#i used to work customer service and fuckers would come in and hit on me and say ladyyyyy maammmmmm nonstop

[mejomonster]

I genuinely like long hair. I aspire to have long hair and look like a lot of men whos looks i admire.

I got compliments on looking so feminine and pretty recently

I cannot tell u how urgently i desired to shave all my fucking hair off. How unpleasant it felt to just Bam get reminded the way i intepret my own choice for wanting to look Any particular way in this world is always overshadowed by anyone outside me deciding theyd Prefer me a certain way for their own reasons

[a-tiny-frog-girl]

FIRST AU STORY DROP!!

ft. Human! Wilbur and Borrower! Tommy

word count: 1055

tw: fearplay with mal intent, blood and injury mention, language, hunting for sport, hurt no comfort

---

Wilbur dragged his feet as he trekked through the forest. He REALLY hated this job, but the idea of going out to a pretty island for a week and then not having to work for the rest of the month was far better than customer service. Plus he couldn't be arsed to do the whole applying, resume, interview thing again. So here he was, supposedly tracking down tinies for the rich mofo who was paying him just barely enough for this to be worth it. 

Wilbur had also noted that he was paid a flat fee for his time and there was no extra money in it for him to actually catch any tinies. That and how annoying all the rich people got when they caught one made Wilbur try to scare away any tinies he could while he walked ahead. So far his loud steps had worked and neither he nor his employer had seen a single tiny all day. Wilbur could tell that the rich fucker was starting to get annoyed and he stifled a smile. Only a little longer and he could be rid of all of the annoying assholes for the day.

A cracking sound nearby cut through the silence.

"Wilson! Where did that come from?" Mr. too-rich-for-his-own-good asked. Wilbur pointed vaguely in a direction opposite from where he'd actually heard it. The guy couldn't hear all that well, so it's not like he'd know Wilbur was lying. Maybe if he had bothered to learn Wilbur's name, he could have caught a tiny today.

After a moment or two standing on the path, Wilbur's curiosity got to him. He pushed past a few leaves and branches to the spot the sound came from, expecting the tiny to be long gone. 

"Hey dickhead, watch where you're stepping!" A voice rang out, freezing Wilbur where he stood.

"Come on, bitch! Are you too fuckin thick to understand me?" The voice shouted again accompanied by a few taps on his worn boots.

Wilbur looked down. 

A blond tiny lay in a puddle of blood next to his boot, arm raised to pound his fist on Wilbur's boot again. He looked pathetic in every sense of the word. His hair was sticking to his forehead in a mix of sweat and blood and his clothes were torn and dirty. A closer look showed the blood was coming from a slash on his leg.

"Hey! I said fuck off, mate!" The tiny interrupted Wilbur's train of thought with the same loud, seemingly confident voice as before. It was almost impressive how well the tiny managed to keep up the front. Wilbur wondered what it would take for him to give it up.

With that thought, Wilbur dropped into a squat and leaned slightly over the blood-covered tiny.

"You gonna make me?" He said in a quietly dangerous tone.

"Y-yeah! I am!" The tiny's voice shook a little, but he kept the act up. 

"Oh? And how's that, little rat?" Wilbur leaned in a little further.

"I'll, uh, I'll hit you with my hook!" The tiny said, holding a climbing hook up as if to throw it. "Yeah. So go away, bitch!"

Wilbur smirked and reached for the hook, pretending not to notice the tiny flinch at the hands coming at him. He grabbed the rope, more like twine in his hands, and pulled it toward himself to examine it. The tiny held onto the hook end with all his might, but ended up being pulled nearer to the human with his climbing rope.

"This isn't very sharp, now, is it?" Wilbur cooed as he twisted the rope back and forth between his fingers. "Do you really think it'd do any damage? Would it really be worth your life?"

"The thing is, little rat, you have to have it to use it." Wilbur continued casually as he lifted the hook past his eyes, expecting the tiny to drop it.

To his surprise, the tiny clung to the rope even as his feet left the ground. 

"You're persistent! But unfortunately for you, I outmatch you." Wilbur twirled the rope for a moment longer, watching the tiny spin gently like a baby mobile. Then he brought his free hand to the tiny's back and positioned his thumb and forefinger.

The tiny immediately let go as the flick hit his back and fell an inch or two to the ground. 

"F-Fuck you!" He stuttered. There was clear fear in his eyes now, but he kept swearing. Interesting, thought Wilbur.

Wilbur's smirk widened as he locked eyes with the tiny and threw the climbing hook into the bushes. Even more intriguing, the tiny didn't try to go after it, despite it being an important tool. He must have been more hurt than Wilbur thought.

"Wilson!" His employer called him. Damn, his playtime was being cut short. Wilbur turned away from the tiny to call back.

"Yeah?" He said, half hoping the rich fucker wouldn't hear him.

"Oh, there you are!" The rich fucker tromped toward Wilbur. Of course this had to be the time he could figure out where sounds were coming from.

"Leave." Wilbur hissed at the tiny. He waited for a moment, but the tiny just stared at him. He nudged the tiny, hoping to spook him enough to get him going. The tiny glared in response. 

The rich fucker was only a few footsteps away and Wilbur really didn't want him to catch any tinies today, let alone one Wilbur had found fair and square. Well, it just looked like Wilbur needed to make him vanish before the rich fucker reached them.

Wilbur wrapped his hand around the tiny and stood, putting his occupied hand behind his back.

"There's only a few minutes before hunting time's over. I want to start walking back." Wilbur's employer grumbled. "Glad to see you're learning some respect, boy." He nodded at Wilbur's stance.

As the rich motherfucker turned away to start the walk back, Wilbur shoved the tiny into his jeans pocket. When he glanced down and saw the slight wrinkle in the pocket that might give his cargo away. He pulled his jacket down a little to cover it up. That should do it. Wilbur set off to the ship just as the horn sounded to call all the humans back.

[internalsealpanic]

Cosmonauts

Summary: You always call Tim space related nicknames. No one knows why.

A/n: This is technically a follow up to Art Gallery Smile but it can be read on its own. This was posted on mobile so Idk how bad it got formatted. Will edit when I get to my laptop.

Warnings: mentions of panic attack and anxiety. No graphic detail but just in case. (Yes, I gave Tim anxiety. Fight me.)

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

“IT WAS ZOMBIE ADJACENT,” Roz protests, shoving another one of Tim’s fries into her gaping maw in a vain attempt to stop the petulant pout retching its way to her lips. You roll your eyes hard enough that your entire head follows along with their movement, taking a nibble of your own fries. Roz scowls, mouth twitching the way yours does (4 times to the left and 4 and a half times to the right) it was honestly the only way to tell that you two were related in any shape or form. 

“It wasn’t even close, you deep-fried stick of margarine,”

“It shambled, didn’t it?”

 

“So does Space Case over here when you don’t funnel enough caffeine into his system, what’s your point?” You bite out leaning back, slinging your arm over the back of the bench and over Tim’s shoulder making his breath hitch. Tim can feel his skin heat up. For once, he’s thankful for just how much Roz hordes your attention.  He’s starting to run out of excuses for the color of his cheeks. Not that you ever fell for any of it from the way you hummed every time he stammered out his excuse. 

 

Based on the way your hand flexes and not so subtly moves away, you noticed his flush but made no comment. Instead, you grin- all sharp teeth and cocksure and smug bastard- leveling your older cousin a look which roughly translated to ‘Checkmate, motherfucker’. Despite his apprehension, Tim can’t help the smile that twitched on to his lips. Your eyes flickered to him. It might just be his imagination but Tim was pretty sure he saw fondness chip away at your smug grin. Tim kind of wants to lean into your arm but instead, he leans forward pretending to pay attention hiding his smile in his hands. His face is gonna get tired from smiling too much around you. 

"It wasn't even close,"

"It was freaky looking,"

"Damn woman, you're being real judgy there,"

“Back me up here Duckie!” Roz screeches, shoulders hiking up making her look like a frazzled cat about to hiss pulling Tim away from his reverie. You roll your eyes all the way to the back of your head while Steph just snorts. Tim sighs. None of you have stopped calling him ‘Duckie’ or ‘Ducktective’ after that stint of being ‘Drake’.  Admittedly, it wasn’t his best idea but you didn’t have to laugh that hard and slap your knee. When you were done laughing, you vehemently protested the name change by wearing your precious, well-kept, one of a kind Red Robin hoodie for the duration of the ‘Drake’ thing. You had said it was to bring him back to his senses (sense of fashion).  Maybe you just wanted to fluster him. He certainly couldn’t put it past you. It worked. Oh, it definitely worked. Now, all he could think about was how nice you looked in his colors which inevitably lead him to think about how nice you would look in his shirts, in his clothes- Damn it. He’s doing it again. 

Roz clears her throat. It is loud and rough and it makes all of you wince despite the already loud atmosphere of the cafeteria. Really what does Roz expect him to say? One, Tim wasn’t fully paying attention. How could he when you two are smooshed together on a cramped cafeteria bench with you still wearing your Red Robin hoodie? Tim’s surprised he isn’t keeling over. Two- 

 

“See! Even our darling-” Tim’s brain short circuits. “Space Cadet can’t even defend your bullshit,” you laugh reaching over to Roz’s drink leaning a little too close to Tim’s face. He can almost feel the heat radiating off your skin. 

 

If I lean in just a little more, I could probably…

 

“It isn’t bullshit!”

 

“You’re right! Bullshit has more substance-”

 

“Sooooo, what’s with all the space nicknames for Tim? When do I get one?” Steph asks casually, popping another of Tim’s fries into her mouth. 

 

Has he even eaten any of his fries? It’s almost gone and he’s eaten at most one.

 

You choke making a pained noise, likely due to said carbonated drink going into your nostrils (and possibly your lungs), as you turn away. Your neck visibly red from where Tim is sitting. Based on the sparkle in Steph’s eyes, she can see it too. A manic grin spreads on Roz’s face wide enough that Tim legitimately worries that it’ll split her face wide open. A shrill sort of giggle escapes her which has you whipping your head to her direction to scowl at her. It does absolutely nothing to deter the sheer glee on her face as she sneers back to you. Some secret conversation passes between the two of you. Tim and Steph watch in slow motion as mortification creeps on to your face. 

 

Suddenly (not really), Tim’s thankful that his only sister is practically a saint. At least compared to the horror that is Roz. 

 

Actually, now that he thinks about it, you have a plethora of space-themed nicknames for him when you aren’t busy calling him whatever endearingly aggravating name Steph came up with that week. 

 

Cosmo

 

Space Case

 

Space Nuts

 

Rocket Man

Martian Manhunter

 

ET

 

Marvin (the Martian)

 

And your favorite, Cosmonaut.

 

At first, he figures it was because of his obsession love for Star Wars and Star Trek but no, that couldn’t be it since you had started calling him that long before you two ended up marathoning the entirety of Star Trek instead of working on your project. He can still remember just how engrossed you looked while watching as you hugged your knees to your chest leaning forward as you waited for the next episode to start up with bated breath. Your features highlighted by the glow of the laptop screen making it very easy for Tim to memorize the contours and angles of your expression. Yet another moment Tim really wanted to capture with a photo. You even did your mouth twitch thing without noticing.

 

 He really wanted to just keep an entire album of all the different expressions you made. Wait. That sounds weird. Does it sound weird? It probably does.

 

 Then again, maybe you called him those because of just how much of a weirdo he was. He couldn’t blame you if you did. But he found that highly unlikely. Sure, you can be mean at times (a lot of times) but you were too oblique for that. Years in customer service made sure of that. Your jabs were usually of the subtler, more needling variety. The type that makes you pause for too long.  Plus, you said every nickname with a fondness that made his heart skip a beat. It was like when you called Roz or Steph ‘Fucker’. Maybe a little warmer. Or he could just be imagining that. Probably. Hopefully not. It was hard to get the honey-sweet way you said them out of his head.

 

Maybe they were just jabs. Lighthearted one. They could have just had easily been comments on just how much he spaced out. Tim has a tendency to live in his own head and it shows especially when he’s stressed or tired or both. Sometimes he would completely shut down as a result of excess anxiety. He can still remember the number of times he had let his anxieties run rampant letting them drag him away from the moment. His breaths were too quick to back then. He felt like he was gonna faint but then you just smiled at him like you were there for him which as it turned out you were. You gently squeezed each segment of his fingers until his breaths slowed. Even when he did fully calm down, you didn’t relinquish his hand. You held them firmly in your own even as you looked entirely unsure of what to do and what to say. You didn’t whisper the usual ‘you’re ok’ or the classic ‘you’ll be fine’. No, you just sat there with him quietly. Letting his feelings ebb and flow as he needed them to. 

 

Tim really isn’t sure what he did to deserve even knowing someone like you but he would do it again and again if it meant being able to stick close to you. 

 

Roz, ever the agent of chaos, throws a conspiratorial smile around the table like a flail. You look like you’ve been hit by one.

 

“Sorry, Steph. You won’t get one,” she says glancing at you. Steph pouts before she and Tim follow Roz’s gaze expecting you to glower or snarl or get up to deck her. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. You just kind of sit there frozen and mortified with a face that simply says ‘Oh. God. This is happening.’. All you can really do is mouth a ‘fuck you’. This obviously pleases Roz. Say what you will about Roz, but there is abso-fucking-lutely no denying that she is petty as hell when it comes to revenge. Nothing is sacred to this woman. Nothing.

 

“Why’s that?” Steph asks innocently, smiling around her bendy straw also enjoying this rare chance to torment you. 

 

“I’m so glad you asked!” Roz answers her voice twisting into a horrifying facsimile of a daytime talk show host. You peel your arm away from the backrest and place your arms over your head and neck as you do in an earthquake drill bracing for impact. By the way, you were shaking, you’d think there was an actual earthquake. Your reasoning can’t be that stupid. 

 

“My dear Stephanie-” Steph scrunches her nose at the overly sweet tone Roz lathers on her name but makes no move to interrupt. “(y/n) only uses space-related nicknames for people they think are- and I quote- ‘waaaaaay outta their league’,” You let out a pained groan and Steph’s face unfurls as she lets out the loudest snort, loud enough to draw the attention of several tables around them. 

 

Tim’s mind is still reeling, still trying to process what Roz just said. 

 

Him?

 

Out of your league? 

 

Excuse him, isn’t it the other way around? 

 

What the hell? 

 

“Tim, for the love of Alfred, please unhear that,” you plead wetly, parking your head out just enough for Tim to see just how red your face has gotten. “God, please unhear it or I might just die,” Tim kind of didn’t doubt that you would. Steph somehow laughs even louder at this. Roz, not one to miss pouring salt in the wound, laughs along with her. You look like you wanted to implode out of existence.  You could certainly try but Tim seriously doubts the universe is kind enough to let you escape. 

 

Yeah, Tim’s brain has officially left the building. He’ll be back at 9 o’clock sharp tomorrow. Promise. 

 

“You mean to tell me that-” Steph chokes, unable to control her laughing fit. “-You’re telling me that you’ve been watching them pine for each other for over a year now and you just let them?!” Steph wheezes still holding her stomach.  

 

Roz looks offended and makes a whiny little noise. “Weeeell, technically I offered to wingman-”

 

“YOU WERE GONNA CHARGE ME FIFTY BUCKS,” 

 

“Hey, matchmaking is hard,”

 

“It isn’t worth fifty bucks!”

 

“You’re right! It is worth so much more,”

 

“God, I hate you,” you groan into the table. 

 

“God can’t help you now, kid,”

Tim frowns, mind backtracking to dissect the information. Apparently, his brain decided to clock back in. 

 

They knew. Even Roz ‘I don’t give a shit what you do as long as it doesn’t affect me’ Andrada, noticed. Was he that obvious?

A year? Wait. No. Over a year. They knew about this for over a year. 

Lastly, what do you mean each other?! As in mutual? Mutual pining? 

As if reading his thoughts, you ask “Wait… what do you mean each other?”

 

Roz blinks at you not entirely sure if you’re being funny. When you give her a look, she slumps back in her chair. “I’m related to a dumbass,”

 

“That you are. Speaking of dumbasses-” Steph whips her attention to Tim giving him a shit-eating grin.”-You said you were waiting for the perfect opportunity to ask (y/n) out, right?” Steph waves her hands doing jazz hands as she points at your still dumbstruck figure. She’s smiling as if she was the world’s best wingman at the moment.

 

 Tim suppresses a groan. “This isn’t exactly how I pictured it,”

 

Roz reaches into her pocket and produces a lighter. Grabbing the last of Tim’s fries and lighting it. “There. Mood lighting. Do the thing.”

 

“Ah yes, because surely the scent of burning potatoes is gonna sweep (y/n ) off their feet,”  Tim said flatly crossing his arms. He knows he’s definitely focusing on the wrong thing but as with all things it was easier to procrastinate. This is especially true when you’re afraid of the outcome.   

 

Roz huffs, waving the fry to extinguish it and muttering something about beggars and choosers. “Trust me kid that isn’t hard to do. Besides, did you not hear the part where I quoted (y/n) about you being ‘outta their league’,” You open your mouth to protest but slam it shut when Roz gives you a lopsided grin looking like she had a mountain of dirt on you which she likely did. He was definitely thankful that she has never met his family. He’s pretty sure Gotham wouldn’t survive. 

 

“How could I possibly be out of (y/n)’s league. I- I don’t- I mean- I’m not-”

 

Your body twists his way fast enough that he’s sure you either have whiplash or a twisted spine. Your eyes are set on him glowering as if he’d said something wrong. He’s pretty sure he didn’t although he did have a talent for putting his foot in his mouth. Your jaw is set tight, your teeth almost grind. He could see the tight hitch in your shoulders. He is 100% sure you’re going to deck him. 

 

“Do you want it listed alphabetically or what?”

 

“What?”

 

“Structure it like an argumentative essay. Speak nerd.” Roz instructs, earning her the full force of your glare. Your face pinches even more. Maybe this was the part where you implode. 

 

You suck in a calming breath before turning back to Tim. 

 

“Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, you are a fucking moron, and here’s why:” Taking another breath, you turn to face him fully your cheeks reddening but you press on either from pure unadulterated spite or determination. 

 

“You quite literally co-run a multibillion-dollar corporation. You’ve been doing that since you were seventeen apparently. You know several languages and you are not only fluent but proficient. You’re well versed in an insane amount of fighting styles. You are the smartest dumbass I know-” 

“Preach!” Steph jokes. 

 

“-You can basically operate any machinery I put in front of you. I have no doubt you can Macgyver one up if you fucking wanted. You could hack into any system you want just as a joke. You could probably throw the entire global economy into the toilet just for shits and giggles. Need I go on?”

 

Tim looks at you wide-eyed and speechless. You shrink a little as he continues to gape at you but you keep looking him in the eyes daring him to refute your claims. Really what was there to say? As much as he wants to come up with something witty to snap back at you, his chest is too crowded with warmth from the absolute sincerity of your voice. He knows you didn’t set out to make him fall deeper in love with you but he feels like he’s in free fall with your gravity pulling him downwards. Tim can feel the heat rising to the tips of his ears. 

 

You shrink again, your mouth twitching. “I-” Another calming breath. “I said too much. But my point stands!” The infinitesimal gap he felt between the two of you practically vanished. Still, he could do nothing but stare. Words fail him in the most inopportune moments even when you look so desperate for any kind of response.  You swallow thickly looking like you think you’ve ruined everything when the fact was you haven’t. Quite the opposite really. Tim feels like he could take on the entirety of Gotham’s rogue gallery right now. Still, his brain was drawing a blank. 

 

“Mood,” His brain has short-circuited and is now beyond repair. His palm is in his face before he even sees your reaction. You give him an entire speech about how great he is and all he can say is ‘mood’. Looking over at Steph and seeing her phone on her hands, he can tell she’s already transcribing the events to the group chat. Well, It can’t get any worse. 

 

You giggle snort eyes slamming shut from the force of your laughter. Joy suffuses throughout your tense body, loosening your tense muscles. “Thank you for proving my point,” you say between gasps.  

 

Tim falls victim to the infectious smile spreading on your face. He feels the warmth crowding his chest grow fuzzy. 

 

Now’s your chance.  

 

Tim takes a steadying breath. He rolls his shoulder back to straighten his posture. He waits for you to calm yourself a bit. When you do, he asks as confidently as he can “Are you free this Saturday?”

 

“No,”

 

Oh crap. He knew he screwed up. He feels cold seep into his feet.  

 

You shake your head at his panic. “I work Saturday, ET,”

 

“Oh, I-”

 

“I have all of Sunday off though,” A hum of excitement spreads through his limbs. “Name your time,”

 

“9 AM?”

 

You give him a look roughly translating to ‘You aren’t going to lose sleep over a date, so help me’.

 

“11:30?” He corrects. You smile and hum seemingly making the oxygen in the atmosphere disappear. He finds that he doesn’t mind, not when he feels like he’s floating on zero gravity. 

 

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

Bonus: 

 

Steph: Tim’s a dumbass😌🙃

Damian: Thank you for stating the obvious, Brown. 

Step: 🙄 Do you wanna hear about it or not?

Dick: 👀We’re listening…

Steph: (Y/n) made this whole speech about Tim and all Tim could say was 'mood' cycgu9c8ychic8td 5d8fcouv9ygpuv

Jason: F

Duke: F

Cass: F

Babs: F

Dick: F

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

Thanks for reading!!!!!

Taglist:

@idkmanicantenglish, @batarella, @batarella-mini, @birdy-bat-writes, @anothertimdrakestan, @founduebitches , @lucy-roo

[consumedkings-archive]

ii. damage done & damage made ✤ roman sionis/varya astakhova

words: 2.2k

summary: thanks to @starcrier​ for entertaining my daydreams about my favorite murder duo, we now have a oneshot that literally no one asked for: roman and varya, and their babies, in a tea shop. living their perfect crime lives. that’s all.

rating: m for Adult Language and threats of face-tearing

warnings: the aforementioned face-tearing, roman’s mouth (per usual), domestic murder family. babies being cute.

Mark liked his job, a lot. Working a tea shop felt like a step up from the typical entry-level customer service job, and he got a huge discount on all of the products—not to mention, flexible hours while he was balancing school and needing to pay rent, and premium people-watching. Some days, like today, the card machine acted up and he had to ask customers to put their card numbers in manually, but most of them were understanding. All-in-all: he felt pretty lucky.

So when a young couple wandered into the shop one afternoon, it felt like any other kind of afternoon for him. They matched the usual demographic that liked to stop there; well-dressed, usually a little more upper class given the neighborhood. The woman—small and slender, balancing a stylishly dressed infant on her hip—smiled at him charmingly while the man redirected a two-seat stroller to an area less clustered by shelves, slowly rocking it back and forth.

“Good afternoon!” Mark greeted as the woman approached, keeping his voice softer in case the man was trying to rock another infant to sleep. “Can I help you find anything today?”

“Hello! Yes, well—admittedly, I am not as well-versed in teas as I would like to be,” the brunette said sweetly, a little sheepish. The infant babbled happily and clutched the pendant of her necklace in his fingers.

Mark offered her a smile. “No worries. What kinds of flavors do you like? I have quite a few—”

“Varya,” the man said from where he had been pushing the stroller back and forth, “do you have my phone? I need to make a call.”

“Oh, yes. One moment.” She fished a sleek, dark phone from her purse, passing it to the man before turning her eyes back to Mark. The man, presumably her husband, dialed a number and balanced the phone between his ear and shoulder before the call connected and he started talking—his voice low so that Mark could barely hear him over Varya’s attentions. He had gloves on; black, leather, embossed with something in gold; maybe his initials?

Varya said lightly, “Flavors?”

He flushed, quickly diverting his eyes. “Yes, right. Your favorite flavors?”

“Hm. I prefer spiced teas,” she began, eyes scanning the shelves. “My mother used to make a tea with cloves and cinnamon, do you have anything like that?”

“Certainly,” Mark replied brightly. He turned back to the shelves, humming for a moment. She had had a bit of an accent; it sounded Russian, but it was so slight he couldn’t quite be sure. There were plenty of tourists and sightseers coming in and out of the shop that he’d gotten used to skimming for quick details, like accents or nice clothes or expensive jewelry. And if the gigantic rock on the woman’s finger was any indication, they were hitting all of the boxes for the people that usually walked into a boutique tea shop.

Pulling one of the jars off of the shelf, Mark pulled the cap and offered it to her to smell. “This one’s got cinnamon and cloves, but ginger and cardamom, too. I really like to make it with—”

“No, no, no, no,” her husband bit out into the phone, the stroller rolling to a stop as he stilled his attempts at keeping the baby asleep, “you listen to me, you pint-sized fuckhead, when I tell—”

Varya, completely unbothered by her husband’s vicious tone, shifted the infant to her other hip, smelling the looseleaf mixture again. “It smells so good. I think it is the ginger that makes it good. What did you say you like to make it with?”

“Um,” Mark said, trying not to stare at the man in the velvet suit saying, and I’m going to cut your fucking face off, you piece of shit, did you know that? Do you know who I am? That’s right, and I can do whatever I fucking want, and that means cutting your dumb fucking face off and putting it on display in my loft for my dinner guests, “cream?”

“Oh, that’s interesting,” she murmured idly, reading through the list of ingredients again. “Do you have those little—” She gestured with her free hand. “—to steep the mixture with?”

“Y—” Mark swallowed. His gaze flickered back to the glossy brunette, her lips pouted and the baby nestled against her neck, seemingly putting himself to sleep despite the noise. “Yes, of course. Do you prefer the, um...”

“In English, you fucker,” Roman seethed into the phone, “your—yeah, well, your boss is American, I don’t care where you were born. So tell me in English how many fucking guns are being held up in bumfuck-nowhere-Russia, you—”

“This one is nice,” Varya interjected gently, picking up one of the steel ones. “I like the ones that have a finer mesh. Less chance of getting the debris in there, you know?”

He was trying to remember when the last time he’d taken a breath was. It very suddenly all made too much sense—well-dressed couple, twins, the embossed gloves and the accent and oh my God, oh fuck, oh fucking God oh shit oh fuck I have Roman Fucking Sionis and his Russian gun lord wife in the tea shop I’m going to fucking die—

“Mark?” she prompted. The dulcet tone of her voice broke him out of the panic running through his brain. Unfortunately, the sound of her saying his first name only firmly cemented in his brain the fact that he was now assisting the wife of Gotham’s biggest crime lord in picking out a looseleaf tea.

He swallowed thickly. “H—How, um, did you know my name?”

Varya tilted her head inquisitively. “Your nametag, my love.”

“Oh,” he replied, letting out a nervous laugh. “Of course. Um. Right, those do have a finer mesh. I like them better too. It’s similar t-to the um—the kind of mesh you would—you would have in the teapot. You know. If you were going to do it by the pot. And not the cup. Like for more than one cup of tea.”

A smile ticked the corner of her lips upward. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought she was enjoying his apparent discomfort. “I do like to make more than one cup of tea, on occasion. Do you sell teapots? Can I see those?”

Mark opened his mouth to say that of course, she could see the teapots—did she want his? His personal teapot? He could run home and grab it if she wanted, please don’t shoot me in the face—when the stilling of the stroller’s movements seemed to have distressed the other twin. As soon as she started fussing, Roman threw his free hand up in exasperation.

“Do you hear that, Maxim?” he demanded. “That’s my daughter, crying, because I was so fucking fed up with your idiocy that I stopped rocking her to sleep. What? Do I want to—no, I don’t want your mother’s fucking aromatic recipe for putting infants to sleep, I’m already in a fucking tea shop!”

Varya let out a little sigh. “Excuse me one moment, Mark.”

“Sure,” Mark replied, scratching his forehead. “Sure, no worries, take—um, take your time.”

She swept away from him, returning the happy infant to the stroller and pulling from it the fussy one, bouncing the baby a few times before she said, “Romy, you know Yuli only likes when you bounce her. Trade me.”

Mark watched as Roman’s mouth downturned in a firm frown; he eventually acquiesced, taking the crying baby and offering the phone to Varya, who planted the phone against her ear and pushed the double stroller outside and into fresh air, taking with her the conversation which quickly shifted into a foreign language. For what it was worth, as soon as the little girl was in Roman’s arms, she almost immediately stopped fussing—though he did bounce her and make his way over to Mark, brows furrowed despite his daughter’s happy babbling.

“What one did she like?” he asked, less silken than his better half.

“What?”

“The tea,” Roman answered, squinting. “What tea did she like?”

“Uh,” Mark said, “the—uh, this one. Sir.” He held out the jar, but Roman waved his hand in dismissal.

“Pack some of that up. And the—whatever the fuck this is,” he added, gesturing at the steeper. “That too.”

Mark pulled one of the bags out from the drawer, working quickly despite the tremble in his hands. “Just the steeper? Sir?”

Roman had turned his attention back to the curly-haired baby, waving a gloved finger in her vision to keep her occupied, when Mark had posed his question. “What? Speak up, I’ve got a chatty infant here.”

“She—she wanted to look at the teapots, too.” Mark packed the looseleaf tea into the bag. The scale remained untouched. The idea of taking the time to weigh the tea and charge appropriately had completely fled his mind. “S—Sir.”

“Huh.” Roman squinted at the wall of teapots, seeming to deliberate for a moment. “We’ll take that one. The black and gold. And the steeper, and the tea.”

“Sure. For sure. Good choice. That’s my favorite one,” he added, realizing somewhere in his brain that he was babbling but that he couldn’t stop. “It’s hand-made, so it has—um, it has like...Little flaws, that make it worth a lot, because it was made by a famous—”

Varya returned to the shop, phone tucked away and only their doe-eyed son in her arms again. She gave Roman’s shoulder a squeeze with her free hand and then turned her attention to Mark, smiling prettily. “That’s the one he picked out?”

Mark nodded, hesitated midway through packing the pot. “Yes. Do you like it? Did you want a different one? I have some new ones in the back—”

“It’s perfect,” she assured him. She looked at Roman, glowing, and reached up to press a kiss to his cheek. “I love it.”

The blonde looked pleased. “Yes, well, who knows you better than me?” And then: “What did Kuznetsov tell you?”

Hurrying through the packing, Mark managed to get everything rang up amidst the couple’s idle chatter—which consisted of Varya explaining that ten thousand guns were held up in Kazakhstan, which was not Russia, but used to be part of Russia, at which point Roman waved his hand and went ‘whatever’—and ran the man’s heavy, black card through the card machine.

The machine beeped three times in alarm, and Mark felt his stomach plummet. The fucking machine’s broken, he remembered, with despair. Oh my God, oh my God, I’m going to fucking—

“What?” Roman barked out. “What is it?”

“The—the um, the machine is—I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “The machine is broken and I h-have to have you—put in the card number manually—”

The man made the most indignant sound, but before he could attempt to get fired up all over again, Varya said, “Romy, why don’t you load the twins up in the car? Armazd already put the stroller away. I’ll finish up here.”

Roman’s mouth pressed into a thin line, and then he said, “Alright, V,” and accepted the second infant into his other arm, toting them both outside. Varya looked at Mark and smiled sympathetically, holding out her hand for the machine; Mark handed it over, absently pulling at a loose thread on his apron as she started carefully inputting the card number.

“Do you have children, Mark?” she asked conversationally. “A partner?”

“Uh,” he replied very intelligently. “N-No. No ma’am. I mean, miss. No, I don’t have either of those, miss.”

“It is definitely a life change,” she said by way of agreement, pocketing the card and waiting for the machine to process. “Suddenly, your hands are full all the time.”

A nervous laugh bubbled up out of him, and he nodded his head; the seconds ticked by, agonizing as Varya hummed and gathered up the bag until it finally beeped its approval of the transaction.

“Thank you, my darling!” she called over her shoulder. “I am sure I will be back.”

“Welcome,” he replied weakly. He watched her make her way to the door, nearly out; it wasn’t until his shoulders slumped in a bit of relief that she stopped and turned to look at him, a sly little smile on her face.

“Before I forget,” Varya began, “perhaps, if you find yourself thinking about any of the conversation you heard today—you know, about business—it is best to keep it to yourself. It is not particularly confidential, you see, but...Well, I would just hate to feel like I could not bring my business back here because I cannot trust you.”

An unpleasant little chill sprinted down his spine. He shifted on his feet, wetting his lips for a moment as he tried to figure out what it was he wanted to say; how many times could he swear up and down that nothing he heard today about guns or Kazakhstan to assure her that she wouldn’t have to worry about it? That he would literally rather put pencil shavings in his eyes than put the Sionis target on his back?

“Mark,” she said, “all you have to say is that you understand.”

“I do,” he blurted out quickly, “I do understand.”

She smiled brightly. “I knew you were a good boy. Have a lovely afternoon!”

Just like that, she swept out of the shop; he was finally alone. Mark slumped into his chair, passing a hand over his face for a moment—long enough for him to sit up, press his face into the palms of his hands, and say:

“I have to quit my job.”

[leechonspeeddial]

Midnight Shift: Carry On, Citizen Fang

Summary: Something wicked this way comes. If only Resentment could figure out if it was the same thing that stunk up the Burger King. Chapters: 2/? Read on ao3

Straight Kevin had been very understanding about my family emergency – He was super duper cool with manning the restaurant all by his lonesome. Sadly, he wasn't understanding enough to let me get away with not telling Gay Kevin about it – which wasn't very super duper cool of him, now was it?

He didn't even have the decency to offer to call for me, the fucking coward.

"Are you certain it's an emergency?"

I rolled my eyes and skipped over the muddy snow pile blocking the sidewalk. I felt a sense of kinship with the season. Besides the cold and death, Winter went all out when it came to inconveniencing the population.

"Trust me, Kev. If I wanted to blow off work, I'd do it on location. I'm not exactly in a rush to get home, ya know?"

The line went quiet for exactly five seconds and I could picture him doing that breathing exercise he did whenever he was fed up with my shit. I took the opportunity to loudly slurp my mello yello.

Delicious.

"I don't know, you could be ditching to hang out with friends or something. Teens do that. I did that." I almost laughed, as if.

"I spend all of my free time at work and everyone my age thinks I'm pregnant with an incest baby. Bold of you to assume I even have friends."

"You would get friends if you felt like it would inconvenience me. And it would really inconvenience me right now"

"Ugh. Don't be so dramatic. I don't do things just to be a general nuisance," I heard a snort that didn't come from Gay Kevin. "Wait, did you put me on speaker?!"

"What's the word, Res" Not Kevin chimed in before being shushed by Gay Kevin.

"Relax, we're loading the rental. I don't exactly have a free hand."

"So? This only needed to be like two seconds. Take a five or something."

"I'm going to level with you, our new napkin guy gives me real sketch vibes. Any second where we're not loading, it's an additional second we have to spend here. I simply refuse to die in a dilapidated warehouse, Resentment. I refuse."

I crossed the street to take the park shortcut home. A couple of high schoolers were vaping by the swings; they stared at me and I ignored them.

"I think you'd survive. You exude final girl energy"

"Have you ever watched a horror movie? I'd literally die first"

"I watched Practical Magic once" I smirked when Not Kevin groaned.

My satisfaction didn't last long, because no more than a second later, a snowball hit the back of my head. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I couldn't gloat to Edward about having the moral high ground if I murdered every minor annoyance that crossed my path.

It just sucked having to ignore my vampire senses because I had to play human. What was the point of knowing something was coming if you were unable to stop it because you had to keep up appearances? In my opinion, humans should just have to deal with the knowledge of the supernatural. They were big kids, we didn't need to coddle them anymore.

It was 2022, for God's sake.

I turned back scowling and flipped off the fuckers. I recognized High-Pony in the group and decided to give her the soggiest, saddest, AND smallest fries next time she dared enter my work.

Maybe even sprinkle some burnt ones for extra flavor.

"I know what you're doing and I'm begging you to stop. I'm the one who has to deal with him for the next two hours"

"Don't be rude. Not Kevin is a gift," I glared at the group and slowly walked away backwards. At least until they were out of my sight. The Cullens were insane for going back to high school as often as they did.

"Ha. It's nice to be appreciated"

"Truly. Short of a museum, where else are you going to find something so old?"

"Boo. Get new jokes, the material is stale," I rolled my eyes as I shook the snow from my hair. I was rapidly approaching home and I wasn't quite prepared to go in.

For one, how was I supposed to keep my new mystery to myself if that's what Alice saw? It wasn't fair. To think I had only been worried about Big Brother and his thought police...

Reflecting on it though, if Alice saw my mystery man, then wouldn't that mean he was either a vampire or a human? Ergo, something neither mysterious nor interesting.

Disappointing.

"Whatever, gramps"

"Ok, ok. Let's get back on topic –"

"You gotta start trying harder, Chucky. You're far from the only teen girl that calls me ancient on the regular."

"Why are you regularly taking to teenage girls, creep?"

"Guys –"

"That's not what–! I foster kids!"

"Yeah, sure, pervert"

"I'm NOT –"

"OK RESENTMENT, DEAL WITH YOUR FAMILY. HANGING UP NOW"

I stopped walking and stared at my phone. Despite the length of the call, there had been no new messages from my family. I was unsure if that was a good sign.

I took a sip from my drink and was disappointed to find I only had ice left. I wondered if that was thematically significant, or maybe even foreshadowing.

Sigh.

I picked up my pace and tried to empty my mind before arriving home. "No thoughts, head empty" was a good mantra when you lived with a mind reader.

The rest of the walk was fairly uneventful, save for some guy who got attacked by a flock of ducks for getting way too close without enough food. Beware, all amateur wildlife photographers, lest the same fate falls upon you, I guess.

Poor guy even lost his coat. I was happy to assume it was the first casualty under the duck assault.

I slowed down when I finally arrived across the street from my home.  The newest Cullen mansion stood foreboding before me. A concrete monument full of sharp lines and odd angles; despite all of Esme's soft touches, brutalism simply exuded hostility and soullessness. Try as she might, there was a limit to how much you could dress up a giant grey concrete block to make it look approachable – and if we were being honest, it wasn't working.

How's that for a metaphor?

Well. There was no use delaying the inevitable.

I entered the house.

[Scene Break]

Being a half-vampire meant that I always felt at a misstep with everyone around me. To me, humanity was more of a scientific field of study that I took interest in and less of a dearly held-on memento of a bygone era or something that I simply had.

From the vampire side of things, while I was clearly an abomination, my existence didn't require me to be a parasitic blood freak. That put me in a different head space from the rest of my family. For one, I didn't need to agonize over my monstrous nature; secondly, I wasn't a slave to my bloodlust if I kept myself full of human food; and thirdly, there just wasn't much precedent for me to measure up to.

For all we knew, everything I did was the best I could have done.

That was all to say, I always felt like there was something I was missing when interacting with anyone. My point of view was fundamentally a different one, and though some things I could make sense of theoretically, it wasn't the same as first-hand experience.

Standing in the living room, surrounded by my family as they continued to say nothing, I couldn't help but think that perhaps this time the context I was missing had nothing to do with my hybrid status.

Edward paced while looking constipated but everyone else stood motionless and rigidly like the statues they were. Not even Emmett tried to lighten the mood, and that's how you knew it was serious.

"So who's going to who's funeral? Please don't say any of my coworkers, I've grown quite attached to them"

"Renesmee," Edward warned. I ignore him like he ignored my preferred name.

"Is it you pops? Wanna crack open another high school girl and drink her up like grape soda?"

"For once in your life could you stop acting like a brat?" Edward snapped and I flinched.

"Takes one to know one. Maybe if you didn't raise one you wouldn't have to deal with one, dad"

"Enough!" We both turned to look at Carlisle and I could see how unsettled he was. My stomach churned.

"Maybe my vision was wrong. Maybe it wasn't him," Alice sounded desperate, almost like the time the truck transporting her latest Givenchy haul got into a freak accident and the customer service lady told her they couldn't replace her order until after whatever microtrend that had been happening at the time ended.

"No, Alice. I saw your vision. It was. No doubt about it, that face is burned in my memory"

"It just doesn't make any sense, Edward!"

"I know what I saw," he replied forcefully.

Carlisle rubbed at his eyes, and for the briefest of seconds, you could have mistaken him for human.

"What's going on? You guys are scaring me," nothing felt right and all I wanted to do was to get back to the Burger King. At least the Kevins kept me in the loop when potentially life-threatening stuff happened.

"James is back," Bella whispered and I looked at her. Out of all of the Cullens, she looked the least worried. While everyone else's expressions visibly darkened at hearing the name, Bella said the name like she would say any name that wasn't Edward's.

"Who the fuck is James?"

"He was a vampire," Jasper growled.

"So what's the big deal? I don't know if you have noticed, but all of you are vampires"

"Emphasis on the was, Nessie. We ripped apart the bastard a good 16 years ago," Emmet explained. I raised my eyebrow.

"You sure about that? Last I heard, once you killed the undead, they were dead for good. No such thing as an undead undead."

"Oh, damn sure. We tore into him like frenzied piranhas at lunchtime and then lit him like a firework on the Fourth of July," Rosalie lightly hit his arm.

"You don't have to be so graphic about it"

"So it's obviously not him," Edward made a noise filled with frustration.

"Renesmee, I know what I saw. It was him, I would bet my life on it"

"Would you bet Bella's?" was what I almost said but Edward's glare made me reconsider. Just this once.

"Dead people just don't walk around all over the place," I said instead.

"We do," Emmett chimed in.

"We're different!"

"So why not him?"

"Edward is right," Classic Carl Carlisle move. His Golden Child could never be wrong. "I might have heard of something like this happening before."

There was a brief moment of silence before everyone exploded.

"WHAT?!"

Carlisle sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You have to understand, I couldn't verify it at the time."

When he said nothing, Esme made a "well, go on" motion.

"It happened about a decade ago. I only came upon this information because of Eleazar – he had approached me about it because he thought I was involved," Carlisle walked towards a window and stared into the distance like the dramatic bitch he was.

Edward slapped the back of my head.

"He told me heard of rumors of a vampire that had died 50 years ago and who walked the Earth again. You all know about my passion for Theology and my desire to find out what waits for us on the other side, so I promised to look into it. It took a while, but eventually, I heard back from someone"

"Your trip to Carencro," Esme gasped. "You said it was a conference!"

"When was this, I don't remember this?" Carl was holding back no punches in his dramatic reveal.

"It was our semester abroad," that's what Edward like to call the half a year experiment we spent in France. He wanted to see if Bella, him, and I could be a family unit all on our own.

It failed pretty miserably, would never happen again.

"I didn't want to burden you, love. Not unless I knew for sure."

Rosalie rolled her eyes. "So what happened?"

Carlisle turned back to us and shrugged.

"I met my informant and they told me to go to this one cafe and ask for Roy. I went there and the manager told me no one with that name worked there"

"So you got pranked," Emmet said.

"I looked around town for a couple of days, and since nothing else came up after my trip to Lousiana, I felt comfortable labeling the whole thing a hoax."

Rosalie scoffed. "And you think that's what's happening here?"

"I think it could be a possibility. This is our only lead"

I thought over what Carlisle just said. Could there really be an afterlife vampires could come back from? And if that was the case, then what happened to Roy? Was Roy even the vampire Elezear heard about?

But most importantly, why now?

"Hey, Alice. Besides James, what else did you see?"

Everyone went quiet and I looked back at them confused.

"I saw us without you"

"I mean, you don't really see me in your visions," I chuckled nervously.

"When I don't see you, it's like I'm looking around something. What I saw...it felt like I would never have to deal with that interference again."

"...Oh"

That didn't sound good.

[purplesurveys]

1127

1. What is one thing you will never do again? Watch The Hours. Film itself is great, but is way too triggering.

2. Would you rather be twice as smart or twice as happy? I’d take happiness easily. It’s not bad for the most part to make mistakes and I’d rather be too clumsy than be altogether miserable.

3. What happened the last time you cried? It was the day of what would’ve been our anniversary and at that moment I was alone in my car at a parking lot (waiting for the office to open) on a gloomy day. I just had to cry and let my feelings out for like 5 minutes to accept everything but I was immediately fine afterwards, haha. Grief can be funny.

4. What happened the time in your life when you were the most nervous to do something? My first job interview. It was my first adult thing ever. They never got back to me - very professional of them - but I was still grateful for the experience nonetheless.

5. What would your parents be surprised to learn about you? That I was in a whole ass relationship for technically 6 1/2 years. They probably have an inkling by now, but only about me being in a relationship. I’m sure they would be very surprised if they ever found out how long it had actually gone for.

6. What’s your worst habit? I pick at my toenails when I’m nervous or stressed. I tend to do this when I’m doing a work task that I particularly dread, and sometimes I’ll end up being fixated on the habit for like 10 minutes straight and not get anything done.

7. What superpower would you have for one day? Time travel, just to take quick trips to multiple decades and see how life was like during those times.

8. What fictional character do you have the biggest crush on? Matty from 13 Going on 30 would be one of them. Albert Finney’s character in Two for the Road is also charming as fuck.

9. Where would you live if you could live anywhere in the world? If money wasn’t an issue, probably somewhere cozy in like Switzerland or Canada.

10. What is your most bizarre pet peeve? Not necessarily a pet peeve but I get extremely uncomfortable when someone hands me a gift then they insult the gift while in front of me, saying it’s not a great gift or that I probably don’t need it, etc. Filipinos also have this habit of saying something along the lines of, “You earn way more than me so you’d probably think this gift sucks” like how do you want me to react :(((((( I love receiving gifts and the idea of being thought about already means a lot to me, so it just makes me wince a little bit when I hear statements like the above.

11. Who knows you the best? Gabie, probably. I’ve changed a lot since then, though.

12. What after school activities did you do in high school? Clubs were mandatory extracurricular activities in my high school; in my time, I joined the table tennis and yearbook clubs.

13. What “most likely to” superlative would you be most honored to receive? Idk, we didn’t have those in school. I probably would have been honored to get a journalism-themed one though; something like Most Likely To Write for NYT or Most Likely to Win a Pulitzer or something like that. Obviously that’s changed now and I’ve long let go of journalism as a passion.

14. What’s the last book you really loved? I haven’t read in a long, long while.

15. What was the greatest television show of all time? I don’t watch a lot of TV so I’m not the most credible decision-making body for this lol, but out of all the shows I’ve watched the best one would easily be Breaking Bad.

16. What’s been your favorite age so far? 16. Life was insanely easygoing back then and everything fell into place for me at the time.

17. If you could go back in time, what is one piece of advice you would give your younger self? Know when it’s enough. Be kind to yourself.

18. What one thing would you be most disappointed if you never got to experience it? Have kids.

19. Apologize or ask permission? I don’t understand the relationship between the two.

20. Unlimited love or money? I would love to never have to worry about finances ever again.

21. If you knew you would die in one week, what would you do? Take a week-long leave for work, spend all my money, bond with my dogs, throw a party for my closest friends, and honestly, make my peace with her.

22. What’s your most listened to song? Spotify doesn’t show that feature, but I bet it’s from Paramore or Hayley anyway. It would be impossible to know my most-listened to song of all time, like if we took into account my Spotify, iTunes, etc.

23. Beach vacation or European vacation? I need a beach vacation badly, but a European vacation would be a new and different experience. I’d take the latter.

24. If you could have been a child prodigy what would you have wanted to be skilled at? Playing the piano.

25. What’s the first thing you would do if you won the lottery? Depends on how much I won lmao. I’d probably retire this early if the money was big enough since I’m pretty stingy anyway. But generally, I would like to pay off whatever bills my parents are currently paying for, get back the car that we had to sell because of the pandemic, and maybe go for a solo vacation or five heheh.

26. What celebrity would you trade lives with? Kylie Jenner, for a day. Just so I can briefly have a taste of how being that rich is like.

27. If you were a performing artist, what would you title your first album? Nope.

28. What story do your friends still give you crap about? Staying with Gab despite the red flags that glared for four whole years is one of them. Angela will also never let go of that one time I tried some kind of fruit juice in high school and I described it as ‘packs a punch.’ It’s understood as a super Westernized idiom where I live and literally no one uses it in a casual sentence, so it was a hit with her and now we use ‘packs a punch’ whenever we want to describe something awesome or surprising.

29. If earth could only have one condiment for the rest of time, what would you pick to keep around? Mayonnaise and I will die on this mayonnaise-coated hill.

30. What is the ideal number of people to have over on a Friday night? Ideally? At this point? Like 20. I would love for that to be the case on the first Friday we can consider the Philippines COVID-free.

31. What was the worst age you’ve been so far? Sorry for yet another incoming Paramore reference but they literally have a lyric that goes, “22 is like, the worst idea that I have ever had.” Before turning 22 I used to think it was a weird line, like how could 22 possibly be unenjoyable? Now I’m 22 in a pandemic going through a rough breakup and I can’t even see my friends nor work in my first workplace ever.

32. What is your weirdest dealbreaker? If they wanted only cats as pets. I can deal with a dog and a cat, I guess; but cats were never fond of me so I feel like I’d struggle with this situation lol.

33. What fictional character reminds you most of yourself? Mr. Peanutbutterrrrrrr. Has a lot of love to give, doesn’t always use it on the right people. Also lives on pleasing others.

34. Do you believe in karma? Just to a tiny extent, in how I would want people’s awful actions to come bite them in the ass one day. It’s not a philosophy that controls my life and the things I do whatsoever.

35. What was your favorite TV show as a kid? My absolute favorite was Hi-5, with the original cast. As I got older my interests shifted to Spongebob and The Fairly OddParents.

36. What is the weirdest thing you find attractive in a person? I don’t think it’s weird, but I don’t hear thighs too often when people list down their favorite physical traits. It’s certainly one of mine.

37. What Jeopardy! category would you clear, no problem? A Friends-themed one, obviously. This reminds me of the Jeopardy night I had with some friends a few nights ago! That was so much fun, and Andi makes really great and fun questions hahaha.

38. What is something you’re superstitious about? I don’t think I am about anything.

39. What is the scariest experience you have ever had? Maybe that night my grandpa went into a drunk rampage. I was 9, right in his line of sight, frozen and scared shitless, and I didn’t know who he was going to strike next.

40. Who is a non-politician you wish would run for office? I never really think about this. If someone’s a non-politician then there must be a reason they aren’t, lol.

41. What cheesey song do you have memorized? Little Things by One Direction is very cheesy and it’s one of my least favorite songs of theirs, but I still have it memorized out of habit.

42. What one dead person would you most like to have dinner with, if it were possible? My great-grandpa died all the way back in the 70s, even before some of my aunts and uncles could meet him. It would be cool to spend time with him.

43. Do you think it’s important to stay up to date with the news? Yeah, absolutely. I have the stomach for it lol, so I always monitor what’s happening locally and globally. Skipping the news from time to time is fine because I get how anxiety-inducing and depressing some events can be, but there’s a huge difference between ignoring the news for your mental health and being indifferent altogether. I’d immediately judge anyone who’s the latter, and would assume you are incredibly privileged.

44. What is the best present you could ever receive? My money refunded -____________- I had food delivered to my director, Bea’s house as a surprise earlier today, but apparently I ran into a scammer driver and the fucker drove away with the meal I had bought for Bea. I reported the driver and the situation, and thankfully the customer service rep of the food delivery app quickly responded and said they’d return the full amount I paid for; but I still haven’t received it.

45. Would you give up one of your fingers if it meant you’d have free wifi wherever you go, for the rest of your life? No. Mobile data exists for a reason.

46. What’s the first thing you’d do if you were the opposite sex for one day? Check out my voice.

47. If someone told you you could give one person a present and your budget was unlimited–what present would you get and for whom? I’d love to surprise Angela with an overseas trip that would last for like a month. Traveling is one thing we have yet to do as best friends.

48. What is the nicest thing someone could say about you? Nothing particular, but it makes me happy when people call me strong and when they validate the shit I’ve gone through over the years.

49. Giant house in a subdivision or tiny house somewhere with a view? I would take the giant house. When it comes to my own place, I would want to have a lot of space to roam around.

50. What is the weirdest quirk your family has? Nothing is coming to mind.

[gregoftom]

okay… all uneven numbers for the ask game 🙃

OOF sjdskjd ok

1. 3 Fears

death, people leaving me and my loved ones being in danger/unsafe/hurt

3. 2 turns on

like… bitchiness and sassiness hhhhh, and dirty talk

5. My best friend 

i have a few and i don’t wanna list them in case i miss someone! but one of them is @billythemuppet​

7. How tall am I 

6′4″-5″, i’m not 100%, i need to be measured again

9. Favourite color

brown and green

11. Favourite place

my bedroom i guess? i don’t go out much dhfdjhfd

13. Shoe size

answered already!

15. Hair color

naturally, brown. it’s kind of ginger-y brown rn?? like the gingers washed out quite a bit but there’s some bits still in there

17. Favourite song

i have so manyyyy but one is rhythm of your heart by marianas trench

19. How I feel right now

answered!

21. My current relationship status

single

23. Favourite season

winter!

25. Tattoos and piercing I want

answered!

27. Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts?

every so often, but it’s quite rare

29. How long does it take me to get ready in the morning?

like 10 mins??

31. Where am I right now?

home in my bedroom

33. Do I live with my Mom and Dad?

yep. you think i can afford living somewhere on my own? lol. in this economy?

35. Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to?

nope! i have like… a few guy friends but they’re more like colleagues

37. If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

my ozzie!!! i wanna see her so bad ughhfsndg

39. Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

answered!

41. Do I perfer talking on the phone or video chatting online?

neither lmao i hate both

43. Do I believe in magic?

i think so! some things just can’t be explained by science! 

45. What’s the weather like right now?

cloudy and cool, lil bit rainy (not enough rain imo)

47. Do I have any nicknames?

jae and eddie

49. Can I touch my nose with a tounge?

yep!

51. What was I doing last night at 12 AM?

uhhhh watching got i think

53. What is my favorite word?

i have a few! tourniquet, spelunking, fuck

55. If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say?

be good to people in retail and customer service fuckers

57. What is my current desktop picture?

it’s standard windows 10 rn i need to change it!

59. Bought condoms?

nope

61. Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain?

answered!

63. Smoked weed?

yep

65. Drank alcohol?

yep

67. Been overweight?

i am rn

69. Gotten my heart broken?

oh yes. it’s the literal worst lmao

71. Been in airplane?

yep

73. Wore make up?

like… twice in  my life. it just Does Not look good on me lol

75. Had a surgery?

nope

77. Stalked someone on a social network?

nah

79. Been rejected by a crush?

many times

81. Do I like my handwriting?

it’s okay i guess

83. Have I ever got caught sneaking out or doing anything bad?

uhhhhHHH… i’ve definitely been caught doing something bad but i can’t remember what exactly lol

85. What my greatest achievments are

uhhhhhh… getting a job i guess?? that’s like It i have 0 ability

87. What I’d do if I won in a lottery

definitely visit my oz

89. My closest Tumblr friend

@billythemuppet

91. Are you outgoing or shy?

pretty outgoing! i love social interaction

93. Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now?

doubtful lmao

95. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with?

@billythemuppet again probably lol

97. What are your 5 favorite songs right now?

hmmm

recipe - wild partymonster - the mowglisgood boys - josie dunnebad love - sleeping wolfcabin fever - luna blake

99. Do you think there is life on other planets?

probably…

101. Do you like your neighbors? 

they’re okay i guess. we don’t talk much

103. Favorite part of your daily routine? 

getting home after work lol

105. What do you do when you wake up?

go on my phone for 15 min so i wake up properly

107. Do you ever want to get married?

ew no

109. Would you rather live without TV or music?

ughhh i hate this!! music i guess. bc tv doesn’t include movies does it..?

111. What are your favorite stores to shop in?

i do most of my shopping online LOL but i guess various charity shops

113. Do you smile at strangers?

sometimes, depends on my mood

115. Ever wished you were someone else?

i used to a lot but not rn

117. Last thing you ate?

mcdonalds

119. Ever been in love? 

yep

121. Twitter or Tumblr?

tumblr

123. What colour are your towels?

various, there’s like blue and pink and white

125. First person you talked to today?

@billythemuppet lol she’s a lot of the answers :P

127. Name a person you hate?

this fucking customer at my work who’s been banned 3 times, is racist, harasses staff, hits other customers with things and grabs you and presses herself to you. it’s so gross ughdsfsg. she comes in eeevery fucking day too

129. Is there anyone you want to punch in the face right now?

aforementioned woman lol

131. Have any pets?

2 cats :)

133. Do you regret anything from your past? 

buncha things, but mostly dropping out of school

135. Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt?

yep

137. Do you believe in true love?

i think so? 

139. Do you believe in ghosts?

yeah definitely!

[agoldenduo]

junghope fic rec list

all the world’s noise by astringxnt rating: t status: one-shot, complete summary: in between late night dance practices and thursday study dates, jungkook lets hoseok teach him that love doesn’t have to be loud to be real.

 another life by Acavall rating: g status: one-shot, complete summary: jungkook and hoseok talk alternate realities amidst fake kitchens.

 been wishing for you by ffairyy rating: m  status: one-shot, complete summary: maybe jungkook doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but he wouldn’t dance on a table in a room full of people with just any stranger.

between the lines by acepink (thehawkguy) rating: t status: one-shot, complete summary: intra-team relationships were one of the biggest no-goes there was. so strictly speaking, hoseok and jeongguk weren't in one. not in words, at least.

 blanket kick by nunu_noodles rating: m status: multichapter, complete summary: it takes 2 hours and 40 minutes for the train from busan to get to seoul. this means jeongguk is going to meet his online boyfriend in 2 hours and 40 minutes. time moves both too slowly, and far, far too quickly. he checks the time. 15 minutes to go. holy shit. holy. shit.

 bone + tissue by syubology rating: e status: one-shot, complete summary: jungkook is a student of photography; hoseok has really soft lips.

 bored stiff (out of my brains) by loafers rating: e status: one-shot, complete summary: jungkook gets bored. the devil finds work for idle hands.

 break your plans tonight by xxdevilishxx rating: e status: two-shot, complete summary: the one where jungkook finds himself celebrating his 19th birthday with a prostitute thanks to his hyungs.

 can you teach me how to feel real by starwells rating: g status: drabble collection, complete summary: that was the one promise he’d made to himself when he first started in the android making business, and it’s become something of a calling card; jung hoseok is the one you want to go to if you want an android that’s come into themselves as individually as possible. not a lot of people like that—not when most androids are marketed as laborers and servants and are preferred as agreeable, docile creatures—but for the few that are, hoseok is something of a genius. when people ask how he does it, hoseok just grins, winks, and tells them: love.

 come across the kitchen to me by Acavall rating: t status: one-shot, complete summary: in which jungkook and hoseok are roommates and jungkook wishes they were more.

 crushworthy by menbung rating: m status: one-shot, complete summary: in which jeon jeongguk's yearning for jung hoseok goes from long-distance to face-to-face.

 does/does not by Jajungmyeon rating: g status: one-shot, complete summary: jeongguk thinks hoseok likes him. hoseok thinks jeongguk does not like him. they are both wrong and get yelled at by yoongi.

 footprint nostalgia by astringxnt rating: t status: one-shot, complete summary: they say you'll have to surpass the speed of light to go backwards in time, but jungkook travels seven years within a heartbeat.

 forever seems just long enough by potterdresden rating: n/a status: one-shot, complete summary: jung hoseok has a problem, and that problem is sleeping in his bed again. they all finally have their own rooms, yet jungkook cannot seem to stay away. this wouldn't be a problem if hoseok didn't want to curl up with him and stay forever. as hoseok stands in the doorway staring at the lump in his blankets, he realizes he’s been running long enough.

 from the moment the lights went out by maadamantiumheart rating: t status: one-shot, complete summary: the wolf comes to his door at night, and jungkook always lets him in. he shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t. but he always opens the door- the balcony door, where hoseok appears with his grin glowing in the moonlight, like the cheshire cat leading alice further into the forest. jungkook wonders if hoseok really likes him, or whether he just likes the fact that jungkook will let him in, feed him, and then let him fuck jungkook into the mattress.

 gotta hand it to you by freelancejouster rating: t status: one-shot, complete summary: hoseok was trying to think of living by himself as an adventure, a new experience, something to look forward too. he hadn't thought it'd be like this.

 how ruins can make a home by TrappingLightningBugs rating: e status: one-shot, complete summary: the first thing hoseok registers are his bare feet: it's so cold, yet he's sitting in the alley like he's given up. when he gets a look at the man's big eyes and soft, pretty rabbit ears, tucked around his neck for warmth, hoseok knows there's no other option for him. he has to bring him home.

 hit the gas by orphan_account rating: t status: one-shot, complete summary: hoseok is an infamous street racer known for his speed and reckless driving. jungkook just wants a taste of the thrill.

 i’m smiling, he’s living, he’s golden by Chlexcer rating: t status: one-shot, complete summary: they are the base of a mountain. a fucking mountain. now, Hoseok enjoys nature. he likes parks and he loves the beach; he likes playing on the snow, and he loves flowers. but mountains? not his cup of tea, exactly. (throw jungkook into the mix, and it's a whole different story.)

 i never felt nothing like that, looking at you looking right back by jellyfishes rating: m status: one-shot, complete summary: hoseok likes cute boys, and jeongguk is very cute. jimin probably never should have introduced them.

 in fear and faith by im_your_hope rating: m status: one-shot, complete summary: it's hard to shake something that is already under your skin.

 it’s time to love you by eightninetwo rating: m status: one-shot, complete summary: hoseok's fine with his life, all things considered. what he's not fine with, is the reappearance of that one almost-boyfriend who certainly looks more than fine right now.

 less is more (less is a bore) by Lunarieen rating: m status: one-shot, complete summary: hoseok likes to leave marks too much for his own good. jeongguk is pissed off and wears long pants when it's summer. jin doesn't give a fuck. taehyung grabs a bag of popcorn and watches the madness unfold.

 lionheart by nivo rating: t status: one-shot, complete summary: the problem is simple, really: jeongguk is cool, and hoseok is... hoseok.

 mountain dew me? by ecrivantkazl rating: t status: one-shot, complete summary: “pop my cherry?” no hello, no customer service smile, not even a what can i get you? his tone is even, eyes wide and growing wider, and he is about two seconds from swallowing his whole entire body head first. he should have stayed in bed this morning. "pardon...me?"

 my shadow’s dancing (without you for the first time) by ffairyy rating: t status: one-shot, complete summary: hoseok's gotten used to his routine, or so he tells himself, until his ex jungkook is back in town after two years of silence.

 name the stars (and know their dark returning) by AllThe Feels rating: t status: one-shot, complete summary: hoseok hadn't intended for their first kiss to happen with the roar of the crowd in the background and adrenaline pumping through his veins.

 new romantics by nivo rating: t status: one-shot, complete summary: music majors know what romance is all about. (jeon jeongguk is not a music major. neither is jung hoseok.)

 of white lies and autumn leaves by ffairyy rating: m status: multichapter, complete summary: “fuck that,” jungkook slurs. “i’m not less grown up just because i haven’t had a relationship yet. right Hyung? it doesn’t matter. it doesn’t make me uncool.” or the pretend dating fic where the boys make fun of jungkook for being inexperienced and hoseok jumps to his defense.

 on the edge by mysoulrunswithwolves rating: m status: multichapter, complete summary: hoseok is the reigning us wakeboarding champion, unrivaled in the sport. jeongguk is his biggest competitor, if only hoseok had any idea who he was.

 one shot (is all I need) by kaythebest rating: t status: one-shot, complete summary: jungkook wants to be a bartender. if he wants anything else, well, that's just a bonus.

 share my life (it’s your to keeps) by momentsinlove rating: e status: one-shot, complete summary: the ridiculously long fic where hoseok and jungkook fuck a lot and are super romantic. all they wanna do is get married.

 shelter from the storm by menbung rating: e status: one-shot, complete summary: in which Jeongguk distracts Hoseok from a scary thunderstorm with science and sex.

 six days in jeju by Etna rating: m status: one-shot, complete summary: how much can you fall for someone in six days? the story of jungkook, a waiter working on jeju island, and hoseok, a guest staying at his hotel for a business conference.

 sixth position by LowKeyBangtanTrash rating: e status: one-shot, complete summary: “why are you still here?” he mumbles at his shoes, embarrassed by the crack in his voice. “just changing. it is a dressing room, you know.” hoseok can hear the smirk in jungkook’s voice, the filthy bastard. hoseok wants scream, to call him a fucker to his face, to push him up against a wall and kiss the shit out of him- hoseok tries to shake that line of thinking but his brain is so fogged up. if jungkook would just put some fucking clothes on maybe he could think.

 spring and, by summer, fall by bizzanus rating: e status: one-shot, complete summary: the new tightrope apprentice looks at hoseok like he's made of stars.

 summer 2016 by nivo rating: t status: one-shot, complete summary: jeongguk is bored, hoseok is indulgent, wigs are uncomfortable, and the grass is always greener on the other side. which is perfectly fine as long as you don't even have a metaphorical lawn to give two shits about.

 stitch me up (you’re so pretty) by jjks rating: t status: one-shot, complete summary: “embroidery,” Jeongguk repeats. “i’m gonna join an embroidery class,” his voice trails off a little at the end, losing some of its vigor and quieting down when he realises it’s stupid. so stupid. even stupider when spoken out loud.

 the feeling of getting you closer (is taking me under) by shift rating: e status: one-shot, complete summary: it's not often that jeongguk lets himself be in this position.

 the stars are brightly shining by monbon rating: t status: one-shot, complete summary: hoseok always spends winter break on campus. this time, jeongguk joins him.

 the whiskey glitch by kuragecharms rating: t status: one-shot, complete summary: one day, hoseok will solve his problems with maturity, communication and all that shit. today, however, it will be with alcohol. (a.k.a.the fic where hoseok and jungkook are playing mmorpgs, take whiskey shots, and wake up inside their favorite video game. crap.)

 there and back again by sugacravings rating: n/a status: one-shot, complete summary: “that’s my boy!” yoongi yelled a few bars later, and jeongguk heard people cheering them on. he did a spin to finish off, stopping to face hoseok. the elder had a wide, pleased grin on his face, and jeongguk smiled back.

 these spaces between infinities by astringxnt rating: m status: one-shot, complete summary: because the truth is that we're always finding sanctuary in unfamiliar places, trying to caress warmth into fires.

 to the places you will be from by krisssy rating: m status: one-shot, complete summary: jungkook accidentally adds hoseok on snapchat.

 touch me in your own sweet way by floral_hobi rating: m status: one-shot, complete summary: jungkook would be lying if he said he didn’t like this. he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like cuddling. he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like having someone run their fingers through his hair. he’d also be lying if he said he didn’t like the attention. and he’d definitely be lying if he said he didn’t like the attention from hoseok.

 trouble never looked so fine by xxdevilishxx rating: e status: one-shot, complete summary: the one in which jungkook and hoseok through some stupid, twisted logic decide that having sex with each other is the best possible 'fuck you' to their cheating exes but don't account for their feelings getting in the way.

 tryna count me out by freelancejouster rating: t status: one-shot, complete summary: hoseok gets kissed by a cute stranger on the kiss cam and can’t get the memory of vanilla chapstick and soft lips out of his mind.

 who’s afraid? by NeverFindYouLove (kuragecharms) rating: g status: one-shot, complete summary: jungkook and taehyung are best friends. hoseok is also taehyung's best friend. so why can't Jungkook seem to get along with hoseok?

 world business by blimpish rating: e status: one-shot, complete summary: junghope have hotel room sex in la.

 you got me catching feelings by momentsinlove rating: e status: one-shot, complete summary: jungkook and hoseok decide to hook up as just bros until they start to catch feelings.

[cowboyworf]

you know what i have been thinking about that still pisses me off?

when covid really hit, like everything was getting shut down, my old job was allowed to stay open because we sold food for pets. whatever. we took precautions- no more than one customer in the store at the time and they had to tell us what they needed and go grab it for them. of course, half these fuckers weren't coming for necessities and i would have to spend an hour picking out what dog clothes would look best on fido and show them 30 different kinds of treats before they find one that wouldn't make a mess on the floor. unsurprising.

it was terrifying, of course, because my coworker's father, who he lived with, had copd and lung cancer. my boss had an infant at home. i have asthma and my father just had open heart surgery. there was no vaccine yet. we didn't even know if we could find a vaccine at that point. but we all knew we had to come in, because if you quit, there's no unemployment benefits to fall back on. such is capitalism in a pandemic and being an essential employee.

but what really pisses me off, thinking back on it, is that my company sent out a huge e-mail to every employee stating that a lot of employees were calling out for covid without proof, so they were going to "crack down" on callouts. if an employee felt sick, it was encouraged that they finish their shift, and if they call out for three days, unless they have a doctor's note of a positive test, that employee gets fired. no exceptions.

and mind you, this is either when rapid tests weren't a thing or i at least didn't know about them because i live in a poor, rural area. covid test results take three to five days, and the latter was more common, because the local clinics were packed. it's not like the company didn't know that. it was all over the news. for fuck sake, it was the only thing on the news.

what that rule did was force employees to work, even if they suspected covid, even if they were severely ill. there was no backup plan for us. we didn't get paid time off, we didn't have a thriving job market to be a cushion, and we certainly weren't getting unemployment. i knew for a long time that corporations don't care if poor people live or die, because we are all replaceable, and money is worth more than poor people's lives. but that was the first time at my job that it was so explicitly stated and that i wasn't complacent about it, as we are all taught to be.

i don't know if laws changed after that, because the company went bankrupt awhile- and only told the employees and managers one month prior to the closing date, which was five days after christmas. i loved my job. i'm not shy about admitting that. i'm good at customer service and i made lifelong friendships with some of my customers. but when the news hit, after crying over not knowing what we were going to do and grieving the loss of a job i had for six years, my only positive was the hope that those big corporate fuckers would suffer. i'm sure they didn't. i'm sure they still aren't. but i have no sympathy for those that possibly did and do.

no matter how much you love a job, it does not love you back. and that was the first time, after being a workaholic for six years, that i realized doing bare minimum to get by is the healthiest option for most employees. it's the only option. i am not going above and beyond for any corporation ever again and i am a better person for it.

[tirdclxvi]

I HATE CALL CENTER!

I present you with everything I abhor about our call centre culture.   And let this blog serve as a warning to you should you be considering a job in a call centre anytime soon; maintain your self respect, please.   Working in a call centre without realizing how demoralizing that shit is, is bad enough... but knowing beforehand just makes you a dipshit.

YOUR CAREER IS OVER Once you’ve spent a few years in a few different call centres, you’re fucked.  You will never escape.  It will become a vicious, inescapable cycle, as you slowly come to realize that employers do not see call centre skills as ‘transferable’ in any respect.  You know that cosy office job you’ve been looking for?  Yeah, unfortunately, all the relevant experience you’ve gained through call centres doesn’t mean shit, and you’ll find yourself on the reject pile faster  than an all new rehabbed up Kerry Katona at an Icleand audition.  

THEY ALL HAVE BULLSHIT MEANINGLESS SLOGANS Here’s a newsflash : they all have the same stupid bullshit slogans that the staff secretly laugh about behind their backs.  Some crap about putting customers first, some drivel about how important you are to them.  Ever notice how these principles only apply so long as the shit isn’t hitting the fan and they aren’t uber busy?  Seriously, next time you’re call after call, just pose a simple query to your Team Leader / Coach / whatever, and keep on going back to them with new problems, and see how quickly their own principles are abandoned in favour of subtly hinting “ we’re busy, get rid of them.”  (Also known as arrange a callback/escalation/raise a complaint)

YOU ARE EXPENDABLE Ever had a Team Leader, or worse still stupendously overpaid community leader / operations manager tell you that YOU’RE the most important resource the company has, without YOU, the business simply couldn’t continue to function?  Yeah, that’s bullshit, and you know it.  So, you’re the most critical commodity the business has, into which they invested god knows how many thousands of pounds into you huh?  Then maybe they could explain to you why, with the exception of the maintenance team (and even then it’s ambiguous) you’re the lowest paid employees in the entire company, save for the canteen staff and security guard?  That’s right, you’re so important to the company that they pay your hardly- superiors a few thousand pounds more than you, and your “big bosses” up to three times as much.  That’s how much they value you.  

TEAM LEADER JOBS ARE EASY And I know, because I used to be one, and a very good one at that.  I had a certain amount of calls I was required to listen to on a weekly basis, team reporting, coaching and 121’s – it was a walk in the fucking park.  ANY Team Leader who has the nerve to protest their jobs and the difficulties therein, are fucking awful at their jobs.  And before you question my credentials, I was a Team Leader with one of the largest five brands in my particular arena, in the world.  It’s a piece of piss for a job, particularly on weekends where, providing you aren’t a total goon needing to catch up on the monitoring you couldn’t be fucked to do through the week, you get to sit on your ass all day and play on the internet / text your buddies on your iphone.  Of course, you may get the odd indignant asshole who wants to complain “to a manager” but quite frankly, we all know how much fun it can be to antagonize the shit out of them on a dull day, shooting those assholes squarely down with some miniscule piece of crap from their terms and conditions.

NEVER GIVE THE CUSTOMER THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT Because most of the time, they don’t have a fucking clue what they’re talking about.  To the credit of most call centres (and one of the very few credits they will ever attain) many have cottoned on to this by now, and gingerly suggest that “rather than giving the customer the benefit of the doubt, we should clearly explain why they may have not fully understood the terms of their agreement.”  Bravo.

MOST OF THE JOBS ABOVE YOURS ARE AN ABSOLUTE FUCKING DODDLE When I was placed in charge of operations for the particular section of the business I was responsible for, I couldn’t believe how fucking easy that shit was.  In a very brief nutshell, my chief responsibility was to provide a gap analysis based on projected call volumes, and make sure they were filled so we didn’t lose (or abandon) any calls.  The Team Leaders sent me reports on how they were performing including things like sickness (yeah right) holiday, maternity leave and so on.  Shit I didn’t have any use for really, but was a requirement to keep some dickhead at corporate level happy.  Running operations is so fucking easy you could do it blindfolded.  And they get paid a LOT more than you.  You know when they play down how much they earn?  Yeah, they earn only a little bit more than you... AFTER they’ve paid tax and BEFORE you do. Also, you know those annoying dipshits who call your Team Leader if you’ve been on an unusually long piss break or you’re late for your lunch because you’ve been speaking to some insufferable dickhead for an hour and a half?  Yeah, their job is cushy as fuck my friends.  They are essentially paid to keep the systems up to date with who is doing what and when, and keep tabs on leave allocation.  Maybe I’m super efficient and possess a deadly intelligence which escalates me to Limitless-esque levels, or maybe it’s just that shit is so easy to do for a living your grandma could do it with a few weeks training, who knows.  But either way, when you think to yourself “I could do a batter job than those fuckers”, you’re absolutely correct.   ONLY DICKHEADS ENJOY THEIR JOB ON THE PHONES I don’t trust any fucker who claims to enjoy working in a call centre.   Don’t hate it, sure.  Tolerate it, okay.  But enjoy it?  You’re an unaspirational piece of shit, and I envy  you, for having few loftier goals in life than getting pissed with your mates, and watching the football.   IT IS NOT A CAREER Hoo boy, I have met some fuckwit jobsworths in my time.  I once worked with this fat fuck, who was such a corporate kissass, they stated their “dream holiday” would consist of spending time with their work colleagues, somewhere hot.  Another guy, a Team Leader in fact, was registered with a dating website for professionals... who must have felt like the biggest tool in the universe when a colleague brilliantly asked, in a blase' manner “but why are you on a website for career professionals?  You’re a Team Leader in a call centre.” That’s right dipshit, working in a call centre is not a career, no matter how far up the ladder you’re able to drag yourself.    You still work in a call centre, and you work in a call centre because you’re too much of a dipshit to get a real job.  Call centres always have been, and always will be, maligned places of ridicule.  I worked for a company once, before I made the mistake of stepping into the call centre arena under the impression it was a good career move, in which the manager told me outright “I would never employ a manager from a call centre as a manager here, I don’t care how much experience they have on paper.   It’s a different world.”   Working in a call centre for twenty years, and finding yourself a big cheese in the grand scheme of call centre machinations, is nothing to be proud of.  In fact, it’s downright disappointing, that a fossil like you was unable, even in the days before call centres were fucking everywhere, to escape working in a call centre.  Actually, I would say it makes you the biggest fucking loser in the place. GETTING A JOB IN A CALL CENTRE IS EASY Call centres ought to have revolving doors which deposit you right in the fucking dole queue, and the jobless in your seat.  Getting a job in a call centre is the easiest job you’ll ever get.  I cringed when I had to ask a plethora of bullshit questions about “times you’ve provided excellent customer service”, and note their responses which more often than not , roughly translated into either “it pays more money than the call centre I work at now,” or “I just need a fucking job, I’ll be out of here as soon as I get a real job.” In the early days, I walked out of a couple of call centre jobs, because they were shit, and I was young.  And I always managed to find myself in another call centre within a week or two.   YOU GIVE ME SHIT WHEN I'M LATE, BUT DON'T MIND WHEN I HAVE TO STAY BACK This fucking shit drives me crazy, and I have petitioned my employers in the past to do something about it – the fact is, if you get stuck on a call to some fucking utter dickhead at finishing time, and you leave five or ten minutes late – well then, fuck you, you won’t be getting paid for it, or get time back.  That’s just the nature of the job, and you were made aware of it when you signed up.  Too many call centres take this approach, and it’s disgraceful bullshit, particularly when you’re late and you have to explain every detail of your whereabouts from waking up to stepping through the office door.  Some call centres give you the time back or overtime after an allotted period – maybe twenty minutes – yet I can’t help but notice those assholes who run the place, can swan in as late as they like and leave on a whim, without retribution.   WORKING CHRISTMAS / NEW YEAR'S / BANK HOLIDAY This one is squarely aimed at both business and customer in equal measure; as both are as bad as each other when it comes to this particular annoyance – what sort of utter, utter dickead, will phone a call centre on Christmas day?  Granted, if it’s in regard to something which will fucking ruin Christmas for the entire family there and then, then fair play to you.  Get on the phone and get that shit sorted.  Just bear in mind, you may end up speaking to some poor bastard who wanted nothing more than to see their family and enjoy Christmas day at home, who has been forced to work because their name wasn’t picked out of a fucking hat after holidays were ‘fairly distributed’.  They won’t give a fuck about your problem, and will wish bad things to happen to you and your family if you call up for some stupid bullshit which could, in all honesty, wait a few fucking days.  Give a fuck at Christmas, only call in an emergency, hey? And of course, let’s not forget – how many of the bigwigs have to come in at Christmas or New Year?  That’s right, fucking zilch, they are more than happy to run the holiday ship on a skeleton crew and not give a fuck about THEIR jobs for the day. The typical sort of bullshit you'll find in a call centre around Christmas.  It's so hilarious, it's almost like I'm not working Christmas fucking day at all while you're at home with your family, and there's an inflatable Reindeer in your seat just to remind me you fuck.   DRESS DOWN FOR CHARITY IS MANDATORY, NOT OPTIONAL, LET'S BE HONEST... ...Unless you want to look like the biggest jerk in the world coming to work in your business dress, then you’re gonna have to pay.  Oh, it’s for charity?  Yeah, then fuck that shit I’ll be sure to be hiding in the toilet when you come around rattling your tin.  You pay me to come to work, I don’t pay you. COMMUNITY CHAMPION, TEAM CHAMPION, FEEDBACK CHAMPION, BULLSHIT CHAMPION Hey there big guy, you know what you’re championing?  Some bullshit reasoning to make you seem like you matter to the business.  You know what would be great?  If you could travel back in time, make a visit to the coliseum, and declare yourself “Complaints Champion,” preferably in an arena full of rabid badass Gladiators and hungry lions.  See how you get on.   ANONYMOUS FEEDBACK IS A WONDERFULLY BAD IDEA, AND I LOVE IT My business had in place a means of written feedback regarding different aspects of the business (as opposed to “anonymous surveys” which are, incidentally, always completed on your logins) and the outcome was hilarious to the point it was withdrawn unless people could use it responsibly.  “That blonde bitch who works downstairs can suck my dick she’s a retard” was one of many gloriously eye opening comments left for the management.   NO BOOKS OR MAGAZINES AT YOUR DESK I have a unique opinion on this issue, as the first ever call centre I worked for, just didn’t give a fuck about it.  Seriously, there were fucking zero rules and the campaign we were working on was HUGE.  Like, the biggest in the United Kingdom huge.  We ate at our desks, read books, played network games, hundreds of people had a great old time.  Hell, I even met a kid I eventually became good friends with because he passed me leftover pizza and chips nobody could finish one afternoon.  Calls got answered, and nobody hated the fucking place.  People wanted to help customers, and went that elusive “extra mile” (corporate bullshit alert... whop whoop) because they were chilled as fuck and working with friends they could share interests with.  Then along came the client one day and said “aw HELL no, these assholes are clearly too happy, we need more professionalism about the place.”  And it all came to a grinding, painful halt. Guess what happened?  Everyone left, management blew a gasket because calls were being abandoned left right and centre, and one disgruntled employee shat on the men’s toilet floor (which lead to many hilarious conversations among management as to the best course of action to clean it up) The result was, a professional looking environment, full of seething employees who stopped giving a fuck about their jobs.  Look dipshit, if I have a book at my desk and I’m reading between calls, I’m not going to be suddenly taken off guard when a call comes through and answer with “Good afternoon, Girl with the Dragon Tattoo speaking... I mean, no wait, fuck, sorry”   PAPER FREE ENVIRONMENT OMGLOL.  You know why. DEPRESSION IS YOUR FREE TICKET TO TIMEOFFSVILLE I know colleagues who have been off work with depression, and they are fucking depressed.  I can see it in their eyes; the crushing defeat of having to answer the phones day after day, dreading that next call; I even observed a colleague one afternoon just sit staring at his phone, not even logged in, as if he was about to have a fucking breakdown, he was so depressed.  I’ve been there too guys, and genuine depression is absolutely awful, uncontrollable, and frankly induces temporary thoughts the likes of which you couldn’t have even conceived just a few days earlier, so I would never make fun of the genuine victims of such a crippling ailment, but... ... then there are the rest of you fuckers who know for a fact the old ‘depression’ card is your free ride.  In a call centre, the easiest way to get out of work with virtually no repercussions on you – hell, it can often negate a piss poor performance over the last six months – is to hit them with a sick note for depression.  Often open ended, your dipshit employer will be all rich tea and sympathy for you, walking on eggshells to make your life easier when – and if – you decide to return to work. The sad thing about this particular section is, most people who start off by faking it end up with genuine fucking depression at some point.   Hell, chances are you don’t even realize you’re suffering with depression – but don’t be scared to go see the doc if work is getting too much for you.  Call centre depression must be ridiculously rampant in this country, to the point where I believe it will attain that very clinical name.

ASSHOLE CUSTOMERS Now I will admit, a lot of customers are nice enough.  Jolly and carefree, they care not a jot if you break bad news to them, so long as you do it smiling down the phone (ALERT ALERT) and in a manner which states “I’m sorry, I know my company is a complete suckass bitch, and I’m on your side.”  But then, you have the condescending dickheads, who think they are above speaking to the monkey and want the organ grinder whom, if they’re worth their salt as Team Leaders will back you up all the way, and they will bitch and moan at you, attempting to belittle you like the raging cockheads they are. The best way to deal with them, I always found, was to put up a wall of indifference, and speak in a level tone, simply repeating the same information over and over in a monotone voice, talking over them, until they fucking explode and swear at you enough to cut them off.  Know your T&C’s and shoot those fuckers down in a hail of legality if needs be.  And f you’re sick as fuck, just slip in “my manager would advise you of the same thing” and bingo, you said the M word, and like some sort of subliminal suggestion, they’ll want your boss like fat girl wants loved. 'Hey girls, I just had this real asshole on the phone, I've got his email though so he'll be getting some midget porn later.'

CALL CENTRE TRAINING Holy flipchart presentations, Batman!  So you kick off with an icebreaker, or “the most pointless bullshit ever conceived, given that it all it achieves is to put everyone on edge for ten minutes, and they’ll instantly forget everybody’s name anyway”, then you  follow it up with a little history on the business, usually backed up by some jobsworth asshole who will pop their heads in to high five the trainer and assure you just how great a company it is to work for, and throughout the two/three/four week period you’ll enjoy a carefree attitude towards breaks and lunches.  “Awesome,” you’ll think, ”this will definitely be a good place to work.” Slowly but surely, you will amass pages and pages of flip chart, detailing every topic you’ve gone over, which you’ve presented to everyone else while they slept, unless of course you’re ‘that guy’ with the ‘crazy’ personality, who seems to be lapping this shit up in an attempt to impress everyone.  You’ll do tests, you’ll practice on the piece of shit systems.  You’ll have a grand old time assessing the hot girls in your training group while bonding with your fellow male colleagues, and casting a critical eye over the totty ratio in the canteen, and critically, you’ll attempt to arrange a “night out” for your training group, which will fall hopelessly apart about a week beforehand. You’ll have a blast, and if you have any sense, at the end of your training you’ll get the fuck out of there, taking your pay for a few easy weeks of doing fuck all and screwing around with your new friends. If you’re unlucky you’ll stick around, quickly realizing how utterly fucking pointless training was, as you bumble your way through calls, asking for help on every fucking screen you come across.  Systems training wasn’t worth dick, and it’s suddenly a zillion times busier than it was in academy, now they’ve changed your skillset to reflect every fucking asshole who is able to use a telephone and mash the keys together to get through to your company. The Matrix has you now.   HUMAN RESOURCES DO NOT GIVE A FUCK ABOUT YOU Let’s get this one thing straight; Human resources (you know; the all-girl squad who sit on the top floor who are too busy to deal with your trifling little wage queries) within a Call Centre are there to deal with the ridiculous amounts of recruitment, and fuck all else.  In my early days, I went to HR because I felt I was being discriminated against by one of the big fat fuckwits who worked on the “we’ll sit here with pictures of our kids everywhere and read as many magazines as we want” magical desks at the far side of the call centre, and my very serious grievance was met with utter indifference, along the lines of “I know her personally and I can assure you that’s not something she would  do, there’s obviously been a miscommunication, really, try not to worry.”  No doubt soon after, she was off to the coffee machine to shoot the breeze with her chum from downstairs, and have a real chuckle about the attempted complaint. You see, what you need to be aware of, is that in a Call Centre everyone but you has access to HR, and goes to have chats with them, getting to know them all by name and so forth.  They aren’t going to believe your shit, unless it’s pointedly serious, with witnesses, and they have no choice.  You can see it in their eyes; “you’re paid to work on the phones and we can always get somebody else to do this piece of shit job” is written all over their faces when you voice a concern. You remember the company I worked for in my pre call centre days?  The HR department there was fucking awesome.  They even asked for pictures of my kid when he was born, remembering I had come back from paternity leave and were happy to genuinely spend time having a chat even if you were just walking past their office and the door was open.  To HR in call centres, you’re just a fucking expendable hindrance, unless you’re a Team Leader or above.

UNIONS... LOL Who the fuck thought unions for a call centre were a good idea?  I joined a union once, and guess what happened when I approached them with an issue?  They advised me to speak to my manager, then his manager, blah blah.  Hey asshole, if I felt comfortable doing that, I wouldn’t be speaking to you, would I?  Waste of fucking time.  Don’t bother, because you have no rights, because you don’t have a serious job in the eyes of the galaxy.   Folks, “I work in a call centre” instantly excludes you from partaking in any serious conversations with people in real jobs.  Understand this.  Admitting you work in a call centre to somebody is like telling them your parents are dead;  “oh, I’m sorry to hear that” is written all over their faces.  They will assume you have fucked up in life, or something has gone terribly wrong.   And frankly, they are absolutely correct. Call centres have a rich lexicon, scattered with wee pearls of wisdom which, in the outside world, would be laughed out of the fucking building if you attmepted to rationalize them to anyone with a real job.  You've all heard them; the ridiculous customer focused buzzwords and phrases, which make you die a little inside every time you have to endure them, fully aware that they're fucking bullshit.  I can assure you, these are all real. SMILE DOWN THE PHONE Fuck that shit, I used to slump in my chair and mouth “fuck you” down the phone... and still managed to sound happy.  I do not need to smile down the fucking phone.  What I need to do is convey information down the phone in a way that will send the customer away happy.  When I phone a call centre, I hate nothing more than some fucker sounding like they just opened their first Christmas present.  I want competence, not comedy.  I don't give a fuck about the person on the other end of the phone, so long as they fix my fucking problem.  They could call me a c*cksucker all day long; I just don't care.

PITCH, PACE, TONE (OR SOME SHIT) Wait, what?  I manage to communicate in everyday life without paying any fucking attention to how I speak, and I seem to get along alright.  Do you assume I suddenly turn into Forrest Gump when faced with Johnny Customer on the other end of the phone?  Fuck you.  Pace, Piss, Off. VERBAL NODS  Apparently a way for the customer to know the agent hasn't fallen fast asleep listening to your bullshit which is the same as the last hundred customers' bullshit, which consists of making rudamentary grunts or sounds randomly throughout a call to denote they're listening, and not playing Connect 4 or snap with the guy sitting next to them.  I used to get so into my verbal nodding, I would completely zone out going "uh huh" and "yes," and have no fucking clue what the problem was by the time they'd finished rambling. OBJECTION HANDLING  When the agent says “Did you know we now have this shiny new bicycle for just ten pounds a month” and the customers says “No thanks I’m disabled and wheelchair bound” and the agent says “I see but have you considered the benefits of a bicycle...” This is the epitome of Stupid Fucking Call Centre Bullshit, you are expected to “handle” three objections before giving up on the customer because hey, the customer may not realize that they actually need that shit.  Don’t assume anything.  Don’t let the fact they’ve expressly told you that they know what the insurance is, they’ve read all about it on Moneysavingexpert.com and they think it’s bullshit and would rather go to prison that take purchase anything from you, they may not know all the facts.  OBJECTION HANDLE.  It may be something which could benefit them; they just don’t know it yet. Your call is important to us.  Please  wait, our advisors cannot fucking wait to speak with the next angry  asshole who has been listening to our shitty music for ten minutes. Yeah,  we've all been there.  And do you want to know why call centres are  constantly experiencing "higher than expected call volumes?"  Well, it's  simple.  When the call start a comin', we all fuck off to the toilet.   We take a personal break, we fuck up our login on purpose so we have to  call the helpdesk and crucially, don't have to speak to you.  It's  nothing personal - it's just that taking call after call is so bitterly  demoralizing - knowing there won't be any opportunity to pause for  breath between now and the split second we'll have to mash our dialler  keys in the hope of scoring a break when we're scheduled one - that we  just snap, and give less of a fuck than at any other point during the  day.***

***Disclaimer-----I post this on my tumblr coz i totally agree with this guy who originally post this.

[weirdo-of-the-day]

Day 29

It was hellish out today, a record high for this particular day of the year. We had an unusually large quantity of people coming through our automatic doors, and probably a lot of them just came inside to escape the heat. So lots of people were aimlessly wandering through the aisles, sweaty and pissed and dressed in as little clothing as they could get away with wearing. And somehow, in spite of all the revealing clothing parading in and out of the store, I ran into more shoplifting than ever before.

I’d already encountered one shoplifter personally at this point, and given just how big the store I was working at was, probably even more than that without realizing it. But the heat must’ve made people bold, or too angry to care about consequences. And I was situated right next to one of the major doorways, working the express lane, so I had a front row seat. 

The first was actually a woman who was about to check out at my register. Right before she reached me, with my usual too-perky customer service “Hello~” dying on my lips, the head of the store’s security team jumped on the empty register next to mine and waved the woman over. I could see Officer Bad-Touch lurking close to the head of the lane, and I knew that shit was about to go down. 

Head of Security (HoS): Hello Ma’am, did you find everything you were looking for today? Particularly in the food or cosmetics sections? Or would you like some more time to shop around?

Woman: I found everything. Thanks.

HoS: Are you sure? I think you forgot to put some things in your basket. 

Woman: (suspicious) No. I’m fine. 

It was then that Officer Bad-Touch jumped into the check lane dramatically, obviously wearing his cop uniform, and said, “Ma’am, I’m going to need you to empty out your bag for me.”

She was startled but complied. And a whole pile of random food and makeup products came spilling out of her purse. Officer Bad-Touch looked smug. “Ma’am, this is the one and only warning you’re going to receive. You’re lucky we’re not pressing charges today.” And then he put one of his bad-touch hands on her shoulder and started escorting her out of the store. 

Right as he and the woman passed my register, he seemed to notice me and gave me a weird little finger wave of acknowledgement. But right at the same time, I hit my elbow against the register counter and snarled out a pained, “Motherfucker!”

Judging from his expression, he definitely thought I was talking to him. Good. 

The next shoplifter I saw but paid little attention to. A woman walked in through the door beside me, grabbed a cart, and pushed it over to the deli area. She then loaded it up with eight (eight!) rotisserie chickens. And then promptly left the store. I was too surprised for this to even register as stealing at first. Because honestly, who the fuck needs eight whole chickens? 

In hindsight, I can’t help but be a little in awe of her brazen method. She was in and out in the span of a few minutes and gave approximately zero fucks. What a lady. 

The last case of shoplifting I think I saw, but didn’t know that any stealing had occurred until after a manager came by and told me about it. A woman and her two young children came in, walked to the back of the store, and put a new window air conditioning unit into her cart. Then she just simply walked out, pushing the cart with one child in it and holding the other child’s hand. I think I might’ve seen her–or at least another mom with an AC unit, looking around apprehensively by the door. 

The way my manager phrased this story, it was coming across as, “how dare this woman make a fool of us! We need to start putting security wraps on AC units too!”

But all I could think was that it was a horrifically hot day, and being cooped up indoors, where it’s usually even hotter, could kill people. I couldn’t be mad. I was just glad she was brave enough to do what was necessary to keep her family comfortable and safe. 

[puzzledshrike]

I have many thoughts, specifically this time about involuntary psychiatric stay and how to me it seriously exemplifies the failure of modern/Western med, as someone who grew up on a mainly holistic path

So first off, it is a dehumanizing nightmare. I wish I was exaggerating at all but they don’t give a shit who you are, will misgender and misname you (even if you’re cis! will explain that in a sec), and in general, if you don’t sit down and shut the fuck up, push down all your feelings and accept whatever drugs they arbitrarily throw at you, you will remain trapped there. That is something one of the jackass psychiatrists told me, the smug bastard. 

So first off the shame of having my neighbors and aunt/uncle who live down the street watch me get carted off was pretty bad and damning from the start, as well as people being legitimately surprised when I would (pleasantly, in a customer service voice that I refused to drop) tell them that yes, I was furious at them and yes, I did think they were all morons. Whatever. In the ER I was called he for the first 2 hours until I was like dude. She/her are my pronouns fucking stop calling me a guy and they didn’t even apologize. Also with every fucking person I told I was on progesterone to keep endometriosis from growing back, they would ask if I had “the surgery” like if that’s how they talked to me, how the fuck would they treat a trans/enby person? 

Had a roommate, she was on roughly 8 different meds. She was chatty and way more anxious than I will likely ever be but I was also busy shoving down any emotion that wasn’t slightly sarcastic pleasantness to be anxious myself. She generally didn’t hear a word I said and every time I made a contribution to the conversation I had to repeat myself roughly 3 or 4 times. I did fix the shower though, kind of. But honestly I think if she took just a little different care of herself she would be in a lot less pain/have less anxiety. She also got directly insulted by the nurses a bunch, they would mess with her, take her colored pencils, make fun of her semi-germaphobe quirks and like that’s fucking uncalled for. 

Which brings me to the staff. I have never met people less equipped for their job. Like fuck dude cashiers that get paid minimum treat people better than these fuckers. There were a few exceptions sure, and those people were cool but like 8/10 were vindictive for literally no reason. A lot of these people can’t leave and are so drugged they can barely function anyway, I joined a cookie baking thing for something to do and I was easily the most alert, one dude kept falling asleep. At least the OTs and social workers were legit nice. 

I had a knack for talking to people that made my roommate nervous, a boy who they had super sedated but still had a decent chat with me about art, and a less decent one about jesus but I got him singing green day so that was cool? Yeah apparently he does randomly beat the shit out of nurses at least 2x his size. He was in the room next door, scared the shit out of my roommate bc she thought he would come in and beat us up but I said probably not. Another guy I chatted with apparently was a straight up sexual predator, according to her. Seeing as I ignored most of the yelling outside when it happened but she listened to every word, I tended to believe her but like I guess I had bad luck. 

There’s nothing decent to do. They have old and generally shitty books, although I did get my hands on a Stephen King novel that I started to enjoy, “Movement Group” was like old people pilates bc a lot of these people couldn’t handle more exercise, although I didn’t get yelled at for convincing another girl to do jumping jacks with me. My roommate colored and I did a little bit but it is boring. No one shuts up too, and they open the door every 15 min at night so hope you didn’t enjoy sleep! Ignore the fact that a good sleep schedule is good for mood disorders!

Food is shit, don’t really need to go into that but thank fuck my parents were willing to visit and bring me something decent to eat. 

The 1st psychiatrist I saw was a smug bastard who basically was like well we’re gonna keep you another day, and maybe longer because you refuse these drugs I’m pushing on you without knowing you/your medical history, and if you get upset about it in any visible way we’ll just keep you longer. I would legit cage match with him holy shit like someone needs to hit that expression off his face. The 2nd one I saw was nicer, but stupid. Lied directly to his face but I’ve always been convincing like buddy you will never ever get me back here, I wouldn’t come here if it was the last goddamn place on earth.

I still managed to talk myself out in 2 days instead of the full three but it ruined my work week, my paycheck is gonna be shit this round, and I need to dump my therapist, which I will do with a carefully constructed script, and honestly it just made me damn good at hiding my rage/hatred, even better than before. Now it actually feels like a separate entity in my ribcage, and I imagine it unfurling like a black tar spider to take over the nice facade I kept up that whole time. Can’t go back to therapy now, that was the last straw and I can’t risk that ever happening again; I did debate crawling back to my therapist just cause I have no one left to crawl back to, although this whole thing drug up memories of my ex for me to get more bitter about. I’m legit on my own now, that’s a bummer but I never expected any different. Means I can handle this my way. There wasn’t even any music there, like nothing to let anything out and they expect people to get better in there? With no kindness, no personal touches, they couldn’t even note down that one girl preferred her middle name bc she hated her first name. People were catatonic because of how much shit they were on and you want them out of there? They couldn’t even offer food that was good for you, everything was sugar and fats and barely any vegetables.

I meant to make this have more of a here’s what they could do better spin but honestly? Burn the whole system down and start with some input from literally anyone else, not a for profit hospital. Oh and I saw the nurse that insulted me when i first came in, saying I looked awful and why did I have a haircut like that? when I was filling out my leaving paperwork so I was like at least I get to leave, you can spend the rest of your life in a job like this and god damn I thought she was gonna tear up my paperwork. Worth it.

[itsmewhorunsthistown]

okay so this has been in my drafts since this was relevent and in but I loved that idea about the soulmate au where the words your soulmate thinks about you appear on your body. so I am here at last with the much needed feuilly/bahorel version (unless like i missed someone else posting one in that case i’m sorry please hc with me about the husbands) with a fluctuating use of capital letters because I love this pairing and am in an extra mood atm

when they meet it’s completely the wrong place and the wrong time

feuilly often takes on catering work at his friends company, normally working the bar or serving food, and it’s a good job because it’s semi frequent and he’s normally paid well for it but can turn down if he’s busy. feuilly would normally be excited about working an event for the local university, except this was the Law societies winter ball, and everyone was dressed to the nines and being either snobby, rude or condescending about his job. 

(it didn’t help that it was nearly christmas and he’d been working overtime at the mechanics)

bahorel is in just as much of a foul mood, he’s surrounded by people he doesn’t like, trying to make connections with people he doesn’t want to work for. But his mum had sent him a suit especially for the occasion (it used to belong to his father), and Enjolras had promised he’d also be in attendance. Except Enjolras had come down with the flu and Joly had told him that there was no way he was leaving the house in the state he was in no matter how hard he tried.

Bahorel was strongly considering bailing the entire thing until he caught sight of the small, dark haired waiter with freckles all over his face who was handing out drinks to the students

the first conversation they have Does Not go well.

Bahorel was a little bit tipsy at this point, and he was trying to be charming and impress the cute waiter in front of him. But Feuilly was exhausted and just wanted to get through the night before he collapsed in bed and slept for as long as possible. And although he’s normally more perceptive Bahorel wasn’t getting any of Feuilly’s hints to stop chasing him, and it wasn’t like he could be rude because he was working, so he simply appeased the stranger before leaving through the back door without saying goodbye or getting his number. 

The next morning, Bahorel found his words straight away, dotted across his waist: Inappropriate. It was safe to say that he was disappointed in himself more than anything. He’d met his soulmate and the first thing he’d done was make them uncomfortable. The worst thing was he wasn’t sure who it was, after he’d left the event he’d met up with Grantaire and had gotten incredibly drunk. Bahorel had very few memories of what had happened the night before. 

Feuilly took a few days to find his words, scrawled on his back, beautiful freckles. 

The unfortunate thing was that everyone noticed his freckles. They were dotted across the dark skin of his face and all over his arms and neck. Feuilly worked in customer service, he went on public transport every day, any of the people he’d come in contact with over the past few days could have been his soulmate, so he tried not to give it any thought and just assumed he’d have to get on with his life.

When they met again it was only a few days later. Feuilly didn’t recognise Bahorel at first, dressed in an outrageously horrific Christmas jumper with his hair left wild rather than tied back in a bun, but Bahorel recognised him straight away. Neither mentioned their unfortunate meeting however, as they were at the soup kitchen to work and not socialise. But Bahorel couldn’t stop himself from trying to talk to the waiter with the freckles as they had a short cigarette break together half way through the day. 

The conversation was short but sweet, and after the end of the shift Bahorel had suggested that if Feuilly was free that Tuesday evening he ought to drop in on his friends group where they talked about effective ways to bring around equality. Feuilly had decided it was worth giving the inappropriate lawyer a second chance, and said he’d try to make it as he wrote his number on Bahorel’s hand in biro.

That evening, Feuilly found the words warm smile on his wrist, Bahorel found unexpectedly sweet on the palm of his hand. 

The day before the meeting Bahorel found that the words had once again changed. Feuilly had been unable to stop thinking about Bahorel, which was strange for him, but he was desperately trying to work him out. In the morning the words had changed to nice smile though then smelled like cigarettes before settling on kind. The words kept changing all day and Bahorel had a hard time keeping track of them.

Feuilly woke up that morning with Indecisive on his arm. 

Feuilly found the meeting incredibly interesting and had really hit it off with Enjolras and Jehan in particular, although he ended the evening sitting with Bahorel until the bar closed. He decided to return to the meeting the next week, and this continued for months.

The two fell into an easily friendship almost instantly. It consisted mostly of them texting daily and inviting each other to events that they were interested in. Neither mentioned their changing soul mate marks, but both had become certain who the words belonged to.

Bahorel knew when he found the words whirlwind after Bahorel had taken Feuilly out for an adventure that had started with the two of them on a small road trip across the country and ended with them sneaking onto a private stretch of beach and swimming in the ocean. When they had been wrapped in towels on the quiet drive home Feuilly had rested his head against the window and mumbled ‘thanks for sweeping me off my feet like bloody whirlwind, I needed this’ before he had fallen asleep.

For Feuilly it was the day he found sarcastic fucker on his thigh which caused him to burst into peals of laughter at the sight. That appeared after the two had spent their first night in together watching bad horror films and they had spent the whole evening in hysterics enjoying each others company.

When they finally bring it up it was an after thought as it was not necessary to their enjoyment of each other company after all. Feuilly plucks up the courage to ask Bahorel out on a proper date a few weeks after Valentine’s when they’ve known each other for going on four months. He confesses that he really likes him and when Bahorel kisses his cheek and accepts his proposal he mutters that ‘it was about time we started something considering destiny has decided we’re perfect for one another’

Their soulmate marks never fully settle for as long as they live and tend to fluctuate every now and then depending on whether the other has done something particularly endearing, but the most consistent words on each of their bodies is my best friend which just about sums up how much they love each other. 

[stone-man-warrior]

September 1, 2018: 6:57 pm:

September 1, 2018: 6:15 pm:<br><br>I just returned from shopping for grocerie... StoneMan .Warrior - 2018-09-01 18:57:50-0700 - Updated: 2018-09-01 18:57:50-0700

September 1, 2018: 6:15 pm: I just returned from shopping for groceries at Wal-Mart, a trip to the convenience store at the AM/PM Arco, and fuel at Fred Meyer gas station. Dead-Mother-Fuckers happened. StoneMan unscathed. Terrorists die when their Nitrous Oxide tanks are ignited by an American who fights terrorism with a Bic Lighter. Terrorists also die when Americans fight back in other ways. One way to fight back includes physically fighting a terrorist wielding a sword. I don't often write about the sword fighting for a variety of reasons. One reason I don't talk about the fighting a swordsman terrorist is that it simply is not believable. No one ever believes that I have encountered terrorists with swords at the grocery store, so I leave that part out of these entries most of the time. At the checkout line, in any and all of the grocery stores in Grants Pass and Medford Oregon, a swordsman terrorist kills victims there. Victims are Americans who are not part of the Seventh Day Adventist Church and not part of the Screen Actors Guild or a Public/Government Official, everyone else who is not part of those groups of people will be taken captive or killed right there in the checkout line. Victims are usually injured with a sword or a small caliber firearm, exposed to the Nitrous Oxide/Versed airborne gas, and then carted away into captivity for extraction of information such as banking information and the location of family members and where the victims birth certificate is located. Once the terrorists are satisfied that the victim has provided the information they want, then the victims are disposed of in a variety of ways. Everyone in the stores are terrorists. The people who wear the uniforms that the employees wear are terrorists, and, the fake customers who pretend to be shopping, are all terrorists, and belong to the Seventh Day Adventist Church, or the Screen Actor Guild or are government officials. Everyone... all of the people... they are all terrorist soldiers and have already killed all of the other, non-Seventh Day Adventist residents of the area. Josephine, Jackson, Douglas, and Klamath Counties are all 100% taken over and repopulated with impostor inhabitants. The rest of the state of Oregon is likely to be that same way, I know about these counties first hand, however, I strongly believe that the entire state is terrorist controlled and inhabited only with terrorist soldiers. I also believe that the state of California is also completely taken by the Seventh Day Adventist Screen Actor Guild terrorists who use Nitrous Oxide mixed with Versed airborne gas as an offensive weapon for the Vatican goal of global domination. At the Wal-Mart, they are replacing the use of the swords for killing Victims with the use of euthanization poison. They have opened a place called "PetIQ" inside the Wal-Mart and have access to the drug that is normally used to put animals to sleep with. Euthanization. Today, I encountered the terrorist armed with the euthanization syringe at the check-stand. The terrorist with the syringe was signaled by the terrorist who works at the check-stand that I was there (I have killed so many of their people there that they know who I am and where I live and are signaled when I leave my home to go shopping). The terrorist with the syringe also was releasing Nitrous Oxide/Versed airborne gas. The gas was ignited and the terrorist ran, or launched quickly away yelling "HOT! THAT'S HOT!" I did not write an entry into this page yesterday. The reason is that I was attacked on August 29, on Thursday, by a large group of terrorist soldiers. I did not make an entry for a number of reasons, one of which is not knowing who the attackers were. Today, after the shopping trip in Socio-Terrific Dystopia, I know a little more and I will try and report some of what happened on Thursday. The attack was complicated and there were a lot of soldiers. No one is likely to believe any of what I write here about it, so, I will just sort of outline the events of Thursday in the comment section below in just a little while.

Shared with: Public

StoneMan .Warrior - 2018-09-01 20:47:14-0700

September 1, 2018: 8:04 pm: On Thursday morning, I received a phone call from someone who said he was a representative of a power-line maintenance company. The power- line maintenance requires that trees be trimmed back away from the power lines in the easement. Dead trees within the easement are cut down completely, and trees that have grown close to the power lines are trimmed. The Power-Line easement maintenance happens about once every five years. The employees of the contracted company have all been replaced with terrorist soldiers and are very strong, young men. The man who called said his name was Robert Corey, he called from this number: 458-225-4217 Mr. Corey represented himself as an agent of both the tree service company, and Pacific Power Corporation. I agreed to meet him outside since I have four power poles and a transformer on my property, as well as an easement for said poles and lines. He explained on the phone that he was alone, and had no one else with him, and that all he needed to do was look at the power lines, and mark trees that would be cut down completely. He said he was looking for standing dead trees and wanted to discuss with me personally about trees within the easement that would be cut completely rather than trimmed away. The Power company would prefer to have no trees at all in the easement but the easements are on private property, so they discuss the matter with the home owners to try and convince the homeowners to remove trees within the easement. I knew there would be trouble before going outside to meet Mr. Corey, but I did not know the extent of the trouble that would occur. I went outside and found a person climbing onto my roof on a ladder. That person, I believe is a young man by the name of Brett English. Whoever it was, had with him a ladder from Nathan Phillips terrorist cell at five-twenty "MyStreet". The ladder was carried by Nathan Phillips two sons Wyatt and Boone who are about seven and eight years old. I pulled the man down, he fell hard on his back, I asked who he was, he said "Brett". The two children ran and hid into a nearby creek area. "Brett English" is a terrorist who is associated with the United States Postal Service, which has also been taken over by the terrorists. Brett will no longer be a threat to me or anyone else and that is all that I am willing to write about that particular encounter. I walked down the driveway to see where the man who called was at. There was a white pick-up truck in the roadway in front of my driveway, and a man walking quickly towards me. That man, I think was a man I know of, Frank Mazola. I am not certain, there was a lot going on. Behind Mr. Mazola was the truck, and there were two individuals dressed in black head to toe who ran towards the truck and opened the door. That's is when I saw that Frank had a gun and was pointing it at me demanding money. I took the gun from his hand, it went off and the bullet struck a female who was hiding in the bushes releasing Nitrous Oxide. She ran towards the house at four-three-four yelling "I'm Hit!". Frank got shot in the head and so did the two men in black that were running near the truck. This story goes on and on. I am not going to disclose further about the details because so many people did in my driveway on Thursday. I learned at the store today from the terrorist who works the counter at the AM/PM, and from the gas station attendant at the Fred Meyer that the entire Nathan Phillips cell had been killed. The terrorists who told me this at the stores are not happy about that, but they did tell me... by asking me if I killed Nathan. I told them that I don't check ID when I defend myself. So, it appears as though no less than nine terrorist assassins died while trying to kill me on Thursday. Part of Nathan Phillips cell are impostor Oregon State Police who have badges, squad cars, and real police guns. They have the keys to the State Police Office and have all of the surveillance equipment also. That is all I am going to say about it. No help has come. There is no law enforcement to call. This is the only means of reporting the terrorists activities that I have available. I keep trying to get help from the federal agencies and they refuse to respond. I have been sending messages through Twitter lately to the Department of Defense and to the US Navy, and to the State Department, and to Department of Homeland Security and no one answers that calls for help. No one answers the calls, and, I have not been arrested for making false reports. The reports are real. However, if they won't respond, then I should have been arrested a long, long time ago. I am going to keep watching to see if the Nathan Phillips cell is really out of commission.

StoneMan .Warrior - 2018-09-02 18:05:50-0700

September 2, 2018: 5:49 pm: In the entries above I explained how I was attacked by a group of terrorists that are associated with Pacific Power Corporation, a Maintenance company that contracts with the Pacific Power, The United States Postal Service and neighbor terrorist cells at 434 and 520 "MyStreet". I still have not been able to confirm who the people were or from which terrorist cell. I am only going by what I see and hear. The terrorists where disguises and heavy Hollywood style make-up, so without any one to help me know for sure who these people are, I have to wait and see what happens later on. This entry here is being made because I was looking at when that phone call came in from the man who said he was Robert Corey. My phone indicates the call came in on the 28 of August, which was a Tuesday. In my explanation above, I wrote that it happened on Thursday, but I also indicated the 29 of August. I cannot explain the discrepancy. Either I made a mistake when writing the information, or the mistake was put there by others associated with Google. Also, nine people died in my driveway that day, and the mess was cleaned up by some other group of people, most likely the Monroe terrorist cell at 434. There is also a possibility that I am so stressed out about the events that I made a mistake about the date of the event associated with Robert Corey. That is possible since there is so much Nitrous Oxide mixed with Versed airborne gas being blown around and into my home that my memory is not as good as it would be if no poisonous gas was being used in my neighborhood. I apologize for the mixed up date of the event, but I choose to leave it the way I wrote it along with this little explanation. Also, I have not seen or heard any activity from 520 "MyStreet" since that day, so, it does appear that the people who attacked me included Nathan Phillips and his terrorist cell members.

StoneMan .Warrior - 2018-09-05 18:58:21-0700

September 5, 2018: 6:46 pm: Those pieces on the ground is all the work that Wrights Trees Service did for Pacific Power Corporation easement  maintenance. Clearly, in remembrance of the nine terrorists who died in my driveway on Tuesday the 28 of August, those workers today were NOT here to do any maintenance work. They came to kill. That is what terrorists do, they kill. They kill Americans for no reason at all other than they are advancing an agenda of global domination under Vatican Rule. These Wrights Tree Service guys are special assassins who came to get even, or get revenge for what happened to Mr. Corey. As you might have guessed, I am NOT divulging everything that happened today. Everything that happened today would require a stack of Fifth Amendments to the Constitution of the United States of America. The Fifth Amendment is useful in times of conditions of war, but when war has not been declared. That is exactly what is happening in the United States of America right now... conditions of an undeclared war exist and great numbers of American Citizens are being slaughtered because no one has informed them that there is a war... no one has told the citizens to fight back... no one has said "Fight terrorism with a Bic Lighter" other than me, StoneMan.

[lifeisgreatagain-blog]

The Adventures of Luke, ep. 1

I ran out of dip at work so I walked down the street to the convenience store. The store calls itself a “bodega” but I don’t know what that means. And if I don’t know what something means that means I don’t need it. But I did need some more dip, so I closed my eyes and shouted “this is a convenience store!” as I walked in, so that fixed that.

The guy behind the counter looked at me funny. He was probably a junkie. I told him I didn’t have any money for his drugs, then tried to buy some dip. He said if I didn’t have any money then he couldn’t sell me any dip. I asked him what kind of operation he was running if he couldn’t sell me any dip until I gave him money for his drug habit. That’s no way to keep customers. He looked super confused.

“That too much for your brain to handle, druggie?” I shouted calmly.

“Get the fuck out of my store, asshole,” he screamed at me, his eyes crazy from the drugs.

I felt threatened, so I unholstered my gun and pointed it at him, just like I learned to on the internet. “Not one more move, druggie!” I peacefully protested.

“What the fuck are you doing, you crazy fuck?!” the junkie screamed.

I read online that the drugheads get irritated like that when they’re “jonesing” for a “fix,” so I kept my gun pointed at him, real cool. I made sure he saw me take the safety off.

“Now look, I don’t need any more of your druggie bullshit,” I asserted. “I just came in here for some dip. You’re the one who went and turned this into something neither of us wanted.”

He threw a can of Skoal at me. “Take it and just leave! Please!”

I don’t chew Skoal. That’s the kind of service you can expect when “convenience stores” don’t properly screen who they hire. Your business gets tarnished by junkies like this asshole. I told him what brand I wanted and he threw a whole sleeve at me.

“I don’t want a full sleeve, just one can,” I shouted at him, losing my patience a little. “I don’t have the money to pay for a whole sleeve!”

“Just take it and leave!” he screamed, crying. He must have been in a lot of pain from the lack of drugs. Well it’s not my job to care about his bad decisions.

“Fine, but I’m going to call your manager and tell him about you being high at work and giving away his merchandise, asshole,” I jeered.

I left the store, fingered a big ol’ pile of dip and started chomping. Then I realized I was hungry from all that commotion. Luckily there was a taco truck parked on the corner, and it was open. And it sure smelled good.

I like tacos, and I like trucks, so I walked up to place an order. And wouldn’t you know it, the whole damned truck was packed full of illegal immigrants!

“What on God’s green Earth do we have here?” I asked as I walked up to the order window.

“Welcome to La Niña, sir, can I take your order?” said the dirty little kid working the register.

“Yeah I got an order,” I said to her, slyly. “I order you to show me your immigration papers and your I.D., now!”

“Excuse me?” she said.

“You heard me,” I said, louder. “Prove to me you’re in that truck legally, cuz I ain’t about to buy tacos from an illegal alien!”

“Sir, I’m 14 and I was born here,” she said, mocking me. “I don’t have an I.D. and I don’t have any papers because I’m a citizen. And I really think you should leave, now.”

“Bullshit,” I said. “You don’t have any papers because you’re an illegal. I know your dirty little tricks. I’m going to call the police!”

Lucky for me, a police car came speeding around the corner at that very moment with its lights flashing. I tried to flag it down, but it went straight to the “convenience store” back up the street. “Well at least they’ll put that junkie away for awhile,” I thought. But I needed them at the truck.

I turned back to the immigrant working the taco truck, and she screamed.

“He’s got a gun!” she sounded scared. I had forgotten to put it back in my holster after that incident with the junkie, but I got a right to carry my gun however I want, so I didn’t see what the little coward was bellowing about.

“This would make you feel safe if you weren’t all illegals,” I said, waving my gun through the order window. “You tell me I need to leave? Well you leave and go back where you came from if you’re so scared of freedom!”

Just then, a couple of black cops come running up the street with the junkie from the “convenience store” following behind them, pointing at me and shouting.

“There he is!” the junkie yelled.

One of the black cops had the nerve to pull his gun on me, and here I am trying to be a good citizen.

“Drop the weapon now!” he barked.

“I got just as much a right to carry this gun as you do, officer,” I said with a little annoyance. Now, I ain’t racist, but I just don’t think colored people make for good cops. They tend to break the law more than enforce it, like he was doing to me.

“Drop the weapon now!” he repeated.

“Now officer, why you hastlin’ me?” I asked, calmly inching my thumb to the safety button on my gun. “You should be arresting that junkie you got chasing you. He’s high as a kite. And this truck here’s full of ILLEGAL immigrants.”

“You have to the count of three!” he responded.

“Stop him, Officer Mellon!” the alien girl shouted.

“It’s gonna be alright, Anna,” the officer said to her. “One!”

“Now officer, I know my rights,” I said, inching my gun up.

“Two!” the black cop continued counting.

“And if you’re going to look out for that junkie and these illegals over a God-fearing white man who actually works for a living then--”

At that moment the other black cop tackled me from behind. He knocked my gun away and grinded my face into the sidewalk real bad.

“That’s police brutality!” I screamed at him, but he didn’t care about the law. These black cops always beating up on the wrong people. It’s fine if a cop wants to play a little chin music on some thug or some drug dealer from the ghetto who’s actually breaking the law. But I didn’t do anything wrong.

The black cop started going through my pockets. He pulled out my wallet and my can of dip.

“Hey, you can’t just steal from people because you want to, pig!” I screamed.

“Is this the merchandise this man stole from you?” the pig asked the junkie.

“Yeah, and that’s the gun he pulled on me right there,” said that drugged-up faggot, pointing at my gun.

“You fuckers are in league with each other!” I screamed. “I’m going to call up the police captain tomorrow and tell him what’s really going on here!”

“You can tell her that when you meet her at the station,” Officer Mellon said as he handcuffed me. “We’re gonna go there right now.”

“Well that’s good, because there’s going to be a drug freak, two black so-called cops and a whole truckload of illegals in the pokey by the time I’m done telling my story!” I said, reasonably.

“Shut the fuck up,” said the other officer, then he hit me in the face and things went a little hazy.

-- Taken from a collect call transcript, caller Lucas Voegel, inmate at the Lancaster County Jail

End Episode 1