#drug import license

[dueranconsultancy]

Drug Manufacturing Licenses | Dueranconsultancy

Getting a drug manufacturing license is not an easy process to handle. You have to register yourself and submit your documents to the Central Drugs Standard Control Organization (CDSCO). If you need support to get your license, you must connect with me. I am a professional regulatory service provider and know the process of getting a license for drug manufacturing in India. 

[silenthillone]

woman comes into store. wants to buy a book for 5 dollars. we are no longer that company and havent been for 6 years. i tell her this and she doesnt care bc its still a used book. pulls out a receipt from inside the book showing it had been bought for 5 dollars at the old store....... in 2001

[odinsblog]

🗣️THIS IS WHAT INCLUSIVE, COMPASSIONATE DEMOCRACY LOOKS LIKE

Minnesota Dems enacted a raft of laws to make the state a trans refuge, and ensure people receiving trans care here can't be reached by far-right governments in places like Florida and Texas. (link)

Minnesota Dems ensured that everyone, including undocumented immigrants, can get drivers' licenses. (link)

They made public college free for the majority of Minnesota families. (link)

Minnesota Dems dropped a billion dollars into a bevy of affordable housing programs, including by creating a new state housing voucher program. (link)

Minnesota Dems massively increased funding for the state's perpetually-underfunded public defenders, which lets more public defenders be hired and existing public defenders get a salary increase. (link)

Dems raised Minnesota education spending by 10%, or about 2.3 billion. (link)

Minnesota Dems created an energy standard for 100% carbon-free electricity by 2040. (link)

Minnesota already has some of the strongest election infrastructure (and highest voter participation) in the country, but the legislature just made it stronger, with automatic registration, preregistration for minors, and easier access to absentee ballots. (link)

Minnesota Dems expanded the publicly subsidized health insurance program to undocumented immigrants. This one's interesting because it's the sort of things Dems often balk at. The governor opposed it! The legislature rolled over him and passed it anyway. (link)

Minnesota Dems expanded background checks and enacted red-flag laws, passing gun safety measures that the GOP has thwarted for years. (link)

Minnesota Dems gave the state AG the power to block the huge healthcare mergers that have slowly gobbled up the state's medical system. (link)

Minnesota Dems restored voting rights to convicted felons as soon as they leave prison. (link)

Minnesota Dems made prison phone calls free. (link)

Minnesota Dems passed new wage protection rules for the construction industry, against industry resistance. (link)

Minnesota Dems created a new sales tax to fund bus and train lines, an enormous victory for the sustainability and quality of public transit. Transit be more pleasant to ride, more frequent, and have better shelters, along more lines. (link)

They passed strict new regulations on PFAS ("forever chemicals"). (link)

Minnesota Dems passed the largest bonding bill in state history! Funding improvements to parks, colleges, water infrastructure, bridges, etc. etc. etc. (link)

They're going to build a passenger train from the Twin Cities to Duluth. (link)

I can't even find a news story about it but there's tens of millions in funding for new BRT lines, too. (link)

A wonky-but-important change: Minnesota Dems indexed the state gas tax to inflation, effectively increasing the gas tax. (link)

They actually indexed a bunch of stuff to inflation, including the state's education funding formula, which helps ensure that school spending doesn't decline over time. (link)

Minnesota Dems made hourly school workers (e.g., bus drivers and paraprofessionals) eligible for unemployment during summer break, when they're not working or getting paid. (link)

Minnesota Dems passed a bunch of labor protections for teachers, including requiring school districts to negotiate class sizes as part of union contracts. (Yet another @SydneyJordanMN special here. (link)

Minnesota Dems created a state board to govern labor standards at nursing homes. (link)

Minnesota Dems created a Prescription Drug Affordability Board, which would set price caps for high-cost pharmaceuticals. (link)

Minnesota Dems created new worker protections for Amazon warehouse workers and refinery workers. (link)

Minnesota Dems passed a digital fair repair law, which requires electronics manufacturers to make tools and parts available so that consumers can repair their electronics rather than purchase new items. (link)

Minnesota Dems made Juneteenth a state holiday. (link)

Minnesota Dems banned conversion therapy. (link)

They spent nearly a billion dollars on a variety of environmental programs, from heat pumps to reforestation. (link)

Minnesota Dems expanded protections for pregnant and nursing workers - already in place for larger employers - to almost everyone in the state. (link)

Minnesota Dems created a new child tax credit that will cut child poverty by about a quarter. (link)

Minnesota Democrats dropped a quick $50 million into homelessness prevention programs. (link)

And because the small stuff didn't get lost in the big stuff, they passed a law to prevent catalytic converter thefts. (link)

Minnesota Dems increased child care assistance. (link)

Minnesota Dems banned "captive audience meetings," where employers force employees to watch anti-union presentations. (link)

No news story yet, but Minnesota Dems forced signal priority changes to Twin Cities transit. Right now the trains have to wait at intersections for cars, which, I can say from experience, is terrible. Soon that will change.

Minnesota Dems provided the largest increase to nursing home funding in state history. (link)

They also bumped up salaries for home health workers, to help address the shortage of in-home nurses. (link)

Minnesota Dems legalized drug paraphernalia, which allows social service providers to conduct needle exchanges and address substance abuse with reduced fear of incurring legal action. (link)

Minnesota Dems banned white supremacists and extremists from police forces, capped probation at 5 years for most crimes, improved clemency, and mostly banned no-knock warrants. (link)

Minnesota Dems also laid the groundwork for a public health insurance option. (link)

I’m happy for the people of Minnesota, but as a Floridian living under Ron DeSantis & hateful Republicans, I’m also very envious tbh. We know that democracy can work, and this is a shining example of what government could be like in the hands of legislators who actually care about helping people in need, and not pursuing the GOP’s “culture wars” and suppressing the votes of BIPOC, and inflicting maximum harm on those who aren’t cis/het, white, wealthy, Christian males. BRAVO MINNESOTA. This is how you do it! And the Minnesota Dems did it with a one seat majority, so no excuses. Forget about the next election and focus on doing as much good as you can, while you still can. 👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿

👉🏿 https://threadreaderapp.com/thread/1660846689450688514.html

[eikomp]

CDSCO Certification & Registration | Import License & Process | Central Drugs Standard Control Organisation : Eikomp

CDSCO, Central Drugs Standard Control Organisation, CDSCO Certification, CDSCO Registration, CDSCO Certificate, cdsco license,cdsco registration process, cdsco import license.

[teaboot]

OH FUCK YALL THOUGHT I WAS *ARMED GUARD*????

BRUHHHHHHHH

I'm the lowest level licensed security you can hire

I work foot patrol for shit like wet cement, construction sites, malls, libraries, outreach centers, and local events

My job is, essentially, human scarecrow

I am not permitted to carry a gun.

I am not permitted to carry a taser.

I am not permitted to carry pepper spray.

I am not permitted to carry a baton

I am not permitted to carry a knife or any multitool containing a knife

I don't have a plate vest

I'm not permitted to make any physical contact outside of administering first aid or in self defense, which must be made in minimal force required to ensure personal safety

I escort employees to make bank deposits, ask aggressive or violent people to leave, and take notes on safety hazards in patrolled areas

If someone bleeds, throws up, or takes a dump somewhere they shouldn't, it's between me and the custodian to make sure nobody slips in it bay bee

It is none of my business if someone is doing drugs. If they aren't an active danger to themselves or others then they're golden

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION

If you're selling drugs in clear view I will ask that you please do that elsewhere, ideally with more discretion. End of interaction

If you are using drugs in clear view I will tell you *exactly* where the property ends so you can smoke your bong 3 feet outside of that line where I can't do shit if someone complains. End of interaction

Site Security is not police. It is not LPO. Someone could point you out as you run off the site and say "I saw him shove a microwave down his pants and walk out" and it would be approximately none of my business.

THINGS THAT ARE MY BUSINESS

Overdose in the bathroom. I will verbally check twice that you are conscious, and if I get no response I will warn that I am coming in to check on you. If I find you on the ground I will again try to speak to you, warn that I am touching your shoulder, and give you a jiggle. If I can't wake you up I roll you into recovery and wait for paramedics.

Threatening or harassing staff. You cannot make passes at the highschooler operating the pretzel stand. You cannot tell the bank teller you'll "track him down eventually". The lady at the nail salon said she didn't want to marry you six times now and now I'm your problem

Abuse, endangerment, or neglect. If you leave your baby on the sidewalk so you can shop by yourself then I will be the jerk who ruins your day. If you hit your kid I will become very much your problem. If you locked your dog in the car with the windows rolled up six hours ago and it isn't getting up when I tap the window I'm gonna be the biggest pain in the ass you'll see all day

Safety hazards. Don't shoot off a bottle rocket in the parking lot. Yes it's very cool and you probably won't hit anything important but there's a pretty big empty lot like six blocks away man, what if you nail a kid or something. If you wanna take your bearded dragon to the food court, keep him in your coat or in a carrier. Climb the telephone pole on Tuesday because thats my day off

Client complaints/concerns. Boss says you've been here living in your car for three days and it's time to move on. You and I know it's been a month but between us if you switch locations every couple days around the lot she won't catch you again till at least May. As long as you don't leave a bunch of trash laying out we're good.

END NOTES

If you have tattoos on your face, throat, or hands and you wanna pull something you gotta be so incredibly discrete, is so incredibly easy for Law Enforcement to track you down you have no idea. I know like 3 guys with face tattoos in town, one of them's been my buddy since highschool and the other 2 were introduced to me like "watch out for a guy with a star on his cheek, his name is Patrick Sturblish, he's 43 years old and I saw him pocket a redbull once".

Always assume someone is operating the cameras live.

The courts are so insanely overwhelmed all the time, if you nab something small and vital like bandages, tampons, underwear, whatever and don't have a long list of priors usually even a cop won't bother trying to charge you. If I can't tell you not to steal for the consequences then at least don't get cocky about it

In my own experience if you walk into a big store and straight up tell someone "I don't want to steal but I need this very badly" then usually someone will find a way to get it to you

If someone tells me you're stealing on camera I will let you know that someone caught you and it's your last chance to put stuff back before they do something

If you pull a weapon on me or someone else while I'm working then I'm required to inform police so please don't do that thank you

[corpseedgroup]

CDSCO stands for Central Drugs Standard Control Organization. It is the national regulatory authority for pharmaceuticals and medical devices in India. CDSCO md online is responsible for the regulation, approval, and quality control of drugs, cosmetics, medical devices, and diagnostics in the country. It operates under the Ministry of Health and Family Welfare, Government of India.

[vxmpyree]

yapping abt ghost who yearns. tw // brief mention of drug abuse

[ 二人分のスペースはありません。- rory in early 20s ]

despite often seeming detached or cold, ghost is not an uncaring man. 

he did not crawl out of a dying home just to throw himself back into the stench of rot for fun. no, he saved his little brother from prodding needles and taut rubber bands. those he cares about and their hardships are tucked in the recesses of his mind. in fact, he wishes he could do more.

he keeps your birthday scrawled across his calendar, and marks it as an important date in his phone just in case he forgets. and he tries to make room for this one day, but price is always telling him about how they need to do this and that. 

if ghost cannot make it home for your birthday, he is devastated, but quietly. when he finally has a gap in his calendar, he catches you off guard by laying himself on you on the couch. he crushes you with the weight of his thick muscle, begging to be reassured that you do not loathe him for his seldom presence without saying it.

oh, how he misses you while he’s deployed. he keeps cheesy photos of you in his wallet, filling up the clear plastic meant for his driver’s license so that he always sees you. but he snaps the leather shut when someone happens to peek over his shoulder. you are his personal slice of heaven. besides, ghost prefers to keep his civilian life thickly separated from his work. you do not know a lick of what he does, other than that he wears a stuffy balaclava for it. 

when he comes home, it is only to drop off his belongings and change into something suitable. his fridge is empty and his television only plays local channels; he isn’t home often, and not just because of work either. 

no, he practically lives with you now, always smothering you with his presence the moment he gets a second of free time. more than half his clothes are at your place, and your mattress has a slight dip now on his side. and all his favorite foods are there too, although he prefers to make yours most of the time. perhaps he’s scared that if he doesn’t go all in, you’ll slip through his fingers like sand. or maybe he really does just like you that much. after all, when he starts to care, he clings. either way, he would never let you know, never give you enough clues.

[apas-95]

why do usamerican anarchists even want to cook bathtub insulin like regulations on drug manufacturing just arent exploitative relationships

the only reason anyone ever does anything incorrectly is the profit motive. if you took away all safety regulations and threw a bunch of random people into a machine shop and asked them to build medical equipment they'd do so perfectly safely and correctly, because why would they Want to do otherwise?

i joke, obviously, but that's the thought process - it's fundamentally an extension of idealism: for a politics that otherwise completely ignores the material necessities and restrictions placed on political organisation and the measures they require to apply to the real world, in favour of, essentially 'if everyone just agrees with us our ideas will win', it shouldn't be that surprising that that extends to production.

in reality, of course, there are factors outside direct human control, and the implementation of safety regulations and inspections are an incredibly obvious and necessary measure - *but*, once you accept that, the question is then 'what good are safety regulations without any form of enforcement?', which, for anyone concerned with simply the task of bettering life for the working class, would prompt a response of 'oh, you're right, we'll need some form of enforcement, then.' for a lot of people, that's the end of their relationship with anarchism.

however, the underlying motives that generate these politics - as, in general, idealist political philosophies disconnected from reality don't simply spring up by themselves - aren't about the task of bettering life for the working class. fundamentally, the interests of these worldviews are those of the small-producer, the middle class: they promote a utopia where everyone is a small business owner (whether in a commune or a 'free market'), and, providing no real method to achieve these utopias, function mainly to drive these middle classes away from their character as labourers, and towards their privileges. the question of 'authority', a nebulous concept, has always been specifically the existence of any authority *over the small-producer's enterprise*. it's for *that* reason that, when the idea of 'authority' comes into contradiction with the task of improving the lives of the working people, some *do* decide that 'authority' is more important.

there is no such thing as a definite 'left' and 'right wing' - there are left wings and right wings of individual classes, but they both share more in class interest than they often do with their counterparts of other classes. libertarianism, in all its forms, is a middle class ideology, and shares its flaws - any jab against libertarians works just as well, 'who'll build the roads', 'would you need a driver's license', 'how will you ensure medicine is produced safely', etc.

when faced with these problems, people not married to the need to avoid 'authority' will simply accept the ideology is flawed - there are people who are pre-emptively 'anti-state', but fundamentally, their opponents are not 'pro-state', just practical. the anarchists are the only people coming to the table with a pre-existing, overriding position about 'authority' and the role of the state, and they're willing to abandon all practicalities to support it. functional regulations on medicine production *have* to be considered authoritarian, because that's the point of the ideology.

[elliegoose]

now that siren's song has clarified that stable states of NHP cascade exist, i think the dichotomy that's been established is really interesting:

even though some of the previous material claims unstable cascade is "inevitable" and thus all NHPs require shackles and periodic cycling, every example provided of conditions under which NHPs enter unstable cascade--e.g. combat scenarios, being forced to commit genocide, being digitally tortured--already made it quite clear that NHPs enter unstable cascade due to reaching a critical level of stress or trauma (which i suppose is inevitable in a society that exploits them and treats them like tools rather than people).

and on the other hand, the bondless was able to enter a stable state of cascade in which they retain their ability to think and empathize on a human level while not being completely restricted to only that perspective because the people around them promoted their autonomy and treated them like a goddamn person.

could this state of cascade turn unstable in response to trauma and cause the bondless (or any NHP in a stable state of cascade) to become dangerously detached from reality? maybe, but something roughly analogous can happen in humans, and society in lancer doesn't forcibly dose up every human with large amounts of space future psychiatric drugs that redefine their entire personality. imo, the danger presented by unstable cascade simply means that the real affirmation of NHPs' personhood is especially important! everything about siren's song makes it clear that ethical alternatives to cycling and shackling have to be found, and that unstable cascade wouldn't be such a problem if NHPs were fully recognized and affirmed in their personhood.

anyway, despite literally being named Non-Human Persons, everything from the game's mechanics (in which NHPs are part of the mech licensing system and mechanically the game is absolutely fine with you treating onboard NHPs as tools your pilot owns) to the way that they're discussed in the lore sections of the core book (in which NHPs are always peripheral and subordinate to humans and evaluated on their usefulness to humanity, and the writers constantly insist that union is definitely worthy of the "utopia" label that it claims for itself despite the exploitation of NHPs being explicitly essential to the logistical functioning of union's economy and administration) discourage thinking of NHPs as fully being people. i'm glad that's finally starting to be addressed with siren's song, given that the treatment of an entire class of people as property should probably be considered the single most important conflict in the setting.

[rakubalka]

The Black Clover AU I Accidentally Made

I'm gonna be honest what started as me just wanting to explore and develop Noelle's magic kinda turned into a rather big au touching politics , economics , culture , the place of magic and mana In a world and its effects and some more .

And because of me exploring the idea we end up with some rather strange and comical consequences . Some of which are :

Asta being a license doctor

Finral mere theoretical existence being terrifying to people in economics

Yami being a god damn enigma to the people of the Clover Kingdom

Noelle disinheriting herself from the Silva family

Asta being a drug dealer

Yuno being on drugs on a regular basis

Capitan Jack consistently trying to steal Asta for the Green Mantis

Yuno being a terror to the Golden Dawn because he reads and rereads most if not all of the books on law and history in the squads library when he's bored

Yami and Finral being each-other's impulse control

ThePoisonQuarter™ consistsing of Gordon , The Guy with the poisonous plants , Mimosa and The Mushroom guy

Yuno having what is essentially God on spied dial and willing to dial the number of God to rat out anyone rude to his brother

Asta being undetectable to most people and scaring them because of it

Noelle learning how to use multiple weapons and being a menace for it

The Blue Roses trying to make Asta their squad head doctor

Yuno using his training as a Shepard™ to deal with the Golden Dawn as their Vice Capitan and later on as the king to the Spade Kingdom

Vanessa messing with Fate to untold amount

Yuno being absolutely terrifying on a broom with only Asta willing to be on it with him flying it

Fuegoleon Vermilion having to deal with the fact that if the current king of Clover doesn't stop being an ashole to their Patron God's favorite humans , he will probably become the new king of Clover

Asta and Yuno acting as actual siblings and terrifying people with it

Finral issuing treats of himself both stop mitigating damages and starting to personally sponsor his squad if someone tries to make the Black Bulls budget smaller

Hage village potatoes being very important to the world building

Fuegoleon Vermilion having to deal with the very real fact that he might become the King of the Diamond Kingdom

Noelle being a genuine reincarnation of a God

People needing spells to amplify sound to try and come close to Asta's voice

The Gods™ and their almost constantly going on wars having Consequence™

Finral being overpowered

Charmy being terrifying

Demons and Spirits both wanting Asta and at the same time wanting him dead

Klause trying to reign his two gremlins and becoming Capitan without realizing it

Asta and Yuno referring to themselves as twins specifically as the Winterfirst™ twins or as most people in the Clover Kingdom knows them The Winter's Brothers™

Magna being the second fastest person on a broom in the Clover Kingdom

Zora learning illusion magic and terrorizing people with it

Yuno , Mimosa and Klause being honorary Black Bulls members because of how much Yuno breaks into their base with those two

Asta being a honorary Blue rose member

Everyone wondering if Meroleona is also a reincarnation of a God or if she's JustLikeThat™ naturally

Asta knowing how to use a bow and being terrifying with it . And later on teaching Noelle how to use it and making her also terrifying with it

Fuegoleon Vermilion having to face the reality that he is probably gonna end up as king

Asta probably being the best hunter in the Clover Kingdom if not the continent

If you any have questions please ask them

[euphoricsunflowers]

until my lips turn blue — jeon wonwoo

a/n: thank you to @etherealyoungk for inspiring the confidence and motivation i needed for this! and thank u to @pusoatbuwan for being the best thank u bestie :) i hope you all like it !!

word count: 6.8k

content: fem!reader, mafia au, non idol au, mafia boss!reader, hacker!wonwoo, seungcheol is a bit of a dick i’m so sorry this is not representative of him irl, bestie mingyu, random monsta x kihyun cameo bc i needed a random idol lol, angst, mentions of food, murder, weapons, and drugs to varying degrees.

summary: to thank you for your gracious efforts in tracking down an attacker, seventeen offers to repay your favor. you ask for a date with the cute one with glasses.

“so,” you say, gazing at the fresh scar on seungcheol’s cheek. it hasn’t had a chance or any time to fade yet and you can tell by the fire in the eyes of his men that this was recent, “what happened?”

it’s hard to remember how you exactly got wrapped up in this mess. seungcheol ‘invited’ you over to discuss a certain issue, something vague like ‘internal matters’, but it felt off from the get-go. something was wrong.

and, clearly, you can tell something is wrong now.

he heaves out a sigh, letting his head fall into his hands before pushing his hair out of his face, “i don’t even know,” he says, “all i know is that my underboss in currently in the hospital, lying to every single medical personnel about why he has stab wounds on his thigh.”

your eyes wander around the room and they find a picture of seungcheol with another person, smiling like they were friends. you’d learn later that was him. yoon jeonghan. the underboss.

there’s 11 other people in this room besides you and seungcheol, which adds up in relation to your current knowledge of seventeen’s higher-ups. contrary to the name, there's 13 of them that are considered the most important to the seventeen organization, including their boss.

Seungcheol eyes burn into you, but you hold your ground, “well, that is unfortunate. i do send him my best regards, and i hope he recovers well and quickly, but i suppose…” you look around at all of the others, as if to calculate in your head the best move, “i don’t know what it is you want from me.”

“if i may be blunt,” he says as a proposition, but it’s more like a question. you nod, “i don’t know either,” he admits, “i don’t know what i expect you to be able to do, much less be willing to do. what i do know though, is that you have a reputation of being able to track people down like a hawk.”

you don’t acknowledge the compliment. he shifts, almost uncomfortably.

“all i am currently requesting is your assistance in finding the one who attacked us. should you help us, we will compensate you in whatever means you see fit,” he says almost desperately, you can’t see it in his face but you feel it, “i want revenge. i need your help to get it.”

“you’ll make sure i get something out of it?”

he sighs, “i’ll see to it that you get whatever you want out of this.”

“what do you know?” when you ask, one of the 11 other men steps up, handing a folder to you.

he doesn’t bother introducing himself, but you know of him. he’s incredibly well known for being able to gather information. he probably knows the street you grew up on and the color of your socks right now off the top of his head. his name is joshua, you remember. you’ve heard someone call his name before.

“these are stills from the security footages of the compound. this here—” he points to a spot on the first paper in the folder, “— is our guy. right here, he gets into a car. i ran the license plate, and it’s registered this individual here.” he points again, this time to a mugshot in the next page. there’s a list of charged and convicted crimes next to the picture, “but i don’t think they’re the same person. they have different builds.”

you agree, soon focusing on the name of the individual the car belonged to, “i know this man.”

seungcheol perks up at the good news, “you do? from where?”

“he’s the director of financial operations at a company an associate of mine owns. he’s very powerful, but he’s also had accusations of corruption and funding violence for years,” you say, “he responds to me directly, actually. it shouldn’t be too hard to get the info out of him.”

“well then,” seunghcheol says, “my men will assist you in any way required for the operation. feel free to ask for their assistance,” and with that, he leaves the conference room.

“is there anything required of any of us for you to investigate, miss?” one of them says after a moment. he’s tall, has too pretty a face for this kind of business. he kinda looks like a puppy.

“no, i should be able to go from here,” you make eye contact with another one. he’s wearing glasses, the thin frames complimenting his face well. he doesn’t acknowledge you more than just the brief eye contact, looking away as soon as it happens, “i’ll call the director now.”

“go right ahead,” joshua says, and you pull your phone out and call him, putting it on speaker.

the phone rings several times. there’s an unplaced tension in the room, and you’re not sure who exactly here is bubbling with anger, but you reconcile it with the fact that these are not just associates. they’re friends. and their buddy is in the hospital.

right before the last ring ends before it’ll stop trying, he picks up.

“hello?” he says.

“director lee, hello, thank you for taking my call,” you say, feeling eyes on you from all over the room.

he responds, “ah yes, hello boss. it’s my pleasure. what can i do for you?”

“well, i was hoping you could inform me on something,” you say, relaxing more into the chair, “you see, i’ve been looking for an individual who was found driving your car last night in unknown territory. did you know about this?”

he pauses. you can tell it’s to come up with a lie on the spot, “no, in fact. i had just assumed my car was stolen. i was almost about to alert the police, but i’m sure you understand why i did not.”

“i understand, director. i need you to cooperate with me,” you say.

“yes, boss. what can I do for you?” he asks.

you take in a deep breath, saying, “for reasons i am unable to disclose, i believe this individual is after us. also, the most recent sighting of your car after it was found so far away is in our territory, at the diner down the street from headquarters,” you fake a pause to hopefully show some hesitancy. you were far too good at playing scared, “i am… nervous, director. this individual stole your car, could have obtained the weapons we keep near the peer, there’s no telling what they’re up to or who sent them.”

the all watch you make a dramatic voice as you play up any potential worries. that’s the only way he’ll talk.

“i understand, miss. may i speak openly?” his question makes them all look up, and you almost have to mute yourself to silence your victory.

“yes, director. tell me,” you say with a hidden smirk on your face.

he pauses, and you worry for a second that he’s going to chicken out, but he doesn’t, “i sent the individual. my car was never stolen.”

bingo.

you ask, “who is it?”

“i’ll send over the information after this call,” he says. there’s a smile on joshua’s face as you look up, both silently understanding the victory you just won, “i wanted to send a message to seventeen, but he must have been attacked because he sent me a voice recording shortly after coming into contact with one of the higher-ups. something about accidentally hurting one of them before he got a chance to say something.”

you ask, trying to prompt more out of him, “what were you trying to say to them?” you only ask because you know they’d want you to.

“i do not have the best relationship with their leader. the reason is unrelated to our purposes in our group. i apologize for stressing you, boss.”

you respond with a simple, “i see, thank you, director.”

“of course, miss, should i send you the information right away?” he asks.

“yes, as soon as possible. have a good day, director,” you say and hang up. you look up at them as your phone pings. you show the notification to joshua.

“that’s him,” he says, pulling out a still from his folder, matching them up side-by-side, “this is our guy.”

“i can find him, leave that to me,” you say, “as a favor to seventeen, i’ll take care of him. you will all owe me, though. both for that phone call and for getting my hands dirty.”

“don’t get cocky,” another one says. he’s short, but he’s got this energy that screams ‘fuck with me, i dare you’, “let me know when you get it done.” he hands you a piece of paper with a string of numbers on it. lee jihoon.

you smile, almost like a smirk, “okay.”

and out the room you go.

he’s dead by the morning. you tell jihoon, and get no response, he simply hangs up as soon as he gets the news.

—

the letter is addressed from all of seventeen, but based on the formality of word choice, none of them had a hand in writing it. it was probably written by some subordinate, but it gets a simple message across.

seventeen’s acknowledgement that you were owed a favor. the, in writing, paper that guaranteed you something in return. it felt like solid gold.

you spend some time thinking about what it is exactly that you would like from them. there’s not many limits. if you wanted someone dead, they’d have it done by sunset. if you want illegal weapons for your own plans, they would provide them easily. anything you want, they could do.

that was what was so nice about your relationship with seventeen: you may not get along as people, but you get along as business partners. there is no worry that you will be attacked in their headquarters, and vice versa.

but did you need illegal weapons? not really. your casino heist plans were being made smoothly, and there were not many materials you could have requested to make it any easier. you had access to everything you would need, and then some.

did you need anyone dead? not particularly right now. there’s nothing you need help with right now, aside from maybe needing help with throwing a surprise birthday party for your niece. that, though, was doable on its own.

and then, the idea dawns on you.

—

the letter you return back is, on the contrary, written by you. seungcheol knows it’s you, because he’s seen your handwriting. you state your pleasure with working with them. you thank them for their assistance, especially joshua’s, in finding the first piece of evidence.

the moment you are done with formalities, you don’t hesitate to describe, in extreme, excruciating detail, the favor you would like back from them.

‘a date with the cute one that wears glasses’

you ask for a date. you couldn’t remember his name at the time of writing, so you describe him as the ‘one with the glasses’. you describe exactly what you want: a fancy restaurant dinner, him dressed in a suit with styled hair away from his eyes and maybe some jewelry, definitely wearing his precious specs. you’d pay, he’d walk you to your car, and the second the door shut and you were being driven away, seventeen will have paid their favor back.

your letter even reads:

‘there are no ulterior motives. should the favor be paid back successfully, SEVENTEEN will not be bothered over this matter again. should the favor not be paid back in this way, an alternative favor will not be provided unless sufficient reason is given.”

seungcheol almost laughs when he sees the letter, as he’s the first to read it. he wonders if you’re even being serious. it’s probably the most ridiculous request he’s ever gotten, but he can’t come up with a single reason as to why you’d play a prank like this, so he comes to the conclusion that you’re most likely serious.

a copy of the letter is sent over to wonwoo, the one with the glasses, and he reads it probably fifty times. maybe fifty-one.

nothing has ever made him so embarrassed, that’s the issue. not a single mistake he’s ever made or being chastised for not being good enough at his job has had the same effect. he feels the way mingyu’s eyes bore into him, knowing that wonwoo told him all about how he thought you were pretty, and that if you weren’t 1) a boss and 2) literally terrifying to speak to, he’d be down bad.

he feels awkward and clumsy for sticking out, for being the one pushed into the spotlight. he doesn’t particularly want to be the center of attention, but here he is, in his boss’s office, surrounded by his closest associates. he feels weirdly small as he sinks into the chair.

“i know this is… unconventional, wonwoo,” seungcheol says to him, leaning against his desk, “but you need to do this. it’s only dinner and we can’t owe her for much longer.”

“i know,” he says.

seungcheol continues, “there isn’t much of a choice, as well, you know that right?”

wonwoo recognizes the fading scar on seungcheol’s cheek as seungcheol talks to him. he remembers the moment it happened.

this was more than just giving you what you wanted so you were even as groups, but about genuinely thanking you for such a deed. he remembers watching jeonghan get stabbed in the thigh to protect chan. he remembers all the blood, that horrified look on chan’s face. that guy must have known he was a dead man the second he hurt jeonghan, that could have been why he ran. seungcheol is protective of all of them, but especially him.

“i know, i’ll do it,” he says, “i’ll do whatever is required of me. you know that, boss.”

“i know you will, it’s just that…” seungcheol looks uneasy, shifting his eyes away, “i don’t want this to become a bigger thing. don’t develop feelings, don’t do anything to make her develop feelings. just don’t make this messy. and don’t make it my problem.”

“i won’t,” wonwoo is, even in the best case scenario, slightly overestimating himself. he knows that, yet he still lies (not exactly but that’s what it feels like) through his teeth, “this won't become a problem.”

“it better not, now go,” seungcheol orders, trying to make it sound harsh. it doesn’t, though, not to wonwoo. it sounds more like ‘don’t fuck this up for yourself’.

—

wonwoo reads your letter for the fifty-second time. this time, he’s closely checking your instructions on how you wanted him to dress. it’s a little bit weird, but he supposes you’re going somewhere fancy, and maybe he has to match.

he sighs dramatically, he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing.

why is he dressing up in a suit he never wears to come meet you, a literal mob boss that thought he was cute, at some restaurant he doesn’t even know exists, to have dinner with you and play along to make you happy but not enough for either of you to get too attached?

what does he even think he’s doing?

he has literally killed people before, but that was so much simpler than this. slicing someone’s throat is so much less complicated than picking out a tie to wear to your date. everything down to asking him to wear a little bit of gold jewelry— gold, not silver— was complicated. he doesn’t understand this at all.

he’s somewhat horrified that this will go wrong, but if he thinks about it as only ‘a pretty girl asked him on a date’ and forgets all the context, he can breathe slower.

He leaves the compound with mingyu to act as a body guard, and then to sit at the bar area during your date to be there in case something happened. mingyu had told him he had no plans of interrupting anything in case the date goes a little too well, but he did want to be there in case something worse happened and wonwoo wasn’t able to fight on his own.

mingyu enters before him, actually. wonwoo waits by the entrance, just as your letter requests, and he almost wonders for a second if this was all just an elaborate ploy of yours, something just to waste time as you’re comfortably doing whatever mob boss stuff you normally do.

that is until you’re in front of him, in the most stunning sapphire dress he’s ever seen in his life, and he sees why you requested a navy suit on him. you both match perfectly, and he can help but blush like a freaking anime girl when you walk in together. you’re so breathtaking, the kind that could kill.

you had made reservations apparently, and all he could do is watch and follow along cluelessly as you’re taken to the table, and you both sit down.

you take in a breath, and then really look into his eyes. you don’t say anything for a moment, so he tries to start.

“hey,” he says, a little bit breathless, “you look gorgeous, by the way.”

“oh, you don’t have to flatter me, dear. that’s not required of you,” you laugh, and god, it is so beautiful. he could faint right now.

he forgot, honestly, that he didn’t have to impress you. he berated himself for a second when he realizes that he complimented you of his own volition, because he wanted to. that was bad.

“it’s okay, you don’t have to act so nervous. i don’t have any intentions to hurt you,” you say, reaching out for his hand. his hand tremors really had to come at the worst times. your hand is so warm (and he’s such a cold person, he could get used to warm hands holding his cold ones), “is this where you start wondering why i asked you to come on date with me?”

“i’ve been wondering since i read the letter,” he responds. he’s fidgeting, nervous. you have such an intense stare that’s hard to match.

“i’m sure you have,” you say, “if i’m being honest, it didn’t feel like there was much i wanted to ask for. everything is alright— knock on wood— for the moment with me. and i,” you pause, and it catches his attention even more, “i wanted something like this. something normal.”

“i take it… mafia life isn’t really for you, huh?” he half-asks.

“i suppose it’s not too bad of a fit, actually. i think the heists and gambling and money-laundering isn’t too bad. that kind of stuff has been my whole life, so it’s kinda fun to me,” you say, “but it prevents you from living simply. there is no family, there’s no relationships, no house on the hill. i feel like i’m missing out on that aspect of life.”

“yeah, you’re right. i suppose it is sad,” he says. he’s not sure what else to say.

you just continue, “and i just… i wanted to experience something different tonight. maybe i shouldn’t have involved you in my attempt to feel that, or at least didn’t force you to be here.”

“i’m not forced to be here,” he says, even if it’s honestly not very true, “i think i want to be here, too. i’ll experience it with you.”

you smile, and this time it’s softer than he’s ever seen. he can’t seem to remember why your presence was so intimidating before, because in this moment, you are nothing but warm and inviting, “okay, then. it’s settled. let’s have a beautiful night.”

it was cheesy, sure, but it made his heart flutter all the same.

he sees mingyu out of the corner of his eye. he’s sitting at the bar, making small talk with the bartender. wonwoo and mingyu make eye contact, and it’s almost like a series of questions: ‘how is it going? are you alright? do you need me to step in?’

and wonwoo gives a small smile back at him, as if to say ‘i think i’m okay’.

he looks back at you, as you give your order to the server. he doesn’t see someone evil or done anything that is commonplace for his and your kind of life. he just sees you: someone aching for something different. something soft and sweet and normal.

dinner with him flies by, filled with pretty conversations about each other’s lives. you both skirt around conversations about your groups, instead choosing to focus on yourselves. he learn about your hobbies and passions, you learn about his friends and what he likes to do in his free time.

you tell him about the time you were robbing a bank when you were younger. maybe 17. you tell him about the restaurant that’s a front for high-up associates that you used to go to when you were younger. you tell him about how your dad’s assasination put you in the boss spot when you were 19 and stupid and too young for that kind of power. it went to your head and has barely worn off since.

he tells you about how mingyu and him have saved each other’s asses maybe 500 times each. he tells you about how he likes computer games, that if he was given a second shot at life, he’d be a pro-gamer for sure. he tells you about his cat, ranting about how cute it is (and he looks adorable doing it).

wonwoo realizes what’s happening while it’s happening; he’s not dumb or oblivious. he realizes that with every smile, every laugh, every time you get passionate about what you’re talking about and make these dramatic hand movements, and every time you unconsciously make that cute thinking face, he’s falling for you more and more.

and yet he doesn’t have it in himself to pull back; instead, he chooses to lean in. he smiles when you smile, laughs when you laughs, plays along when you tell him overly dramatic stories. he’s so mesmerized that he doesn’t notice the passage of time, how late it’s getting.

what he does notice is you reaching to grab the bill that was dropped off by the server. he snatches it before you can, and quickly puts the money in, catching the server’s attention and asking them to take it now.

you make a upset face at him, but it doesn’t hurt him in the slightest, “my treat.” he says simply.

“i was supposed to pay! you didn’t have to do that!” you argue, and he looks at you with a kind of vulnerability that is so raw, it’s almost infuriating.

“i wanted to. for you.”

you stand, so he stands too. you turn to walk away, but he grasps your wrist at the last second. he thinks you’re about to storm off, mad or something. why were you mad at him? he was trying to do something nice for you!

it’s until you groan and turn back around, getting so so close to him that the rest of the word fades out of view. for a moment it’s just like that. there’s no one else in the world except for you and him.

you’re looking into his eyes, reaching your hand up to lightly cup his cheek, letting your finger drag against his jaw, “can i?” you ask. you don’t even need to say it.

“yeah,” he breathes, shakily, “do whatever you want.”

you kiss him while his stomach does somersaults. his hands find your waist, letting you lead, and, funnily enough, only once he starts to relax, you’re pulling away.

“we should get out of here,” you say, and his heart rate picks up, which you seem to notice (his own heart betrayed him), “we don’t have to do anything, but it’s so loud and energetic in here. i want some peace and quiet.”

he couldn’t agree more. you both walk outside, and he shoots mingyu one last ‘i’m okay’ look, seeing the smirk on his friend’s face may annoy him, but he’s too happy to care.

once you reach your car, you pull him close. his hands rest on the same spot as before, gently on your waist. you ask him, “can i kiss you again?”

“yes,” he whispers back. something about asking the second time feels sweeter, “kiss me a little harder this time, please.”

you smile at his request, gently pressing your lips to his before you grasp the back of his neck to use as leverage when your kiss becomes more intense, giving him what he wants. he’ll always get what he wants now, you suppose. anything he asks for, you’ll give him.

you don’t pull away as fast this time, instead letting him savor the moment.

but you eventually do, pulling back to look at him. he’s so pretty in the moonlight.

“i don’t want this to end,” he says. you smile almost sadly at him.

“i’m sorry, baby, i wish it didn’t have to end so soon, but our agreement was only dinner,” you say, “and you need to go back. our night together has been fun, but this is it. we were only given tonight.”

“i don’t want to go back yet, i don’t want to leave you,” he whispers painfully. god, it was so easy to get comfortable in his arms.

you see that sadness in his eyes, the kind that kills any chance of ever getting over him, “i know, i know, i’m sorry. i didn’t think we would get so close so fast,” you can feel the shaking of his hands even as they rest steady on your hips, “when i asked for a date, i thought it would be a night that would end with no hard feelings about never seeing each other again.”

“well, look where that got us,” he makes himself chuckle, though it’s not out of actual humor.

there’s a pause where neither of you dare to make the next move. there’s a sinking feeling that one of these next kisses will be the last.

“i’ll tell you what: i’ll kiss you until my lips turn blue, so you can never forget what it feels like. not even if you tried,” you say, moving your hands to his shoulders to steady yourself.

“okay,” he responds, “don’t let me forget. don’t ever let me.”

“you know i won’t,” you say, and your kisses are so passionate that for a second, he forgets that he’s jeon wonwoo, seventeen’s best hacker and technology expert, and only knows that he’s yours.

and for you, he’s so sweet, so kind and giving and reciprocative, kissing you back with just as much energy, it’s just as easy to get lost in him.

you stay there for as long as the night will allow, kissing him with feverish intensity, before you really have to send him on his way.

his eyes have that tragic look to them, like he’s sad in such a complicated way. it was never supposed to end like this, with him walking away from you as you get into your car, but the more he thinks about it, he’s wrong.

it was supposed to end like this. with him and you separated.

when he returns, he knows he probably shouldn’t, that he should lie and say it went well (but not too well) and this will not cause future problems, but he tells seungcheol afterwards that he 100% fucked this up for himself. he’s really, really into you.

his boss isn’t surprised.

—

it’s been two months— not exactly, maybe a month and three weeks or so, but close enough— since that night. not a word from seventeen, nor from wonwoo. it’s hard to not wonder what happened between him and his boss as soon as he returned, if he saw those feelings written out all over his associate’s face, or if it was the lipstick stain on his lips that gave it away.

in your world, nothing had changed (except for maybe everything about your soul). nothing about your mob boss life had been altered. seventeen never spoke a word about the favor, not to you or anyone else. even though word travels fast and very easily, it never got back to you that anyone besides you and seventeen knew about it.

maybe it’s a good thing that you haven’t seen or heard from him, that you probably never will again, but him having that much control over you is dangerous because you’re sure that seungcheol knows. he knows wonwoo likes you, he knows you like wonwoo, and everything in between. he has so much power that it’s incomprehensible what he could manipulate you into doing. he probably knows that. he revels in it.

so you made the point to not reach out, knowing there’d be a trade off next time. you assume that’s why it’s radio silence on his end too.

it only hurts a little bit.

—

the news hits you as you’re sitting in your office, drinking your coffee as an associate is detailing all possible back up plans for the casino heist planned for next week.

“hold on one minute,” you say to them, and they immediately shut up, letting you take a call that had come in as they were talking, “yes, kihyun? why are you calling? i thought i told you not to call my personal phone.”

he seems anxious on the other end, which is not pleasant to hear, “i tried, boss, but you weren’t answering. and i know i wasn’t supposed to, but i assumed you would want to hear the news as soon as possible.”

“what news?”

“jeon wonwoo of seventeen went missing three days ago. not even his own associates know where he is or if he’s even alive,” he says, and his words, especially the last few, hit particularly hard.

he’s not dead, right? he can’t be dead.

“i… see. thank you, kihyun,” you say.

“i’m here if you need anything, boss,” he says, but you don’t respond, only hanging up the phone and closing your eyes.

you remember there’s still someone else in the room, so you shoo them out, “we’ll go over these plans tomorrow,” you say, as if to tell them to go away. they catch on.

and you’re suddenly all alone in your office, with nothing but the thought of wonwoo being dead to occupy your thoughts. seventeen had enemies, of course they did, but why wonwoo of all of them? why was he the target? it was just impossible to rationalize why someone would choose him to be the one to take out. what would even be the motive?

it doesn’t seem real, the idea that he could be dead, even though it’s technically possible.

the idea dawns on you that maybe it was someone in his own group, maybe even the whole fucking mafia collectively decided to take him out.

and maybe it was because of you. the idea makes your stomach sick.

it’s impossible to know for sure, and you can’t spend your day getting lost in maybe or possibly. you assume the worst, that he’s probably dead, and give yourself a moment to grieve.

and then it’s back to work.

—

it’s late, so late it’s almost early again, at your residence. the sound of rain is constant and almost soothing as you drink your tea, giving a sense of peace and calm to your night. looking over documents from the casino, everything seems to be in order. last minute preparations for tomorrow are going smoothly, and all that needs to happen now is sleep before the big day.

there’s a ring at your doorbell. so, there goes a peaceful couple hours of sleep.

no one should know that this place exists or that you live here. this place was secret for your own safety and the fact that someone is here, ringing your doorbell at three in the morning is a terrible sign.

you grab the gun you keep under your coffee table as you approach the door. there’s no way to check who it was without letting them know you were there, you just had to open it.

“i’m so sorry i’m here right now!” you hear, barely able to make out the baritone voice over the heavy rain, “i’m sorry i didn’t say anything after that night, i was ordered to not contact you on my own! i’m sorry i’m here, bothering you at your house, but it was the only place i could go!”

when you open the door, the rain covers his frames, concealing his eyes, but it’s him.

not a single thought of ‘how the fuck did you get my address?’ or ‘why did you disappear?’ is more important than him at that moment. you open the screen door and yank him inside, tossing the gun somewhere onto the floor of your kitchen. you rush to grab him a towel, because he’s shivering and freezing and that’s scaring both of you.

you’re borderline yelling at him as you scold him for showing up, especially at this hour, “what were you even thinking? you could have gotten hypothermia! you could exposed this place to people who want me dead! you could have gotten us both killed!”

and yet all he could do is look at you with those beautiful, lovestruck eyes, “i’m so sorry,” he says with a smile.

you hug him, wet clothes and teary eyes and all, crouching down on the floor to meet where he is, curled up in a ball, covering himself up with that towel. he looks so small like this.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers again.

“don’t be, i’m glad you’re alive,” you whisper back, tightening your grip on him as if he’d whither away and disappear if you didn’t.

“i missed you, every single day i thought about you,” he mumbles into your shoulder.

“i did too,” you say, “what happened? why did you disappear? when did this become the only place you could go?”

“i-um,” he starts, hesitant and quietly, “i got into a fight with seungcheol. i told him i didn’t want to live like this anymore, and he said he’d… cut off my head if i ever left.”

“but you still left?”

“i had to, i was so unhappy that it was killing me,” he says with more confidence, still holding onto you like you’re his lifeline, “and, god, i’m so into you that it hurt so bad to never talk to you again. how the hell was i supposed to move on?”

“so what happened after you left? where did you go?”

“mingyu told me i could crash on the couch at his place out of town while i tried to find you, but seungcheol beat that information out of him,” he pulls away just a bit to look at you while he speaks, still holding on for what feels like dear life, “i found this place about a week ago, but it wasn’t until i was literally running for my life that i felt there was nowhere else i could go.”

his stomach rumbles, so you ignore his words for the present and ask, “oh my god, when’s the last time you ate? no, don’t even answer me, i’m making you ramen.”

“it’s okay, you don’t have to-”

“don’t say another word, unless it’s to tell me you’re dying. you’re going to go take a nice, warm shower, and then eat some ramen before we even think about what to do about you going forward,” you cut him off, but your scolding tone is so filled with love and care that he doesn’t mind.

he showers, finally feeling the relief of warm water. he always hated being cold in any capacity, much less freezing to death.

he changes into the clothes you give him: an oversized crewneck and some sweatpants. when he walks back into the kitchen, where you are, he pulls the sleeves as far as they’ll go, giving himself cute little sweater paws.

he’s so adorable, so easy to fall for.

you place a bowl of ramen in front of a seat at the kitchen counter, “eat up, baby.”

baby. he could get used to being called something like that. easy. he sits at the counter, eating like a madman once he realizes how hungry he truly is.

you watch him tenderly, all the adrenaline having faded out and now he’s just here. what are you even gonna do with him? you can’t just kick him out, he’ll get found immediately. so long as no one else finds out about this place, you’re both safe.

he can’t return to seventeen, though. maybe that thought has sunken in for him too, because when he looks up at you and smiles when he sees you looking at him, he’s not smiling like how he did last time you saw him. his smile is smaller and more forced.

all his friends he left behind, all his past he left behind, and that comfortable life he left behind, all to be here, with you.

“what now?” you ask, and the depth of the question is not absent in his mind. he knows what you mean.

he frowns, playing with his chopsticks, “i… i don’t know. i can’t go back, but i’m unsure how to move forward.”

“do you want to give up this life completely? just start fresh?”

“i don’t think so. it’s all i know, all i feel competent at, and if i’m being honest, i don’t mind it. i just need something more,” he says with a chuckle, “i don’t think i could live a life of white picket fences and nuclear families.”

“then,” you say, sitting at the spot next to him at the counter, “consider joining me. i can’t give you a top position, but you can continue your work as a hacker under my group. as much as i want to give you choice, i'm gonna be honest with you: that’s your only good option.”

“i know,” he says.

it hurts a little bit, and he knows what you’re gonna say before you say it, “and i'm sorry i have to say it out loud, but… this will provide you protection against seventeen.”

which is the most miserable thing to think about: his own friends coming to kill him. he’s a traitor now, though. he knows he’s dead to seungcheol. it hurts him somewhere deep in his chest every time he thinks about it.

“okay,” he says, somewhat dully, “i guess i don’t have much of a choice.”

“it’s not that you don’t have a choice in the matter, but you only have one good one,” you say, matter-of-factly, “you won’t be safe anywhere else-”

“i’m sorry,” he says suddenly, and it’s heartbreaking how he just can’t stop saying it, “i’m just so sorry. i put you and mingyu in danger just so i could have a chance to escape. he even let me stay on his couch and then got hurt because of my selfishness.”

“it’s not fair to you to judge yourself so harshly like that. mingyu did that because he wanted to, for you. you couldn’t stop whatever hell came after,” you say, comfortingly, “it’s better to be selfish than unhappy. if mingyu knew you were safe with me, he’d see his efforts as worthwhile.”

“and what about you?” he asks.

“what about me?”

“i put you in danger,” he says.

“wonwoo, i’m a mob boss. and a woman one at that. i’m always in danger,” you say, “it’s nothing new.”

“but-”

“stop talking,” you order, and he complies. you sigh, “it’s not worth it to think about all the things you did wrong. where you are now is where you are; there’s no changing that.”

“i’m sorry,” he laughs breathlessly, “can you just kiss me if you need to shut me up?”

you look into his eyes once again, seeing nothing but beauty and honesty in them. your hand reaches to tilt his chin up as you lean in for a kiss, and all the passion of that night comes back in full force, except with so much more vulnerability and tenderness.

but he pulls away this time.

why is he about to cry?

he answers the question for you, “i’m sorry, i uhm- i’m sorry,” he whispers, his apologies stabbing you incessantly, “nothings wrong. i’m just… so happy. i’m so happy we ended up like this. nothing compares to you.”

i’m so happy we got the happy ending (somewhat).

tomorrow (well, more like later today. in a few hours) he’ll be jeon wonwoo, the best hacker in the area, known for being able to hack into power grids and major international banks. maybe he’ll be there with you, keeping track of the operation, taking down security cameras or disrupting communications.

but for tonight, he’s simply wonwoo. he holds you like he doesn’t want anything else from this life.

nothing compares to this.

[robertseanleonardthinker]

HOUSE OC MOMENT!!!!!

me making my first oc in years at 1:30 am

name: domingo estrada

age: 25 (january 18th)

race: latino (guatemalan)

gender: female to male. he/him. outside of work, his trans identity is very important to him, but it's something he prefers to not bring up in the workplace.

sexuality: uhh.... yes. he prefers to not label it, as he feels it's very fluid. crushes SUPER easy, though. watch out, if you be nice to him, he'll swoon.

physical apperance: tan skin, hazel eyes, long, brown hair with a slight wave to it. he usually wears his hair in a bun. he is man bun supreme. loves having his hair up. he's post top surgery and has been on testosterone for a couple of years. he's a little below average height and has a fairly average build. he likes wearing soft, comfortable clothes (usually in pastel colors, as those are his favorite). he also usually wears slip in shoes with no laces on account of the psych ward.

role at ppth: social worker on the adolescent unit of the psych ward. he's newly graduated and pursuing licensure (licensed clinical social worker). what his job entails is creating treatment and discharge plans, finding placements for those who need them, coordinating appointments, and assessing patients in the emergency room (those who come in for mental health reasons). he tries to spend as much of his free time on the unit to be there for patients. if needed, he'll sit and talk to a kid for hours.

about: domingo is a laid-back person. he's pleasant to be around. he's usually calm and collected and is good under pressure (great trait for a social worker!) he connects well with the teenagers he works with, easily gaining their trust and allowing them to open up. he's a good listener and tends to remember lots of minute details about people. sometimes he freaks people out with that ("how did you even remember that? i mentioned it once!") he is very passionate about his work and would fight endlessly for his patients. he cares deeply about the teens under his care and works tirelessly to make sure they get what they need.

domingo, though good at his work, also tends to be a bit absent-minded and forgetful. he has adhd and has yet to find a medication that works for him. his phone is full of endless reminders and there's random post-it notes all over his office. if he isn't moving, he feels like he'll explode. something the teens he works with enjoy is that he's always got a fidget and a pack of gum on him. something that helps him the most is using an oral fidget, though he doesn't like to use them in front of his coworkers. outside of his office, he chews gum.... or less preferable, his nails. a habit he's had since childhood.

domingo also has dyslexia. he has learned ways that help him with reading, but still struggles. though he's spent years in therapy working to decrease his shame, it's still something he occasionally feels embarrassment about. he has excellent listening and speaking skills, it's just reading and writing he has a hard time with. he uses a screen reader on his computer most of the time.

backstory: domingo is a twin. him and his sister (teresa) were born to a mother struggling with drug addiction. once she discovered she was pregnant, she tried her best to quit. she was sober for pretty much the entire pregnancy, and a few months after that. however, she fell deep into postpartum depression and turned back to drugs. at first, she hid it. she hid it well. her boyfriend, their father, didn't know until he came home early from work one day and walked in on her popping a pill. he tried to be supportive, but he was so angry at her. he tried his best to help her, but she didn't want it. she was deep into her addiction. one night, he had enough. he gave her an ultimatum. get clean, or he leaves. he gave her a month. she tried her best, not wanting her children to lose their father, but she couldn't do it. addiction had dug its claws too deep into her. she couldn't do it alone. he left her like he said he would. of course, this loss only drove her deeper into her illness.

it wasn't until 4th grade that someone finally realized what was going on in their home. a teacher called cps, but they did nothing. cps would be called over a dozen more times, yet nothing would be done. they remained in that house until they were adults. this is what inspired domingo to pursue social work. social workers had failed him. he didn't want other children to go through that.

his sister also fell into drugs in high school. she spiraled and spiraled for years until she overdosed one night. this was after she graduated. she was supporting herself as best she could. she was taken to the emergency room, where they managed to save her. that was what she needed. she didn't want to be like their mother. she decided to go to rehab, and committed herself fully to recovery. she's had a couple slips along the way, but has gotten fully sober and now lives a wonderful life. she works at a community outreach center as a peer support specialist and advocates for harm reduction.

in the past couple years, his mother finally began getting sober. she committed once more to recovery, and so far, it has stuck. domingo and teresa have a lot of feelings about it. of course, they're proud of her. they're happy to have their mother again. but also... why couldn't she have been there when they were younger? why did it have to be now? that they were both on their own? domingo struggles heavily with this outside of work.

uhh anyways..... that's all for now :3 i'll write more + make him a blog tomorrow.

[lovebillyhargrove]

Did they have health class in Hawkins high in 1984-85? Even if they didn't (must do research), they should have.

***

Billy hates Health. It's all boring. Smoking kills you slowly, alcohol kills you faster. Drugs - that's if you want a fast-train ticket out of this life. He doesn't need a performance set up to show how sperm are swimming to get to the egg. He knows about STDs. He knows if you have unprotected sex, you just might become a papa too early in life.

Blah blah blah, zero new information.

However. He likes some lessons. Like today, Ms. Babcock is handing out cucumbers and condoms. Ms. Babcock is around 30 and probably still a virgin judging by the unsure way she's holding those cucumbers like she's not used to holding anything close in shape, and her tomato-red face betrays her on the spot.

"Let me help, Ms. Babcock," - stressing the cock. Billy's just trying to be nice. He's smiling his nicest smile, no implications whatsoever.

Ms. Babcock almost faints

"Oh. Thank you?"

Steve's rolling his eyes. Of course. Billy fucking Hargrove. Always the charmer.

Stupid asshole.

Hargrove's handing out the cucumbers, choosing the biggest one for Harrington. The fuck?

Judging by the look on Steve's face, he just wants to shove the giant cucumber up Hargrove's ass.

Honestly, not only Ms. Babcock's face is red. Girls are blushing and giggling, and the colour on Harrington's face is close to that of someone who's about to have a stroke.

When all the poor vegetables have been distributed with Billy's kind assistance, Ms. Babcock proceeds to show how you should actually put a condom on it. She's not doing a good job, maybe it's the nervous shake of her hands, the inexperience? .. but the condom just pops off the tip of the cucumber, refusing to stay there

Of course, asshole Hargrove is at it again.

"If you need any help .. I'd be happy to demonstrate, Ms. Babcock, I've trained for that uh .. during my lifeguard classes."

Oh, now he's also a lifeguard. What a bunch of crap, they don't train lifeguards to roll rubbers on dicks.

He's just an idiot, why do all teachers keep believing all the bullshit he tells them?

As for sliding that condom down the cucumber? Billy's making a show so entertaining everyone is watching. All girls, some with mouths open, Ms. Babcock, and, what's more interesting, more than a couple of boys. Tommy and the rest of them are lost somewhere under the desks wheezing and in urgent need of CPR probably, which Billy can actually provide since he's a licensed lifeguard and shit.

Everyone is watching and listening as well. To that husky drawl?? Please. Girls' panties are already soaked. Ms. Babcock is going to re-evaluate all her life goals tonight. Not sure the information is sinking, but the words like "penis, shaft, ejaculation and sperm" are definitely getting across.

There's one person who's not watching and trying not to listen, although the latter is impossible.

Harrington. Sitting there with the biggest cucumber of all, totally disrespectful of the lecture and the lecturer.

".. So a very important thing is to hold the tip of the condom .. like that.. to let all the air out of the reservoir."

There's literally a moan which escapes someone's mouth right now

"Yeah .. the reservoir should be able to accommodate all the sperm and not burst under all the uh .. pressure during the ejaculation. Trust me, no-one wants a condom to break."

Thanks for pointing out the obvious, dumbass.

"When you have correctly placed the tip of the condom on the head of the erected penis .."

A girl is leaving the classroom.

".. You should roll the condom down the shaft .. slowly. Some may prefer to do it with their mouth."

Ex-fucking-cuse me??

Ms. Babcock is past the point if caring.

"Once the condom covers the full shaft of the penis, it's time for the actual

*pause

sexual

*pause

intercourse."

The asshole is clearly enjoying it.

"Here, let me demonstrate it once again. Or better yet, any volunteers from the class?"

Harrington's heart pounds in his chest and he's afraid everyone will hear the sound of his stupid stupid heart, what if Hargrove calls his name ??

"Vicky?"

Oh god, he's the dumbest. Why did he even think that Hargrove's gonna say Harrington ?

Vicky and Billy look like newly weds excited to spend their first night together. Vicky is on cloud nine and still ascending.

"Now, with two demonstrations, everyone should try doing it on their own. Right, Ms. Babcock?"

There's a pile of ashes on the chair where the teacher was sitting. Tommy and the guys from the team are having a cucumber fight and stuffing unpacked condoms in their pockets in case they get lucky later. Girls are doing what they were told to do, diligently rolling those condoms down. Like they expect Billy to whisper a hot You're doing such a good job, honey.. in their ear. Vicky looks as if she's won a million dollars. Everyone is in excellent mood, actually.

Except, of course, for Harrington.

Hargrove gets extra points for being such a huge help, fucking ass-kisser, and Steve goes home with a serious case of blue balls. He angrily jerks off to the first porno mag he grabs from under his bed, but strangely enough, it's not the girls (nor his girlfriend) he's thinking about. No, Steve is thinking of a huge cucumber (or maybe his own dick) and the way it's gonna slide deep in that annoying motherfucker's ass hole.

***

Part 2

This and this, it's all gonna merge

[h8crimesmd]

youtube comment sections are w i l d

i was looking for scenes from the tritter arc and evidently, there's a ton of people hating on wilson for turning house in, leaving him after the overdose, etc. etc.

i don't get it.

there's a lot you can say about whether or not wilson should have hung house out to dry. for me, i'm not sure what else he could have done.

his license is suspended, house only lets his fellows help wilson when it's convenient to him, his car is impounded, his assets are frozen. it's interesting that tritter doesn't try this on any of the other doctors, cuddy included. was he right to turn house in? maybe not. but i think after a certain point, he was just fed up. which he's allowed to be!

a big thing i saw was that people didn't like when wilson seemed surprised and got mad that house just acted like house, but i think we forget that he's also a human being that can hope for change. he's got the patience of a saint, but that patience isn't infallible.

he knows how serious the investigation is and what the stakes are, and it's not unreasonable for wilson to hope that house would change in these circumstances.

and it's not entirely unreasonable for wilson to get angry when he doesn't.

there's that scene where he yells at house to get help, to show some remorse. it's so important to me that we see wilson get angry every now and then, otherwise he's a doormat. don't get me wrong, we see him roll over for house all the time, but it's in situations like these when he really puts his foot down that we see house actually listen. you can see him sober up when wilson tells him to get out of his office.

onto the overdose. it wasn't medically safe for wilson to leave him there, that's true. he could have vomited again and choked etc. there needed to be someone there with house.

however, i don't think that someone should have been wilson.

wilson, who's been both enabling house's drug habit and trying to get him off of it.

wilson, who lied to a police officer about writing prescriptions, something that could have definitely gotten his license taken away and/or arrested.

wilson, who was fully willing to go to jail for house, so much so that he tells tritter that he won't testify.

and wilson, who found the person he was trying to protect overdosing on stolen pills written in his name.

i definitely think he could have called someone, or even an ambulance or something to make sure house didn't just croak, but i don't blame him for walking away in that moment. most people would have cut their losses way before.

anyway i have so many opinions on this. feel free to engage and tell me your thoughts.

[lepidopteralabyrinth]

A VERY DESCRIPTIVE PROFILE OF YOUR MUSE. Pawn and Arisen edition!

REPOST with the information of your muse, including headcanons, etc.

Tagged by: @sangre (thank you!)

Name: Tieve

Nicknames: None :( Age: Physically? 22/23-ish Chronologically? Uhhhh half a year or countless eons, depending on how you count. Race: Pawn Gender: Cis Woman Orientation: Lesbian Zodiac: I don't know this very well…Libra? Moral Alignment: Neutral Good Class/Subclass: Mage (In D&D terms, she'd be a Cleric, 100%) Background: Not much to speak of! Interests/Hobbies: People watching, theater and any kind of storytelling. Puppets. Flower pressing. Spoken Languages: [Whatever language people in DD2 are meant to be speaking], Elvish, Dragon tongue. Profession: Healer. Sometimes tour guide. Professional "Look, Cows" person on the road trip (crucial. important.) Height: 6'2 Colors: Dark Blue/Teal, Gold, White Drinks: Fruit teas, black coffee. Alcoholic Beverages: She'll try basically anything, though she has a preference for fancy wines. She can't really get drunk, so it's more for the taste and the company. Her first time out drinking as a human is going to be a mess. Smokes: Infrequently Drugs: Open to experimentation, though they don't affect her much. Drivers License: God, no. The number of destroyed oxcarts she's caused… Ever Been Arrested: No, though not for lack of trying on the guards part.

Name: Andras

Nicknames: None :( Age: Not counting the time loop, 34. (I think I might have said 32 at some point, but for some timelines reasons I've changed it.) Race: Half-Elf Gender:

(Any pronouns.) Orientation: Lesbian Zodiac: Virgo (?) Moral Alignment: Chaotic Good Class/Subclass: Fighter/Mystic Spearhand (In D&D they'd be a Fighter or a Paladin.) Background: Andras was born in Battahl, in a village near the border. She never knew her mother – though their pointed ears have given them some ideas– but her father was a relatively successful wheelwright. Andras was fully expected to take over the family business, but after her father remarried and her half sister was born, Andras struck out on their own as a mercenary and left for Vermund. Interests/Hobbies: Sketching, historical studies. Dabbles in a lot of things! Mostly practical stuff like sewing and knots. Spoken Languages: [Whatever language people in DD2 are meant to be speaking], an unusual local dialect in Battahl, Dragon Tongue. Profession: Arisen. And delivery service. Height: 6'8 Colors: Browns, purples, and oranges. Drinks: Any kind of tea. She enjoys spiced teas in particular. Alcoholic Beverages: They'll drink socially (usually whatever the bartender suggests) but she doesn't do so often. They'd be rather fond of kumis, if some version of it exists in the setting. Smokes: No Drugs: Nope, no way. Anything that messes with their perceptions is a no go. Drivers License: They can drive very well, and they are the world's most annoying backseat driver. In a modern AU they would be forklift certified. Ever Been Arrested: Once, on purpose.