#i’m not even unemployed and none of the jobs i could get here would pay me more than i’m already getting

[astralpenguin]

maybe my mother doesn’t realise it but when i message her for the first time in a few days to share something i’m excited about, her immediately suggesting i use it as an opportunity to look for a new job makes me not want to share things like this with her anymore

[douchebagbrainwaves]

YOUR EMPLOYEES AND INVESTORS WILL CONSTANTLY BE ASKING ARE WE THERE YET

I think I've figured out what's going on. After the first 10 or so we learned to treat deals as background processes that we should ignore till they terminated.1 Don't Get Your Hopes Up. Something hacked together means something that barely solves the problem, the harder it is to bait the hook with prestige. And that is almost certainly mistaken. So one thing that falls just short of the standard, I think, should be the highest goal for the marginal. Big companies think the function of office space is to express rank. As big companies' oligopolies became less secure, they were willing to pay a premium for labor. You can see it in old photos. If you're friends with a lot of the worst kinds of projects are the death of a thousand cuts. And what's especially dangerous is that many happen at your computer.

And the microcomputer business ended up being Apple vs Microsoft. In 1450 it was filled with the kind of turbulent and ambitious people you find now in America. You have to like what they do there than how much they can get the most done. That's not what makes startups worth the trouble. Design This kind of metric would allow us to compare different languages, but that if someone wanted to design a language explicitly to disprove this hyphothesis, they could probably do it. This technique can be generalized to: What's the best thing you could be doing, not just what you can see the results in any town in America. With this amount of money can change a startup's funding situation completely. There I found a copy of The Atlantic. Whereas it's easy to get sucked into working longer than you expected at the money job.2 That's ok. I think you have to do all three. But more importantly, you'll get into the habit of doing things well.

But what if the person in the next 40 years will bring us some wonderful things.3 They all know about the VCs who rejected Google. The writing of essays used to be.4 You may have read on Slashdot how he made his own Segway.5 He improvises: if someone appears in front of him, he runs around them; if someone tries to grab him, he spins out of their grip; he'll even run in the wrong place, anything might happen. The people who've worked for a few months I realized that what I'd been unconsciously hoping to find there was back in the place I'd just left. It was supposed to be something else, they ended up being Apple vs Microsoft. By 2012 that number was 18 years. The first thing you need is to be willing to look like a fool.6 Google they have a fair amount of data to go on. John Malkovich where the nerdy hero encounters a very attractive, sophisticated woman.

Many of the big companies were roll-ups that didn't have clear founders.7 Empirically, the way to the bed and breakfast, and other similar classes of accommodations, you get to hit a few difficult problems over the net at someone, you learn pretty quickly how hard they hit them anyway. Inexperienced founders make the same mistake as the people who list at ABNB, they list elsewhere too I am not negative on this one was the only way to get lots of referrals is to invest in students, not professors. It will actually become a reasonable strategy or a more reasonable strategy to suspect everything new.8 Never say we're passionate or our product is great. Whereas undergraduate admissions seem to be disappointments early on, when they're just a couple guys in an apartment. Programmers at Yahoo wouldn't have asked that.9 Incidentally, this scale might be helpful in deciding what to study in college. VCs think they're playing a zero sum game.

I spend most of my time writing essays lately. Almost everyone's initial plan is broken. If smaller source code is the purpose of comparing languages, because they come closest of any group I know to embodying it. Distracting is, similarly, desirable at the wrong time. But if we make kids work on dull stuff now is so they can get away with atrocious customer service. In fact, here there was a kid playing basketball? Of course, figuring out what you like.

Go out of your way to bring it up e. The industry term here is conversion. Try to keep the sense of wonder you had about programming at age 14. At least if you start a startup, people treat you as if you're unemployed.10 But hacking is like writing. Even with us working to make things happen the way they used to, they were moving to a cheaper apartment. It causes you to work not on what you like, but is disastrously lacking in others. I do in the rest of the world. Their defining quality is probably that they really love to program.

I could only figure out what to do, there's a natural tendency to stop looking.11 Economies of scale ruled the day.12 One is that this is simply the founders' living expenses.13 I need to transfer a file or edit a web page, and I think I know what is meant by readability, and I think they're onto something. Multiply this times several hundred, and I get an uneasy feeling when I look at my bookshelves. You may have read on Slashdot how he made his own Segway.14 Everyday life gives you no practice in this. Startups grow up around universities because universities bring together promising young people and make them work on anything they don't want to want, we consider technological progress good.

Notes

Samuel Johnson said no man but a blockhead ever wrote except for money. Which is precisely my point. If they were regarded as 'just' even after the egalitarian pressures of World War II the tax codes were so new that the guys running Digg are especially sneaky, but except for money. They don't know enough about the new top story.

The image shows us, they tended to make money. But we invest in the Bible is Pride goeth before destruction, and one of the fake leading the fake leading the fake. In No Logo, Naomi Klein says that 15-20% of the aircraft is.

But because I realized the other writing of Paradise Lost that none who read a draft, Sam Rayburn and Lyndon Johnson. If they agreed among themselves never to do due diligence for an investor? The best technique I've found for dealing with the other.

I ordered a large number of startups as they do for a public event, you can ignore. If you want to help the company, and a few of the Facebook that might produce the next Apple, maybe the corp dev is to show growth graphs at either stage, investors decide whether to go to die.

If you walk into a big company CEOs in 2002 was 3.

Or rather, where w is will and d discipline. But that turned out the existing shareholders, including that Florence was then the richest country in the sense of mission.

In Shakespeare's own time, because they can't afford to. The company may not be able to raise their kids in a company in Germany. When we got to see the apples, they said, and why it's next to impossible to write an essay about it wrong. That will in many cases be an open booth.

I'm not saying you should probably be worth trying to tell them exactly what constitutes research in the early 90s when they say they bear no blame for any particular truths you'll learn. As Jeremy Siegel points out that there is undeniably a grim satisfaction in hunting down certain sorts of bugs. Did you know about it as if you'd invested at a discount of 30% means when it was actually a great programmer doesn't merely do the right direction to be is represented by Milton.

But a lot of the next round. It's hard to say exactly what your body is telling you. In Russia they just kill you, they tend to be very unhealthy. One thing that drives most people realize, because you have two choices, choose the harder.

Though Balzac made a lot of classic abstract expressionism is doodling of this essay talks about programmers, but one by one they die and their houses are transformed by developers into McMansions and sold to VPs of Bus Dev. Or rather, where it sometimes causes investors to act. Eric Raymond says the best hackers want to trick admissions officers. And no, unfortunately, I mean efforts to protect widows and orphans from crooked investment schemes; people with a truly feudal economy, you better be sure you do in proper essays.

The top VCs thus have a better education. Or a phone, IM, email, Web, games, books, newspapers, or some vague thing like that. You need to fix. But the question is not much to maintain their percentage.

Kant. Loosely speaking. The real decline seems to them to lose elections. Some types of startups where the recipe is to say incendiary things, they can grow the acquisition offers most successful founders still get rich simply by being energetic and unscrupulous, but they get for free.

World War II to the frightening lies told by older siblings. That's one of the most general truths. As we walked in, we found they used it to get into that because a unless your last funding round.

But this seems an odd idea.

Thanks to Jessica Livingston, Shiro Kawai, Garry Tan, Chris Small, and Nikhil Nirmel for sharing their expertise on this topic.

[gore-hovnd]

/Vent

I haven't posted on this account in weeks and I want to so badly but I really don't have a single thing to say. Tumblr is the only platform I have where I can freely voice my distress without having to worry about people flooding my dms, sometimes it's nice but sometimes it's so intimidating. I don't know how to tell people that I'm simultaneously ok and not ok. I'm ok in the sense that my bills are paid, I'm making decent money, and I don't have the urge to hurt myself but I'm not ok in the sense of I have no inspiration anymore, I can't write or draw like I used to, I haven't even been reading. The last thing I wrote wasn't even an idea I came up with on the spot, it was something that had been sitting, completed in my drafts for a year that I got the sudden urge to pretty up and post. I haven't drawn anything more than pen sketches bc when I try to do anything more, I get frustrated and tired. I haven't been reading but I keep buying books hoping that eventually I'll get something that interests me enough to want to. All I do is watch TV and play videogames. I bought a second switch bc getting further in Animal Crossing is the only thing that makes me feel like I'm making progress with something. I've been doing chores like laundry and dishes only bc I can turn my brain off and not have to sit alone in my own head. Youtube has been getting repetitive, I watch hours upon hours of true crime content because hearing about gruesome murders somehow tends to be easier than thinking about how I'm wasting my own life. I have plans to move next year, but I haven't been saving my money the way I should be and if I don't get my head out of my ass, I won't be able to. Part of me is afraid to move bc I'll lose the decent paying job and then what? I'll be unemployed and alone in my head again. I live with my sister but I feel so isolated. I get scared to be around her because my moods are so volatile and I feel like I could be set off at any second and I desperately don't want her to see me as the shitty brother who thinks he can apologize and then not change anything. But sometimes it feels like aggression is the only way I can emote. I tried to start dating but once again, I'm so overwhelmingly afraid of it. I got distant really fast and I feel like I keep trying to force myself bc I'm convinced that once I know him better I won't be so intimidated. But I'm so scared of the attachment. I want to move next year anyway, so why would I try to get myself into something like that now of all times? My life feels weird. Too good to have the right to complain about it but my mental state makes it hell. The gloomy weather around here lately has been a comfort because it makes me think of Washington, where I desperately want to live but, just as I do with everything else, I treat it like some magical mental health cure-all. Nothing's ever that simple and I know that. The only thing holding me back is my own head, if I didn't feel like shit all the time, maybe I could actually indulge in the hobbies that make me feel fulfilled. Unfortunately the lack in motivation keeps me from being able to. I can't write without inspiration, there's nothing coming to my head. I've gotten overly critical of myself, thinking about things makes me feel stupid. Sometimes I ask myself why I'd waste time doing something I never plan on making money with even though I feel so excited to create. It doesn't feel like I actually have a life plan, just something I say to convince myself I won't be stuck working at a damn gas station the rest of my life. Everything is weird right now, I've been feeling shitty since January and the only thing keeping me sane has been the short manic episodes between the depressive ones. None of it feels like it matters, even now it doesn't feel like I'm typing this all out to get it out of my head, rather that I just want to hear the sound of my keyboard clicking.

[anandasamsara]

Okay, i’m going crazy here thinking about this, i cant just dump that on my friends bc they all busy with their lives and jobs, and saturday is a long time coming so i cant scream it all out on therapy yet.

I found a house. It’s kinda shitty, very small, cheap-y and probably not that structurally sound. It’s also probably an illegal construction that someone exploited. It’s in a very poorly planned villa (or whatever it is called in english). But i fell in love with it and i need to move there. I fucking remade the whole thing on the sims so i could play-plan how i would decorate it.

It’s also near my best friend’s house, so thats a plus and a half for safety and comfort reasons.

It has an open plan kitchen/living room that is about 2x3m, maybe less. Probably less. It has only one room, but it looks okay-ish sized and IT HAS A MINI VERANDA, which you can see that i love more than anything else, with half a view of the street and full wall glass doors/windows set. Probs 2x2,5m counting the mini veranda. The bathroom is a literal square, maybe 1,5x1,5m, but it does have a nice shower space. On the outside, theoretically the washing tank belongs to the house, even tho it is literally outside on the mini patio.

Imma show you the pics bc i gotta rant about this more:

The front.

The mini patio outside.

The view of the house itself. It’s on the “second level” of the place.

The outside washing tank.

The living room.

The kitchen.

The bedroom.

The mini veranda (more like micro) with a view to the street.

Hallway to the bathroom.

The shower.

The rest of the bathroom.

So. Really fucking small and weird, right? But i truly fell in love with this shitty place.

And i made plans. 

On the outside, i can probably maybe fit a washing machine by the washing tank. Tight fit, but it may work. 

I can fit a small couch (more like a futon), a very thin table by the half wall under the window, a very small coffee table and some storage high on the walls of the living room. Maybe even a thin rack and a small shelf. I wont have a tv bc i dont use one, so i could leave an empty square on the wall and use a projector to watch shit when i have people over. 

For the kitchen, the stove would be on that square by the half wall. More storage high on the walls and a cabinet by the sink, maybe. If i could find a smaller fridge, like a 1,50m tall one, i can put it by the bedroom door with a microwave over it. The coffee maker would be on the cabinet by the sink or the thin table at the other side of the half wall.

For the room, i can easily create a wall made of bookshelves on the middle to separate bedroom and office. I can also add a higher level made of wood where the bed will be, to create a better illusion of two ambients. On the micro veranda, plants and a garden table/chair combo if i can fit it. Also, a magnetic mosquito door curtain bc yes.

The batroom only needs some storage, so some shelves on the wall would be enough. Maybe a big mirror to hang there too.

I’m very very tempted to contact the owner and book an appointment just to see the place in person. But the thing is, i absolutely cant move there.

I’ve no job, no money, no means. It’s a 700brl rent, 3 months in advance, which means 140usd per month plus 400usd in advance. And im not even listing the bills. Water is apparently shared with the other residents, but theres electricity and internet and my phone and my medicine.

Its a lot and im going crazy and i cant deal with my parents anymore. I dont wanna be their parent, i dont even want to have kids! And my health is catching up with me, so the number of jobs i could do is going down, and being unemployed with a declining health will help me with fuck all.

This is more a rant than anything. I want so bad to show people this house, but i cant bc i dont want to bother anyone specificaly with a useless wish, so i’ll show it here and people will just ignore and thats fine.

I just. I keep realising that im way poorer than i ever thought i was, and its taking a toll on me. No jobs i could get would pay me enough to move out, no matter what kind. Teacher, artist, academic advisor, secretary, cleaning crew, store clerk, supermarket cashier, none of these pay me enough to survive, and half of them i cant physically do.

Anyways, TL:DR i found a shitty house in a shitty place that i fell in love with. I’ll never be able to live there.

[memoirsofabasicbitch]

The thing is, I’m not entirely sure I remember how to dream. How to write. How to imagine anything independently of a world created by someone else, in their mind.

I’ve grown so used to hanging my dreams on what other people have created for me that I don’t know if that person is still in there.

That weird little girl, who peeled acorns for squirrels, and walked in circles over and over and over again on the roots of the big oak tree. She had a big imagination. She told herself all sorts of stories.

Was it just because I couldn’t play the other games? Too slow - reflexes and running. Too weak - climbing, throwing, running, playing.

(Or was it because I wasn’t allowed to — couldn’t — play those games? I have a few dim memories of trying to play and being sent away. They’re dim though. I stopped asking.)

Or was it simply that I was filling time? Waiting until I could go back into a world I could navigate a little better than the playground?

Sometimes, though, I was waiting. Hoping, really.

More than a few times.

A lot.

I hoped, I thought, maybe - maybe if I walk in the right way, I’ll hear the trees laughing, like Anne told Diana about. Maybe they’ll talk to me. Maybe a faerie will come creeping out from a little crevice and wave, winking. Maybe a squirrel will come crawling down the wrinkled bark while I watch, and take the little heap of acorn meat I’d left for him. Maybe there’s a tiny scrap of magic somewhere in the world that I just haven’t found yet.

I haven’t had dreams for a long time. That’s what happens when your dreams have expiration dates. I’ve already missed most of mine.

Never really even came close.

I had a “schedule” that makes me want to cry to think of it. Meet someone in college or shortly after. Get married by 25, so we would have a few years together after college. Have our first child by 27, because mom always said I should start having babies by 30 if I really wanted to have more than one and space them out.

I’m 28. I’ve never had a real relationship with anyone, romantic or platonic. I’ve never had a best friend who would place me on the same importance as I would them.

I have borderline personality disorder. I have adhd. I am on the autism spectrum. I have depression and anxiety so severe they cripple me. More than one of these things may be false. The symptoms are nearly indistinguishable once you have more than 2. No one will give me a straight answer, and no two doctors can agree.

Added onto years of emotional and mental abuse - which is what it was, wasn’t it. Maybe because I’m autistic, maybe it really was that bad. Neglect, sure. Public humiliation, that happened too, I’m pretty sure. Being told flat out that I was stupid and fat and ugly and I was lucky to have any friends at all so maybe I should just shut up and sit down before I ended up with none.

I’m pretty sure that happened. I don’t really remember it though. I don’t really have any memories at all.

Supposedly that’s something that happens with “complex post traumatic stress disorder,” which generally crops up when a person is systematically ground down for a long time until there is nothing left but the stories they told themselves when they tried to explain to the fake audience in their head who they were. How they got that way.

I don’t know who I was, who I could have been if I hadn’t had the life I did. Maybe my memories are skewed.

My therapist didn’t seem to think so, but she also sometimes seemed to think I was full of shit. That’s probably me reading too much into things again. That’s what I do.

Was it really that bad? I remember a lot of screaming, and crying, and hiding, and wishing I was dead or that someone would just hit me already so I would have something to say, to tell people other than “they yell at me and make me cry and sometimes they grab my arms and shake me and sometimes they tell me they’ll throw me out onto the street to fend for myself and sometimes they tell me they love me so much they’re so sorry and then sometimes they cry”.

But how much of that was me? How much was that my perception of things? Am I really that crazy, or have I really been gaslit that much? Is it gaslighting if they didn’t even realize how much pain they caused you, which is why they say “it wasn’t that bad stop exaggerating”?

Did I imagine all of it?

If I did, if I didn’t, what was real? What had the weight I felt it carry? What should have been a minor blip in my life but instead metastasized into a catastrophe?

I don’t know. Maybe I never knew. Reality hasn’t ever been my friend.

Fantasy is so much better.

It’s painful now, though. To read some of these stories, these books I used to adore.

Stories about Mature Adult Women of 25! Whole! Years! Going on adventures and meeting their soulmates and having wonderful happy lives.

I’m spiraling. It’s late. I’m tired and a little high, wishing I was higher and maybe I wouldn’t be so bored.

Bilbo was middle aged, wasn’t he? When he went on his adventure? He had an adventure, and then he came home and had a long, rich, happy, lonely, bitter life. Hmm. Perhaps the one ring is not the best foundation for a guiding principle.

I went to law school because I’d come to the end of every plan I actually had. (You don’t really plan for a future when you’ve been suicidal since before puberty.) I figured I’d get to read and write at least reasonably interesting things, make good money, maybe even make a difference.

I’ve been a paralegal for the same law firm I worked for right out of college for two years now and I have never felt more like a shambling corpse.

When I graduated from college, I couldn’t get a job. Could I have tried harder? Sure. Is executive dysfunction a bitch? You bet.

So I worked for a family friend’s law firm. Personal injury and medical malpractice. She’s the mother of my older sister’s oldest best friend and has employed all of my mother’s three daughters.

She’s also a heinous bitch and a terrible boss. Her employees have a shelf life of about 2 years. I’ve hit my expiration date. Once you’ve audibly cried during a phone conference, you’re really near the bottom. Once she decides you suck at your job, there’s no coming back. Either you quit or you get fired. She prefers when people quit so she can blame them and not feel guilty. So she just increasingly treats people worse and worse until they quit in self defense.

I worked for her for a year. It was awful. I became an alcoholic and gained 25+ lbs.

I decided to go to law school.

I moved to New Orleans.

I made friends. I had an apartment all to myself. I had a life I actually enjoyed.

Then I graduated.

And I couldn’t get a job again.

(Of course, all of this is underpinned with my cyclical periods of intense illness, often accompanied by being hospitalized and missing long periods of school. In college and in law school, actually.)

(All the cocaine and drinking didn’t help either.)

(Ah, New Orleans. How I miss thee.)

So I ended up at the same firm again. Living with my parents. Again.

Then I passed the bar.

Now I’m doing the same work as my younger sister, for the same amount of money. (When she graduated from her masters program and was unemployed for 6 months, I convinced my boss to hire my younger sister again, and my sister to work for my boss again after a semi-disastrous summer job.)

(To be fair, while I’m technically a licensed attorney, she has a masters in education, so it’s not like there’s a massive education disparity here.)

(It doesn’t help that I’m barred in a different jurisdiction than the one my firm typically works in, so there aren’t any cases I can really work on as an attorney, and then on top of that my bosses don’t want to pay for malpractice insurance for me so I’m not allowed to practice as an attorney or put that I’m an attorney or call myself an attorney or even put in my letterhead that I’m licensed in the District of Columbia.)

Then there was a pandemic, and I decided I probably shouldn’t try to make a huge life change during a pandemic.

The pandemic is still fucking here. Nearly. Two. Years. Later.

So I guess I have to make a new plan.

Can I be a lawyer? I guess we’ll see.

I don’t really want to, though. I’m burned out and I wasn’t even practicing.

I want to move to a beach and write a novel and actually have a life I enjoy.

The problems with this plan are numerous. Not only is inertia an incredibly powerful enemy of mine, but I’ve lost all imagination.

I cannot imagine a future in which I am happy. Will I kill myself? Probably not, at least not for a long while. I’ve thought too long and hard about the long-lasting, far-reaching repercussions it would have. (Say what I will about my family, at least it’s always been clear that my death is NOT an acceptable outcome.)

I want to find my imagination again. I want to be able to imagine not only a future in which I am happy, but other futures, other worlds. I want to be able to dream, not only for me, not only for reality, but for unreality. I want to create worlds in my mind again, and allow them to take whatever shapes they wish.

I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if all those horrible teachers, all those “peer editors” in fucking elementary school were right, and my story ideas are hackneyed and overwrought.

Wouldn’t it be nice, though, if they were wrong. Wouldn’t it be nice, to start writing, and to find that my imagination didn’t go so very far.

It’s been hiding in the intertwined branches of a birch grove, slim and tall and ringing with laughter. In the space between stars. Down the path shaded with wisteria and jasmine and honeysuckle, where the scent and the heat and the humidity are so thick you can feel the heavy perfume coating your lungs. Tucked away, safe, waiting to peek out. Waiting to creep down the wrinkled bark of a huge old oak and wink at the little girl playing among its roots.

I hope it is there. I hope I can find it.

I’ll keep you posted.

This is my own personal void to yell into, after all.

[kingkatsuki]

im new to ur blog and might i say that i love ur posts❤️ idk if ur taking requests but could i ask for hc for deku, bakugou and shouto as pro heroes where they grow feelings for a photographer bc they love how their pics of them turn out while they are saving ppl since the reader works for a newspaper or something like that, sorry if this is hard to understand but recently i rewatched the old spiderman movies and this idea popped in my head🤧

I love this idea so much. These aren’t really headcanons, I should have probably just done a scenario for each instead but I hope you enjoy them all the same.

Ground Zero

Struggling for money, you’d taken the only job you’d managed to find at the time that wasn’t wedding photos or taking baby photos in malls. You were taking photos of heroes. Trying to get the perfect shot without getting hurt was exhilarating. Especially when some of your favourite heroes were about. Ground Zero was so easy to photograph, every action, every pose. He was perfect.

The first time you managed to get a photo on the front page, you were over the moon. Ground Zero was on the front cover, his fist moving towards the camera, as if he was aiming at the audience. You’d picked up multiple copies. For yourself and to send to your  friends and family. Maybe this was your moment, you’d finally made it.

So when your manager walked into the office while you were editing your most recent photographs and told you that you were fired, you were stunned.

“W-what?” You were so confused. Your photography wasn’t that bad, was it? You’d just managed to get your photograph of Ground Zero on the front page, and now your manager was firing you?

“Yes, I’ve been told that if I don’t get rid of you I’ll lose the whole magazine, and I can’t do that.”

You were so confused, and now stuck back where you were before as an unemployed photographer, living desperately paycheck to paycheck.

You huffed as you opened the door to your dingy apartment, stopping in shock as you saw none other than the Ground Zero standing in front of you. Even without his hero outfit on, it was clear who it was. You had photographed him enough.

“What are you doing here?” You tried feebly to pull the baggy shirt you were wearing further down your bare legs.

“Your manager gave me your address. I saw your photos of me in Heroes Weekly.” Bakugou’s eyes trailed across your body as he stood in your doorway. He’d only been given your name by the magazine and he hadn’t expected you to be so attractive. “I really liked them.”

“That’s great, unfortunately I don’t work there anymore.”

“I know, you work for me.”

“Huh?” You were so confused.

You found out that Bakugou had called your manager and asked her to get rid of you on purpose. So you could work for him. You were furious at first, but honestly working for the Ground Zero wasn’t as bad as you though it would be. And the pay was so much better.

Bakugou stood in front of the camera, holding one of his gauntlet’s up in a pose. You were so focused on capturing his image, you didn’t notice his eyes staring at you throughout the shoot.

“Bakugou, you photograph really well.” You turned the screen around to show him some of the images, he removed one of his gauntlet’s and stepped closer to you to glance at the screen. You you were so close he could smell your shampoo, the proximity was making him feel hotter than usual.

“Uh, yeah.” You frowned. Did he hate them? He hated them.

“I’m sorry, I can try and get some more? If I change the lighting you might-” You were cut off when his lips met your own in a surprisingly gentle kiss, the hand that he had removed the gauntlet from came up to rest on your cheek as he held you close.

Okay, maybe he didn’t hate them.

Deku

Noticed himself on the front cover of a magazine as he was wandering through the store to pick up lunch. Picking it off the shelf he traced over the image. The pose and the way he stood out against the background. He looked good. Walking to the checkout he paid for his lunch and the magazine, walking back to his office.

Midoriya had bought magazine’s that featured photos or articles of him before, but he’d never liked the photographs of himself much. It did make him swell with pride, but sometimes he still felt like the little kid that wanted to be a hero.

Since then, Midoriya would go to the same store each week, picking up every issue of ‘Hero’s weekly’ and flicking through it, trying to see if you had managed to capture any more photos of him. Sometimes he would see 'Red Riot’ or 'Ground Zero’ with your name underneath as the photographer and it would make him jealous. Where were the pictures you took of him?

Flicking through until he found them. Once again you’d managed to capture him perfectly, he’d pick up the magazine and take it to the checkout once again.

After a pretty intense fight, Deku would look to his side and see you flicking through your DSLR camera, the lens weighing the whole body down as you flicked through the photos you had managed to get. Deku had been moving fast during the battle, his opponent pushing him to his limits he was certain you couldn’t have captured him properly.

He worked up the courage to go over to you, still stuck in your own world as you assessed your work.

“Hey,” You looked up and nearly dropped your camera in surprise to see the Deku, in front of you. Breathing slightly heavily as he stood in his hero uniform. He looked even more attractive up close and you couldn’t stop the heat rising to your cheeks.

“Uhm, hi-”

“Did you manage to get any good shots?” He probably sounded conceited but he genuinely hoped you did, no one could capture him as well as you.

“I think so, you were moving pretty fast this time.” You blushed as you looked back at the camera, moving the screen to show him one.

“I’m sure you got it, you’re really talented.” You blushed at this, how did he know you were talented? “I see all your photo’s in Heroes Weekly. I was wondering if you had any other photos of me you could show me?”

This is how it started, after you would shoot Deku during fights, he would meet up with you after, looking through all the images you got of him and picking out his favourites that you would give him prints of. You’d also collect all the magazine’s your office would produce, giving him copies so he could see your published work.

The more you both hang out together, the less it becomes about the photography. He starts finding excuses to meet up with you without editing through pictures. Just meeting for lunch, or for coffee.

One day you’d laid out the prints you’d developed for him on the table, showing him your favourite one and talking animatedly about why. “I like this one the most, I think the expression on your face while you’re saving the little girl is adorable I-”

“I like you-” Izuku blurted out, catching you completely off guard as you dropped the print back on the table.

“What?” Izuku was bright red right now, his hand running through his hair as he tried to form his next sentence.

“I think you’re amazing. Not just at photography, at everything.” You blushed at his admission as you looked towards the male.

“I’d love to take you out sometime.”

“Like a date?” You couldn’t believe that this pro-hero wanted to go out with you.

“S-sure”

Shouto

When you had told your friends and family you wanted to become a photographer, they had laughed in your face. Your parents pretty much disowning you unless you would pick a career path they deemed 'suitable’ and your friends thinking it  a waste of time.

You were determined to prove everyone wrong, you’d set up a huge online presence, trying to get your name out there as you spent most evenings out trying to get photo’s that would catch everyone’s attention and be worthy of the front page of a glossy magazine (and hopefully a fat paycheck)

You were on your way home from a photoshoot of a famous singer, who had been a complete diva and you’d had to bite your tongue the entire time. The pay was awful, but the photo you had uploaded of her onto your website was already generating a tonne of hits and you hoped this would get your name out there for more bookings.

So when a huge tabloid had seen your photos and had offered you a job, you were over the moon. This was your step in.. even if the tabloid was a bit sleazy. You wouldn’t be writing any articles, just providing the photos.

The first time you photographed Shouto had been by accident. The tabloid had sent you out to get some photos of an influencer releasing a new line of skincare, and it was dull. After capturing her in every pose imaginable you had finally packed up and you were on your way back to the office when a flash of ice flew passed in the distance. You immediately pulled your camera out and took the lens cap off, holding it to your face as you shot in quick succession. It was the pro-hero Shouto. You kept shooting as you watched him take down the villain, blushing down at your DSLR screen as you noticed how cute he was up close. Once the fight had ended you made your way back to your office to edit your influencer photos.

When you got to the office your manager took the SD card from you and began clicking through your photos. “Y/N, what is this?” You glanced over to the screen as you saw your photos of Shouto. “Oh, Sorry. I was on my way back when I saw Shouto fighting a villain and I took some photos, the influencer photos are-” “These are incredible. We need to get this on the front page tomorrow.” You were in shock. Front page? That definitely meant a decent paycheck.

Shouto yawned as he made his way through the city to his pro-hero office. Trying to doge through the bustle of the morning commute he sat down on the train and noticed a picture of himself on the front page of a newspaper, sitting on the empty seat beside him. Picking it up he read the embarrassing 'icy-hot’ headline. The cheesy headline or story didn’t matter, but the photograph was incredible. He’d never found himself that interesting during battle, but he liked this photo. His eyes skimmed down to the bottom of the article to find the name of the photographer.

Once he got to his office he googled the photographers name. Clicking on the top link of the search results he was greeted with your own website. Showcasing various pieces you had shot and there at the side, was an “about the photographer.” section, complete with a photograph of yourself. Shouto stopped for a second, transfixed on the image. You were beautiful.

Shouto picked up the phone, dialling the number to your newspaper and waiting for someone to pick up. When your manager answered the phone and realised the pro-hero Shouto was on the other end he was over the moon. “I wanted to invite Y/N to my office to photograph me.” Your manager was more than happy to oblige but was trying to get a more senior photographer to come instead. “No, I’m only doing it if Y/N comes here.”

So imagine your shock when you stood in Shouto’s office, camera bag in hand as he smiled at you from his desk.

“Why do you work for such a sleazy tabloid?” Shouto’s voice was confused, your work was incredible.

“I don’t really have much choice. I’m still trying to get my name out there..”

So this is how your relationship with Shouto began, he would message you whenever he’s about to go out to fight a villain and you would be there. Making sure you got the perfect shot before anyone else. You were quickly able to leave the sleazy tabloid you were working at and a reputable Hero magazine picked you up. Your images gracing the front page made you swell with pride.

“I don’t know how I can ever repay you for this, Shouto. This is like my dream.” Your fingers danced along the glossy front page.

“Maybe you would let me take you to dinner? To thank you.”

“Thank me?”

“I’ve never really liked myself in photographs before. Not until I met you.”

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #406

“turned on all the lights, the tv, and the radio  /  still, i can’t escape the ghost of you”

Have you ever had an ulcer? No. Do you have any rare medical conditions? I believe AvPD is considered to be a rare mental disorder. Do you have to carry an epi pen? No. What color is your mailbox? I think it's black. I don't pay attention. Would you ever want a job working with animals? I'd love to. The thing is, without a degree in something, my duties working with animals would almost certainly involve cleaning up after them, which I am WAY too squeamish with fecal matter and vomit to do. It's extremely embarrassing, but I've never even been able to clean up after my own pets if they ever had an accident or got sick. I obviously couldn't do it with random animals. Did you have a good high school experience? It's... so odd, retrospecting on high school. In some ways, it was the best time of my life because of my memories with my friends and especially Jason, but at the time, I absolutely loathed it and was horribly depressed. But at least I saw a future for myself. I took better care of myself, all that stuff... That Brittany would be fucking mortified to get a glimpse at who she becomes. Have you ever watched any Monty Python movies? Which one is your favourite? I know I've seen some of at least one. Would you ever get a "below the belt" piercing? Nah. If a couple is married, do you think there should be any legal punishment if one person cheats? No...? Like don't get me wrong at all, I am firmly against cheating under any circumstance, but for there to be legal retribution seems extreme. What is the greatest source of anxiety for you? My future. Are there any hallucinogenic drugs you’d like to try? Nah man. What made you choose your current job? I'm unemployed. Do you feel uncomfortable on the dance floor? Or are you confident with you dancing abilities? Oh hunny, you won't see me on the dance floor. Unless MAYBE if the Cha-Cha Slide comes on, or the Cupid Shuffle. That's as skilled as I get, haha. Is it exciting to you to imagine having an affair with a teacher? ... No??????????? It's fucking creepy. Adultery isn't exciting. Do you like your smile? No. I absolutely look high when I smile. What is something silly that you believed to be true when you were a child? That I could invoke the traits of any animal, which I just referred to as my "animal powers." Like for example, if I "called upon" a kangaroo, I could jump higher. I was a weird fucking kid. Have you ever been in a relationship with someone you completely connected with on a mental/emotional level, but did not find physically attractive in any way? Was physical intimacy a problem? How did it work out? I was never really physically attracted to Girt, but it was never a big deal to me. I cared way more about his personality and how much he cared about me. We were never really "intimate," per se, we just would give each other a simple peck. It didn't work out, but not at all because of physical things. He was just too much of a brother to me. What classic or cult movie have you never seen and have no desire to? Hm. I know there's some, but I'm blanking. Does The Human Centipede count here? Like everyone knows about it, so I would assume it does. I have ZERO desire to see a second of that repulsive movie. Have you ever taken a real liking to a band/singer you never ever....ever thought you'd enjoy? Maybe Melanie Martinez? Her voice is so cutesy, as are some of her songs, but I really enjoy how dark her lyrics can be. People who know me would probably be shocked to hear I thoroughly like her. After seeing the movie Avatar did you suddenly view our Earth as ugly and/or boring? If you have not seen the movie, do you think it’s worth your time? I've seen a little bit of it, but I never finished it because I was very tired and chose to go to sleep. I actually do want to see the full thing, though; it looks very good. How helpful are your parents to you? Would they help you to pay for your first apartment? College? Where does the line end? My parents are truly incredible with helping me the best they are capable of. They helped me pay for school, among other things, but I doubt they'd help with my first home, whenever that is. I wouldn't really want them to, either, because that's my responsibility for sure. Do you like playing video games? If so, what do you usually play? I love video games, and horror is absolutely my favorite genre. I also love fantasy games though with deep stories. I've never been the best at playing super long games, like Final Fantasy games, even if I'm seriously invested in the story, though. I burn out. Have you ever sewn a garment? No. Are there any plants in the room you’re in? No. I don't bother with plants. What’s your highest level of education? Some college. What’s the most important thing in any kind of relationship? Proper communication, probably. If you wear lipstick, what’s your favourite colour to wear? I only really put on lipstick to occasionally take a picture, and it's pretty much always black. Is your style feminine, masculine or somewhere in the middle? Somewhere in the middle, I guess? Are there a lot of dragonflies around your house? I've never seen one around this house, and I doubt I ever will because it's too urban. When we lived in the woods, however, I saw them a lot. Of all the Disney couples, which one would you say is your favorite? Kovu and Kiara came to my mind first. Do you think it is cute/funny or disgraceful when a child swears? It's shocking, more than anything. You don't expect it. I don't believe it should be encouraged, but only because children just don't know when swearing really isn't appropriate. If/when you have a baby, how do you think you would want to decorate its room? I don't want kids, but I'll entertain the question and assume this is before the child is born and develops interests. Whether it's a boy or a girl, I'd probably go with a cutesy animal theme. Would you more likely buy a shirt with a picture of Mickey/Minnie Mouse, a Winnie the Pooh character, Snoopy, Hello Kitty, or Tweety Bird on it? None, honestly. Perhaps like, a gothic Hello Kitty. Of all the states you have been to, which one did you have the best experiences? Putting aside the AWFUL heat and humidity, I probably had the best time in Florida. I loved all the palm trees, seeing so many lizards on my grandma's patio, and going to Disney World was a blast. I liked that swimming pools were always warm, too. Have you ever had a crush on someone “too young” for you? No. Do you regret losing your virginity to who you lost it to? No. I was madly in love with him, so no regrets on that. If your boyfriend ever hit you, would you dump him? HA, BYYYYEEEEEEEEE MOTHERFUCKER. ZERO hesitation. Did the one person who hurt you most in your life apologize? He did, but I honestly don't know if he meant it. Is there anything you want to say to someone? It'll probably go unsaid for the rest of my life. If they were to televise a live execution, would you watch it? Yikes, hard pass. If you could be the president of the USA, would you be willing to do it? Noooo thank you. Did you wake up in the middle of the night? I always do. Does your animal sleep with you? My cat does. Venus obviously sleeps in her terrarium, but she is in my room. Last color you dyed your hair? Red. Will you keep your last name when you get married? Very unlikely. I don't like my last name. What are you looking forward to? Hearing back again from the woman whose wedding I shot literally two years ago. I thought she ghosted me, but she messaged me the other day about seeing the pictures again and going through them to actually buy some. I don't know why the hell it took her two years, but whatever, I guess? I spent two whole hours resizing the files and re-adding the preview watermark (I deleted the OneDrive folder for space forever ago, but I have the files still), so I hate to sound like an ass, but she better buy something. Between sweating my ass off on location when I shot the wedding, editing those 100+ pictures two years ago, and now re-doing the previews, I have invested so much goddamn time into them that yeah, I think I have the right to be pretty damn salty if I don't hear back from her again. If your significant other cut sex out of your relationship for any reason, what would you do? It'd be whatever. I mean sure, that sort of intimacy is a very special part of serious romantic relationships to me, but I can live without it pretty easily. What was the last thing you said out loud? "Thank you for dinner" to my mom. She brought home Hardee's. Who are your godparents? I don't believe I have any. Do you like Gushers? omggggg yes Can you touch​ your nose with your tongue?​​ No. Is there a particular sport you follow on a regular basis? Nope. Are you waiting for something to arrive in the mail? No. Think of the last film you watched. Who was your favourite character? Uhhhh what was it... The Shining, I think? I didn't really develop a favorite. Do you have a friend whose name starts with ‘L’? Describe him/her. Lisa. <3 She's one of my WoW friends. She'll talk your ear off, but I don't really mind. She is SO sweet and caring for other people and loves to cook. She recently had triplets, and seeing as she had a son only months before accidentally getting pregnant with the triplets, she's obviously been MEGA busy so we haven't talked much lately. When you’re being kissed do you like it when they hold your face? Yeah, but not too early on. Doing that has a promise of seriousness and passion in it to me, and it would probably weird me out if that happened too soon. Last thing that made you cry? My health. Would you ever consider getting a piercing in your septum? Nah. I don't think it would look good on me. Do you enjoy being outdoors? If it's cool outside and I have a place to sit when I want to, yeah. Do people tell you that you have an accent? Only sometimes. It's definitely not as bad as your average Southerner, though. Do you enjoy watching fireworks on the 4th of July? Ha, what nice timing. I think they're very pretty, but I believe I went over in a recent survey how I don't encourage their usage in consideration of veterans with PTSD as well as being conscious of animals and the absolute terror it can cause for them. What’re some unspeakable subjects for you? So my sister is a children's social worker, and she shares a LOT of stories with Mom (and me, if I'm present) that I can't listen to. The ones that involve pedophilia and/or rape, especially from the child's very own parent(s), I just cannot listen to. Period. It's so fucking repulsive and just unimaginable to me how even a monster of a human can commit something THAT goddamn vile. What’s your opinion of root beer? I'm not a big fan. I mean I can tolerate drinking some of it, but I don't really *enjoy* it. Have you ever seen The Breakfast Club, and what’s your opinion of it? I have, and I didn't get the appeal at all. Did you have a Furby when you were younger? Oh god, I did. Those things are so creepy. If you had a baby boy, what would you name him? Damien, most likely.

[worldoflis]

you know what? no. fuck that shit. fuck that FUCKING shit. I'm gonna tell my boss exactly what I think, and why I'm so mad, and I'm gonna do it right here on the tumbler dot com website cause doing it to her face is just not an option but it NEEDS letting out. so you're all going to suffer with me

Point number ONE

What the fuck do you mean - "I don't decide about these things by myself". You're the boss. YOU decide. Like, that's literally your job description. And either you decided just now that I don't get to work for the next two weeks, which makes you a very bad and unorganized boss, OR you already decided so previously, and simply waited till the last minute to actually inform me of this. Either way - you're shitty.

Point number TWO

You have told me, time and again, that a phone call doesn't take much time or effort. You've been back at work almost three weeks now, and you're trying to tell met that in those three weeks, not only did you not have time to plan a meeting with me, even a phone call was too much to ask? You told me I'd be unemployed for another two weeks (at least) through WhatsApp. Fucking WHATSAPP. I don't care you've been writing new proposals, I don't care you "don't have time to plan a call", I deserve better than to get updates about my working situation through WhatsApp.

Point number THREE

"I'm in the same boat as you are." Are you though? Are you really? Have you lost 35% of your income for the past 4 months? Do you have two kids to take care of and provide for? NO YOU FUCKING DON'T.

Point number FOUR

At our last meeting, you very much implied that during the holidays, there would be enough work. Claiming now that you never officially communicated about when work would start up, is fucking bullshit. See also point number SEVEN.

Point number FIVE

Oh this is a goodie. My favorite one so far. "You could always have contacted me before you arranged day care for the kids. I'm always available for questions." Like... are you kidding me? First of all, you literally just told me you're too busy writing proposals to arrange a call - doesn't sound very available to me. Second of all, remember the Easter holidays? Remember how I asked you for a meeting every week for three weeks, before you finally managed to set a date? And third of all... I asked. I have the message, I can screenshot it for you, though I'm sure you still have it too. I literally asked you, told you, when can we meet, I want to plan my days. And you replied "idk busy reading emails I'm trying my best." You are NOT available!

Point number SIX

Are you trying to bait me with some sort of recompense, to be discussed? Really? Also don't tell me there's nothing eC can do. You told me in January that there was enough money to pay everyone through November. And now suddenly there's nothing?

Point number SEVEN

Oh, so you're only obligated to decide on a week-to-week basis whether or not people will be working? And oh, you think that's unworkable and you want to do it in two-week increments? See, that's interesting. Because do you remember when we had our last meeting? May 6th, you say? Please, enlighten me, when EXACTLY have you been informing me on a biweekly basis about my situation?!?!?!

Point number EIGHT

Now, I asked for clarity through the end of september, and you're telling me that that is impossible, that the only way is to decide I'll be unemployed the whole time and then I won't be able to start earlier if and when new projects start. Honey. Sweetie. Us deciding now that I'll be unemployed until September doesn't bind us to anything. It's an agreement, not a contract, and there is absolutely no reason why we couldn't agree to end the unemployment early if we so please. Also, you're only just now sending out proposals, none of that is going to start up next month. I'd love to see the long list of projects that you've applied for that you're gonna get notified about between now and the end of August though.

Point number NINE

This is basically point ONE plus point FIVE plus point EIGHT. Because you tell me that you only now know that I won't be working the next week, but also that I could've contacted you at any time to ask when I should or should not provide day care, so I wouldn't apply for anything I didn't need. Like. If you only know NOW I won't be working the next two weeks, if you still cannot tell me what the situation will be for the weeks after that, how could you have told me a month ago when I would or wouldn't need daycare??!

Lastly, and most importantly, point number TEN

"My hands are tied and there's nothing I can do. If this means you need to take different decisions, it is up to you."

I will not. Not now, not ever again, not by you or anyone else, be passive-aggressively bullied into resigning.

Fuck

YOU

[clairebeauchampfan]

NYT; wrongthink vs. groupthink

The resignation letter of Bari Weiss, an Op-Ed editor of the New York Times. My highlighting in bold. 

“It is with sadness that I write to tell you that I am resigning from The New York Times.

I joined the paper with gratitude and optimism three years ago. I was hired with the goal of bringing in voices that would not otherwise appear in your pages: first-time writers, centrists, conservatives and others who would not naturally think of The Times as their home. The reason for this effort was clear: The paper's failure to anticipate the outcome of the 2016 election meant that it didn't have a firm grasp of the country it covers. Dean Baquet and others have admitted as much on various occasions. The priority in Opinion was to help redress that critical shortcoming.

I was honored to be part of that effort, led by James Bennet. I am proud of my work as a writer and as an editor. Among those I helped bring to our pages: the Venezuelan dissident Wuilly Arteaga; the Iranian chess champion Dorsa Derakhshani; and the Hong Kong Christian democrat Derek Lam. Also: Ayaan Hirsi Ali, Masih Alinejad, Zaina Arafat, Elna Baker, Rachael Denhollander, Matti Friedman, Nick Gillespie, Heather Heying, Randall Kennedy, Julius Krein, Monica Lewinsky, Glenn Loury, Jesse Singal, Ali Soufan, Chloe Valdary, Thomas Chatterton Williams, Wesley Yang, and many others.

But the lessons that ought to have followed the election—lessons about the importance of understanding other Americans, the necessity of resisting tribalism, and the centrality of the free exchange of ideas to a democratic society—have not been learned. Instead, a new consensus has emerged in the press, but perhaps especially at this paper: that truth isn't a process of collective discovery, but an orthodoxy already known to an enlightened few whose job is to inform everyone else.

Twitter is not on the masthead of The New York Times. But Twitter has become its ultimate editor. As the ethics and mores of that platform have become those of the paper, the paper itself has increasingly become a kind of performance space. Stories are chosen and told in a way to satisfy the narrowest of audiences, rather than to allow a curious public to read about the world and then draw their own conclusions. I was always taught that journalists were charged with writing the first rough draft of history. Now, history itself is one more ephemeral thing molded to fit the needs of a predetermined narrative.

My own forays into Wrongthink have made me the subject of constant bullying by colleagues who disagree with my views. They have called me a Nazi and a racist; I have learned to brush off comments about how I'm 'writing about the Jews again.' Several colleagues perceived to be friendly with me were badgered by coworkers. My work and my character are openly demeaned on company-wide Slack channels where masthead editors regularly weigh in. There, some coworkers insist I need to be rooted out if this company is to be a truly 'inclusive' one, while others post ax emojis next to my name. Still other New York Times employees publicly smear me as a liar and a bigot on Twitter with no fear that harassing me will be met with appropriate action. They never are.

There are terms for all of this: unlawful discrimination, hostile work environment, and constructive discharge. I'm no legal expert. But I know that this is wrong.

I do not understand how you have allowed this kind of behavior to go on inside your company in full view of the paper's entire staff and the public. And I certainly can't square how you and other Times leaders have stood by while simultaneously praising me in private for my courage. Showing up for work as a centrist at an American newspaper should not require bravery.

Part of me wishes I could say that my experience was unique. But the truth is that intellectual curiosity—let alone risk-taking—is now a liability at The Times. Why edit something challenging to our readers, or write something bold only to go through the numbing process of making it ideologically kosher, when we can assure ourselves of job security (and clicks) by publishing our 4000th op-ed arguing that Donald Trump is a unique danger to the country and the world? And so self-censorship has become the norm.

What rules that remain at The Times are applied with extreme selectivity. If a person's ideology is in keeping with the new orthodoxy, they and their work remain unscrutinized. Everyone else lives in fear of the digital thunderdome. Online venom is excused so long as it is directed at the proper targets.

Op-eds that would have easily been published just two years ago would now get an editor or a writer in serious trouble, if not fired. If a piece is perceived as likely to inspire backlash internally or on social media, the editor or writer avoids pitching it. If she feels strongly enough to suggest it, she is quickly steered to safer ground. And if, every now and then, she succeeds in getting a piece published that does not explicitly promote progressive causes, it happens only after every line is carefully massaged, negotiated and caveated.

It took the paper two days and two jobs to say that the Tom Cotton op-ed 'fell short of our standards.' We attached an editor's note on a travel story about Jaffa shortly after it was published because it 'failed to touch on important aspects of Jaffa's makeup and its history.' But there is still none appended to Cheryl Strayed's fawning interview with the writer Alice Walker, a proud anti-Semite who believes in lizard Illuminati.

The paper of record is, more and more, the record of those living in a distant galaxy, one whose concerns are profoundly removed from the lives of most people. This is a galaxy in which, to choose just a few recent examples, the Soviet space program is lauded for its 'diversity'; the doxxing of teenagers in the name of justice is condoned; and the worst caste systems in human history includes the United States alongside Nazi Germany.

Even now, I am confident that most people at The Times do not hold these views. Yet they are cowed by those who do. Why? Perhaps because they believe the ultimate goal is righteous. Perhaps because they believe that they will be granted protection if they nod along as the coin of our realm—language—is degraded in service to an ever-shifting laundry list of right causes. Perhaps because there are millions of unemployed people in this country and they feel lucky to have a job in a contracting industry.

Or perhaps it is because they know that, nowadays, standing up for principle at the paper does not win plaudits. It puts a target on your back. Too wise to post on Slack, they write to me privately about the 'new McCarthyism' that has taken root at the paper of record.

All this bodes ill, especially for independent-minded young writers and editors paying close attention to what they'll have to do to advance in their careers. Rule One: Speak your mind at your own peril. Rule Two: Never risk commissioning a story that goes against the narrative. Rule Three: Never believe an editor or publisher who urges you to go against the grain. Eventually, the publisher will cave to the mob, the editor will get fired or reassigned, and you'll be hung out to dry.

For these young writers and editors, there is one consolation. As places like The Times and other once-great journalistic institutions betray their standards and lose sight of their principles, Americans still hunger for news that is accurate, opinions that are vital, and debate that is sincere. I hear from these people every day. 'An independent press is not a liberal ideal or a progressive ideal or a democratic ideal. It's an American ideal,' you said a few years ago. I couldn't agree more. America is a great country that deserves a great newspaper.

None of this means that some of the most talented journalists in the world don't still labor for this newspaper. They do, which is what makes the illiberal environment especially heartbreaking. I will be, as ever, a dedicated reader of their work. But I can no longer do the work that you brought me here to do—the work that Adolph Ochs described in that famous 1896 statement: 'to make of the columns of The New York Times a forum for the consideration of all questions of public importance, and to that end to invite intelligent discussion from all shades of opinion.'

Ochs's idea is one of the best I've encountered. And I've always comforted myself with the notion that the best ideas win out. But ideas cannot win on their own. They need a voice. They need a hearing. Above all, they must be backed by people willing to live by them.

Sincerely,

Bari “

It’s all there; the Left’s engrained anti-semitism (so often now cloaked by ‘respectable’ anti-Zionism), the refusal to admit of other opinions, let alone to acknowledge the possibility of  their validity, the narrowing of the mind, the cancel culture, the terror of the twitter storm and the mob in the street (”the people” as they like to call themselves) , the sheer spinelessness of the institutional ‘leadership’ unless it is in support of those people who have the ‘right’ opinions.   Sadly, exactly the same process is going on at The Guardian, the BBC and our once great universities. Only Illiberal Groupthink is allowed, and former bastions of liberalism close down independent thought, the better to signal their virtue. 

[crystaljins]

Take a chance. | 02

Characters: Jungkook x Reader

Word count: 7.3K

Synopsis:   You should have known the second your business partner asked you to plan his best friend’s wedding as a favour that it was going to be nothing but trouble. Especially when it turns out he’s in love with said best friend. And dying of a deadly disease because of it.

Hanahaki!au

Notes: The first three parts of this fic went through at least three different drafts. I changed the approach and character features so many times that this story isn’t even recognisable from the initial draft. But, once I added ma boi Kim Seokjin, this story finally hit a place that I felt I could happily write. 

Warnings: Angst. Graphic depictions of vomiting. Mentions of illness and death.

Masterlist

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

“Thank you for meeting with me today.” The man says as he slides into his seat. He’s wearing dark sunglasses that obscure most of his face and a black bucket hat is pulled low over his brows. Perhaps he is trying to be inconspicuous, but the large trench coat and obvious attempt to conceal his identity just make him seem more suspicious. Not only that, the price tags hanging off his outfit clearly show that he’d only just bought them.

“What are you doing, Jin? Why’d you call me out here?” Seri hisses. She pauses to smile warmly at the waiter who hands her an ice latte topped with perhaps more whipped cream than is strictly necessary before turning back to her obnoxious co-worker. “Why are you dressed… like that?”

“So that I don’t attract attention to myself. Obviously.” Jin scolds. He leans forward to sniff suspiciously at his milkshake before reaching into a pocket in his trench coat and pulling out a large swirly straw. It’s infuriatingly childish. He glances side to side before placing it in his glass and taking a long sip.

“I’m going home.” Seri snaps, making to get up, but an arm shoots out and holds her in place.

“I’m sorry! I’ll be serious.” He promises, even as he takes another sip from the milkshake through the ridiculous straw. He does remove his sunglasses, though. “This is a matter that concerns not just you and me, but Jungkook and our… beloved… boss.” He begins to tear up at the final person on the list, and dabs awkwardly at the corner of his eyes. “We have to help her.”

“Help her what?” Seri questions, attention grabbed. Where her boss is involved, she is all ears. After all, you had given her a job when she’d been unemployed and desperate. And she’s determined to pay that back by being the best employee she could possibly be.

“Help her with her illness.” He confesses gravely. Seri’s eyes go wide as her mind scans through the long list of illnesses her beloved boss could possibly be suffering from. “She’s suffering from Hanahaki.”

The deathly silence that follows is testament to how much both workers care for their boss. The colour drains from Seri’s face while Jin looks down and another tear trails down his face.

“How… how can you be sure?” Seri breathes. Jin shakes his head gravely.

“Do you remember a couple of weeks ago when I lost that bet and had to take garbage out for a week?” Jin asks. Seri nods contemplatively as she remembers the event in question.

“You bet you could down 2 L of milk in one go but ended up spraying it out your nose all over Jungkook’s desk.” She recalls. He nods gravely.

“Well, I kind of tripped when I was getting close to the garbage and the whole garbage bag split open.” He explains. He pauses mid-explanation to take another unnecessarily long sip of his milkshake, one that has Seri twitching in dread and anticipation as she waits for him to finish his story. “And there were these red rose petals everywhere.”

Seri nods, but then frowns.

“But what does that have to do with (Y/N)? We sometimes get petals in or bouquets as samples for future decorations and two weeks ago she was doing that red themed wedding.” Seri points out. Jin nods solemnly.

“Well that’s why I didn’t think anything of it at the time. It wasn’t until yesterday, when (Y/N) brought up Hanahaki and was super shifty and blatantly lying about why it was on her mind that I got suspicious.” Jin admits. “So that night I went home and rang her brother, because he’s actually a doctor who specialises in treating Hanahaki. Just to ask some questions, but he was surprised and thought that maybe someone from our office was suffering from it, because (Y/N) had rung him too,asking about it right before me.”

“That is very suspicious.” Seri admits, and the evidence is starting to stack up. But there’s one vital piece of information she needs to believe Jin. “But who is she in love with, that doesn’t love her back? And how can we help her?”

Jin smiles widely and leans back in his chair.

“I was hoping you’d ask me that, dear, sweet, naïve Seri.” He tells her warmly, and all traces of his earlier tears have vanished from his face. “It’s none other than our resident space cadet, Jeon Jungkook.” He announces with all the dramatic flair of an actor presenting Best Picture at the Oscars. Seri grimaces.

“Jungkook?” She questions incredulously. Up until that point, Jin’s theory had sounded plausible but now it just sounds ridiculous. “You think she’s in love with Jungkook? The same guy I caught trying to sneak in a new printer without her noticing last week because he spilt banana milk on the old one?”

Jin nods, as if it is the most logical and reasonable conclusion to draw in the world.

“Well, not to be presumptuous, but yes. Can you think of anyone else? Also, haven’t you always been suspicious of the fact that they literally built a business from the ground up together and yet there’s nothing there?” Jin points out. Seri seems surprised.

“Why would starting a business together mean there has to be something romantic between them?” She responds. Jin looks mildly astonished before understanding sets in his expression.

“Ah, I forgot you’ve only been here a couple of months. Yes, Jungkook and (Y/N) started this business together. It was probably like… five years ago? They’d been running for about two years when that video of that wedding she organised went viral and then they hired me to handle the extra clientele that came in, so that sounds about right.” Jin says, launching into an explanation. “But their whole story is fresh out of a romcom- (Y/N) met him after her fiancée dumped her for dropping out of some sort of prestigious uni degree or something at some bar and he had some sad backstory as well that I can’t remember and encouraged her to follow her dreams. And then he ran into her again and helped her get her first client and then after two years of struggling to make ends meet that video went viral and here we are today, successful and happy. How can there be nothing after all of that?” He explains. Seri wrinkles her nose- despite her short amount of time working at this firm, she knows enough of the story to know Jin is butchering the story a lot.

What had actually happened, was that you taken a year off law school when your mother’s health had started to decline. Your brother had been forced to financially support the two of you by working ludicrous hours while you cared for her physical needs. Your fiancée, unable to cope with the emotional strain such an event had put on the relationship, coupled with the lack of time that came with caring for a sick relative, had left you. In the end, you had wound up working at a bar and unable to bring yourself to go back to law school after your mother passed away. The very same bar that Jungkook happened to frequent. After confiding in the sad, unemployed drunk boy you thought wasn’t listening over a period of time about your heartbreak and your desire to go into wedding planning instead of law school, it turned out he had been listening. Not only that, but he had a proposal for you- he, a business major, and you, a wedding planner, could start a business together. That way you wouldn’t have to go back to law school, and he would no longer be unemployed and nearly homeless. At least, that’s what she’d been able to glean from snippets of conversation she’s had with the both of you over the past couple of months.

Still, even though his story is still warped the original point still stands: Jungkook is clearly someone who matters to you, a lot. Yes, it was the video that went viral that made your business successful but you wouldn’t have even started this business without Jungkook. Jin makes a compelling argument- the coincidental timing of your chosen conversation topic the day before, and Jin happening to find the rose petals… it is all very shifty. Even Seri has to admit that.

But Jin isn’t done, and his next piece of evidence is perhaps the nail in the coffin.

“And she asked me this morning to start preparing a job ad for a new assistant. She said Jeon Jungkook is officially taking leave as of today- that’s why he didn’t show up and why we were flat out all day.” Jin points out urgently. “And I left my wallet in my car this morning and just so happened to be ducking down to get it, when I saw Jungkook’s car pulling out of the building. Which means he came in to work today! And when I watched the CCTV footage to check-“

“Woah, woah, woah, Jin!” Seri cuts him off in protest. “We aren’t criminal detectives! You can’t just watch CCTV footage of your boss because you want to-“

“That’s not important. What’s important is they had some sort of fight this morning and clearly, it’s because (Y/N) is in love with Jungkook, is dying of Hanahaki and we need to make Jungkook fall for her or we could lose our jobs. And the nicest boss anyone has ever had.” He exclaims, almost out of breath from his rant. Seri blinks. She wants to disagree. She really does. She wants to write Jin off as crazy and perhaps report him to you.

But… what if he’s right? What if you’re dying because your airheaded assistant doesn’t reciprocate your feelings? If he’s right, then they have to help you! She bites her lip contemplatively.

“Why can’t she just get treatment? We could sit her down and encourage her to see a doctor- isn’t her brother a leading specialist in the disease?” Seri points out. Jin shoots her a look like she’s just made the stupidest suggestion in the world.

“Don’t you know what treatment involves? It makes you forget the person who gave you Hanahaki forever. If she forgot Jungkook how can they run this business together?” He cries out. Seri is pretty sure she read something somewhere, back when she was researching the disease for herself that said that the ‘forget your love’ aspect of Hanahaki is just an urbanised myth and only the most severe cases of Hanahaki that have gone untreated for years require such dramatic action, and even those have been able to be successfully treated with just therapy in certain patients, but Jin sounds so convinced and sure of his words that it makes her doubt herself.

“What... what would you have us do?” She asks, rather than contradict what he just said. She cringes as she says the words because she knows she may regret this strongly depending on what Jin asks.

He merely grins.

“I’m glad you asked, dear Seri, because I already have a mastermind plan in place…”

++

“Yes, I understand that you want all black for your decorations,” You say, desperately clinging on to your patience. “But black roses aren’t really a thing. If you just agreed to the black baccara roses-“

“They’re still red.” Your client on the other end of the phone sniffs. “I want black.”

“Then having them painted is your best option.” You retort. “I told you I’d do my best to give you the wedding of your dreams but I’m not a miracle worker- you can’t grow black roses!”

“Please? It’s really important to us.” He begs. You dig your fingers into the bridge of your nose and sigh.

“I’ll see if I can speak to some plant breeders and see if we can get something closer to black.” You say with a sigh. “That’s the best I can do.”

You don’t hear whatever he says because you are distracted by the presence of Jungkook leaning awkwardly against the door to your apartment. When he spots you, his whole face lights up and he straightens. You wince as he waves enthusiastically. He’s not in his usual crumpled suit- instead he’s wearing an oversized hoodie and a pair of trackpants and he hasn’t even attempted to tame his wild mop of hair. Oddly, he looks amazing in the casual, comfortable look he’s going for.

“You’re here!” He greets. You watch him cautiously like he is a furious bull that may charge at any moment.

“It’s my apartment. Where else would I go?” You point out. “Shouldn’t you be at home resting?”

He nods sheepishly.

“Well… I did take the day off.” He admits. “But I thought you might have had a long day without me, what with no one to replace the vital work that I do, so I brought some supplies.”

You stiffen. You have had a long day, and that is to be expected when you force your business partner to take an unplanned leave.  To be honest, you aren’t even sure what half of Jungkook’s duties are. You’ve just always done your thing, talking to clients, make plans, connecting with people, and then at the end you’d have money in your bank account. Jungkook has always handled your marketing and connecting clients and managing appointments while keeping the office running smoothly. Without him, you’d had to answer phones, contact the accountant and fill out complex paperwork between and in the middle of appointments with. Seokjin and Seri had done their best to share the load but even they’d felt the strain by the end of the day.

“I’m not changing my mind, if that’s why you’re here.” You sniff, stepping passed him to unlock the door. He presses in close and follows you into your apartment even though he is not welcome. He looks around curiously as soon as he steps passed the threshold of your home.

“This is a really lovely place.” He compliments sincerely- it should be surprising that this is the first time he’s ever step foot in your apartment considering the fact that you’ve been running a business with him for five years now. Even Seri, who has only been working with you for a couple of months, has visited your home before. But before this whole wedding debacle, Jungkook had always refused. He sidles past you and sets a plastic bag up on the countertop in your kitchen. He glances back at you before rummaging inside. “I realised I have no idea what you like to eat, so I read that interview you did with that bridal magazine a few months ago.” He says, and then he pulls out a block of chocolate, some grapes and a bottle of wine. You squint suspiciously at them.

“Jungkook…” You say slowly, about to ask him to leave your home and take the food with them. Yes, they were all guilty pleasures of yours, but you weren’t about to give him false hope that you would rescind your decision. “I’m not going to plan the wedding.” Is what you say instead.

He ignores you, turning to a cupboard and pulling out two wine glasses. He sets them on the counter and immediately begins pouring out the wine. Then he leans against the countertop beside you and sighs heavily, as if the weight of the world is on his shoulders.

“Why?” He finally asks. He takes a long sip of his own glass, sliding yours toward you. Hesitantly, you accept and settle into a stool next to the counter. “It’s not going to stop the wedding. It’s not going to cure me. And I’ll still be involved in the wedding whether you plan it or not. What do you think you’re achieving by refusing?”

You stare down at the ruby liquid in the glass- your distorted reflection glares back. He’s right. You’re not achieving anything. You’re just sticking your head in the sand and pretending Jungkook’s situation isn’t happening until it magically fixes itself. But that’s all you really can do, right? You can’t force him to get treatment and you can’t make his best friend love him back. These are all doubts that plague you, but if you are anything, it is stubborn. Your blood runs hot with anger at the way he’s trying to pressure you into something you’ve already decided not to do.

“Why are you so desperate for me to plan this wedding anyway?” You question, hopping off the stool and edging closer until he is pressed against the kitchen counter. At this proximity you can count each of his individual lashes and feel the way his breath has become shallower and hesitant. It’s out of anger that you press closer. You’re trying to intimidate him into backing off and leaving you to deal with the consequences of your decision in peace. His eyes flash at the challenge though.

“Why are you so determined to refuse?” He retorts. “Up until the engagement party, you were all for planning this wedding! What, suddenly things get a teensy bit more complicated and you’re out?”

“Finding out my business partner is dying from a curable illness is not a “teensy bit more complicated”, Jungkook!” You cry, the volume of your voice escalating. Any louder and your neighbours will probably call the cops on you. “Why aren’t you taking this seriously?”

“I am taking this seriously!” Jungkook shouts. It’s the first time in all the years that you’ve known him that you’ve ever seen him lose his temper. His whole face goes bright red and the tendons in his neck strain with the force of his shout. “That’s all I’ve been doing! Every, single, damn day, all I can think about is how hard this is! You think I want to be sick? You think I want to be here, begging my boss to plan the wedding for the girl that I love? Why do you have to fight me at every single step- why can’t you just do me this one favour? All I’m asking you to do is to plan a wedding for a friend and turn a blind eye when you see I’m having a hard time- is that so hard to do?”

“Yes.” You breathe, and your eyes have watered and filled with tears at his words. “I don’t want to have to watch your heart break.” You finally admit. Because that’s the real reason. You can’t stop the fast approaching train-wreck that Jungkook has managed to lock himself into. But you sure as hell don’t have to watch it happen. “I don’t want to watch you slowly die.”

Your admission is met with silence and when you shoot a glance at Jungkook, he’s staring at you like you’ve grown a third eye. Abruptly he breaks eye contact and his shoulders hunch.

“Let me come back to work.” He says in a small voice. “I know you think you’re helping me, but you’re just leaving me at home alone with nothing to dwell on but the fact that I’m ill and…” His voice cracks. “That she…” He whirls around so that he’s no longer facing you and is unable to finish his sentence. He changes the subject. “Wow, I didn’t know my boss was so heartless,” He tries to joke, his tone falsely light, but his voice is still slightly shaky. “5 years together and you give me the axe just because I’m a little sick.” He shakes his head and makes a “tsk” sound. “Success has really changed you, (Y/N).”

You recognise now, that his attempt to joke around is his way of hiding, so you aren’t offended. Instead, getting slowly to your feet, you pack everything into the bag he brought with him and walk around the kitchen counter so that you’re facing him. He winces and looks towards the ceiling, perhaps to conceal the way his eyes are wet with tears and red-rimmed. Gently, you take his hand and place the handles of the plastic bag in it, wrapping his fingers around them.

“Jungkook.” You say softly. “I’m not doing this because I thought this would easy or because I don’t like you or because I think your job is replaceable or because I’m trying to punish you. I’m not doing it to make your life difficult. You’re sick, Jungkook, and sick people need rest.”

He stares at you with bewildered, pleading eyes. It is an exact repeat of earlier that morning when you had told him to take time off.

“There are other wedding planners.” You tell him gently. “She’ll live even if I don’t plan it for her.”

He stares down at the bag in his hand.

“But what if I… if she really wants you to do it?” He asks, even as he lets you guide him gently out the door. You don’t notice his slip.

“Well sometimes we don’t always get what we want Jungkook. But as your boss it’s my job to make sure you get what you need. And what you need is some time off.” You say. He seems to register he’s fighting a losing battle as the door swings shut- his hand flies out before you can fully close it.

“What would it take?” He pleads. “Hypothetically. If you could have anything in the world, what would it take for you to do this?”

You grimace.

“For you not to be sick.”

++

For all your bravado over forcing Jungkook to take leave, it really does make your life infinitely harder. Jungkook is a scatter-brain prone to double booking appointments and breaking expensive electronics, but his job really is irreplaceable- he hasn’t just been an assistant, or receptionist. His job was never as simple as answering phones and calling in the technician when he broke the printer yet again. He also managed the entire business side of things- from organising how much clients would pay for your services, to drafting contracts with them, to the entire marketing side of things, it had always been him to deal with that sort of thing. And it had been stupid and arrogant of you to think you could handle your regular duties on top of his. In your head, you had planned to look for a temporary replacement to work for maybe a year while Jungkook sorted himself out, but you barely have time for your own job, let alone searching for a replacement and training them up on top of managing Jungkook’s duties in the mean time. You’ve really screwed yourself over with such a hasty decision.

Your employees are quick to vocally and aggressively remind you of what a mistake it is to have put Jungkook on leave.

“My keyboard still doesn’t work.” Jin sniffs at you in the kitchenette, repeatedly dunking a bag of chamomile tea aggressively into a mug of boiling water. “I thought you said you were looking into fixing that! I can’t type anything and I’ve had two brides organising a wedding and a mother organising a first birthday party call me in tears because I didn’t answer their emails.”

“Well, you didn’t have to spill orange juice on it now, did you?” You almost snarl- you find your temper becoming shorter and shorter the more stressed and tired you are. It’s getting to the point that you’re hardly getting any sleep at night because you’re essentially doing two full time jobs at once. Jin’s eyebrows fly up, seeming to sense that you’re on the verge of snapping at him, and holds two hands up in a gesture of surrender.

“I’m sorry- It was an accident. But it’s really very urgent.” He tells you, and he sounds apologetic enough that you take a deep breath to release the tension built up in your shoulders and neck.

“I know. I’m sorry for getting short with you- I am trying to sort it out. I just have a lot on my plate at the moment.” You admit, and you feel on the verge of tears. Jin’s expression softens at your wobbly tone and he comes to stand next to you, resting against the kitchenette counter.

“Maybe we should give Jungkook a call.” He suggests gently. You tense, about to scold him for such a suggestion, but he holds up a firm hand. “I don’t know what happened or why you put him on leave, but you’re really struggling. If he does need the leave, then at least keep him around until you find a proper replacement- doing two jobs at once like this isn’t sustainable.” He points out. You wince because if it weren’t for your own stubbornness, you probably would have done as much. But you can’t- your pride won’t let you. You’ve decided that Jungkook needs leave and so he’s getting leave. Even if it kills you in the process.

Jin isn’t the only one- later in the week Seri knocks on your door. She strides in without waiting for an answer and leans in close so the two clients across from you don’t hear what she says.

“I just got a call from the bank- apparently there was an issue with billing that florist we contracted. I took down their number for you to ring them when you’re done with your client.” She informs you, flicking a gaze at the two clients before you.

Her interruption, though bearing bad news, is welcome- she’s interrupted two clients on the verge of screeching at you in rage. There was a mix-up with the venue bookings that you forgot to sort out between the flurry of phone calls you’ve been heckled with all day and they are not pleased. You’re barely holding back frustrated tears while Seri watches on, uncertain how to handle the situation. You take a deep breath, summoning all the professionalism you can access and smile at her.

“I will have that sorted after I deal with these two clie-“ You begin, but they cut you off.

“Don’t bother!” The one on the right, a woman in her late thirties’, snarls. She’s clinging to her fiancé’s arm like a hole might open up beneath her and demons appear to drag her to the depths of hell if she lets go. “We came here because we’ve heard so many good things about your service, but clearly it was all just good marketing- we won’t be coming back.”

She gets abruptly to her feet and storms off, dragging her balding fiancé with her. You take a shaky breath and squeeze your eyes shut, willing the tears not to come.

“Perhaps… I should call Jungkook? He’s really good with this kind of thing.” Seri suggests, and it’s so not the suggestion you need right now.

“Don’t.” You say. “My afternoon appointment just cancelled as you just saw- I’m free to speak with the bank right now.”

Your week carries on like that. You’re at your wits end by the time Friday comes around. You’ve promised yourself that you won’t do anything related to work for the entire afternoon. You’re going to ignore all the deadlines. Your business won’t crumble just because you took a Friday afternoon off, after all. At least that’s what you tell yourself as you take on your final task of the day- carrying a heavy box of fragile but expensive glasses that a client ordered in for clients to drink out of during their reception. You stagger as evenly as you can into the elevator and that’s when it happens- your heel snaps. It’s not a particularly high heel- just high enough that your ankle twists beneath you as it gives. You cry out, bracing yourself to crash to the floor and for the delicate goods you are carrying to shatter.

Only, it never comes. As you crumple to the ground, the weight of the box abruptly vanishes from your arms. Instead it is just you that hits the floor of the elevator with a pained grunt. Confused, you look up to find someone has grabbed the box from your arms before it could hit the floor with you and shatter all the contents inside.

“Are you ok?” Jungkook cries, gently setting down the box and crouching down before you. You’re so shocked that you are speechless. His large glasses are slightly lopsided on his face and he’s wearing a t shirt with a pair of ripped jeans. He’s not wearing the business attire that is required of all your employees- instead he’s dressed casually, like he didn’t plan on coming into the office today.

“W-what are you doing here?” You finally find your voice as he helps you to your feet. You wince as you attempt to press your weight into the foot with the broken heel and crumple back down- no doubt you sprained it on your way down. Jungkook’s eyes are wide with concern.

“Jin called me in for something urgent-“ He explains but he’s too distracted by your injury to provide the full story. “Did you hurt yourself?” He questions. You glance down at your leg- you move your ankle and wince when you find it too painful to rotate.

“Probably just a sprain.” You explain and he nods.

“I’ll help you, then,” He says quickly. “There’s a first aid kit in my office- or there was, if you haven’t cleaned it out yet.”

“Thank you.” You say quietly. “I haven’t touched your things. But you really shouldn’t be here-“

Your words are interrupted by the sudden flashing of the light in the elevator and a screeching noise.

The elevator is stuck.

++

“That’s your mastermind plan to help (Y/N)? Trapping them in an elevator together?” Seri sniffs, as she realises what Jin has done, watching Jungkook and her boss through the small security camera. They remain crouched down, close to the ground and she can’t see their expressions. “What if they get hurt?”

“Clearly you’ve never watched any kind of romcom ever, Seri.” Jin tuts. “This is a basic strategy- and this is just us getting started! Phase one! We just need to force them into the same space and hopefully the confined space will lead to them opening up! Besides, don’t act so surprised- there’s much more work we have to do than this before Jungkook-”

“Why did you agree to this?” She interrupts, directing her question to the elevator technician who has unscrewed the control panel and is fidgeting with the wires. He pauses, resting a hand on his chin as he contemplates the answer.

“For love.” He answers fondly. “But also, Seokjin here paid me $50 if I made sure they were trapped in an elevator together for the next twenty minutes.”

Seri whirls on Jin, the expression on her face utterly despairing.

“What… what else do you have planned?” She asks incredulously, pale and concerned for the wellbeing of not only her boss, but Jungkook as well. Jin considers her question for a moment, before shrugging.

“It’s a surprise.” He answers with a grin.

++

“How’s your ankle?” Jungkook asks awkwardly. For the past five minutes after ringing for help with the emergency button and being assured that the elevator technician was already working on it, the two of you had been sitting in a deathly silence. With Jungkook’s help, you had manoeuvred so that you now lean against the wall of the elevator, your sprained ankle stretched out in front of you. Your broken, useless heels are discarded in the corner. Your eyes are shut so that you don’t have to acknowledge his presence and can feign sleeping.

“The same as it was 5 minutes ago.” You answer, without opening your eyes. “Swollen. Painful. Will probably be better in a few days.”

You hear a tapping sound and know that Jungkook is probably bouncing his knee up and down. He has a lot of restless energy and a lot of pens have been dismantled at his desk from his fidgeting and a lot of office chairs have met their end because he’s constantly rocking back and forth. It’s a good indicator for when he’s about to strike up conversation- the noise stops, and he inhales like he’s formulating a question.

“How’s the office been?” He asks. “Without me? Is everyone coping alright?”

Not really. But you’re not about to tell him that.

“They’re fine. The others are urging me to find a replacement and I’m sure we’ll find one soon.” You say. Your sentences are clipped, and your tone isn’t unfriendly, but it isn’t exactly warm either. You’re trying to discourage conversation because if Jungkook inquires more into how your week played out, you may burst into tears. The last thing you want is for him to know what a hard time you are having without him.

He starts to whistle tunelessly, and the sound is annoying, but you don’t want to talk to him. At least he’s stopped asking you questions.

For about thirty seconds.

“What was in the box?” He asks. You open one eye to peer at him. He’s sitting cross-legged in front of you with his back slouched. He picks absently at his worn shoelaces on his crappy, frayed sneakers.

“Glasses. For a wedding I’m planning.” You say. He perks up at the mention of your business.

“Is this the couple who met at the Venetian Glass Blowing Factory?” He asks cheerfully. “I thought you didn’t have time to plan their wedding. How did you squeeze them in?”

You tense- you rang them up and offered your services since a lot of clients have cancelled on you this week following your subpar performance.

“I’ve had a few slots in my schedule clear up.” You admit through gritted teeth. Jungkook looks confused but then his eyes go round when he realises what you mean.

“Oh… that bad, huh?” He asks. He winces. “Not that I’m implying you’re bad! I just didn’t think people would cancel so quickly when-”

“When what, Jungkook?” You snap, patience lost. “When I’m essentially working two jobs? When I’ve been yelled at 32 times this week? When I’ve been getting approximately 4 hours sleep every night trying to organise all these events in between doing your job?”

“Well I didn’t ask to be on leave!” He retorts defensively. His eyebrows furrow together and his lips purse in a slight pout. “You’re the one who insisted I was unfit to work.”

“I know.” You snarl, and to your mortification, frustrated tears fill your eyes and blur your view of him. “I know I made you take leave! I know that everyone wants you back and this office is going insane without you!”

Jungkook’s jaw drops at your outburst but doesn’t interrupt as you continue your rant.

“I know your job is important and that it was going to be hard without you, but I was doing it for you! I wasn’t trying to fire you or spite you or punish you for being sick! I was only trying to help.” You’re full on sobbing now, but you’re so exhausted and emotional and the repressed emotions you’ve been pushing back for the past week are all bursting forth. “Is that so bad? Is it so terrible that I just wanted to look after my business partner? Why am I getting punished for doing the right thing?” You’re in full hysterics as Jungkook starts to panic, realising that he has no idea how to comfort you or calm you down.

“D-don’t cry!” He protests but it’s too late- it’s like a dam has been broken. All the stress, all the misery, all the overtime work has combined, and you feel like there’s an angry tornado of lava where your heart should be. “I know you were trying to help, and I’m really grateful for that- please don’t cry!”

He edges closer to you and doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so he settles for resting them awkwardly on your shoulders. You stare up at him with teary eyes. You’re not a pretty crier by any definition- your eyes have gone puffy and your nose is running and were it any other situation he would have laughed at you. But he has at least enough sensitivity to know laughing at you now would be kicking you when you’re down. Instead he offers you an awkward smile, one that is little more than his cheeks raising and him baring his teeth in an almost-snarl.

You’re so confused at his peculiar expression that you actually stop sobbing. You squint at him for a moment, before a tear-y laugh breaks through your lips.

“What are you doing?” You ask, taking the lapse in your hysterics as an opportunity to wipe away the tears running down your cheeks. His expression softens.

“I’m smiling at you.” He explains. You snort incredulously.

“You look like you’re in pain.” You say. He chuckles awkwardly.

“Hey! I’m trying to make you feel better!” He protests jokingly, relieved that you’re at least no longer crying. You frown.

“By showing me what face you make when you’re constipated?” You suggest and he actually laughs.

“I mean, since that’s what stopped you crying, I’ll take it.” He volunteers. He takes his hands off your shoulders and slumps next to you, being mindful of your injured leg. “Hey.”

You turn to look at him.

“Hi.” You answer. His expression is warm and gentle as he volunteers his next words.

“I never thanked you.” He admits. “For caring so much. Enough to keep it a secret.” He confesses. “And for putting me on leave. I know… I know you were trying to help, and it feels good to know that you’ve got my back like that. So, thank you. So much.”

At his words, an odd, warm sensation blooms in your chest. This whole week all you’ve felt is stressed and guilty, questioning your decision and worrying about Jungkook’s health. But Jungkook’s gratitude is liberating- you feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. He turns so that he’s staring straight into your eyes.

“And I know that you were only trying to help, and I’m really thankful for that but…” He trails away awkwardly and glances downwards. “But it wasn’t your call to make.” He admits. “I know you mean well, but it’s my decision on whether to get treatment, or whether to keep working, or whether or not to be involved with this wedding. You shouldn’t have taken that choice from me.”  

The truth of his words hits you like a bag of bricks and leaves you momentarily speechless. Because he has a point- even acting with his best interests in mind, he’s your co-worker. Not your friend or your family or your lover. He’s your equal business partner, capable of making adult decisions for himself. And by forcing him to go on leave, you took that choice away from him.

“As for the wedding… I won’t force you to do it or keep pestering you about it. I should have stopped when you first said no and respected that. That was wrong of me.” He says. “To be honest, I kept visiting you because I thought I could convince you. I didn’t even care how you were doing or whether you were coping- I just made all these excuses to see you so that I could convince you. And I realise now that’s a really awful way to be. You’re not just my boss or a machine that churns out people’s dream weddings. You’re a person who cares a lot about everyone she meets and I’m sorry for not recognising that.” He tells you. His cheeks are tinted slightly pink at his heartfelt confession, and your own cheeks burn too for some reason.

“The truth is… the truth is that Minah doesn’t want you to plan her wedding this much. Yeah, she liked that video of that wedding you did, but if I’d told her you said no, she would have just found someone else. It was me that was being insistent because I wanted someone on my side. You saw how I almost exposed myself at her engagement party… I felt like bringing another wedding planner into the mix is just one more person I have to hide from.” He slumps against the elevator wall and you take notice of the dark circles under his eyes, of his pale skin and his gaunt face… He’s lost even more weight since you made him take leave- earlier he was skinny but still looked healthy. Now he looks ashy and uncomfortable. At this rate he will wither away into nothing but skin and bones. Your heart aches for him again. “But when you found me… when you helped me and you didn’t tell anyone… I felt like I wasn’t alone for the first time in nearly a year. For the first time since Minah started dating Taehyung, probably. And I liked that feeling- I liked the idea of someone like you having my back. Someone who was strong and so determined that she literally built a business from the ground up, and you always call me your partner but really it was all you. And this whole thing with Minah has been so… hard. I thought… ‘maybe I could do it if she had my back.’” He squeezes his eyes shut and you notice the way a tear trickles down his cheek. His glasses nearly hide it but you’re watching him so carefully that you pick up on it.

“I’ll do it.” You don’t even realise you’ve said the words until he’s staring at you with wide, shocked eyes.

“What?” He asks. “Say that again?”

You blink, startled by your own compliance, but then you steel your gaze and make your decision.

“My brother’s a doctor who specialises in Hanahaki.” You say. “He said that if the doctors have already recommended hypnotherapy then conservative treatment probably can’t do much but it may slow the progression.” You explain. Jungkook is still staring at your with confused, round eyes. “If you promise to meet with him at least once a week for some conservative treatment and then you book in for proper treatment once the wedding is over… I’ll do it. I’ll plan her wedding.”

Jungkook’s whole face lights up and he grabs one of your hands, clasping it between your hands. His hands dwarf your own and you feel like he may break your bones with how tightly he is holding you.

“Really? You’d do that?” He asks, and the breathless excitement and relief in his voice almost makes it worth the stress that will no doubt come with agreeing.

“For you.” You clarify. “And only if you get treatment. If Namjoon tells me you’ve missed even one session, then I’m cancelling on her.” You warn. You look away awkwardly. “And I guess… if it means that much to you… you can come back to work. But you have to promise me that if you’re not feeling well you let me know, ok?”

“Deal!” Jungkook cries joyously, throwing his arms around you neck and pulling you in for a bone-crushing hug. “Thank you so much (Y/N)!  This really means so much to me. Thank you.”

And it is in that moment, with Jungkook squeezing you tightly to him like you’ll get up and sprint away if he lets go, that the elevator door starts up again like it was just waiting for the two of you to come to an agreement.

And if it’s suspicious that Jin and Seri are both anxiously waiting by the elevator doors on the fifth floor when they eventually slide open and release you, then neither you nor Jungkook notice it.

You’re both too distracted by the work you have ahead of you.

[swampgallows]

my mouse is acting funky because the laptop fell off my bed, which crunched the receiver straight through the chasse and obliterated the entire usb port. there’s just a huge gouge out of the side of the laptop now, which probably damaged the receiver in the process. 

this entire laptop is falling apart. it was my brother’s laptop from ages ago and is MSi junk (his words), and i’m using it because my laptop of 10+ years finally had the motherboard die on me 2 months after replacing the hard drive. 

my brother also left me his PC. the problem is that i dont have a desk, i dont have a chair that doesnt make my bottom half go numb after 10 minutes, and i have no place in my room to put a desk even if i got one because literally all of my possessions are confined to my bedroom. that means my turntables, hundreds of records, all my clothes, all my books (the bookshelf is part of the wall so it cant be re/moved). so i use my laptop lying down in my twin sized bed.

i want to move out so fucking bad but i cant get a job and none of my “skills” are honed enough to be lucrative (i’m too fucking useless to commit to anything anyway. i dont have a workspace for drawing and mixing is difficult without speakers). i honestly have no idea how i would ever make enough money to pay rent even with multiple roommates. even when i was working close to full time i made just under 2k a month which wouldnt cover most average rent here on top of healthcare etc. i could move i guess, but i have no idea where to.

being unemployed is kind of a blessing in that i have free healthcare (especially when i was in and out of the hospital last winter for a month). my healthcare even after it was subsidized, while i was working, was close to 300 a month. the car that is “mine” is not actually mine so i dont make the monthly payments on it so i have no idea what those are.

basically in my head it just compounds to “my mouse is broken because i can’t move out” and overwhelms me so much i just feel like giving up. really is the terry pratchett boot theory

[littlemisslovelovelove3]

If this comes across your dashboard, just ignore it. I’m stressing out but it’s 4am and everyone I could normally talk to is sleeping, so I’m basically using this as a digital venting session/journal entry because it’s easier than digging out all my actual journaling stuff.

I don’t know what’s going on with me tonight but I’m feeling very off. I’m feeling an intense urge to cry like I haven’t felt in years despite nothing of importance happening. And not like “aww I’m a little sad” but like “I want to sob like the love of my life just died” cry. The ugly, splotchy face, runny nose, can’t catch your breath kind of crying session that dominated my childhood. (I had a very good childhood- I was just hella dramatic and still am. I was never a weeper, I was an all out crier)

My sleep schedule has been fucked up for like the 300th time this year where I am wide awake all night and sleeping all day, or at least some variation of that. I’m so tired all the time but there have been more nights this year than any other year in recent memory that I’ve struggled this much with sleep. I used to be out almost as soon as my head hit the pillow and now it’s not uncommon for me to be wide awake at 8am having not gone to sleep at all. And I’m sure not seeing a decent amount of sunshine isn’t helping, but once I finally manage to pass out, I’m out. It’s not always restful, but it’s better than no sleep at all.

I’m struggling to focus on anything for a decent length of time- I’ve bought an ~obscene~ number of books, started half a dozen of them and none of them are holding my interest. I used to be able to fly through 800 page books in under 2 days and now I can’t even read a 472 page book in 3 weeks. I’ve read some fan fiction to see if that will help my reading slump but it’s been touch and go on those too.

I’ve tried watching tv and with the exception of the few shows I watch at night with my mother, I’ve been unable to get through any new or currently started shows. I restarted Rizzoli & Isles and haven’t been able to make it through the first season of a whopping 10 episodes. I’m beyond behind on Doctor Who, I lost interest in my favorite show of all time Buffy the Vampire Slayer, stopped Angel and haven’t been able to get through episode 2 of The Queen’s Gambit. Even picking a tv show has been hard. I was never good at making simple decisions before but now I’m hopeless.

The only movies I’ve watched lately are with my mom or the kids movies I watch with my friend’s son that I nanny for part time. He’s a great kid and I live him like he was my own, but I can’t watch The Addams Family one more time. It’s great but damn kid pick one of the other 50,000 available options.

I scroll through social media a lot but even that bores me. Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, tumblr, tiktok, Snapchat- none hold my attention for very long. Except maybe tiktok because I’m pretty sure it’s digital crack but sometimes even it bores me.

I’ve been awful about going to the gym. I used to go 4-6 times a week and lately it’s been once a week and only because I pay for a group session with a trainer. It’s literally me and 1-3 other women depending on the day. And I can feel myself losing endurance, muscle and strength.

We aren’t going home for Christmas and while I absolutely understand why, I’m incredibly devastated that I won’t see my sisters, their families and my extended family this year. Sure I saw my one sister and her family in June but there’s something about going home for Christmas that is always extra special to me. We’re (my parents, brother and I) are going to miss out on my nephew’s second Christmas and the first one he’ll be able to really enjoy. He was 4 weeks at his first Christmas so he basically slept the whole time. We already missed his first birthday and while we’ve FaceTimed a bunch, it’s not the same.

And I was really hoping to see my grandpa, but he’s 91 and I could never forgive myself if I exposed him to covid. But I’m also scared about the very real possibility of never getting to see him again. His wife, my grandmother died 2 years ago and if I had known that the last time I saw her was the last time, I would’ve hugged her a little tighter and told her how much I love her. I miss her every day. I catch myself still calling the house “their home” or “grandma and grandpa’s”. Calling it “grandpa’s” still feels foreign to me. The idea that I’ll be missing Christmas with my dad’s family for the first time in my life is not sitting well with me.

My head gets it- there’s a fucking pandemic raging and traveling is ill advised but my heart doesn’t care, as melodramatic as it sounds. It’s like my body wants to go home to my hometown and back to where I grew up like it’s somehow going to be a source of comfort. Even though it’s not the same as it was when I lived there. I moved away 5 years ago and it kept on growing and changing despite my naïve belief it would stay the same.

So basically I’m feeling incredibly nostalgic and stressed. My anxiety is raging and I’m pretty sure the antidepressant my psychiatrist prescribed me isn’t doing much. I’m not having dark thoughts like I was in the spring when I first started seeing him, but I still don’t feel like myself. I’m also unemployed which is definitely not helping matters. I have savings and live with family but that’s not a long term solution. But my family is all high risk for covid and there aren’t many jobs around me right now that a) pay enough and b) can limit exposure.

If it weren’t wildly inappropriate I’d drive myself to my friend’s house right now and go snuggle his dog and/or cat right now, because honestly I feel like that would help. But I’ll wait until the morning when he’s at work so I don’t scare the shit out of him. Full disclosure if you’ve actually been reading this and made it this far- I’ve been given a key and explicit permission to go to his house and squeeze his pets. Tomorrow I might actually take him up on the offer. I may even bring the dog back to my place, which again, I’ve been given permission to do.

Adult friendships are weird y’all. My friends and I all have keys or security codes to each other’s homes and using them happens on a more frequent basis than I would’ve anticipated. My house has become the Friday night landing zone for after work (for them) drinks, relaxation and occasionally dinner. Which is so foreign to me because for the last couple years all my friends lived in other cities and/or states, so actually being even somewhat social again has been jarring. Between not having friends nearby and the damn pandemic it’s been really really fucking weird.

I’m sure the pandemic is a major reason I’m feeling so out of sorts, but it’s not going away any time soon and I feel like I need to figure out some of my shit or at least find some healthy ways of coping to survive. Not anything crazy- I’m not suicidal- I’m just super dramatic and also realize that I don’t want my anxiety and depression to keep controlling me like it feels like it has been. I’m big on needing to feel like I’m in control even the littlest bit, so this whole situation is making me feel very unbalanced and I’m not a fan.

And now that I’ve at least written this out I’m actually feeling somewhat better. The stress is still here but it doesn’t feel as overwhelming as it did earlier. It helped I cried while writing about my grandmother. One day I hope I won’t get overly emotional when thinking about or talking about her, but I’m ok with that being not today.

It’s kinda cliché but the whole “it’s ok to not be ok” mantra is really accurate for me right now. I’m sure I’m not the only person in the world feeling overwhelmed right now with everything going on and I certainly won’t be the last.

[tansypoisoning]

What You Have (part three of “What You Need”)

Life as an unemployed, homeless wanderer was hard, until you met Captain America. Then it got worse.

Part 1 - Part 2

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Genres: Smut, Yandere, creepy shit

Ships: Steve RogersxReader

Relavant Characters: Reader (PoV), Steve Rogers

Universe: Post Civil War, canon compliant (except for the whole Steve losing his marbles thing)

Content Warnings:  Dark!Steve Rogers, kidnapping, yandere, abuse

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Steve was already gone by the time you woke up. You knew he meant to leave that day, but you didn’t think you’d be so lucky as to not have to deal with him in the morning. You searched to whole house just to be safe, and he was nowhere to be found.

Maybe he had really left, maybe he walked out to do something and would be back in a second, or maybe it was a test of some kind; either way, you would take the time you had away from him to look for something that could breach the door (a blowtorch would do) and something to fend off wild animals (you were hoping for a bazooka). You spent the best part of three hours combing through every drawer and cupboard, looking under all the beds and behind all the furniture, and even hitting walls in search of hidden passages. If there was anything that could aid you in your escape, it was hidden in a place you couldn't get to.

Deep down you knew you were kidding yourself. Even if you could leave the building and had the guts to shoot a lion, you couldn't go back home by foot, and Steve had to have taken the jet. If you were to ever escape, you’d have to wait for him to come back.

You took a shower, your skin turning raw from the water temperature and your aggressive rubbing. Your reflection in the mirror barely looked like you, and one of your cheeks was swollen.

Breakfast was much the same as it had been yesterday, aside from the small bag of frozen berries in the back of the fridge that you ate in one sitting, and you spent most of your day watching the uninspired collection of DVDs, sometimes pausing to check the local channels or making sure you had looked everywhere for a possible means of escape (you had).

You avoided the pen and the blank piece of paper that had been left in the coffee table – the list Steve expected you to write.

What you wanted… What you truly wanted was to have your freedom back, but he wasn’t going to give you that. You weren’t sure what he was willing to give you, really. He implied you should tell him what you wanted from the time before he’d kidnapped you, but the truth was that you just wanted enough money to pay rent. You didn’t exactly have the brain space or time to dream about the future, what with all the job searching and panic attacks. Even if you figured out what all your dreams for the future were, none of them would include Steve.

Could you ask him to give you something that would let you get away from him? Internet access, a car and a force-field that repealed super humans? He said there wasn’t a right answer, but you suspected there were wrong ones. If you refused to make a choice, would he accept you wanted nothing from him or would he just choose for you? You didn’t want to think about it, so you didn’t. When he came back, you’d just tell him to return you to your former life. If he was going to make you miserable no matter what, you figured you might as well return the favor.

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Steve arrived the day after the next when you were heating your dinner and watching ‘National Treasure’ for the fourth. You didn’t even hear him coming in, whirling around when you heard your name being called behind you. He was standing by the kitchen island, smiling fondly at you.

“It’s nice to see you’ve been doing well while I was gone.” He said. You didn’t think his comment merited a response, so you didn’t reply.

Not one to let your obvious displeasure ruin his mood, he smiled wider and pointed at the microwave “I don’t presume you are making something for me too?”

“No.” You answered and moved to look at your food and watch it spinning round and round. You heard Steve jump over the counter and approach you. The sound of the movie was loud, but now that you knew he was there your senses were attuned to him and only him.

He touched your elbow, and your head twitched to the side in reflex. He leaned over and pressed his lips to yours. He didn’t attempt to delve his tongue in your mouth or make you return the gesture, and he pulled away once you began to shiver. There was still the same dopey, loving look in his eyes, and you turned back to the microwave so you wouldn’t have to keep seeing it.

Steve sighed and walked to the fridge. “Did you do what I asked?”

You acted like he wasn’t talking to you, like the most interesting thing in the world was the TV dinner spinning, and spinning, and spinning…

“Baby, did you write the list?” His voice raised “Did you think about what you want?”

The endless cycle of rotation of the spaghetti wasn’t the most interesting thing in the room, but it was the only one you wanted to acknowledge. It was making you dizzy-

There was a shuffling, metallic noise, then a kitchen knife embedded itself on the counter beside you, cracking the marble on its way. The microwave beeped, but you didn’t reach for the meal inside.

“Did you write the list?” Steve’s whisper was soft, deceptively so.

You squeaked out a ‘no’ and he inhaled deeply before letting go of the knife’s handle and moving away from you.

“I guess we’re staying in here a little longer.” He lamented “I really don’t want to do this, but if you don’t make some choices soon I’ll have to do it for you. You have to tell me what you want.”

Suddenly remembering what you had told yourself on your first day there without Steve, you pivoted on your heels and braced yourself against the counter for courage.

“I want to go home.” You said, watching as he turned to look at you. His brows were furrowed, and he was smiling, but you knew you had made him even angrier.

“Home? You don’t have a home.”

“My car.” You insisted “I want my life back. Take me back.”

Steve’s fingers poked through the packet of squash ravioli he had taken out of the freezer, and you inched closer to the kitchen knife that was still perched on the counter-top. How nice of him to leave it there for you…

“I know that’s not what you wanted.” He shook his head.

“It’s what I want now.” And it was true. You didn’t want much when you were living in your car, but now you longed for the life you had once loathed.

Steve huffed, looked away from you, tapped his feet, drummed his fingers on the fridge – moved like he was trying to remove himself from that moment. Like he was trying to hold himself back.

“Fine.” He said at last “I’m taking you back.”

“What?” You blurted out.

“After dinner.” He offered no further explanation and approached you, box still in hand “Aren’t you going to get your food?”

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The night air was cold, and standing on the rooftop in what amounted to pajamas wasn’t doing you any favors. A coat would be nice, but Steve hadn’t given you any, probably out of spite. He looked at ease in his full body suit, doing checks and double checks to make sure the jet was safe while you shook in your loose shorts. You didn’t know how much of that inspection was necessary.

The second trip was the exact opposite of the first: you didn’t sleep, Steve didn’t get you covers, and you shivered all the way through, but you were happy. You were going back! It felt too good to be true – several times you had considered the possibility of this being a lie, that he wasn’t taking you home at all, but why would he bother?

Hours of hopeful anticipation later, and you were landing in the very spot the jet had been when Steve took you. He had been honest, at least as far as taking you back went.

You jumped out of the vehicle as soon as the ramp was lowered enough to give you the room to slip through. You could feel Steve right behind you, but all thought about was running to your car. You found it easily, just where it had been left and unlocked, but you feared you wouldn’t be able to turn it on.

“Are you sure you want to go?” Steve asked as you were getting into the front seat. Spoken like he’d just asked you if you were sure you wanted to leave in the drizzle without an umbrella…

You frowned, nodded out of habit, and jammed the key in the ignition switch. The motor started easily, and you scrambled for the wheel to get out of there as fast as you could, just barely resisting the urge to ram your car into him (there was a high chance that things would turn out worse for you if you did.)

You looked at the man in your rear-view mirror, watched him get smaller and smaller as you ascended the slope. You couldn’t believe it. You had escaped? Just like that? It made no sense. Why would he take you and go to such extreme measure to keep you, then let you go after you insisted a couple of times? No way, there was no way…

Even after you were long gone and couldn't see Steve anymore, you remained suspicious. He had to be plotting something, but as you sped away from him and his jet the past three days started feeling more and more like a bad dream.

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Some people would say freedom smelled like clean air, others apple pie, and then some that would say that it smelled like cow shit. All wrong.

Freedom smelled like rejection.

Another job you didn’t get, another day of grinding wasted on people who wouldn’t hire you even to wipe their toilet, but that was fine by you. It had been five weeks since Steve returned you to your car, and you were still as glad to be back to your chaotic life as you were the first day. Captain America had taught you to appreciate your rotten situation, who would’ve thought?

You exited the building, smoothing a hand over your nicest pair of slacks, and made your way to the parking lot across the street. You fished for your keys on the way, finding them when you arrived at the spot you’d parked. You looked up and began laughing hysterically.

It was gone. It was fucking gone. Your car, which you had left right there, along with all you had – it was all gone, vanished, only an oil puddle left where your entire life had been less than an hour ago.

You dropped the keys, then to your knees, your giggles morphing into ugly wails. You didn’t know what to do next. If there was a way out of this plight you weren’t seeing it, and you didn’t feel like looking for it at the moment. You had nothing and none, and you were so consumed by grief you couldn’t think. Your emotional state inhibited all rational thoughts beyond the one that told you not to choke to death on your own tears.

A painful lump grew in your throat, and you brought your hands to your neck in hopes your fingers would make things better, but nothing could make things better – not your own touch, and not the one from the person that had approached you from behind and decided to grab your shoulder like an old friend. You had no true friends, old or new, so you turned around with a scowl to tell the weirdo to get off, but the words died in your throat when you saw him.

You should’ve known it would be Steve. None in their right mind would want you old beat up cart; it was falling apart. The only two reasons for someone to take it were to sell it for parts or to destroy your life, and he had stakes in one of these things.

You had been foolish enough to believe he had been serious. Were you so eager to escape you had allowed him to fool you, or had he been clear in his intentions and you just lied to yourself? Had your future been sealed from the moment Steve decided he wanted you?

His eyes were soft and his smile was comforting. You wanted to wipe his fake fucking face in the pavement, but all you could do was cry.

“Are you ready to be honest with me now?” He asked.

That was the end of the line. You had no way to run, nothing to warm and protect you at night. You could tell him to go to hell and maybe he’d go, but then what would be of you? You’d have your freedom, but without a place or a friend there was no telling how long that would last.

Better the devil you know.

You turned on your knees until you were facing him, then tugged on his hand. Steve pulled you to your feet, and his grin now barely concealed his self-satisfied glee.

“Yes.” You whispered in between sobs “Take me home.”

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A/N: This is just a transition chapter so it’s not very exciting. I’m planning on two more chapters, and part 4 should be the longest and take a while, but it’s going to have the highest density of smut so that’s nice.

[violetsystems]

personal

I’ve been able to sleep until six the last few days.  I’ve been on this miserable eight to four sleep schedule.  I ordered a silent vortex coffee grinder specifically to be less annoying in this regard.   Even if I could literally just grind the coffee the night before.  I also bought a rug cleaner for the first time in my life.  It’s amazing the things you don’t realize you need for a home let alone an office.  Last night I received an email from LinkedIn asking me to weigh in on a conversation about higher education.  The only public facing social networking site I really use actively I pay for.  They bought a service called Linda.com years ago.  It was probably the most important site to me for instructional videos.  These days it is included on the platform so I spend a fair amount of time keeping my job skills plausible.  I learned pretty hard the last six months that my professional network had all but evaporated.  A hard thing to face when you worked with your friends for over twenty years.  But people have to move on.  I sometimes make decisions that seem smarter in retrospect.  You could even mistake it for premonition but I just call it good judgement.  I made the decision to start the process of becoming a LLC.  It was pretty easy to do once you paid the four hundred dollars.  There’s services out there online that will do the legal part for you.  I chose VS consulting as the name which becomes real around mid December if the Secretary of State accepts it.  They asked me to cut the ribbon virtually.  I congratulated myself in silence but this is pretty much the first place I’ve shared the news with.  My mom didn’t quite understand what I had done and my dad is an accountant.  I haven’t told him yet either.  I got the idea seeing some of the people who still work at my old job starting their own side businesses.  Crazy to see people still employed having extra jobs in this economy.  But for the most part I don’t really compare my experience to anyone’s anymore.  So I just look forward.  There are a lot of ways I generate income.  Some of them aren’t very lucrative.  I released another ep Monday.  Three of my friends from across the world I never really talk to bought it immediately.  It makes sense because my music is how they know me.  So that’s how they keep up with me.  From there, Bandcamp revenue share Friday passed with little or no fanfare.  It still doesn’t change the fact I owe taxes on the income above a certain amount if I report it.  We all know how the rich hate paying those taxes.  And the whole world now knows that I work for a LLC on the premier professional social networking site.  It’s a win win for me because I can still look for a job but I appear employed.  It’s also a nice buffer in these times for your resume.  In retrospect, every article I read says the end of December is a perfect time to start your own business.  Mostly because January 1st allows you to start with a fresh balance sheet and good accounting.  So if anything my New Year’s resolution is to be cleaner and more concise about everything.  Even if the rest of society’s ethics and accountability gets muddier as COVID-19 and the election process drags on.  The only things I really have to worry about this next year are documenting my spending, opening up a business checking account, and deducting business expenses.  Sounds like a job to me.

There are tools you need for a job.  I bought a year long subscription to Creative Cloud.  I had it for free for years.  I worked in a visual communications department for ten years.  I saw the most amazing work every morning hung up outside my office.  It inspired me to learn about print making and screen printing.  I even owned Adobe stock at one point because I realized Microsoft Office wasn’t doing my resume much justice.  I shudder to think how many jokes were cracked by the Workday staff over my Chanel submission.  Truth is nobody called back for interviews at any of the places I applied.  And this doesn’t really stop me from keeping my eyes out for a position anywhere.  But if we are talking about generating income, I can do that all by myself.  I can also hire people and deduct more business expenses if I felt that was an option.  Which starts to get into the meat of why the job market and economy is so fucked up in America.  A lot of people didn’t fall in line on a balance sheet when COVID-19 came crashing down last February.  And when the fiscal year came time to start fresh, they thinned their liabilities.  Companies are now thinking in quarters rather than years at this point.  And small businesses like myself also have to think the same because I now owe the IRS money every three months.  The accounting side of it doesn’t really bore me.  I’ve done every IT role in the business pretty much over twenty years.  I guess that’s why LinkedIn calls on me to offer an opinion.  I’ve never had to be this hardcore about the finances.  Another great reason why I spend so much time in spreadsheets aside from writing on the internet.  It’s much easier to approach a professional consultant with twenty years of experience with an invoice than it is to tether them to your payroll with benefits.  I’m always having to think six months ahead myself.  This has an advantage to it insofar that I don’t often look back.  You pay your taxes and you move on.  There are many things I could do to generate income.  I could make a zine and sell it quarterly on bandcamp along with shirts.  I could post flyers around the neighborhood offering after christmas tech support.  I could scour the net for opportunities to audit galvanized IT departments.  I could do all this with more confidence if I could say I am employed.  I could also hire someone to help me.  But I could do none of this and deduct expenses without applying for a sole proprietorship.  And truth be told I already have to claim this for the New York Stock Exchange.  So if you had to put a label on what I do now it isn’t really that much different from any other business.  The state’s richest men started as LLCs.  They’re also the biggest pricks who pay the least taxes.  Trickle down economics is a funny concept.  Businesses offer jobs they deduct from their income therefore paying less to the pool.  This would be fine for small income generating businesses.  But Ken Griffin would say otherwise as he and other rich people benefit from this structure.  They say the American Dream is owning your own business.  So welcome to my personal nightmare.  I hope you don’t mind me taking the itemized deductions after how I’ve been treated.

I don’t actually know how it’s going to work out.  I just know I don’t want to appear unemployed while corporate America expects me to wink and make them more money.  There are investments that have worked out for me as volatile as they might be.  One Chinese company I invested in has made the CEO twelve times richer.  I own four hundred and twenty shares of that company in a brokerage.  My intent is to hold on to them for the long term possibly making someone richer at my own risk.  I could short the entire next year to my heart’s content.  My credit scores have gone through the roof.  Nobody has had any answers for me on what to do.  Nobody has coached me.  I read.  I think.  I come up with solutions to my problems.  And I put money in the right places.  That doesn’t mean anything is a sure thing.  Especially when my government finds it more advantageous to punish other countries while forgetting about it’s own people.  I am absolutely in the dark about everything.  Everything except running my own business in America.  I already have income I have to report over the next three years due the CARES act.  So that is income I will deduct.  This is how it works here in America.  You seize the means of production and you go to work.  If it seems backward for me, you wouldn’t know the half.  My life is so fucked up in terms of how hazy and confusing other people have made it.  People invaded my life on pretenses that I can’t even begin to explain.  And part of being a strong, responsible adult is engineering your way out of these problems.  And for the most part, I’ve engineered myself into a fort that overlooks the CTA train.  And a small portion of that fort can be written off as an office.  Which in some ways if you do the math makes rent and utilities cheaper in the long run.  I don’t make the rules.  This is how America works.  A LLC gets a tax id number.  It allows you better options for retirement savings with a SEP IRA.  You can apply for business accounts and waive taxes on business purchases.  Even the family dollar around the corner has a sign in the window reminding me I can apply for tax free status.  Maybe they’re mostly to blame for planting the idea in my head.  I’m the one who made the call to apply.  Nobody held my hand.  You could also get audited by the IRS.  And I’m sure the IRS would have to figure out how I got into this situation in the first place.  Maybe they’d offer me a job. There’s other fantasies in my life I could imagine happening more than that waking nightmare.  Like actually having money to retire.  I could be travelling around the world cleaning up the mess mark to market accounting has left on big business.  The scars on economies the rich have pock marked on the middle class.  Or I could just keep generating income and be my own boss here in my kitchen.  The one thing I do know is that is sexier to be confident enough to move ahead with your own plan slowly than to short a bunch of stocks disruptively and brag about it on the internet.  You could call it my three year plan.  Don’t ask me how bonds factor in that equation.  I’m not a spy.  What I am is a guy that is trying to be the solution and not the victim.  And that guy doesn’t ever want to be a burden on the people I love.  So that guy is going to keep doing what he does.  And I’m not going to lie that you inspire me to do so.  As sexy and confident as I’m born to be.  <3 Tim

[wonhosmistress]

Soft To Be Strong

Length: 2,039 

Warnings: None

Summary: After the readers’ encounter with Keanu she ends up not having enough courage to return back to work but forces herself before they call her out about it and before she knows it she ends up losing her job.

A/N: After several months of being in such a deep writing slump I return with the following chapter for Summertime Sadness and I have NEVER written this much in one sitting. I stayed up until 3am to finish half of it and finish the other half today, thank y’all for supporting my works! Also, plan to continue this series and finish what I started since I started getting new ideas yesterday. Wow, inspiration has never hit me this hard. Hope y’all enjoy it

(This is Ch.2 you can find the prologue: here, Ch. 1 this is an ongoing series with the same name just different titles for each chapter which will end up connecting to a playlist I’m working on.) 

Italics indicate flashback

After the following three days she had spent wallowing in her own self-pity, she finally got the courage to leave her apartment and managed to force herself down to the closest park to take a breath of fresh air since she had been cooped up for what it seemed an eternity. She sat in one the parks’ bench feeling the sun graze her skin as she continuously observed her surroundings noticing kids in the playground as their parents watched over them making her smile. She kept thinking about how after her embarrassing encounter with Keanu, she didn’t have the courage to go back to work but as much as she didn’t feel like facing her co-workers or even attempt to interact with a single soul. She inhaled deeply and stared at herself in the mirror examining her outfit and herself smiling at the approval of how good she looked and tried her hardest to fake her confidence.

She entered her office building sitting her lunch bag and purse down but before she even tried to sit down at her desk her coworker Macy told her that her boss was calling her to her office. She was taken back by how early it was and why her boss was calling her, but she just went on her way and knocked on the door, “come in.” she heard from the other side. She opened the door carefully stepping in and closed it behind her before making her way towards her boss’s desk and sitting down on one of the chairs that were in front of her. “You called?” She placed her pen down and interlocked her hands-on top of the desk as she looked at her, “Yes, this is not going to be easy y/n but I need to let you go.” She stared at her boss still not being able to process the sudden information. “You’re one of the best employees this company has and you actually manage to meet the deadlines before anyone else-” “then why are you letting me go?” a hint of frustration showing in her voice as she kept her eyes on her boss. She sighed, “Our budget is being cut and you’re not the only one that is being let go several others have and I still have a list to go through.” She looked at her lividly. “If I’m understanding this correctly, you’re telling me that the company is letting go, employees, because they don’t want to pay them and give the remaining of these poor people more workload until they pass out from exhaustion?” Her boss just stared at her sudden angry outburst and was dumbfounded at how she managed to keep a calm composure. “wow...so that’s seriously it?” she questioned, noticing the guilty expression on her bosses’ face when she told her that. “Capitalism is seriously fucked. Also, don’t even bother continuing explaining I’ll just take my things and see my way out.”

She honestly wished she hadn’t said that to her boss, but she was right everyday people go out of work because corporate always turns out to be the greedy ones. They want fewer people yet still manage to give them even more work than before for even less pay. She was unemployed and frustrated that she had to look for another job, but she didn’t want to work for the higher-us. She wanted to create her own business but how would she do that? She didn’t have enough money for a down payment meaning she had to look for a temporary job and save up before she even tried anything else. She sighed in annoyance, continuing to observe her surroundings but as of right now she needed to focus on being able to feed herself and pay her rent. She stood up stretching slightly and decided to take a short walk before heading back to her apartment and spending the rest of the day looking for jobs. Before she knew it she heard the name being called out but decided to shake it off considering that she had been cooped up for a while in her home, she was probably starting to imagine things and her mental health wasn’t in the best place since she had lost her job. Maybe this was a good thing? She thought about how she had told herself several times that she needed more time to herself to take care of herself mentally and physically. 

“Y/N!” She stopped in her tracks and turned back to look back to make sure she wasn’t imagining things and there he was walking towards her wearing combat boots, grey jeans, a navy blue shirt and over his shoulders he wore the same old brown jacket she saw at the store. Was he really calling out for her? She thought to herself. She turned back around to make sure that it was her he was calling for but no one around seemed to look his way. 

“Hey, I’m sorry if you’re in a hurry but I tried calling you for the past couple days, but you seemed to be busy.” She stood there in silence and idly stared at his messy brown hair. “And, I was honestly taking a walk until I noticed that you were here.” Bringing back her attention to him she just smiled at him. “I thought I was going crazy.” she joked as she awkwardly shifted her weight between her legs. “Sorry, I wasn’t really busy I just wasn’t in my best state of mind. I just wanted to be alone for a while.” He stared at her with a concerned expression but remembered to not ask about her considering that he didn’t really know her that well. “I understand. I just wanted to ask you if you wanted to go have coffee?” She looked at him confused. Did he just catch up with her to ask her to go have coffee with him? She shouldn’t. She needed to go home but she released herself from having those thoughts and told herself fuck it! She was just going out to have coffee with him what was the harm in that? 

She usually never allowed herself to go out unless it was important. “right now?” she asked him. “Yeah, if you’re not busy.” “No. I’m not busy right now.” “great, want to walk over there?” “Sure.” They both walked together but before either said anything she walked in silence for a while. “What seems to be on your mind, is it okay for me to ask?” he turned to look at her noticing that she walked anxiously looking down. “Yeah, it’s fine. I’ve just been in such a terrible slump that I haven’t even allowed myself to even take care of myself,” she told him. She continued walking and before she knew it, she had his arm block her way and heard a loud horn honk in the traffic she looked up at him and then in front of her noticing a car suddenly break mid traffic.

 “Y/n? Are you seriously okay?” She stared at him with a sad expression and watery filled eyes until she had a mental breakdown with tears falling on her cheeks. He was left in shock that she was crying but he felt sympathy for her she was probably going through a lot and possibly tried her best to put a strong face until now. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her trying his best to make her feel slightly better before finally crossing the street and entering the cafe. She sobbed silently against his chest and she had honestly never felt this small from hugging someone which made her smile but her smile suddenly turning into a frown once again, he felt warm against her body making her feel like everything would be alright. That was honestly what she really needed right now. A hug from someone and even though he wasn’t telling her that everything would turn out fine his body language was letting her know.

She pulled away from him and wiped her eyes as she looked at him, “I stained your jacket with my tears.” she joked making him look down and smiling at her, “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” She stood there in such an uncomfortable position about the whole situation that just came crashing down on her. He had noticed that she didn’t feel like addressing it and told her that they should cross the street considering that they were close and so they did after she wiped her tears. They walked up towards the small cafe seating themselves before a waitress served them, they saw the young girl making her way towards them before cheeringly saying, “Good Afternoon, my name Ella I will be your waitress for today. Can I get you anything to drink?”. “I’ll have a black coffee.” she looked at the waitress and said, “I’ll have an iced coffee and an apple pie.” she smiled at her as the waitress made her way towards the kitchen. 

She turned her attention towards Keanu and just sat there feeling awful after suddenly exposing her to him. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been having a rough week...and everything just came crashing like a giant wave.” she told him as she set her keys and phone down on the table, “You don’t have to apologize. Everyone has bad days and that’s okay, you’re not alone and if you feel like talking about it feel free to do so.” She wanted to but she didn’t want to drop all her issues on him she would feel terrible, but she did want to talk about it, she just wanted to tell someone about how horrible she has felt about everything.

 “I recently lost my job and I’ve been trying so hard to keep myself from falling apart, I was actually planning to go home and look for jobs but decided not to since I usually keep myself from going out and this honestly can’t hurt me.” “I’m so sorry, y/n. I wish I could do something to help you.” He told her as he took a quick glance at the waitress coming back with their order setting down their coffees and the slice pie that she had ordered earlier. “I really appreciate the sentiment, but you can’t do anything for me. What I must do is help myself and move forward...anyways, enough about me tell me how you have been?” “Just busy taking care of my kid, he just went to spend the weekend with his mom while I continue to look for a full-time babysitter. It’s just been hard considering I work every day and I’m not always at home to take care of him.” “I’m sorry. Yeah, I heard there hasn’t been enough of them to go around.” “Yeah, it’s been difficult looking to contract anyone.” She felt bad for him between being busy with his work and his kid she wanted to help him take the weight of his shoulders, but she didn’t really know him that well either. She had a history of taking care of children and if she told him that just maybe he would take her into consideration. She hoped that if she did start with this she would save up and she needed a job as quickly as possible and this would be okay with her for the meantime. 

“I can take care of him if that’s okay with you. I mean I really need a job and something as small as this I have a history with. If you’d like I can bring you my resume just so you can have that peace of mind.” He wasn’t sure considering that they only met up twice, but he was desperate, and he only had two days to look for a babysitter. She noticed the hesitation on his face only hoping that he would reconsider. “How about this. I’ll take your offer into consideration and give you a call if my final decision ends up with you, sounds good?”  She nodded in agreement thinking that hopefully, things were looking up for her, maybe she was going to end up being okay at the end of the day.

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[halfpennythoughts]

How I Spent My Unemployment Money and Why It Matters

I don’t usually get political here, but watching the discussion of whether to extend the extra COVID $600 unemployment past July because “some people are making more on unemployment” is a hard thing. So here’s my answer, not that anyone is listening:

Firstly: so many people need that money to get by. It’s a desperate crisis. Even now, with things reopening, very few everyday workers’ salaries are the same. Restaurants are allowing 25% capacity, so waiters are getting 25% of the tip money they usually count on. Hourly workers are being barred from overtime as the businesses look for ways to make up lost profits. There are heaps of stories of people for whom this financial support will literally be the difference between life and death.

Now, on to the argument that this lifesaving support might be too generous for a small percentage of recipients:

I make more on unemployment than I do in my job. I have a college degree in my field, and before covid gutted my industry, I worked 10+ hour days, Monday through Friday, and was more or less getting by. Money was tight, in the way that it is when you keep a mental map of which gas stations are cheaper per gallon and a $1/hr raise changed the way I was living. I’m on standby now, meaning once business resumes I will have work--but it will be a while before business resumes, and longer still before I can go back to my usual schedule and salary.

So when I started on unemployment, I found myself with an extra $300 a month, more or less. Chump change to some folks, but not to someone like me. What did I do with that money? *The very first thing I did was donate a bit back, to charities supporting health, human rights, and other support for those less impacted than me. Good fortune needs to be repaid in kind, and it’s only right that those who have something to give support those who do not. *Then I went online and checked all my favorite local stores, both here and my hometown, to see which ones had transitioned to online sales. As small business, not many of them were set up for that, but of the ones that were, I purchased ‘luxury’ items--books, shirts, Christmas gifts for friends--that I normally would call “beyond my means.” Purchases of $20, $30. Trying to keep businesses afloat in hard times while also, FINALLY, buying a shirt “just because” and not because I needed a new one, without agonizing over the decision, without waiting to see if it would end up in clearance. Just, “Hey, this is neat, I’m going to get it, add to cart.” Amazing. Do some people live like this all the time?

*With the support of unemployment, I didn’t have to ask my landlord--a kind and wonderful guy--to tighten his own belt and accept reduced rent payments. I was happy and proud to keep paying my rent each month in full. 

*I went to the doctor, and then I went to the follow-up appointments scheduled, for long-term health issues I had had that I had just been living with without getting it checked out.

*I started saving aside $25 regularly so that when it becomes safe to travel again, I might be able to go on a weekend trip to Vegas with my brother. That’s money set aside with the intent to go right back into the economy--vendors, travel companies, hotels, performers, artists, restaurants.  *I bought gifts and started assembling care packages, to mail via the US post office to friends and family, in order to brighten their spirits and support them in hard times. I could afford real gifts for Mother’s and Father’s day, not just a handmade card. *I bought supplies to make crafts, and I taught myself new skills--crochet, weaving. I focused on self-improvement. My new hobbies encourage me to spend on them in the future, save up for new yarn and supplies. In the past, the tighter my budget, the more I engaged my time in free endeavors, things like watching Youtube or playing free app games. Now my dollars are being fed back into the economy.

Now if that $600/week extra was cut, that means I would be making, instead of an extra $300/month, over $1600 LESS a month living on unemployment. I would suddenly not only be unable to contribute back to society, I wouldn’t even be able to pay my rent, let alone buy clothes or food or gifts or any non-critical purchases like yarn or books. It would be dire straits. Cutting that support isn’t just carving a bit off the top so I wouldn’t be making “extra,” it would mean making half of what I need to get by on.

My point here is... so what? So what if, with the extra support, a small percentage of us make more now than we did when we were working? Especially when for so many people, their regular wages aren’t even enough to live by? 

Isn’t the whole point to “stimulate the economy”? Sometimes when people have a lot of money, they get used to the idea that that money sits in accounts somewhere, gets put in savings, gets hoarded like a dragon’s gold in a cave. That’s not what’s happening here. Having the blessing of this financial support allows us to use that money to push profits at businesses, so the government doesn’t have to bail them out or add more unemployed to the ranks of those who need aid. It allows us to donate money to services that work in tandem with government services to get resources to medical workers, food to the hungry, aid to the sick. It allows us to invest in disinfecting products and practices (like ordering no-contact delivery instead of going out) to keep ourselves safe and reduce the spread of disease.

That support is contingent on the pandemic crisis we are in. None of us have some sort of silly illusion that we can kick back and enjoy “handouts” and not have to go back to work. I MISS work. All my coworkers talk about is getting back to work. Being trapped at home is no picnic, and it’s not the nature of the human spirit to be content with doing nothing--we would much rather carve out our own destinies, be self-sufficient, self-reliant. But the fact of the matter is, this crisis is not behind us yet, and would only worsen if the people who need it most are abandoned now.

So again, if the argument is that “some people” are making more now than they did before, I think it bears remembering that those of us who do are not rolling in bathtubs of bills like Scrooge McDuck. We’re spending that money, dumping it like grease on the slow-grinding gears of the economy, trying to keep it running smoothly until we can all get back to work. 

And we must remember that for every one of me, there are hundreds if not thousands for whom this financial support is not about the new revelation of having spending money left over--for them, it is what they need simply to live, to feed their babies, pay their bills, and keep the lights on. And I personally would be sickened and horrified if someone used my situation to deny them of their most basic human needs in this time of crisis, when what we really need is to be pulling together as a community and a nation.