stumbled to the restroom and locked himself in a stall. He sat down on the toilet seat and covered his mouth trying to ride it out. Each thrust a stifled, “Mmm.” Breathing hard out his nose, he prayed it would eventually subside. What was even stranger, he noticed, was despite how full he felt, there was still an emptiness inside him only growing stronger. He reached a hand behind his pants and felt between his cheeks. His fingertips reached his quivering hole, he could feel the thrusts even from the outside. “Mmmmm, ah- shit… it has to- mmmm… stop- unh-  eventually,” but it didn’t. Not even even when someone else opened the restroom door.

Shit!

He heard the other person walking and saw their feet stand in front of a urinal.

Just stay calm, stay calm.

Blake gritted his teeth as the cock inside picked up the pace. His coworker did his business, and flushed until, “Unh!” The tongue had started up again making Blake let out a groan, he clamped down on his mouth, terrified. The coworker stopped halfway to the sink.

Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no.

“Best of luck to ya!” his coworker said in a joking voice before washing their hands and heading out.

Oh phew, that was- “Ahhh!” Blake felt the cock “slide out” of him, leaving him panting.

I need to leave, I need to- “Unnhh!” He felt a thinner cock slide into him making him fall forward, catching himself on the bathroom wall. Just as it went in, “Ah-mmm!” it slid out.

Okay I- “Mmmmm!” A different cock, shorter but wider took its place, and then it was out. Blake held himself up against the wall as the two different dildos took turns longdicking him until he felt the thicker one lodge itself firmly inside.

Finally I can… oh no… 

He felt it. Tapping at his already full hole, the other thinner but longer dildo.

There’s no way, no, no way it could- “Hnnng!” He couldn’t hold back his voice as the second cock started pushing in next to the first. “Hah! Hah! Hah!” Slowly, achingly he was dp’d, his knees shaking, hands holding on tight to the top of the stalls, his hips pushing back into the slow thrust. His body shook waiting for the second dick to bottom out. He had never felt this stretched before in his entire life. At long last, panting all the while, the second dildo reached its destination, and after two thrusts that made his vision almost turn to white, they were both gone in an instant. Blake fell to the ground, not caring he was on a bathroom floor, his entire being overloaded with pleasure and physical fatigue, trying to calm his breathing. He eventually picked himself up, opened the stall and walked over to the sink. As he was washing his face, he noticed a gleam by his neck. He peeked down his button up to see the rubber had climbed all the way up to just below his neck.

Fucking hell, can’t I catch a break?

Looking down his neck he caught a glimpse underneath his shirt sleeve and the inky black had almost reached his wrists. He pulled up his pants and pulled down his socks as he watched his ankles halfway covered.

That’s it I’m leaving.

Blake sneaked out of the bathroom and headed back to his desk. He turned the corner and jumped. His manager was waiting.

“Hey Blake, everything okay? You’ve been away from your desk for a little while.”

“Sorry, I was in the restroom. I-”

The plug sprang to life again.

Not now, please not now!

“Yes?” asked Greg.

“I wasn’t feeling- mnh!” he cleared his throat as he felt what was undoubtedly a tentacle start to squirm inside of him.

“I wasn’t feeling so well, so I went to the restroom and I- ah!” the tentacle pushed deeper inside him, slipping past his second hole and into his colon, causing him to double over.

“Oh my god, Blake are you okay?” Greg held him up.

“No, I, ummm, I think I, ah, need to go home,” Blake groaned as the tentacle pushed and prodded every inch of his spasming walls on its way deeper.

“Do I need to call you an ambulance?”

“No! No, thank you, no, I can- mhp!” Blake straightened up, fighting against the sensual assault.

“Alright, if you’re sure?”

“Yes, mmmph, sure,” and with that Blake grabbed his belongings and bolted. As he was pulling out his car keys, he saw the rubber creep onto the back of his hand.

Shit! I have to get home before it fucks with my hands too.

He drove, for sure breaking the speed limit, the adrenaline helping him push past the sensation of a tentacle filling his guts, and the mouth in the bulge kicking back into gear, seemingly trying to be his demise. He took three stairs at a time up his apartment building as he felt the rubber creep around his neck and around his toes. He fumbled with the keys, the slick black palms now ending in the bright blue rubber covered fingers, slightly puffier, and a lot harder to get a firm grip on his keys. After a good panicked minute, he was inside, and locked the door.

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.

Blake thought he was about to start crying from the sensory overload when he felt the slick sensation of something covering the back of his head and popping into his ears. All the sensations faded to a gentle sucking of his cock, and a gentle pulse in his hole.

Toys don’t worry.

What was that?

Blake whirled around trying to find the source of the sound.

Toys take deep breaths.

Who are you?

Blake pulled at the rubber around his head, trying and failing to make it budge, his chest suddenly moving making him breathe slower, deeper.

Toys don’t wear clothes.

What are you talking about?

Blake’s arms suddenly froze, then methodically began unbuttoning his shirt.

I can’t control my arms, what-

Toys don’t worry.

His arms took off his shirt, then his pants, and finally slipped off his socks and shoes.

Toys feel better without clothes.

How are you doing this?

Toys don’t worry.

The suit marched him to the full length mirror in his bedroom. The shiny black suit had almost covered his entire body, defining his muscles on his arms, pecs, thighs, and calves accented by a thin blue line running along his sides. The only bit of skin left was around his face sparing his eyes, nose, and mouth. His ears had been smoothed over and replaced with round feline ears.

INITIATING TOY MODEL T-89

Toy model?

The rubber rippled all across his body. He felt a tug along his lower back as a little lump grew into a nub then into a long tail slowly flicking behind him, his fingers puffed up slightly, blue paw pads swelling on his fingertips and palms. The suit changed his stance, putting more weight on the balls of his feet, as muscle was packed onto the thighs as the feet grew out into paws, giving a slight digitigrade appearance, his ass plumping into a perfect pert peach. He looked himself over, his body now a supple, toned, rubbery black and blue tiger toy, except for the pink skin of his face.

Good toys put on their mask.

Mask? What… oh…

The suit marched him back into the living over to the box and dug out the tiger mask from before. Just as the suit raised the mask he gained control over his body again.

Good toys put on their mask.

Blake slowly raised the mask before stopping himself.

Why the hell would I do that, I need to- “Ahh!”

The thrusting returned, the sensation of being longdicked, fast and hard. His newly grown tail standing straight at attention, his new paws tensing and squirming, toes splayed out, still sensitive despite all he had been put through already.

Good toys put on their mask

He fell to his knees, his hole spasming, clenching at nothing “Hah, hah, hah, no, hah, ah, I just-mmmmm,” the sucking joined in, tight around the head of his cock and sliding up and down, still held flaccidly in place, driving him wild.

Good toys are rewarded.

Blake’s thoughts started getting hazy in all the feelings overtaking him.

If I could just cum, I could think clearer.

He squeezed his bulge trying to push himself over the edge, but still nothing.

Good toys are rewarded.

He looked over at the mask again, and picked it up. As he did, he felt his erection starting to be freed from the bulge, the mouth sliding up and down, licking around the head, pushing him another step closer.

So close.

Good toys are rewarded.

He brought it closer to his face and as he did he swore he could feel a strong hand push his back to the ground, and another gripping his hip, “Mmmm” he moaned, the fucking in his ass gaining a human like rhythm. Each thrust hitting his prostate, “Hah! hah! fuck! yeah!” opening him up deep. His dick quivered beneath precum dripping out of him.

Just a little bit more.

Good toys are rewarded.

And with those words in his ears he opened his mouth, wrapping his lips around the phallic gag, “MMMMM!” the sensation transfering to his own cock. He worked the tubes into his nostrils, the length sliding down the back of his throat, powering through his gag reflex as the edges of the mask lined up with the edge of the rubber, melding into one seamless suit.

Fuck yeah, fuck yeah, I’m gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna-

The lenses over his eyes darkened to black as all sensation left his body, his dick snapping back into a smooth bulge, the lock symbol shining brightly.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!

A flash of light, swirling colors, and static filled his view, and Blake fell into a deep suggestive state. Small LED-like heart eyes appeared on his lenses where pupils would be.

Good toys suck.

He tried to resist, but his need for some satisfaction made him obey. Blake started to suck on the gag and he felt a faint tickle against his dick.

Good toys clench.

Blake clenched and he felt a faint thrust against his prostate.

This repeated over and over, Blake learning to do what he was told to do and receive his reward of a little more pleasure, learning to earn it, percentage by percentage. Many hours later, still sitting prone on the ground, there was a faint clicking at his door. It opened, the lockpicker standing up as two “movers” walked in. They looked at Blake, fully enraptured by the toysuit, gently rocking back and forth, lube like drool dripping from his mouth and ass. The lockpicker pulled a thick silver collar out of his bag, and locked it around the tiger toy’s neck.

ANTI-HUMAN DETECTING COLLAR INTEGRATING

The words GOOD TOY lit up around the collar, Blake letting out a moan as the “movers” picked him up and placed him inside a crate. “All clear here, the sweepers can come in and clean this place up,” the lockpicker ended the call and headed out following behind the crate.

EPILOGUE

“Where did you say this toy came from?” asked the toy club owner. The lockpicker had the black and blue tiger toy on chain connected its collar, the light up eyes in a half lidded state.

“We were doing a sweep of our warehouse and we found this toy in the back of storage. We couldn’t sell it as a suit as someone put this permalock collar on it, so we put a responsive AI in the suit instead.”

The owner gave him a skeptical look. He pulled out a small device, not unlike a handheld metal detector and gave the toy a once over.

NO HUMAN DETECTED

The owner gave it a long look before looking back at the lockpicker. “How much did you say you wanted for it again?”

“Well its a custom toy, unique coloring, obedient omega programming built in, sure it’s a little old, but I’d say, $20,000.”

“$15,000.”

“$17,500.”

“Deal, but any funny business and-”

“No funny business, just think y’all would put it to better use. It’s just not my kind of thing, this specific toy. Also,” he fished into his pockets, “Here’s the remote.” With an exchange of cash, and the handing off of the remot, the lockpicker walked out. The owner looked over at his newest member of staff.

“Who’s a good toy?” the tiger toy mewled, rubbing its bulge, its hole clenching.

“Yes you are.”

[autistic-speedbump]

You know what the lifeblood of the economy is? The GLOBAL economy? Exploitation. Capitalism cannot function without exploitation. I was just explaining this the other day, about why Trump deporting all the "illlegals" is bad news for usamerican citizens.

For starters, look at all the "American jobs" that "illegals are stealing." It's mostly pick fruits and vegetables in massive fields all day, rain or shine, hot or cold. Second, ask how much undocumented migrants get paid. I'll give you a hint: it's not even close to minimum wage.

See, our agricultural needs run on undocumented migrants doing the jobs that usamericans do not want to do for far less pay than any usamerican will accept.

Exploitation.

Now consider what will happen when our cheap and exploitation workforce suddenly disappears. If usamerican citizens were to do the work, the companies would have to go from paying just a few dollars a day to $15-20 an hour PLUS benefits.

Can the company afford this? Absolutely.

Can they legally do this? Absolutely not.

See, once a company has investors, that company has a LEGAL obligation to make more money each year than they did the last. Failing to do so is seen as defrauding investors and will be met with legal consequences.

So those 'american jobs' won't actually go to Americans because doing so will legally require higher pay with benefits, leading to higher costs, leading to lower profits, leading to legal action. The only way to keep things going is to replace one cheap and exploitation workforce with another.

And where will we get that? We'll, slavery is still constitutionally legal as punishment for a crime.

Yup, prison labor can be acquired for about the same cost as undocumented migrant labor. In fact, if you see 'Made in USA' on a product, it was most likely made with prison labor. But see, that brings us to another problem and a little closer to why things are going to go badly for usamerican citizens.

See, in order for prisons to secure federal funding, they need to stay at or above a certain capacity. Already they have an incentive to stay as full as possible, but with so many cots emptied as inmates are transferred to on-site labor quarters, we need even more convicts in order to meet labor demands and secure federal assistance.

That's right; deporting undocumented migrants will REQUIRE mass incarceration of usamerican citizens to replenish the workforce and keep the economy functioning as it is. Get ready for an influx of new laws that will disproportionately target minority and low-income citizens. At first. Then they will eventually target everyone but the wealthy until the USA is divided into just citizens and servants; the haves and the have-nots.

You got a big storm comin'.

I'm asking this genuinely, as a 19 yo with no education in economics and a pretty surface level understanding of socialism: can you explain the whole Bananas discourse in a way someone like me might understand? In my understanding it's just "This is just a product we can give up to create better worker conditions and that's fine" but apparently that's not the full picture?

alright so some pretty important background to all this is that we're all talking about the fact that bananas, grown in the global south, are available year-round at extremely low prices all around europe and the USA. it's not really about bananas per so--the banana in this discourse is a synechdoche for all the economic benefits of imperialism.

so how are cheap bananas a result of imperialism? first of all i want to tackle a common and v. silly counterargument: 'oh, these ridiculous communists think it's imperialist for produce to be shipped internationally'. nah. believing that this is the communist objection requires believing in a deeply naive view of international traide. this view goes something like 'well, if honduras has lots of bananas, and people in the usa want bananas and are willing to pay for them, surely everyone wins when the usa buys bananas!'.

there are of course two key errors here and they are both packed into 'honduras has lots of bananas'. for a start, although the bananas are grown in honduras, honduras doesn't really 'have' them, because the plantations are mostly owned by chiquita (formerly known as united fruit) dole, del monte, and other multinationals--when they're not, those multinationals will usually purchase the bananas from honduran growers and conduct the export themselves. and wouldn't you know it, it's those intervening middleman steps--export, import, and retail, where the vast majority of money is made off bananas! so in the process of a banana making its way from honduras to a 7/11, usamerican multinationals make money selling the bananas to usamerican importers who make money selling them to usamerican retailers who make money selling them to usamerican customers.

when chiquita sells a banana to be sold in walmart, a magic trick is being performed: a banana is disappearing from honduras, and yet somehow an american company is paying a second american company for it! this is economic imperialism, the usamerican multinational extracting resources from a nation while simultaneously pocketing the value of those resources.

why does the honduran government allow this? if selling bananas is such a bad deal for the nation, why do they continue to export millions of dollars of banans a year? well, obviously, there's the fact that if they didn't, they would face a coup. the united states is more than willing to intervene and cause mass death and war to protect the profits of its multinationals. but the second, more subtle thing keeping honduras bound to this ridiculously unbalanced relationship is the need for dollars. because the US dollar is the global reserve currency, and the de facto currency of international trade, exporting to the USA is a basic necessity for nations like honduras, guatemala, &c. why is the dollar the global reserve currency? because of usamerican military and economic hegemony, of course. imperialism built upon imperialism!

this is unequal exchange, the neoimperialist terms of international trade that make the 'global economy' a tool of siphoning value and resources from the global south to the imperial core. & this is the second flaw to unravel in 'honduras has a lot of bananas' -- honduras only 'has a lot of bananas' because this global economic hegemony has led to vast unsustainable monoculture banana plantations to dominate the agriculture of honduras. it's long-attested how monoculture growth is unsustainable because it destroys soil and leads to easily-wiped-out-by-infection plants.

so, bananas in the USA are cheap because:

the workers that grow them are barely paid, mistreated, prevented from unionizing, and sometimes murdered

the nations in which the bananas are grown accept brutally unfair trade and tariff terms with the USA because they desperately need a supply of US dollars and so have little position to negotiate

shipping is also much cheaper than it should be because sailors are chronically underpaid and often not paid at all or forced to pay to work (!)

bananas are cheap, in conclusion, because they're produced by underpaid and brutalized workers and then imported on extortionate and unfair terms.

so what, should we all give up bananas? no, and it's a sign of total lack of understanding of socialism as a global movement that all the pearl-clutching usamericans have latched onto the scary communists telling them to stop buying bananas. communism does not care about you as a consumer. individual consumptive choices are not a meaningful arena of political action. the socialist position is not "if there was a socialist reovlution in the usa, we would all stop eating bananas like good little boys", but rather, "if there's a socialist revolution in the countries where bananas are grown, then the availability of bananas in the usa is going to drop, and if you want to be an anti-imperialist in the imperial core you have to accept that".

(this is where the second argument i see about this, 'oh what are you catholic you want me to eat dirt like a monk?' reveals itself as a silly fucking solipsistic misunderstanding)

and again, let's note that the case of the banana can very easily be generalised out to coffee, chocolate, sugar, etc, and that it's not about individual consumptive habits, but about global economic systems. if you are donkey fucking kong and you eat 100 bananas a day i don't care and neither does anyone else. it's about trying to illustrate just one tiny mundane way in which economic imperialism makes the lives of people in the global north more convenient and simpler and so of course there is enormous pushback from people who attach moral value to this and therefore feel like the mean commies are personally calling them evil for eating a nutella or whatever which is frankly pretty tiring. Sad!

tldr: it is not imperialism when produce go on boat but it is imperialism when produce grown for dirt cheap by underpaid workers in a country with a devalued currency is then bought and exported and sold by usamerican companies creating huge amounts of economic value of which the nation in which the banana was grown, let alone the people who actually fucking grew it, don't see a cent -- and this is the engine behind the cheap, available-every-day-all-year-everywhere presence of bananas in the usa (and other places!)

[apprenticestanheight]

heyheyhey!! someone wish me luck on getting the job I have an interview for tomorrow plsplspls

to convince you to wish me luck I have developed the pros and cons list of what will happen if I do get the job (I am also doing this for myself to really convince myself that I can DO THIS)

pros:

job = money

money = laptop after like two paychecks

laptop after two paychecks = more writing from yours truly (I am typing this while staring at my tv screen bc I use writing as a coping mechanism and located an HDMI cable which is also some of the reason requests have been on the slower end--I have to have my glasses on in order to see on such a big screen. I am typing this sentence while not wearing them to test how bad it is and i have to squint like I'm at the back of the room to see the screen less blurrily)

fixed term contract (seems like a con but stay with me) means I'll only be working like, 10-12 weeks which yeah not so great BUT I get experience and experience means more consistent 9-5 later on, plus if I save money while I work (aside from laptop that is a necessary purchase bc again, if I have to stare at my tv screen for another six months there will be tears and begging while I point desperately at my currently opened commissions) then I can have a bit of a backspace to fall on, yk?? like. if I ever decide I want something when I'm not working or if I need to buy more like?? bodywash?? idk, I don't have to crawl to my dad like "heyheyhey scary 5'8-ish adult man, I will do the dishes, clean the fridge AND the pantry for the low low price of $40 when you also happen to get paid"

will get me out of the house! I am stuck here all except for maybe once or twice in between the pay periods of my parents (they are my rides everywhere and they get paid biweekly so when they go for groceries I'm like HEY LET ME COME I WANNA EXPERIENCE EXTERNAL AIR PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEE) and getting to leave the house and work with the people I'll be working with will also significantly reduce my anxiety, which I have to talk to my dr about putting me on meds for bc it has become debilitating.

I ONLY WILL WORK LIKE, 3-4 DAYS A WEEK!! The shifts are SUPER LONG which yeah not great but its a 40 hour week and that money will be good money (which I will put into a savings account that will build interest!!)

MONEYMONEYMONEYHONEYYYYYYY!! It adds up pretty quickly and making a dollar and fifty cents above minimum wage will mean that I'll be getting close to a thousand dollars if they pay me biweekly and close to five hundred if they pay me every week. 500-1000 dollars is a lot of money for a new laptop but also,, also a lot of money for a gym membership plus treats of both the caffeine and the liquor store variety (I will be nineteen in three weeks and feel like weed will be a better experience than alc was. I had fun that night but if I ever cry over not having enough money to order pizza again pls just glare at me)

work experience!! This job is a fixed contract job (I am starting to sound like a broken record with this oops) so it'll be less than half a year but it STILL WORKS!! Plus it'll be a good lesson and help me decide whether or not I want to pursue a career in working in old folks homes and if I can handle doing so for twelve hour days for the rest of my life. It'll be a learning experience that I can add to my resume and help me decide which jobs I'll either look towards or away from once I start looking for a job after the contracts fixed term is completed.

cons bc I am in fact thinking of those

working 3-4 days a week is great, right?? right?? yeah that part is where the goodness of the work schedule will kind of stop off bc yeah, three days on four days off is amazing but I'll be working 7-7. I also unfortunately happen to know myself and I know myself well enough to know that having to go into work at seven in the morning will result in me waking up at half past five in the morning to get ready and drink either an energy drink or three cups of coffee. I also like staying up until midnight so I will be stubbornly running on five hours of sleep lol.

occasionally needing to work weekends isn't that bad but its just--I can be a morning person during the week with an energy drink or three cups of coffee and those things only. On the weekends I sleep in late and I make coffee anyway bc its my routine, but waking up at 5:30 for a weekend shift is going to have me hangry and exhausted by noon.

the only other con that I can think of for this is that the twelve hour shifts could send me into burn out very very quickly. On the one hand I keep telling myself "yeah you'll work 36 hours in three days BUT you'll also have four days to sleep the burn out off and engage in hobbies that make the burn out easier to handle" but on the other I just--I know myself well enough to know that two and a half months of burn out from working twelve hour shifts through to the end of march could have me fully burnt out until the middle of may. I just keep wondering if the fact that I'm gonna be making a dollar fifty above minimum wage for two and a half months is really worth the exhaustion both physically and mentally lol.

[dallasareaopinion]

I’m mad at Hotels.com hence Expedia, and other corporate gripes

Happy St. Patrick’s Day, hope you are having a wonderful spring day. A bit chilly here in North Texas.

Not sure what other corporate gripes are going to come to mind, but for now a general gripe since it seems we are stuck with them and their madness.

For Hotels.com it is more specific. They use to have a pretty straightforward rewards program, but lately it is pretty puny. And why does this matter. I can go to any number of hotel brands and join and have a rewards program which is true. Yet that means choosing a brand and sticking with it.

The reason I like Hotels is because I could have choices. I wasn’t restricted to one brand. And that is important to me for a variety of reasons.

Sometimes we travel from point a to b and it takes more than one day so we have to stay the night somewhere on the way. And since the midpoint location tends to be a moving target it allows us to be able to look at reviews of different hotels for the city or town we end up staying. So many times one brand will have good reviews in one city and not so strong in another city. By having a choice we can price and quality compare. This gives me strength as a consumer, or at least in my mind. If I pick one brand to gain reward points I may be stuck with an inferior product in one town compared to another brand.

Another reason is because of the end destination. Many times with Hotels we can choose a local hotel instead of a corporate hotel. And this has worked out well for us. We have enjoyed staying in some unique hotels over the years and this adds value to any vacation or trip. There have been many wonderful memories created by having this option. And with Hotels we would still get the reward points that were equivalent with any other hotel we stayed.

And this last point leads me to the corporate gripe in general. If you like a rewards program to help save you money then many small hotel chains or individual properties are hurt by Hotels’ reward program being so weak. And if these individual properties etc lose business then this only increases the wealth gap in this country even further. When there is more competition in business, more choices then people have to work harder for your business. If a few corporations can hook you into their rewards program then you are more likely to stay there. Yes this can be good in some circumstances such as familiarity, comfort level, certain perks, but you lose out on corporations competing for your business more dynamically. And like I mentioned small chains and individual properties lose business. The corporations already control too much of the market and for them to swallow up Mom and Pop businesses, then this hurts our economy in ways not often considered in most economic or business articles including increasing the wealth gap. Many small businesses created wealth for people, maybe not billions, but individual wealth. With small businesses being eaten up, more and more people are relying on a few billionaires to provide products and services. And of course they manage their businesses to achieve more profits not provide better customer service.

You may say their rewards program gives me customer service, but in the long run, those rewards and apps benefit the corporate bottom line more than you as a customer. It takes a bit of study and comparisons to realize this, but the bones they throw you are a small cost to the amount of real work they would have to do if there were more competition. And you lose out on originality, value for the dollar spent, meeting and interacting with locals who thrive and can tell you more about the city than some person hired working at barely above minimum wage just getting through a shift. Yes people who own their own business tend to care more about the customer experience than corporations.

And this watered down program from Hotels shows what happens when corporations have all the power, they can take away something from you if they expect you will still be their customer. Again Hotels.com has one advantage and that is choice of brand so they still offer some value, yet in a value conscious world that value is watered down with the loss of monetary reward such as a free night.

I have been a customer of theirs for years so this hurt when Expedia came out with this watered down program. I am struggling with how far I want to redefine where I stay. Again we have enjoyed some wonderful experiences in independent hotels. I hate losing that because if you like to travel it is the experience you are wanting. There was so much more discovered by either what the hotel offered or the information the people provided about where to go or best routes to take when sightseeing or just generally experiencing the town. Nothing like knowing the best restaurants to go in a small town instead of eating at another chain for breakfast or lunch. Small businesses need all the help they can receive nowadays, and the more business the better.

This is a sad state of affairs that for this one industry. One of the perks independent properties had was that Hotels.com gave them business and now if people like me feel the rewards aren’t worth the effort what else can they do. So for now we still us them, but I hate to think what the future brings. I am cheap so I like my free nights and struggling with a budget in today’s world that unfortunately matters.

No cheers for this madness

[donnabroadway]

Healing your inner child

I see a lot of millennials talking about healing their inner child and while I understand that we may have felt we missed out on things as a child, I am here to tell you that you cannot heal your inner child with permissive parenting.

As someone who has two kids and needs to pay someone to clean their carpet and to repair a few things because kids are destructive, letting your kids do all the things you wish your parents let you do as a child, gets old and expensive real quick. I believe part of the parenting expense is replacing things your kids break because they surely break a lot.

I see a lot millennials claiming they are buying themselves the McDonalds they never got as a child, which is cute, or whatever but buying yourself McDonald's because your parents claimed not to have McDonald's money when you were a child or having a closet full of shoes because your parents refused to buy you Jordan's is only going to make you fat, in debt, and your house cluttered. Do you know that after awhile shoes, even the real ones, start to dry rot? You have spent thousands of dollars on something with a very short shelf life. I am not one to tell anyone how to spend their money but putting a band aid on childhood wounds in the form of buying what you never had is not it. You need to ask yourself if the shoes are a trigger because you feel rejected, like your needs weren't truly met, and not having them made you feel inadequate and like you didn't fit in. Does your mom saying no to McDonald's make you feel ignored and neglected because you saw her money and she worked, so in your childhood mind, she surely had McDonald's money? Does childhood you think your mothers check should have been used to buy you shoes and fast food, even if you guys were just scrapping by but you didn't know it because it wasn't your place to know that your mom had to borrow money for rent or you were almost evicted or she had to go without food to buy your new shoes, even if they were payless? Did you have shoes and food to eat or did you just want Jordan's and McDonalds? Please don't get me wrong and say I am dismissing trauma, I am simply trying to give perspective. I know it hurts to see your parents with not just McDonald's money but Chick Fil A money and new outfit money for your kids, but think about this, a twenty something working a minimum wage, or just above wage job, with several kids to support, is different than a 40 or 50 something, who may have gone back to school to get a career and now has a better job, and let's be real, only having your grandkids a couple days a month is great on your food, water, and light bill. What I am saying is really look at your childhood trauma and ask yourself why is it tied to these really inconsequential things because it's probably not about the thing but the emotion and perceived action attached to it.

Monique is prime example of unhealed childhood trauma and projection, and anyone rooting for her to keep telling the same story for the last 15 years with no real intention of healing or reconciliation is just an enabler. Tyler Perry and Lee Daniels have both apologized to her and yet she still finds a way to make her yearly rounds about the same thing she has been complaining about for 15 years. For the record, I get it and I am not saying that Monique shouldn't tell her story but she made a choice and choices have consequences. We have all made the choice to say no to something and regretted it but if you look deeper, this is not about her allegedly being blackballed. I am not dismissing Monique's pain but I don't think her pain comes from Tyler Perry, Lee Daniels, or Oprah and if you actually listened to her talk and not just the sound bites, you would realize the experience triggered Monique.

Monique is a victim of childhood sexual abuse at the hands of her brother. It wasn't a one time thing, it was ongoing. Often when people are violated, they try to make themselves less appealing and I believe Monique's weight and hygiene, i.e. not shaving her legs is a way to make herself unattractive and therefore less of a target of abuse. I believe Precious triggered Monique's trauma and when the movie became big and her story became front page news, I believe it overwhelmed her and she wanted to retreat, which is why all expenses paid and an extra week didn't appeal to her, even when offered to bring her family. I think the promo and attention from all she was doing overwhelmed her and she needed a break and couldn't say it, so they made it about the money, which it wasn't because no amount of money would have been sufficient. 2009-2010 was Monique's year, she had a TV show, won an Oscar. Monique was it and I believe success can trigger deseeded trauma. I believe Monique was triggered when she saw her entire family on the Oprah Winfrey show supporting the person who caused her so much pain. It has to hurt to not be believed but to have everyone rally around the person who not only hurt you but is now clout chasing by saying it is true. That had to hurt. I don't think Monique needs an apology from the big three and I think all three have already acknowledged her pain and at least two have tried to pay her or give her a job, I think the apology and acknowledgements she needs is from the two people who are dead. I think she needed her mother to believe her and acknowledge her pain and she only did on national TV with her brother, her abuser. Even recently, someone claiming to be her sister, made a viral post attacking her for not attending her parents funerals and that had to hurt, even if she didn't acknowledge it. Even today, nearly 50 years later, no one has acknowledged the pain of what happened to her as a child and they all want her to move on and stop talking I don't think Monique ever got a real life, one on one acknowledgement of her pain from anyone, let alone her family, which is why every time someone disagree with her, she has to confront them and put them on blast. It's almost as if that experience of being called a liar as a child, has made her always want to defend herself and prove she isn't a liar. My heart really hurts for Monique and I say this in love, but it is time to figure out how to move forward. It has been 15 years and it seems as if every time she tells her story, the list of people that have wronged her, only seems to grow but it also seems as if the list of people who don't want to be associated with her or limit their interactions with her and her "daddy" grows as well. Like I said, Monique may very well be right but in a world built on relationships, it isn't working, especially if after 30 years in the game, you still have to borrow money to pay rent, obviously this hobo tour isn't working, so what is the plan, sis? How do we get you consistently working and paid for your jokes, not just your pain?

Then Jesus saw him and knew he had been ill for a long time, he asked him, “Would you like to get well?”~ John 5:8

It is time for Monique to get to the bag. You do not prove your innocence by lasting everyone you disagree with, you prove it by showing up, working hard, being talented, and handling grievances privately. I also don't think her husband is doing her any favors. I understand he is a king and he is protecting her but saying you're being raised by a mate in your 40s and 50s is a bit disconcerting, especially calling him daddy. I think that may also be another sign of trauma, maybe her dad was there but not present but either way, Monique is going to be 80 and Oprah will be dead and we will have long forgotten about Precious and Monique will still be on this who wronged me tour. Let's heal that inner child sis because this ain't it.

[alderaphid]

New Hire (Glamrock Freddy/reader): Chapter 2

Rating: Teen

Summary: Getting settled into your job includes the obligatory tour around the facility.

Chapter 1

5864 words

---

For all the warmth and excitement that the boss gave you for the start of your job, reality quickly dropped on you like a lead weight.

First of all, the paperwork. You had never signed so much paperwork before in your life. It was a serious stack of legalese and jargon that left your head spinning when you tried to parse it. There were confidentiality clauses, specific rules for the animatronics, running any sort of equipment, of security levels and the garbage disposal and - god, you even saw something about NDAs???

It was likely due to all the controversy the franchise had suffered over the years but dang, it took an hour to sift through the papers and initial the top and bottom of every page. You tried to understand everything, but at some point your head and wrist were starting to hurt so you gave up and initialed without reading it. You read the first couple of pages anyway, that was probably where all the most important clauses were.

Secondly, you were blindsided by the fact that you had to buy your uniform from the company itself - non reimbursable. Everything from the slip-proof shoes to the optional bowtie had to be Fazbear Entertainment Inc. branded and approved. It was easily over a hundred dollars for everything, and that left you with a sour taste in your mouth. Most places gave you money back for your PPE but this place was the exception, apparently. You had quite a few choice words that you stuffed down your windpipe because, come on, but- whatever.

They were going to pay you a bit above minimum wage, unlike your previous job that had been bottom of the barrel, exactly to the cent and no more. It had something to do with the small amount of staff - with most systems made to keep track of themselves and bots made to clean or patrol the place after closing, they were able to reach a pretty envious number. It was only a handful of dollars above, but to you it was a huuuuge upgrade. So the whole uniform thing was just a minor setback.

Despite these two hits to your mood you were still pretty excited, and nervous, for your first shift. The boss had outlined what your first day would be like - an introduction to all the animatronics, as well as a tour of the entire facility before you’d be made to watch some training videos. You’d only be truly serving the next shift, and for that you were thankful. You had only gotten a glimpse of the place and it had been completely overwhelming. Hopefully this tour would help you get your bearings.

One upside of working at the Pizzaplex: you got a special card to scan you into a small parking lot just to the right of the customer parking, allowing you to park for free and without much trouble. There were only five other cars in the dozen spots when you pulled in - man, that is a small amount of employees. You hoped more would be coming in, cause there was no way they could be manning such a large operation with only six people; maybe a little more if the others carpooled.

You hopped out of your car and walked up to the elevator, tapping your parking card against the little black box with a blinking red light. The light turned green and the doors slid open, showing a little grey box with cheerful music pumped through the speakers. When you stepped in, you saw a big button in the shape of Freddy’s head that was red. When you pressed it, it turned green and the doors slid shut. You felt the lift then move, bringing you up to the Pizzaplex. You bobbed your head along to the music until you felt the lift stop, doors sliding open.

You had landed in a really dim corridor, with dull yellow lights just allowing you to see the floor. The perforated metal made hollow clanging noises as you walked across it, echoing down the hallway and making goosebumps rise on your arms. Cross-linked fences blocked you off from other hallways that branched away from this one, and glancing down them all you could see was darkness. Yeesh.

As the door neared you picked up your pace, jogging up to it and pressing down on the push bar to eject you into the atrium. With your heart pounding and your hands shaking, you took a minute to calm down and take deep breaths, leaning on the sleek black wall next to a poster of a work bot stating “employees only”.

That was so creepy. You were not expecting to have to travel, essentially, in the walls to get to work. Why would they make it so dank and dim and scary? Where did those blocked off hallways lead to?

You shook yourself to get rid of the jitters and then smoothed the front of your shirt down. At least the uniform they made you wear was pretty snazzy - black non-slip shoes with a red sole, black pants, a comfy t shirt with vertical stripes of tan and red with red shoulders and blue embroidery stating the name of the building. An apron was tied snugly at your waist with a half pizza design, a brown outline and yellow base dotted with round red circles. You had the option of a black visor with blue lettering or a ball cap, but you had neglected to wear it today due to the fact that you weren’t really serving anyone yet.

You looked around to get your bearings. It seemed like you still weren’t quite on the floor yet. You had entered a room with spare trashcans and children carts piled along the walls and bright white overhead lights. Just ahead of you and spanning the entirety of the wall was an automatic shuttering door, much like the kind used for garages. All along the bottom edge was a stripe of blue filled with stars. You took hesitant steps toward it. When you got within a foot, the mechanisms came to life, making you jump as it rose up to let you through. Right outside was the atrium - you could see the water fountain with the large Freddy statue just off to the left. The place was deserted - that was expected, the building was supposed to open in an hour.

As you walked through and into the Pizzaplex, you noticed now that though the doors had risen, there was still a weird clanking going on. You turned to the door and looked at it, furrowing your brow.

Wait, was the sound getting louder?

“Hello there!”

You jumped for the second time today, whirling around to confront the person who sacred you before immediately clamming up, barely able to hush a squeak before it passed through your lips.

Freddy was standing a few feet away from you.

He was as tall as Roxanne, towering over you at seven feet and then some. His top hat sat askance on his head, a blue strip of ribbon wrapped around the base. A red earring dangled from his left ear, face outlined by red and blue facepaint that ran around his eyes and cheeks, dipping to his lower jaw. His shoulders sported pointy red shoulder pads and a blue lightning bolt arched down his chest. His arms and legs were decorated with black cuffs and red imitation legs warmers, respectively.

Your younger self’s feeling hit like a truck, remembering the flush that would crawl up your face and stick you in place as the old Freddy from your location had wandered close. Much like what was happening now.

“I see you are entering from the employee entrance. I heard there would be a new addition to the serving team.”

“Ah-“ you couldn’t help but let out a little yelp when he suddenly leaned down, enveloping your shoulders in his hands as he stared at your face. You tried to pull away, but his grip was firm. You noticed now that his hands were tipped with claws, colored the same electric blue as his other accents.

“What are y-“ you were then subsequently blinded as his blue eyes emitted a light that flashed into your eyes without warning. You shut them tight and groaned. Like Roxanne, he was using some sort of scanning feature, but for your face for some reason.

His grip slackened on your shoulders and you opened your eyes, taking a step back as Freddy stood up to his full height.

He said your name and you felt your cheeks grow hotter,

“Welcome to the team! I do hope that your employment here is enjoyable.”

“I- thanks, I-“ you tried to shuffle around him, wondering how he knew your name. Was the face thing some sort of identification feature? And his voice was so… okay, so you did see him perform a while back but singing is so different from speaking and the low rumble of his voice was not helping as you were reminded of the numerous drawing you had made when you were small-

Unfortunately he stopped your movement with a hand, his eyebrows lowering.

“Are you okay? My sensors are reading an elevated heartbeat and temperature. And your face is red.”

You wished the floor would open up and swallow you whole. As he went to lean back down again, you blurted out,

“No- no I’m fine I’m just nervous. It’s, um, the first day and I don’t want to mess up or something.”

Thankfully he let you go at that, seeming to nod in understanding.

“I see. Based on your employee profile, I can say that I doubt you will have any trouble with fitting in here.”

He then smiled at you, and you felt your chest squeeze uncomfortably. You gave a dry chuckle to offset the feeling.

“Coolthanksgottagobye.” you skittered past him with a quick wave and then beat it out of there, turning the corner to face the fountain and stairs.

Your mind was racing as you climbed them two at a time to escape.

Oh my god why does he have to be so, so, so encouraging and comforting and tall I might have a heart attack right here God strike me down he can’t be that…

You refused to finish the thought. It was just a childhood crush lingering, and sure, it was annoying considering you’d probably interact with him some, but that was fine. You were fine. You would get used to it and be less affected eventually.

…

Your face was still burning as you made your way to the boss's office, hands clenching and unclenching. As you approached the door you took a cleansing breath and then knocked.

The door slid open at your touch.

“Oh-“ you peeked your head in, seeing the boss mid motion, standing up out of his chair.

“Good morning!” He called, walking around his desk to greet you.

“I hope it wasn’t much of a hassle to get here?”

You thought of both the dark hallway and Freddy, deciding to talk about the former.

“Not really, but the hallway to get into here is…”

The boss nodded sagely at the expression on your face.

“Most employees say the same thing. There’s no reason to be afraid though, the hallway is perfectly safe.”

His words should have been comforting, but instead they made you feel off. Why stress that the hallways were safe? And if other employees said something similar, why not fix it?

“Think of it as a sort of, ah, initiation. You’ll get used to it soon. Now!” he clapped his hands, jolting you from your thoughts, “I’m sure you’re very excited for your tour of the facility. We will start by introducing you to each of the main animatronics as they set up in their respective attractions. Then we’ll go around to each business so you know where every front is, backtrack to the atrium, lead you to the Daycare, and then finish by setting you up with some training videos. Sound good?”

You nodded, and then trailed behind the boss as he walked out of his office.

“This place has a daycare?” you asked. You hadn’t heard anything in the ads about a daycare, though you guessed it made sense considering that very tiny children were certainly coming here.

“Yes. It’s necessary for family units, as we can’t have toddlers roaming around. Harm reduction and all that. They all get signed up and sent to the daycare, where Sun and Moon take good care of them, keep the kids occupied. We have security set up just in case, but Sun’s observant and Moon’s pretty protective. There’s never any trouble over there.”

Sun and Moon…

Likely more animatronics. Wow, you wondered how much money was being poured into the Mega Pizzaplex. One animatronic alone was likely a million, easy, and considering all the aesthetics and decorations scattered around? Wow…

Your mind was occupied with calculating the true price of your new workplace until the boss started talking again, pulling your focus back to the tour. He had stopped in the dining area, in front of the rows and rows of orange tables and seating with blue accents. The flooring, you noticed, was mostly purple carpet with tiling around the edges. The tables were all set up as well, with party hats, napkins, and cutlery set up at each chair.

“This is where you’ll be working most of the time, if we don’t have you serving in the food court. We have robotic staff that handle set up and some distribution, but you’ll be fielding orders and carrying food back and forth.”

“Will I be responsible for… All these tables?” you cringed at the thought.

The boss swooped in quickly.

“No no no, not at all. You’ll be responsible for about a half dozen at one time, but there’s other serving staff.”

Your shoulders dropped at that. Six tables was a lot, but much less than you were dreading. With a final look at the set up, the boss then led you over to a sign that proclaimed “Roxy’s Raceway” in big red letters.

“We have four different attractions specifically tailored for the mascots,” the boss explained as he ushered you through the entrance.

“Roxy’s raceway is, obviously, a race track. We’ve made it as interactive as possible, and Roxanne even participates!”

You took in the surroundings. Six pillars of purple light lined the hallway, with racing equipment and trophies displayed on raised stages. A red and green motorbike was set up on the right, with a huge stylized picture of Roxanne right next to it. The wall beside the motorbike was lined with steering wheels. To the left was a tan and blue car suspended by wires - just under it was a series of ATMs and a side door. Further in you could just see the edge of a track and some concession stands.

You looked at the boss to see he was tapping away at an odd looking wristwatch. It was square with tan casing, two little ears and a tophat poking out at the top. As the boss looked up, you heard clanking at the end of the hallway.

“Well well, look who it is. Going on a tour are we, newbie?”

You smiled at Roxanne as she made her way to the both of you, her red and black outfit shining in the low light.

“Yep. I’m apart of the crew now.” you announced proudly. Roxanne’s jaw worked to show a smile as she rested a hand on her hip.

“Good to hear. Would have been a shame to see you walk away.”

“You know, Roxanne, I think you’re showing favoritism.” your boss said slyly. Roxanne scoffed, running her claws through her hair.

“Hardly. I don’t do favorites.”

“Mm-hmm.” the boss shot you an amused side glance, “I’m introducing them to everyone before the crowds come in. Is the raceway looking good?”

“Oh yeah.” a proud tone entered Roxanne’s voice.

“Tracks smooth and the cars run beautifully. Though, there was a bit of an accident. One of the racing bots got in the way, and, well,” she tossed her hair back, pointing her snout in the air.

“- It’s not running anymore.”

“That’s alright, Roxanne.” the boss said, though you could hear a touch of weariness in his tone, “So long as the track is well, it’s not a problem. Set it aside and we’ll get parts and services to take care of it.”

“Sure.” her tail swished from side to side, and she looked back.

“Well, we better go now. Tour’s just started, after all. Have fun!” the boss placed a hand on your shoulder as he turned around, and you gave Roxanne a final wave goodbye before heading out. You could hear her retreating footsteps fade away as you retraced your steps back into the dining area.

“Next is Monty’s Gator Golf.” the boss said, leading the way into a jungle-themed golf course, where you marveled at the cozy atmosphere. The lighting was dim and offset all the green vines and palm trees that decorated the main floor. A gravity vortex with golf balls on its shell took up the center, and neon monstera leaves hung high above your heads. A green carpet below your feet had a pattern with the long snout of Monty next to hollow stars.

The boss was clicking away at his weird watch again. You gave him some space by instead watching the large screens up ahead on the raised platforms that led to hallways with numbers on the doors.

Familiar metal clanking echoed around the room, followed by the emergence of the gator himself, stomping down the stairs.

Monty was tall like the rest of them, with wide shoulders sporting pointy purple shoulder pads. His shell was mainly a mossy green, with his lower jaw and chest painted a light yellow. A tail swayed just behind him at every step, each segment either green or yellow. His hands and feet were purple with sharp looking black claw tips. His legs had a darker scale pattern, stopping right at his waist. A few black dots were scattered on his arms and on his cheeks. A bright red mohawk stuck up on his head. His eyes were obscured by a pair of yellow star shades, but as he stopped in front of the two of you, one hand went to his hip while the other went to his shades, pushing them down to size you up. His eyes were the same scarlet.

“Good morning Montgomery. Everything working well in the golf course?” the boss asked.

“Mmm.” the animatronic let out a low rumble.

“Only Monty, boss. Who’re you?” Monty asked, pushing his shades back up and crossing his arms. You introduced yourself, feeling nervous as Monty’s tail lashed.

“You gonna be watching our performances?”

You nodded.

“Most likely. I mean, I’ll be serving during them, so…”

“Seen any?”

“Yeah! A couple weeks ago, actually. You, uh, you were great. That bass solo you did in the middle was incredible, I was afraid the instrument was gonna fall apart.” you confessed, feeling a little apprehensive as Monty tilted his head, considering. He bared his teeth suddenly, and you jumped slightly. But he seemed to be pleased, extending one hand out to flex his fingers.

“That’s thanks to these new claws. I can shred the strings like no one’s seen before! It’s great.”

He continued to hold his hand out, pushing it a little further as you continued to stare. You slowly extended your own hand, just barely brushing his fingers before they closed around your hand like a trap. You held in a scream as he shook your hand firmly.

“Welcome to the team lil dude.”

“Thanks!” you pulled your hand back, feeling a little shaky as Monty turned away, giving a two fingered salute.

“Gotta finish opening up boss.”

“No problem Monty. We’ll see you later.”

The two of you left the gator to do… Whatever he was doing. As you walked away, you cleared your throat.

“He’s…”

“Intimidating?” the boss filled in. You nodded.

“Yeah, Monty’s a little stoic at first, but he’ll warm up to you.”

The two of you made haste to the next place - a pretty pink storefront labeled “Chica’s Bakery” with beautiful plastic cakes and pastries lining the window. The inside had pink leather booths lining the walls and a few round white tables with pink tablecloths on them. The counter had swivel stools made with the same pink leather as the booths and neon lights lining the edges. Just behind the counter a tall animatronic was facing the wall, looking up at the huge stylized decal that held her image. She turned when the two of you crossed the threshold.

This animatronic was obviously Chica. You remembered her older design from your childhood. Her shell was white, the feathers on her head all leaning one way with a pink bow attached. Her main body was painted in such a way to resemble a body suit, with a dark pink waist and shoulder pads. Pink stripes decorated her cheeks, and two green triangles wobbled on either side of her head.

“Hi there!” Chica waved both hands, her purple eyes quickly zeroing in on you.

“Oh, you're the new server everyone’s been talking about! Welcome!”

She bounced around the counter, showing two different coloured leg warmers with stripes and spots before taking both your hands in hers, which were coloured a neon green like fingerless gloves. Chica leaned in wayyy too close, and you leaned your head back to leave room.

“Chica, don’t smother them.” the boss said good naturedly. She popped back up to standing and clasped her hands together.

“Oh! Sorry! You know how excited I get.” she raised a hand to her beak as she giggled nervously.

“It’s okay. It’s nice to know I’ve been, well, anticipated.”

“Of course!” Chica raised both hands to chest height, closing them into fists.

“We’ve been needing new servers since the S.T.A.F.F bots have been acting funky and I love seeing new faces on the team!”

Staff bots acting ‘funky’..?

You thought, looking over to the boss who was looking uncomfortable as Chica chattered on.

“Yes yes Chica, very nice.” the boss said, interrupting her mid sentence. She stopped and then tipped her head to the side, putting both hands on her hips.

“Hey, its rude to interrupt people you know!”

“Sorry,” he didn’t look sorry, “We just aren’t done the tour yet, and you know there's twenty minutes before the doors open…”

“Twenty four, actually!” she said. The boss nodded.

“Yes, it’s not much time at all and guests will impede our progress. You do understand.”

“Fine.” Chica huffed.

“I’m not done setting up anyway…”

“Right.” the boss nodded, steering you out of the bakery before Chica could start talking your ear off again.

“See me later, friend!” Chica called out.

 “I’d love to know more about you!”

The boss sighed in relief when the bakery was out of sight.

“She’s very enthusiastic all the time. If you don’t want to be talked at for an hour, try to look busy.”

You nodded at his advice, thinking that Chica was honestly pretty endearing, if chatty.

The next place was one you were internally sweating about. If you had met Roxanne, Monty, and Chica, the last animatronic you were going to be ‘introduced to’ was one you had already met…

You weren’t sure how to broach that topic and spent the travel time working up the courage, but when you were ready to tell him the two of you were already at the entrance just under a walkway where neon lights spelled out “Fazerblast” next to a neon Freddy with what appeared to be a space helmet and blaster.

The carpet inside the entrance was purple with a ringed planet pattern, and a model spaceship took up the center of the room. The ceiling and walls were covered with diamond shaped lights that glowed alongside a giant 3D moon to the left that emitted a soft white light. Just under it was an odd green moon, and beside that was a red ferris wheel with UFO seats. To the right was a concession stand labeled “Snack Space” with a huge planet model ringed with red neon lights. Across from the two of you was the entrance to the attraction - big, red, sharp letters repeated the name “Fazerblast”, with an entryway below accented by green neon lights.

Your heart pounded in your chest as the boss tapped away at his watch for the third time. You knew now that he was communicating with the animatronics in some way, and you watched as Freddy emerged from the entrance before you.

“Hello boss, you called me?” Freddy asked. He glanced at you before putting all his attention on the man before him

“Yes, I wanted to introduce you to the newest member of our staff.” the boss said, gesturing to you.

“Uh, hi.” you waved awkwardly. Freddy blinked, processing something, before extending a hand.

“Hello. It is quite nice to meet you.”

You took his hand and shook it stiffly, hyper aware of the boss’s watchful eye and wishing that your palm wasn’t so sweaty (not that Freddy could notice. You hoped).

“My friends haven’t been too distracting, have they?” Freddy asked when he let your hand go.

“No, not really. They’re all very eccentric though. In a good way.” you replied honestly, trying to wipe your palm discreetly on your pants as Freddy’s jaw worked, giving you a smile.

“Yes, I’d say the same.” Freddy looked between you and the boss.

“The doors are open now, and I’d suspect that guests are already trickling in. You two should go on your way, everything is ready in Fazerblast.”

“Thanks Freddy. You know I can count on you.” the boss nodded and guided you away, watching as Freddy disappeared back into the Fazerblast entrance.

“Alright, things’ll get a little more difficult now that guests are coming in, but we’ll get you up to date on locations as fast as we can.”

                                                         -

True to his word, the boss showed you around nearly every inch of the Pizzaplex. Your head began to swim with all the storefronts and attractions you felt the need to memorize - the West Arcade and Fazarcade (with the huge DJ Music Man that nearly gave you a heart attack to see moving), Bonnie Bowling (a fun place noticeably absent of the long eared rabbit), Kid’s Cove (which brought a fresh wave of nostalgia so hard it made your eyes water), Mazercise, Glamrock Beauty Salon, El Chips, Prize Collection - it was a lot to process, much less understand. You were definitely feeling the wariness in your back and feet as the boss back tracked to the Atrium and explained Rockstar row to you before heading down to the Superstar Daycare.

You hid a yawn behind your hand as the two of you passed into the seating of the daycare, skirting around the large golden statues of two lanky animatronics, one of which looked somewhat like a sunflower but both with odd ruffles at their neck and hips.

You passed by a hip height tube integrated into the railing and plexiglass wall, with a curved sign overtop stating, “Slide into Fun” in rainbow lettering. The boss led you down stairs with blue carpeting littered with stars to stand in front of a pair of intricately carved wooden doors. The boss took his card and flashed it in front of the door lock, letting the light blink green before reaching forward and pulling a door open.

You stepped through behind him, placing a hand on the door. It wasn’t wood, it was plastic painted to look like wood. Huh.

The inside of the daycare was much brighter than you expected. Huge spotlights dangling above glinted off the numerous pieces of climbing equipment and softened on the squishy mats that made up the entirety of the floor. The walls were gray with clouds, stars, and rainbows scattered across them. Large coloured blocks were actively being built up and torn down by children, while many others either chased each other around or crawled in the climbing structures, laughing as they jumped in the ball pit or rocketed down the slides.

“Now where is that daycare attendant…” the boss said, looking side to side.

“Oh look, there he is.” he pointed to the right, where a circle of kids sat at a table, scribbling and laughing and flinging crayons around. Facing away from the two of you, crouched with their knees almost to their shoulders, was a lanky animatronic with the same sunflower-esque points coming from their head as that statue you had seen a minute earlier.

“Sun! Hey buddy!”

At that call the animatronic startled, head swiveling around. When it spotted the two of you it raised its hands and did a backwards handstand before flipping onto its feet, head swiveling back to the right rotation as it skipped toward you, jingling brightly. When it came close it placed both hands on its knees, bending down to assess the two of you.

“Hello hello boss! And oh! Hello new friend! What are you doing here - are you joining in on the fun?”

This animatronic had a loud, peppy voice that seemed to make sentences run together. His mouth didn’t move when he talked, frozen in a wide smile that stretched across his circular head. Half of his face seemed offset from the rest, appearing to be designed like a half moon with a long nose stretched across it. The triangles that made him look like a sunflower, you understood why those were there - they imitated the suns rays. His body was a lighter yellow than his face, with two buttons placed at the top of his chest and long, spindly arms and fingers. Red ruffles with yellow stripes hung around his neck and waist, the waist ruffles connected to a pair of puffy red and yellow striped pants and pointy yellow shoes. Red ribbons with bells at the ends were wrapped around his wrists, the source of the jingling you heard.

“No no Sun, I’m just showing our new server around. They need to know the layout of the Pizzaplex.”

Sun nodded along, and you noticed the presence of a few googly eyes stuck to its cheeks and the triangles that jittered with its movement. You smiled.

“Yeah, though it is nice here. Very… bright.” after a moment of hesitation, you stuck your hand out, expecting a regular, if exuberant, handshake. Instead you choked on your breath and Sun leapt forward and wrapped its arms around you before picking you up as if you weighed nothing, spinning rapidly; you clung to its waist with a death grip, legs akimbo as you began to giggle due to both the weightlessness and your nerves.

“Sun! Please!” the boss cried out, and finally the animatronic stopped, plopping you down without a care in the world. Your brain was still spinning, and you were still giggling as you stood on shaky legs, accepting help from Sun as you clung to his arm.

“Whoa, didn’t mean to make you all topsy-turvy new friend!”

“It’s- it’s fine.” you said, waving your hand as if to dispel concern.

“Just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Yes well, we should definitely be off now. And I think your other friends are antsy for you to rejoin them.” the boss pointed off to the table Sun had vacated, where the kids seemed to be hollering for Sun’s return.

“Let’s play another time then! We could make macaroni art or- or play hide and seek!”

The boss came forward to take your arm as Sun gave you a grand wave before bouncing right back over to the table, which cheered as he rested alongside them once again. You gave the boss a reassuring grin as he turned a concerned gaze on you, leading you out of the daycare.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” you drew away for emphasis, walking on your own without help.

“Alright then. Well, we’ve finished the grand tour, and all that’s left is the company training videos. I can set you up in a security office.”

“Sure. Um…” you were confused about one point.

“I noticed that Sun was around, but not Moon. Is there- are they somewhere else? Or being, uh, fixed?”

Here the boss gave a sly grin.

“Ah, well, you see, that’s the brilliance of our company. Sun and Moon are the same animatronic. It’s a clever piece of code- Sun stays at the front as long as the lights are on to entertain the children. But when it’s time for a nap, the lights go out and Moon’s programming switches on.”

“Oh, I see.” you tapped your chin in thought. It does save a good chunk of money to do it like that…

“Yeah, it’s great. Sun is energetic, while Moon is calming. Nurturing, if you will. Settles the kids down real quick.”

With that, you were shown to one (of many, apparently) security offices, sat down in a chair with a tablet and a can of Fizzy Faz (which the boss stressed was free… weird…). But before he left, he handed you a small gift box.

“Complementary of the company. We really appreciate your sign on.”

“Thanks.”

“If you get hungry you can swing down and grab a pizza. Free, as well.”

“Thank you.”

The boss then left, the door sliding shut with a hiss.

You looked at the gift box in your hand. A brown box with red stripes and a dark blue ribbon. You lifted the top off and stared.

It was a watch identical to the one on the boss’s wrist. You lifted it out and wrapped it around your non-dominant wrist, pressing the power button.

Words splayed across the screen. “Fazwatch” was apparently the name of the device. It took a minute to set it up, but most information had already been filled out for you. The watch showed you a gray map of the Pizzaplex, in the section you were located. Neat!

Backing out of the map, you then noticed someone had sent you a message. It was the boss.

When you’re done the videos you can leave. The watch will record your exit from the facility, as well as your entrance for each shift. Good luck!

You hummed and then turned to the tablet, clicking on the first of many videos starring an odd little pink and white Freddy. As a familiar voice began droning on and on about the rules and regulations, you sat back and took a sip of your drink. Unfortunately it was super sugary, so much so it made your mouth scrunch up into a grimace. You set it down out of reach, resolving to get a better drink later, after the videos were done.

Hopefully the videos wouldn’t go on for too long. You were starting to get hungry.

[kinsey3furry300]

So how the heck do the Avengers pay for stuff, and how rich are they?

So, in the wake of “Falcon and the Winter Soldier” There’s a lot of debate about why Sam didn’t seem to get paid well for his work in the Avengers (at least in the MCU continuity), and this has got me thinking: we’ve got no evidence that the Avengers are, financially, anything but a hot mess. So lets break it down, Avenger by Avenger, using real-world pay scales for the ones who have jobs.

Tony: a billionaire, so clearly he’s a financial genius, right? Well….. his actions say otherwise. He’s shown to be wildly irresponsible with his money. He inherited a lot of wealth form his parents which was managed by the first Jarvis, Obadiah, and Pepper for him, he buys and then gives away not just woks of art, but entire collections by major 20th century artists on a whim, destroyed his own cars and home without concern, he tanks the value of his own company in the first Iron Man with a bad press interview, gets kicked of his own bord of directors, and ultimately, in Iron Man 2, gives control of his company to Pepper. He’s insanely rich, and insanely smart, but man, he’s not smart with his money. So all the cool stuff, his suits, the Avengers tower, the facility up-state: that’s all paid for by him, but Pepper is holding the purse-stings.  So, does he pay the others? We have no evidence for most of them… but we do with Spidey. Peter Parker is in the Stark Internship Program a euphemism to hide the fact he’s training and mentoring him as a super-hero, but I find the wording interesting: he refers to Spidey, his surrogate son and chosen heir, as an intern. I.E., Unpaid.  I’m guessing this is Howard’s influence over him, some sort of ‘make you own way in the world, son’ attitude, but  if he’s not paying Spidey, is he paying anyone else? He certainly pays for stuff super heroes suits and things, equipment, fuel, the base, but does he pay anyone a wage? No one ever mentions it. You think it would come up.

So, if he’s not paying them a wage, where do Avengers  (and thier allies) get their day-to-day money from, and are they rich? Using google and https://www.federalpay.org, lets find out.

Cap: Well, before Civil war, he’s a shield operative, and he presumably still holds his military rank: he’s a US Army captain, with (well) over 40 years service, so USD$88,142.40 per year, with $237.71  drill pay (pay per drill you have to do on weekends, on leave or outside of normal service) and $175.00 per month hazard pay (which I bet is interesting) on top of that. As a WW2 veteran, he’d be eligible for a war pension if he:

Was not discharged for dishonorable reasons; and,

Served 90 days of active military duty; and,

Served at least one day during wartime ("wartime" as determined by the VA); and,

Had  countable family income below a certain yearly limit; and,

Is  age 65 years or older; or

Regardless of age is permanently disabled, not due to wilful misconduct.

As he’s still receiving 90k per year, he’s ineligible for a pension as his countable yearly income is above the limit.  So if shield pays him in accordance with his rank and years of service, about $90, 600 per year incuding hazard pay.

After civil war, he’s a fugitive on the run, so presumably flat broke. I’d asume he gets his pension returened to him after the snap.

He’s also just gone from the 40’s to the present day, so 70 years of inflation probably makes buying things very confusing for him: everything would seem insanely expensive at first. He’d also not know what the correct prices are for anything invented after 45. You might get used to how much more expensive food and coffee is, but how much is a smart-phone worth? $200? $2000 $20000? Who knows? I bet the others have to facepalm a lot when he either refuses to pay for what he sees as clear price-gouging, and at the same time regularly pays insane amounts of money for goods and services because he doesn’t know better. He also has no known assets other than his pay: he rents an apartment making him one of the few American males in his age-group who isn’t a home-owner

Thor: Does Asgard even have currency? It’s depicted like a “Crystal spires and toga” type utopia with no poverty: even working class Asgardian’s like Scourge seem to be pretty well-off and want for nothing, so he’s from a post-scarcity society where actual magic is a thing. His “Another” coffee cup smashing and the fact he doesn’t have a computer of phone in Ragnarök might indicate that, no, he just doesn’t have, need or understand money. Splitting a bar tab with him must be a nightmare. His breakdown post snap indicates he’s got some cash, but not a huge amount, and is probably skiving of Valkyrie and the other Asgardians.

Banner: Okay, so a PhD could make you a lot of money from patents… in pharmacology or engineering. Theoretical physics? Not so good. And if Banner did have any patents, they’ve probably been seized under eminent domain by the US military.  At the start of The Hulk film, he’s working a entry-level factory job at a botteling plant in Brazil. The minimum wage in Brazil is 1069.62 Real per month, that’s 12,835.44 Real per year, or around $2437.79 US per year, before everything goes wrong for him! He then runs off to India, works for Tony for a bit and then gets shot into space. Spidey may actually make more in allowance than Banner does, and Banner is a gown ass man with bills to pay: I’d imagine he loses a lot in ripped clothing.

Natasha and Barton: Pre Civil-war, both are government spooks, so how well does that pay? The salaries of CIA Intelligence Analysts based in the US range from $25,838 to $685,701 , with a median salary of $125,340, so let’s assume that Shield pays in a similar range: $685,701 per year for Director Fury, around 125,000 for Natasha and Cliff, which explains Cliff’s nice, middle-class mid-western home. Post civil war, presumably not great: we know that Natasha spends a lot of her savings running and hiding all across the world, and Cliff takes a deal and presumably lives of his savings, pension and his wife’s income.

Rhodes: Full USAF colonel with over 10 years service? $105,562.80 per year, plus $293.23 drill pay per drill and $175 per month hazard pay, and because he’s team Stark and not Team Cap in Civil War, he’d not lose any of that. He presumably also gets an injury pay-out after his accident. After T’challa and Stark, he might be the best paid avenger.

Dr Strange: spends all his money he made as a surgeon on trying to cure his hands: spends literally his last dollars heading to Nepal to train. Wong even jokes with him about their lack of worldly money when asking for a tuna-melt. But, can use illusion to make people think he has money, and his home and clothes etc. come with the job, so in the same boat as Thor in that he has no money, but needs none AKA, he’s a bastard to try and split a restaurant bill with.

Wanda and Vision: No know source of income, just sort of live in Tony’s hose and eat his food, and on top of that Wanda goes on the run after civil war… yet they can stay in fancy hotels in Edinburgh, a relatively expensive city, and Vison apparently bought them a house to retire in, so one of them has some source of money. Maybe Tony gave Vision years of back-pay form when he was still Jarvis, or maybe the vison has a day job, which is, frankly, hilarious. Could you imagine him as a barista? I can, and it makes me very happy.

Scott Lang: I’d assumed he’d be super, super broke, but apparently the average pay for a private security consultant in the Bay area is $85,430 per year. Not bad. Pity he gets sucked into the quantum realm just as his business is taking off, so presumably, flat broke again.

Bucky: no known income, and I doubt Hydra paid him for being the Winter Soldier so he probably has no savings, but he should, technically, qualify for a military pension. As a single veteran, he’d be  eligible for federal tax-free pension of up to $1732 per month, or $20,784 tax free per year. Not much for someone who lives in NYC. He may also be eligible for medical benefits over the loss of his arm. Whether or not he got to see any of that money given how confused his life has been over the past 10 years is unclear, but on paper he’s eligible.

T’challa: He is, quite possibly, richer than Stark, and as an absolute monarch pays no tax and has access to his Nation’s vast wealth in vibanium. It’s good to be the king!

Captain Marvel: USAF captain, and a test pilot; the test pilot school only accepts applicants with a service length of less than 9 years 6 months (10 years six moths of helicopters) as they don’t want older applicants. With 8 years service, $79,538.40, plus drill pay and hazard.  However, no know (human) pay since 1990. Flat broke.

Guardians of the Galaxy: no data, but I’m assuming “Cowboy Bebop” levels of perpetual never-ending poverty given the way they choose to live. I’d also assume Rocket has taken all their cash into some sort of Ponzi scheme of his own creation, because just look at him, of course he has.

Spidey: he’s got about $10 of his aunts’ money at any given time, so he can buy lunch… which may in fact be more than Banner or Lang, and we know it’s more that Strange or Thor.

 So, here the big one: how rich or how broke is Sam?

Sam Wilson: annoyingly, we’re not directly told what rank Sam held in any MCU film. USAF pararescue “Maroon berets” are generally NCO’s (but there’ are officer-ranked pararescue) , and he’s seen working on his wings at one point, where as officers don’t generally work on or maintain airframes. He’s shown wearing a Nation Air guard grey while jogging at one point to confuse the matter further. The general consensus on redit is he’s a former USAF tech sergeant (E-6). But how long was he in the air force? With six years service (the minimum sensible time he could have served to work in pararescue based on his age), that would be $41,464.80 per year, plus drill pay and hazard. As Anthony Mackie, the actor that plays him, was 36 as of Civil War, and assuming the character is the same age, and assuming he retired from the air force that year, and he joined the USAF at 17, the youngest you can join, he’d have served 19 years, giving him a pay of $51,566.40, the maximum pay you can get at this rank before promotion to Master Sergent,  but meaning he left just before he’d qualify for the 50% final salary pension you’d qualify for after 20 years. Which seems weird. So let’s assume the character is one year older than the actor that plays him and served 20 years (ages 17-37), that means Sam has a military pension of $25,783.20 per year (20,784 of it tax-free), plus any injury benefits. He councils other veterans, but doesn’t get paid for that. He also chooses Team Cap in Civil War, so would become a wanted criminal, and so lose his income between 2016 and 2018, and then gets snapped and has no income for 5 years, which would destroy his credit rating. Like the rest of Team Cap, he presumably gets his post snap pardon, and goes to work for the US government at his former pay and rank. However, given how Captain John Walker treats him as an equal, it’s possible he’s been promoted to a captain when the  hired back, giving him a pay of between $54,176.40 to $88,142.40 (with 20 years experience, depending on if they take into account his prior service or not, and how much prior service he has), but either way, he’s just starting this as a new job after being legally dead for 5 years: no savings, and no credit.

Commercial fishing vessels cost about 10% of their total value per year in maintenance alone. I can’t identify what sort of boat the Wilson’s have, but some quick googling indicates that the cheapest  15m long wooden in-shore shrimp trawler costs around $140,000, so that’s $14,000 per year in maintenance costs alone, minimum. And that’s a lower estimate, assuming the rest of the business is sound, which we know it isn’t.

So, in concussion, yes, Sam is in some serious financial trouble until he can re-build his savings and credit, but the scary bit is he’s not alone in that: he’s probably better off than Lang, Banner, Danvers, Strange, Thor, Bucky, Wanda and Parker. Only Clint (if he gets a full pardon and gets his full pension), Rhodes, Stark and T’challa aren’t in some sort of potential financial problems. That asshole bank teller was right: despite the fact it seems to pay well on paper, with a few exceptions, the Avengers financials are probibaly a mess. EDIT: Rocket is running the Ponzi scheme, if that’s not clear from context. The others know they have money somewhere, but not where it’s gone. And It’s been pointed out to me that as he’s technically a POW while he’s the Winter Soldier, Bucky is owed over 70 years back-pay, equal to over 3 million dollars, details in the notes.

[s-wordsmith]

"How can you say 'eat the rich' and 'there are no ethical billionaires' and still be a Batman fan?" Because Batman doesn't live in the real world.

I am going to argue that Bruce Wayne, given the world he lives in, is ethically a billionaire. I want to make it clear that I am not supporting actual, real world billionaires by doing so.

Okay here we go.

Is it ethical in the real world to pay your employees less than a living wage, regardless of minimum wage laws? No. I don't need to argue that one.

Is it ethical for Bruce Wayne to pay his employees less than minimum wage? No. For the same reasons. Any version of Batman that doesn't pay his employees a living wage is a bad version of Batman and should be shunned and mocked like Bezos and Musk and the rest. This is antithetical to the character as conceived and as generally portrayed. You cannot save a city while contributing to its problems. End of discussion.

Is it ethical in the real world to pay your employees a living wage but not much more? I understand this is a matter of debate for some; my position is no. If you are living in luxury, your employees should be paid enough to live *comfortably*--bare minimum. Not comfortably if they budget every last cent like it's their full-time job, actually comfortably. Without undue anxiety. (This includes healthcare and other concerns obviously.)

Is it ethical for Bruce Wayne to pay his employees a living wage but not much more? I think yes, and I will explain.

Gotham is a cesspit. It is laboring under actual curses and built above the eternal prison of an actual demon. There is literally something in the water. And every single official in the city of Gotham is most likely crooked in some way except Jim Gordon. Bruce Wayne is just about singlehandedly responsible for social welfare in the city of Gotham, not just by virtue of numbers but also by virtue of making sure the money actually goes to those in need, as opposed to the pocket of some city official or other. He's also the one person (before the Robins and Batgirls) protecting the innocent civilians of Gotham. He's quite possibly the only non-crooked mass employer in the city. He funds hospitals and free clinics, shelters and housing projects, libraries and community centers and rehabilitation programs for ex-cons (whom he will personally hire), food banks and soup kitchens and probably city food gardens, every program for the benefit of the city you can think of is funded either out of his own pocket or with funds he convinced others to give, either by his example as Bruce Wayne or pressure by Batman--neither of which (his influence as Bruce or his gear as Batman) is possible unless he's a billionaire.

Let me rephrase the question: is it ethical for Bruce Wayne to pay his employees a living wage but not much more when the two dollars an hour he's not paying one person may very well be the only thing keeping another alive? Or even that same person?

If you were living in Gotham and being paid a living wage plus a little bit extra (with benefits), would you rather a raise or Batman and Bruce Wayne's efforts to keep healthcare in this city alive and functioning? Which do you think would personally benefit you more?

Which do you think is better for the city as a whole?

So that's a condensed version of my argument for why Bruce Wayne needs to be a billionaire. I would like to add the addendum that comic book authors, like most of us, have difficulty conceiving of a billion dollars and therefore don't always portray it correctly. I do not have proof of anything I have said, I am just working from general knowledge of the Batman mythos, of which I am certainly no expert. I would love to hear anyone else's take.

[somethingaboutnoodles]

There's lots of things that suck in California, but I will point out that California still has *many* exceptional things going on that are actually great--like not having universal healthcare does suck, but having universal healthcare for every impoverished person in the state regardless of citizenship (Medi-Cal) is pretty cool, no???

Another occasionally great thing in California is the ballot proposition system!

For example, Californians voted on Prop 1 in March, passing it, which meant 6.4 billion dollars has been borrowed to build affordable housing units, safe use drug centers, and mental health clinics with funds specifically earmarked to address homelessness.

That constitutional amendment on involuntary servitude (prison slave labor) that didn't pass the legislature before? A version of it did actually get through the legislature in June and is now a proposition!

You can vote yes on Prop 6 in November to ban involuntary servitude! It would mean prison labor cannot be forced, it would be illegal to retaliate against prisoners who refuse to work, and prisoners who choose to work would get time off their sentences in the form of credits *in addition to pay*.

Some other propositions that you might be interested in below the cut!

Prop 32: Raises minimum wage to $18 faster than the inflation increases to the existing minimum wage will.

Prop 33: Repeals Costa Hawkins so that cities can enforce rent control on ANY AND ALL RENTAL UNITS. If this passes, it's likely to be one of the best things to help homeless people get into and maintain homes.

Prop 5: Lowers the threshold for cities borrowing bonds for affordable housing projects and infrastructure to 55% from 66.7% (making it easier for non-home owners to overrule homeowners, which should generally make it easier for cities to borrow more).

This is only a selection of the propositions slated for November (I'll probably do a post on the rest at some point because if you hate prison labor, you'll hate Prop 36. Also, I'd personally like you to vote yes on Prop 4).

I just wanted to point out there are things YOU can control in making California better.

One of those things is being an informed voter--using websites like ballotpedia and CalMatters to learn about propositions, local ballot measures, and candidates is one of them.

Another one is checking the dates on posts that are a little doom and gloom! The above is from February, before the primaries where Prop 1 was approved, so it's not up to date for the upcoming election.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Taxes are for the little people

If you wanna do crimes, make them incredibly complicated and technical. Like the hustlers that came into the bookstore I worked at and spun these long-ass stories about why they needed money for a Greyhound ticket home.

Those guys shoulda studied the private equity sector.

Private equity's playbook is to borrow giant sums by putting up other peoples' companies as collateral (yes, really). Then they use that money to buy the company they mortgaged, and pay themselves a huge dividend.

Then they sell off the company's assets and pay themselves even more money. That leaves the company in a state of precarity - assets they once owned, like their buildings, they now rent. If the rent goes up, they have to find the money to cover it.

All of this forms a pretense for mass layoffs, defaulting on pension obligations, lowering product quality, stiffing suppliers and borrowing more money. If the company doesn't go bust, the PE looters can flip it to *another* PE company, that does it again.

Whenever you see something really terrible happening to a business that once offered useful products and services and paid decent wages, it's a safe bet that PE is behind it. Toys R Us, Sears, your local hospital - and that memestock favorite, AMC.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/04/12/mammon-worshippers/#silver-lake-partners

Private equity goons make their money in two ways: the first is by pocketing 20% of  these special dividends and other extractive policies that hollow out business.

This is money at PE managers get paid for spending their investors' money. It's a wage, in other words.

But thanks to the "carried interest" loophole (a hangover from 16th-century sea captains that has nothing to do with "interest" on loans), they get to treat these wages as "capital gains" and pay far less tax on them.

The fact that we give preferential tax treatment to capital gains (money derived from gambling), while taxing wages (money derived from doing useful work) at higher rates really tells you everything you need to know about our economic priorities.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/29/writers-must-be-paid/#carried-interest

The carried interest loophole lets PE crooks treat their salaries as capital gains, are taxed at a much lower rate than the wages of the workers whose lives they're destroying.

On top of the 20% profit-share that PE bosses get every year, they also pocket a 2% "management fee" for all the "value" they add to the companies they've taken over.

This is *definitely* a wage. The 20% profit-share at least has an element of risk, but that 2% is guaranteed.

But PE bosses have spent more than a decade booking that 2% wage as a capital gain, using a tax-fraud tactic called "fee waivers." The details of how a fee waiver don't matter because it's all bullshit, like the tale of the needful Greyhound ticket.

All that matters is that a legal fiction allows people earning *eight- or nine-figure salaries* to treat *all* of those wages as capital gains and pay lower rates of tax on them than the janitors who clean their toilets or the workers whose jobs they will annihilate.

Now, the IRS knows all about this. Whistleblowers came forward in 2011 to warn them about it. The Treasury even struck a committee to come up with new rules to fix it.

But Obama failed to make those rules stick, and then Trump put a former tax-cheat enabler in charge of redrafting them. The cheater-friendly rules became law on Jan 5, and handed PE bosses hundreds of millions in savings every year.

https://www.nytimes.com/2021/06/12/business/private-equity-taxes.html

The New York Times report on "fee waivers" goes through the rulemaking history, the technical details of the scam, and the gutting of the IRS, which can no longer afford to audit rich people and now makes its quotas by preferentially auditing low earners who can't afford lawyers.

But former securities lawyer Jerri-Lynn Scofield's breakdown of the Times piece on Naked Capitalism really connects the dots:

https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2021/06/private-inequity-nyt-examines-how-the-private-equity-industry-avoids-taxes.html

As Scofield and Yves Smith point out, if Biden wanted to do one thing for tax justice, he could abolish preferential treatment for capital gains. If we want a society of makers and doers instead of owners and gamblers, we shouldn't penalize wages and reward rents.

There's an especial urgency to this right now. As the PE bosses themselves admit, they went on a buying spree during the pandemic (they call it "saving American businesses"). Larger and larger swathes of the productive economy are going into the PE meat-grinder.

Worse still, the PE industry has revived its most destructive tactic, the "club deal," whereby PE firms collaborate to take out whole economic sectors in one go:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/14/billionaire-class-solidarity/#club-deals

We're at an historic crossroads for tax justice. On the one hand, you have the blockbuster Propublica report on leaked IRS files that revealed that the net tax rate paid by America's billionaires is close to zero.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/08/leona-helmsley-was-a-pioneer/#eat-the-rich

This has left the Bootlicker-Industrial Complex in the bizarre position of arguing that anyone who suggests someone who amasses billions of dollars should pay more than $0 in tax is a radical socialist (so far, the go-to tactic is to make performative noises about privacy).

At the same time, the G7 has agreed to an historical tax deal that will see businesses taxed at least 15% on the revenue they make in each country, irrespective of the accounting fictions they use to claim that the profits are being earned in the middle of the Irish Sea.

That deal is historical, but the fact that it's being hailed as curbing corporate power reveals just how distorted our discourse about corporate taxes has become.

As Thomas Piketty writes, self-employed people pay 20-50% tax in countries that will tax the world's wealthiest companies a mere 15%: "For SMEs as well as for the working and middle classes, it is impossible to create a subsidiary to relocate its profits to a tax haven."

Piketty, like Gabriel Zucman, says that EU nations should charge multinationals a minimum of 25%, and like Zucman, he reminds us that the G7 deal does nothing to help the poorest countries in the Global South.

https://www.lemonde.fr/blog/piketty/2021/06/15/the-g7-legalizes-the-right-to-defraud/

These countries and the EU have something in common: they aren't "monetarily sovereign" (that is, they don't issue their own currencies *and* borrow in the currencies they issue).

Sovereign currency issuers (US, UK, Japan, Canada, Australia, etc) don't need to tax in order to pay for programs - first they spend new money into the economy and then they tax it back out again.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/06/10/compton-cowboys/#the-deficit-myth

These countries can run out of stuff to buy in their currency, but they can't run out of the currency itself. Monetarily sovereign countries don't tax to fund their operations.

Rather, they tax to fight inflation (if you spend money into the economy every year but don't take some of it out again through taxation, more and more money will chase the same goods and services and prices will go up).

And just as importantly, monetary sovereigns tax to reduce the spending power - and hence the political power - of the wealthy. The fact that PE bosses had billions of tax-free dollars at their disposal let them spend millions to distort tax policy to legalize fee waivers.

Taxing the money - and hence the power - of wage earners at higher rates than gamblers creates politics that value gambling above work, because gamblers get to spend the winnings they retain on political influence, including campaigns to rig the casino in their favor.

This discredits the whole system, shatters social cohesion and makes it hard to even imagine that we can build a better world - or avert the climate-wracked dystopia on the horizon.

But for Eurozone countries (whose monetary supply is controlled by technocrats at the ECB) and countries of the Global South (whom the IMF has forced into massive debts owed in US dollars, which they can only get by selling their national products), tax is even more urgent.

The US could fund its infrastructure needs just by creating money at the central bank.

EU and post-colonial lands can only fund programs with taxes, so for them, billionaires don't just distort their priorities and corrupt their system - they also starve their societies.

But that doesn't mean that monetary sovereigns can tolerate billionaires and their policy distortions. The UK is monetarily sovereign, in the G7, and its finance minister is briefing to have the City of London's banks exempted from the new tax deal.

https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2021-06-08/u-k-pushes-for-city-of-london-exemption-from-global-tax-deal

Now, the City of London is one of the world's great financial crime-scenes, and its banks are responsible for an appreciable portion of the planet-destabilizing frauds of the past 100 years.

During the Great Financial Crisis AIG used its London subsidiary to commit crimes its US branch couldn't get away with. The City of London was the epicenter of the LIBOR fraud, the Greensill collapse - it's the Zelig of finance crime, the heart of every fraud.

UK Chancellor Rishi Sunak claims banks are already paying high global tax and can't afford to be part of the G7 tax deal. If that was true, it wouldn't change the fact that these banks are too big to jail and anything that shrinks them is a net benefit.

But it's not true.

As the tax justice campaigner  Richard Murphy points out, the risk to banks like Barclays adds up to 0.8% of global turnover: "The big deal is that the 15% global minimum tax rate is much too low. Suinak has yet again spectacularly missed the point."

https://www.taxresearch.org.uk/Blog/2021/06/09/how-big-is-the-tax-hit-on-banks-from-the-g7-tax-deal-that-sunak-fears-really-going-to-be/

Image: Joshua Doubek (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:IRS_Sign.JPG

CC BY-SA: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

[leam1983]

That sounds nice, and I say that admitting I know nothing about the general cost of living in Ireland, but 350$ a week feels like the smallest possible measure a government program could've parted with. Back when I had UBI, 850 Canadian Rubles a week basically meant you covered groceries consisting of cans bought at the dollar store, with everything else split between your power bill and the landlord's rent.

Planned housing meant my landlord could only charge 15% out of this which helped tremendously, but most people don't have access to housing subsidies. I'm in this paradoxical situation where the only thing that's currently keeping me afloat is the fact that my other two roommates cover their own thirds of everything - and I make several bucks above Canadian minimum wage.

I still think the best situation is what I experienced under COVID, which was a biweekly stipend of a little over a thou, thanks to a few disability credits being added to my stimulus checks.

So go Ireland, this is awesome news for sure, but whoever calculates UBI needs to realize that the basic cost of living likely doesn't align with the offered amount.

Kissing you on the mouth rn Ireland!

[peachy-panic]

Only Temporary: Sebastian Tate

Hello. I was completely blown away by the positive response I got on the first piece of Jaime’s story (title under construction). Thank you to everyone who had a kind word to say about it! You made me really happy I made the mildly frightening choice to post.

In the interest of acclimating to the no-rules, freedom-to-post-out-of-order structure of this community, I wanted to introduce a new piece of the puzzle this time, with a new character that will come into play later.

Also, this piece goes into a little bit of the details, but for frame of reference on the BBU-adjacent thing: this story takes place in a not-so-distant future of the BBU, where WRU has undergone some changes. I look forward to exploring this world building more as I go.

Anyway, I’m rambling again. Thanks for reading. Here it is:

WARNINGS: General BBU warnings, talk of institutionalized slavery, classism, and general terribleness of large corporations. Referenced past homophobia and rough parental relationships, briefly implied/referenced non-con.

When Sebastian reflects on the day he graduated from med school, a sort of emptiness is the memory that first bobs to the surface. Among the cheers and camera flashes in the crowd, white coats and proud smiles, what Sebastian recalls most vividly from that day is looking out into the sea of parents and families and people there to support their loved ones on one of the biggest days of their lives, and not seeing a single person that had come for him.

What should have been one of the happiest moments of his life had been quickly overshadowed by the sinking feeling that none of it mattered as much as it would have if he had someone to share it with. Like there was something so fundamentally wrong with his life, that even something as objectively good and right and decent as becoming a doctor could be dulled over into a feeling of nothingness.

Perhaps, he thinks in hindsight, that moment had been foreshadowing for the following months ahead of him.

Watching rejection after rejection pour in from his top residency programs had felt like nothing short of his own personalized nightmare. He had spent several nights in a row on the phone with Alex, his undergrad roommate and only friend, clamoring back from the edge of many a panic attack, spiraling into all-out existential dread about the future and the past and what all of it meant for him if he couldn’t land an internship, let alone a real job out of school. To his credit, Alex never gave up hope in his friend. Or at least, he did a decent job hiding it if he did. Which was probably exactly what Sebastian needed to get through that particularly dark time in his life, and a good reminder of what a solid friend he had. Even if it was a party of two.

Unfortunately, Sebastian did not have the same faith in himself.

He was able to keep up some facade of optimism as his top five were picked off one by one. Telling himself, despite his devastation, that they were a pretty far reach, anyway. Even with good academic standing, it was famously no walk in the park to land yourself at John Hopkins or Mayo as a first-year. He even maintained a brave face as his first few safety programs reached capacity and moved forward without his name on the roster.

It wasn’t until he received his final rejection letter from some internal medicine place in Bumfuck, Idaho that he felt himself slip into dangerous territory. Sebastian knew himself well enough to know his own depressive patterns by then, and he knew it was only exponential decay from there.

Rock bottom came, as it did, in the wee hours of the night, after a full bottle of wine. Alone in his small apartment, surrounded by half-packed boxes with no destination, Sebastian found himself sprawled out on the floor with his laptop hot against his thighs. He couldn’t have explained why he opted for a privacy browser, but something about it allowed him to justify the words that he typed into the search bar.

It was a new low, and one he had sworn to himself he would never stoop to. Yet there he was.

He gave himself a moment to reconsider, to back out of what was undoubtedly a morally-gray train wreck waiting to happen as his thumb hovered over the enter key. And then the alcohol decided to override his moral compass.

Facility Care is the open secret of the medical profession. It comes with its fair share of stigma, and rightfully so, but it is notoriously easy to break into and pays a decent wage.

There are two types of people who end up stooping to that kind of employment. More often than not, it consists of doctors and nurses who had their licenses revoked or suspended somewhere along the line and needed a way back in. As far as Sebastian understood, they aren’t terribly ridgid about the particulars of each circumstance. After all, in the eyes of the law, the patients they would be treating are a price tag away from being entirely expendable.

The other percentage of Facility Care workers, and the reason Sebastian found himself staring at his too-bright computer screen with a sinking feeling of dread that night, are young medical graduates who find themselves in a tough spot. It isn’t difficult to spell out the logic behind that one when you open the WRU CAREERS tab on the home page and see the bright white words printed across the top of the screen:

LOAN FORGIVENESS.

It is shamelessly predatory and aggressively capitalistic, but Sebastian supposes that particular exploitation is pretty far down on the list of transgressions for an institution of legalized slavery. A few broke and hopeless medical students were hardly going to keep the Powers That Be up at night when they were able to rest easy under the weight of hundreds of thousands of stolen lives.

The whole thing is part of the massive PR overhaul the company did a few years back. In a world that was slowly inching toward civil activism and with the accessibility of platforms like social media to hold them accountable, WRU had to adapt to survive. Adaptation, in this case, took the form of changing the barest of minimums in order to keep themselves above board — to the public eye, anyway. Anyone who dares to take a closer look at the policy changes can see that it’s bullshit.

Changing ownership conditions to a rent-by-contract basis isn’t the humanitarian move they try to paint it as. In the end, it probably just equals out to more money in the company’s pocket when they can get more return on their “investments,” and a larger chance of exploitation for the people being moved around.

Getting rid of the Romantic division is an entirely meaningless gesture when they are still loaning out human beings with no legal rights and the inability to say “no.”

And offering an open job market with good wages and healthcare options to lower class individuals is a pretty convenient way to mute the backlash.

Essentially, you can tie a system of slavery and abuse up in a bow and make it pretty on the outside, but at the end of the day, it’s still fucking slavery.

Not that he has any room to criticize now. Now that he’s one of them.

In the end, Seb tries to justify his decision a few different ways. He is, after all, more or less a young man alone in the world. The odds are stacked against him and have been for a while. With only his own two legs to stand on, the only force stronger than his internal ambition is his instinct for survival, and he’s been running on those fumes for longer than he can count.

He had lasted less than two months under his parents’ roof after he came out of the closet at eighteen. It wasn’t exactly a surprise for anyone involved; Sebastian’s parents had known about (and subsequently bottled) his… urges… since he was in high school. Probably before that, if he is being honest with himself. And Sebastian, for his part, had spent the better part of his teenage years mentally preparing for the inevitable. He can recall long, late nights he had spent crying into his pillow and the perfectly-scripted ‘coming out’ speeches he recited to his mirror when he was one-hundred percent sure his parents were asleep.

Of course, none of the preparation had been anywhere near adequate when he actually found himself wilting beneath the heat of his father’s glare, the weight of his mother’s grief.

But. He had recovered. That is the point he tries to remember when the memories sting fresh beneath his skin, even all these years later. He has more-than proven himself to be a survivor. He has worked harder than anyone he knows for every scholarship, every grant, every dollar to put himself through school. Sacrificed nights out and real relationships for night shifts at shitty diners and long weekends cramming for exams. It hadn’t been easy, but he considers it the price he had to pay for his independence. For freedom, to live the life as the person he is meant to be, despite his unfortunate odds. He spent years telling himself it would be worth it. That one day, his hard work would pay off.

He can’t stop now.

Sebastian doesn’t have the luxury of taking time off to reroute when his navigation has gone amiss. He is walking the precarious line of rapidly accruing interest and student loans and a dwindling savings account, and there is no safety net below him.

Beggars can’t be choosers, and as it turns out, beggars sometimes have to compromise their moral integrity in order to survive.

It’s only temporary.

That is the mantra that gets him through the (half-drunken) application process and the (disturbingly lax) interview process. It is a job. One job. In the medical field, though the details are up for debate, and it is real-life money for rent and food and a savings that will hopefully be sizable enough to get him where he really wanted to be. Which is… really, anywhere else.

He can do ‘temporary.’ And perhaps, some misguided part of him thinks he can do some genuine good from the inside, too. ‘Be the change you want to see’ and all that.

It is a far jump from the floor of his apartment, sloshed and exhausted and desperate, to the cold, sharp reality of walking into his place of employment on his first day of work. Ironically, it feels a lot like an echo of the emptiness from his graduation day.

‘Sterile’ doesn’t quite cover it. ‘Sterile’ is the expectation of any well-respected medical establishment, but the inside of the facility walls has been wiped clean of far more than bacteria and germs. It is completely devoid of humanity. The long corridors that connect the medical wing to the general ward are windowless and dimly lit by flickering fluorescent panels that had make his head pound for the entirety of his first week.

He is given an office, though it is a term he, himself, might use loosely, as it is more akin to what was probably a storage closet before the old prison had been converted into the state’s training headquarters. It leaves him just enough space for a small desk and two chairs. On his first day, he asks if it is okay to bring in some personal items to spruce the place up. The older, balding doctor who had been assigned to show him around merely shrugs, and Sebastian decides to take that as a yes.

The small, pink-framed photo of a six-year-old Sebastian Tate in his grandfather’s white coat and an old-school stethoscope around his neck is hardly enough to make the place cozy from the corner of his desk, but it’s a good enough reminder of why he has to make this work.

‘It’s only temporary.’

‘Be the change you want to see.’

He will do his best.