#it was worse in food service for sure but it still happens even in my new office job

[nonbinary-ghost]

Ya know, one thing i dont often see talked about with regards to being low/no empathy is the overcompensation that can come with it

Like. I spent so much of my youth othered and demonized for not being empathetic and behaving insensitively. So i learned. I learned how to look at someone or something and over analyze everything about them - how they might be feeling, how they might react to something, why they might do something or act a certain way, how an action i take could impact them etc. I dont feel empathy, but i can understand how something might make someone feel or how feelings can drive someone to behave a certain way.

And it has been driven into me again and again that making something more difficult for someone is wrong. Hurting someone's feelings is wrong. Being selfish is wrong. So when i do something, i have to analyze it to make sure it could never feasibly hurt or inconvenience someone else, even if that means taking on extra work. I have no way of knowing when it is appropriate to prioritize myself or inconvenience someone else because i was taught that it is ALWAYS necessary to prioritize others.

And then people who DO feel empathy go around doing and saying shit that does hurt or inconvenience people, seemingly with no sense of irony or self awareness. It baffles me to no end. Is there a script here im missing?

[zephyrspace]

even if you have a rosary, who will save you now?

gn!yuu, very short headcanons + scenarios

summary: yuu accepts that there is no way home and that the world will keep turning no matter what. with no worth to their name and no real purpose in this twisted wonderland, except for solving other people’ problems, they decide to stop caring.

cw: swearing, violence, blood. dm me if i’ve missed anything!

a/n: title is translated lyrics from the song US by ruby ibarra. imagine yuu as however and whoever you want!

“woe is me, prefect! i just have so much paperwork to do that i completely forgot about your weekly food allowance. however, to speed things up a bit, if you lend me a hand here, i could probably get the allowance before the end of next week!”

yuu slinks over to one of crowley’s stacks of paperwork and ruffles through it. not without noticing how some pages were completely blank, ‘probably to bulk up and exaggerate the stack,’ yuu thinks and their eye twitches.

crowley gulps at being caught. but neither of the two say anything about it.

“i’m sure at your grown age you’re supposed to be able to manage your time better than this, but of course i didn’t expect anything from you.” yuu throws the binded document carelessly over their shoulder and onto the floor.

“wha-”

“as a minor under your care, this kind of thing could be considered child labour and abuse. especially for not prioritising my allowance.”

“but, prefect-”

“in other words, this isn’t my problem, bird shit for brains. so, unless you want me to call whatever magical bullshit equivalent you have of child protective services you have in this world, go ahead, give me your work documents. i would be ever so happy to oblige.”

the prefect’s eyes were icy and the atmosphere in the office turned chilly. crowley attempts to smarten up and clears his throat.

“i will have the cheque ready before noon.”

looking down at crowley, yuu sends him a smile with no trace of warmth.

“that’s better.”

unhinged!yuu wouldn’t actively seek out to fight people unless students do it to them first, which is all the time. kind of like ‘i’m nice to you if you are to me. but the second i deem you an enemy, you’re done’ mindset.

those who knew and were ‘friends’ with yuu, didn’t believe in their newly acquired attitude at the beginning, but after a group decided it’d be funny to poke at yuu a bit during lunch, that’s when they realise that yuu was serious about not caring for anything at all.

“oi, magicless runt.”

taking a bite from their sandwich, yuu looks up at the senior holding a tray of food, “hm?”

“get up.” the senior’s friends behind him snicker.

“why?” they take another bite. ‘i wish adeuce and grim would hurry up with their food.’ yuu thinks.

“there’s no more seats.”

“mhm?”

“as your seniors, we get priority.” the senior’s smile widens.

“hm.” another bite. “ish that shou”

with crumbs and sauce at the corners of their lips, yuu wipes it off with their thumb and licks it. they gulp down the remainder of the sandwich.

“sorry, senior. but i don’t see that rule anywhere in the canteen.” they swipe off the leftover crumbs on their hands.

“i thought you’d might say that.”

the senior picks up a bowl from his tray and dumps soup onto yuu’s head.

it’s still boiling hot.

it hurts.

“scram, first year. before i do something worse-”

the senior is on the floor, on his knees and doesn’t realise blood is seeping from his nose until it drips onto the tile.

by now, the whole canteen is silent.

he doesn’t even get time to process what happened until he feels a shin connect with his side and launches him onto another nearby table, his legs dangling off the side, uniform ruined.

“why you-” one of his goonies attempt to throw a punch back at the prefect.

yuu grabs his wrist and used the momentum to throw the senior onto his back. he chokes on the impact.

the rest of the group stays at their spots. ‘smart choice,’ yuu scoffs.

the prefect walks over to the first senior lying against the now abandoned table and grabs whatever food was on the nearest plate and forcibly stuffs it into the senior’s mouth. a whole bread roll.

“oh, senior! i see you’ve found a table to sit at!” the senior had tears along his waterline from the gag reflex of having a whole roll of bread in his mouth.

yuu shoves the bread roll further down the seniors throat. twisting and turning it. the senior makes sounds of retching and pain. “although, preferably, it’d be better to sit on the seat rather than on the table, no?”

the senior could only nod at yuu’s words.

yuu pats his hair demeaningly.

“good boy.”

in essence, yuu becomes very assimilated to nrc. scarily so.

[petrichor-musings]

TOMORROW WE PAY RENT

We have enough for rent!! As long as there are no surprise bills over about $40, we should be good until unemployment, work, & other financial aid comes in. Thank you all so so much.

Ko-Fi

$510 out of $500 (102%)

We won't be able to send all the rent in tomorrow because it takes a few days for the bank transfer, but our landlord will waive the late fees as long as we give him a date when we can pay it all. Thank you again.

See the notes in this post detailing how you can get free art commissions if you sent us money!

Some more context under the cut:

Our household is 4 humans:

Us - physically disabled/chronically ill, haven't been able to work for over a year & a half, currently trying to find new work through staffing agencies & government services, but everything is likely going to be too slow to get any kind of paycheck or financial aid in time. Not to mention any work we do find is going to be less than ideal & just make our health worse, since we're still in the beginning of getting treatment. We're also trying to get on the waitlist for disability, but that's an even longer process & we're unlikely to qualify since we're married.

Our wife - former mechanic, with dual bachelor's in History/Business. She's been chronically ill for the last few months, something we're still trying to figure out. Her direct bosses were more than willing to work with her, but corporate management got impatient & basically fired her. She's looking for new work but the loss is hitting her hard. She's also applied for unemployment but the application hasn't been approved yet.

My brother - fresh out of high school, kicked out of the family household because he came out as bisexual. We took him in because there was literally no one else. He's not on the lease & needs to be as soon as he finds work, but that's another $250 none of us have. His living situation was… not ideal before, & he needs a lot of personal help to find work, something which we don't have enough time to do.

Partner/roommate - another partner & roommate who lives with us, also because her old family kicked her out (& also not on the lease). Also severely disabled, the only income she has is food stamps & blood plasma donations. We're also trying to get her help to reapply for disability; but as anyone knows, that's a long & difficult process. Her last attempt several years ago was denied; it's likely she needs a new application.

What happens if we can't pay rent ontime?

We're asking for more information from our landlord, but we're likely not going to be evicted first thing. Even if we do receive an eviction notice, WE HAVE RESOURCES. Unfortunately, they don't activate UNTIL we get that notice. Very helpful.

If worst comes to worst & we do get kicked out, it will likely be VERY BAD. None of us are "fully functioning/capable" individuals, a lot of us depend on specific equipment & setups in the apartment, & almost all of us are on a variety of very necessary medications. Everyone here has a mental health situation of some kind that will be made a lot worse by losing our apartment. We don't think it will come to that, but it's still something that makes everyone here super anxious.

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

Also, for anyone that follows our mostly inactive after dark blog, be sure to look for a similar post there coming soon (tomorrow?). We have things we can offer & commissions we can do if folks are interested.

[secretlittlerandezvous]

Lost In The Woods (And Feelings) - William Eklund

Summary: Y/n and her best friend, hockey player William, go on a week-long camping trip despite having zero experience. As the days go by, Y/n realizes she’s in love with William but believes nothing can happen between.

Words: 849

Y/n had no idea what made her to agree to this.

Camping. A full week of camping.

She and William had been best friends for years, ever since they met back in Sweden. And even after he moved to San Jose for his hockey career, they had managed to keep their friendship intact. FaceTiming at odd hours, sending each other stupid reels, meeting during any kinds of holidays. All that became a new part of their daily routine. And somehow, in between their late-night calls and playful teasing, they convinced themselves that going on a camping trip together was a brilliant idea.

It was not.

“Are you sure you know how to set up a tent?” Y/n asked, arms crossed as she watched William struggle.

“Of course,” he said confidently, before glancing at the tent bag. “I mean… how hard can it be?”

It turned out to be very hard.

“William, that’s not where the pole goes.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Are you a camping expert all of a sudden or what?”

“I don’t have to be an expert to know that the tent is not supposed to be collapsing,” Y/n protested, stepping back just in time to avoid being caught under the falling mess.

William groaned, rubbing a hand down his face before turning to her with his best innocent smile. “Okay, well, time for a different plan.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “You’re cute,” she muttered under her breath, not realizing she had said it out loud until William shot her a smirk.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly, turning away to hide the blushing.

After what felt like hours and with the help of YouTube tutorials, they got the tent set up. It still leaned to one side more than the other, which made Y/n secretly question its stability.

That night, they sat by the fire, eating burnt marshmallows because neither of them had the patience to cook them properly. The air was cool, stars lit up the sky above them, and for a moment, Y/n let herself pretend that this was just their life.

Just the two of them, away from everything, no worries about distance or careers or the inevitable goodbye waiting for them at the end of this trip.

“This is nice,” William said, stretching his legs out and tilting his head back to look at the stars.

Y/n hummed in agreement. “Even though we are world’s worst campers in history?”

“Especially because of that.”

She smiled, leaning her head against her knees. “I don’t think I’ve laughed this much in a long time.”

William turned his head to look at her, his expression softer than usual. “Me neither.”

The way he was looking at her made Y/n’s stomach flip, but she forced herself to push the feeling away.

As the days went by, Y/n found herself slipping into a dangerous kind of comfort.

They got lost on a hike. Twice.

"Are you sure we’re going the right way?" she asked.

"Of course I am," William said, though his eyes were filled with uncertainty.

"That’s what you said twenty minutes ago, and we ended up in the same place," Y/n pointed out.

"Fine. I’ll check the GPS - oh."

"What?"

"There’s no service."

Y/n groaned. "Great. We’re going to die out here. With no water and food."

"Relax," William said, placing his arm around her shoulder. "Worst case scenario, we have to eat berries and live in the woods forever."

"Oh, fantastic. That was totally my life plan."

He grinned. "Could be worse. At least you’re stuck with me."

And that was the problem.

The more time they spent together, the more Y/n realized she didn’t want to be stuck with anyone else.

But she also knew nothing could ever happen between them. He lived in San Jose. His life was there, his career, his future. She was in Sweden, and as much as she wanted to believe in something more, reality was much different.

On their last night, as they sat by the fire, Y/n found herself staring at the flames, lost in thoughts.

William nudged her gently. “You okay?”

She forced a smile. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About?”

She hesitated before answering. “How things are going to go back to normal after this. You’ll go back to San Jose, I’ll stay in Sweden…”

William was quiet for a moment. Then, he shifted slightly, turning to face her fully.

“Would you ever move?”

Y/n was taken aback. She turned her head to look at him, trying to read his expression. “Move where?”

He shrugged, but there was something careful about the way he asked. “Anywhere.”

Y/n swallowed, her heart pounding. “I don’t know. Maybe. If the reason was good enough.”

William held her gaze for a second longer before he let out a small, almost nervous chuckle. “Good to know.”

Y/n wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but as he reached over and squeezed her hand lightly, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as alone in her feelings as she thought.

[wickedsmille]

wip game, 4. This is why I hate customer service ?

Kckfkdkj hi, yes, love your jaytim fics btw excuse me while I shake off my star-struck-dumbness. I swear I can be totally normal about this but I think your works are fabulous 🙇🙇🖤 so maybe not

But! This is why I hate customer service is based came about from one of my own experiences (or many but w/e) while doing fast food where I had an older gentleman tell me I had lovely veins. Noticing I was speechless and weirded out, his friend reassured me he was a doctor. It was not actually reassuring. The doctor was totally unrepentant for giving a fast food worker "it puts the lotion on its skin" vibes.

Naturally, my next rational thought was Tim, instead of doing the responsible thing and dragging himself to a real therapist or mental health professional, trauma dumping on and over sharing with customer service workers :333 it's probably crack but I lol Everytime I go back and add to it:

“Is it really so bad?” Tim asks the cashier as he hands over his credit card. 

Giving him her You’re Stupid Stare, the cashier swipes Tim’s card viciously. “Uh, yeah, duh, course it is,” she tells him flatly.

Pursing his lips, Tim glares at her but there’s no heat behind it. 

The middle aged woman has been his confidant and sounding board since he walked through their drive thru, looking like hell warmed over with his torn sweatpants, disheveled hair and dull look in his eyes. It had been a hard day at the office, harder night on patrol and only made worse by a bout of insomnia. Tim had been helpless to his sudden craving for greasy, terrible but cheap food and too tired to care how he looked. 

Or watch what he said. Really, Tim didn’t set out that night to go on a five minute rant about corporate idiots with their plastic smiles and fake laughs to cover up the fact they’re terrible at their jobs, but, well. That’s what happened but she took the info dump with grace, recanted on forcing him to come inside the restaurant since he wasn’t in a vehicle and ushered him along. Looking back, Tim’s pretty sure she was trying to get him out there as quickly as possible. Gotham breeds strange, basks in the odd and embraces the unusual so he must’ve looked some special kind of deranged.

Yet, the next time he came through, this time in a rental car but no less exhausted, she sardonically asked him how his day was in the office. Truthfully, it hadn’t been horrible so he told her that then proceeded to recount a sterilized version of events for his last patrol where he ended up taking a dip in the bay and contracting walking pneumonia. All the bubbling frustration at his own inadequacies still raged within the cage of his mind but the noise died down once he was able to give voice to it. 

The next time, he bitched to her about Damian and felt better for it. He even made her laugh that time. 

Then, while picking up a couple things at the corner market for dinner, he bemoaned to the unsuspecting teenage stocker about Dick’s clingy tendencies and the way it clashes with Tim’s touch starved nature. The poor kid had looked at him, eyes as big as saucers, and said, “Yeah, that’s cool, man. The spaghetti sauce is in aisle 3.” He did feel bad for that one, minutely, because he still walked away lighter than before.

Thus his habit of trauma dumping on poor, unsuspecting customer service workers was born. He can barely get through an interaction with a complete stranger without dropping some kind of horrible fact if only to lighten his own burden on the days when it all seems to be caving in to crush him. 

The fast food cashier is just his favorite. 

“Why?” Tim asks, honestly curious and affronted.

“Honey,” she says patiently, “you said this hot hunk of man meat-”

“Please never call him that again.”

“Gave you a some scars like the one right there on your neck your concealer ain’t doing much for anymore-”

“To be fair, it’s only meant for 24 hours.”

“And all you can think about is him bending you over in some dirty ass back alley like a two dollar hooker.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” Tim concedes, sinking down into the seat of his motorcycle and willing a portal to open up and swallow him whole. He loves fast food lady but, damn, she doesn’t hold back. “You might have a point.”

“Boy, you ain’t stupid. You know I always got one, thanks,” she sniffs. “But, honey, that right there sounds like a red flag factory.”

Tim shrugs helplessly. She isn’t wrong, after all. 

She whistles long and low, crossing her arms in the sill of the window and leaning out. “Oh, you got it bad, huh, hun?”

Again, Tim shrugs because there’s no point lying. He’s the one who initiated the conversation so it’s his fault for letting loose something so personal. To be fair, Jason had tackled him mid-patrol the night before, murder in his eyes and an intent to pound Tim into the roof in all the ways he didn’t want. All Tim did was completely ignore his self-drawn territory lines and completely ruin Jason’s own investigation that was sure to end in a couple bodies in the morgue. The tousle ended with Jason straddling Tim, thighs tight around his waist and chest heaving, before socking him clean in the jaw.

“That bruise him too?” she asks Tim. “Don’t you dare shrug at me again, by the by!”

“Yes,” he groans, “it is.”

“You’ve got some screws loose,” she tells him while flapping a hand. “But to each their own. That’s a thing, ain’t it? Gettin’ off to bein’ slapped around?”

“Kill me now,” Tim moans. 

“Not till you get your man, freaky.”

“Is my food ready?” Tim asks quickly, hoping against hope to escape the conversation. This has gone completely off script. There’s no way he drives off and feels anything but terrible after this rather than the catharsis he usually gets.

[ohbo-ohno]

God i love your puppy play stuff 😘🫡

got this ask like as soon as i posted this the other day and i've been hoarding it until i want to write pupply play again lmfao thank you for your service anon

kay tweets from today for inspo:

cw: noncon puppy play, rough sex, smidge of piss kink, ghost is mean (again) but johnny isn't as into it this time

noncon puppy play with super horny soap. wants to be with ghost sooo bad, figures it's worth behaving like a puppy if it means ghost will fuck him :(

thinks it's just name-calling at first, doesn't fully mind it when ghost calls him a horny bitch, says good job puppy. it's a little weird, but the praise feels good and the degradation makes his cock twitch

but then it's things like refusing to let soap suck his dick - pulls him back by the hair and tells him just to use his tongue, slobber over it like a proper mutt and... maybe soap doesn't like that as much. does it, because he doesn't want ghost to take his dick away from soap, but is a little tiny bit more hesitant. gets cock drunk soon after, forgets about the hesitance soon enough

it sort of escalates every time they sleep together. ghost holds a hand over his mouth when they fuck in a utility closet, mumbles in his ear about buying a muzzle for his mutt before next time and soap genuinely can't tell if he's just saying it to get off or not

learns he's not when ghost shoves him into his room, has a hand over his mouth and a gag covering it before johnny can even realize what's happened. looks up at ghost with those big shocked eyes, not fully sure what's happened. shakes his head a little, reaches up to try and get it off before ghost bats his hands away. he's smirking a little, says "don't like your muzzle, puppy?" soap just whines and shakes his head more roughly, getting a little teary. "wanna stop? wanna go back out?" ghost asks, and... well, johnny wants to fuck. doesn't like the muzzle (though he hasn't softened in his pants at all) but still wants to get railed

ghost almost always fucks him doggy style. johnny likes it (likes that ghost lets him lay on his back sometimes too, lets him know that he does still have a say) but isn't sure how he feels when ghost asks him if he wants to be "mounted" instead of "fucked"

ghost asks him to bark at one point :/ johnny's nearly finished, is whimpering and whining, gets so close and ghost locks a hand over his cock, squeezes right at the base to cut off his orgasm. says bark, dog and johnny can only make a little confused whine, can't even speak. ghost gives his cock a little tap, a harder slap when johnny moans. c'mon, puppy. bark for me and i'll let you come yeah? good boys bark, you my good boy or not?

and... and johnny is so close. so he barks. and he keeps barking when ghost's thrusts get rougher, doesn't notice he hasn't stopped until ghost pulls out and laughs a little, says alright, quiet puppy. don't make me muzzle you, and then he whines a little and buries his face in ghost's throat. hides his face in ghost's heartbeat

makes the cage as a punishment so much worse if johnny is only going along with it for ghost. feels so much worse when he's in there all alone :( cries a little, whimpers and whines with hitched breaths and begs ghost to let him out :( gets told every word he says is another hour in the cage and nearly howls, feels soooo sad, doesn't understand why ghost is being so mean to him. ghost drops a little toy bone in the cage, says chew on that to keep yourself busy. i'll be back to feed you later and just disappears. leaves johnny whining all day :(

ghost comes back, still doesn't let him out. johnny begs a little more and gets a few more hours added onto his crate time. ghost says you need the muzzle to teach you dogs don't fuckin' talk? and johnny just whimpers and shakes his head, hunches his shoulders real low. ghost hums, says good boy and feeds little bite sized pieces of food through the bars of the cage, sticks his fingers into johnny's mouth so he can lick the taste off. lets him drink nearly a whole bottle of water. doesn't let him out of the cage before he goes to sleep :(

ghost wakes up to johnny whining in the middle of the night. smirks a little before he gets up because he can guess what he's complaining about without even glancing over. sure enough, when he flicks on the light he sees poor johnny all wiggly on his knees :( hand cupped over his dick, looking up at ghost with those big puppy eyes. "what, boy?" ghost asks, standing above the cage and making his face a little mean. johnny is good, he remembers not to speak, just paws at the crate bars a little and looks all pathetic. "hm? you need the bathroom?" johnny nods enthusiastically, already shifting towards the crate door. ghost can't resist the smirk, can't resist the rush of pleasure when he says "what did you think the puppy pads were for?" and watches johnny die a little inside. smokes a quick cigarette while he watches johnny cry and make a mess of himself

pulls him out by his hands the next morning but doesn't let him stand, coos over him and strokes a hand over his mohawk. says there you are, good boy johnny. made a mess, didn't you? need your owner to clean you up, huh? gonna be good and sit still for a bath? and watches when it doesn't even occur to johnny to stand up when ghost keeps his hand on the back of his neck

pouty wet dog johnny :( looks all sad and mopey when he sits on the floor of the shower and ghost uses the shower head to spray him down. lets ghost pat him down after, leans his whole body weight into ghost's hands and just begs for comfort. gets lots of pets and treats for taking his punishment so well <3 takes a little while to start talking again

[aroyaltailor]

semi-hiatus (vent warning)

Currently failing Spanish 102 and things are not getting better. In a move that I'm sure will surprise none of those who follow this blog, I am going to be taking a hiatus from any writing. Yes, another break! Another hiatus, putting off work on this blog and leaving the replies I owe to rot in my drafts. The words simply do not come out of me, and I'm still struggling with perfectionism that blocks any genuine attempts at getting anything done. I basically have to learn the entirety of Spanish, or at least the relevant information for the class, because if I fail I won't be able to graduate this semester.

It's the same damn thing every time. I've submitted a request for the counseling service provided by my college, but they have a two week waiting period due to the huge influx of students needing mental health help these days. I genuinely believe that I've reached a point where I need professional help with my writing, and that I have somekind of OCD that prevents me from simply writing the first draft without needlessly fussing over every word.

I really didn't want to have to make this post. I was holding on to the hope that things would be alright. I was hoping that everything would be okay. That I'd be able to create legitimate routines, learn how to comprehend Spanish, and that I would be able to have the time to sit back and focus and work on building this blog.

The first exam of the class is next Tuesday, September 10th. I won't lie, I'm basically spiraling at this point. Self-care is at a total minimum, and I haven't really been taking care of my health either. I'm not eating much, both out of lack of hunger and the simple fact that my household doesn't have any food available. Today alone, I've been slouched over the table in the upstairs study rooms of my college, staring at this damned screen all day. Suicidal thoughts, a bit of self-harm with a pen, it feels just as bad as organic chemistry. And the genuine possibility that I might be kicked out the house if I fail Spanish 102 isn't helping matters. I don't really have anyone to talk to either, not in-person at least. Not really even online either, but that's probably too jaded for me to say. Doubt anyone will even read this, but that understandable I guess. Everyone has their own problems, so many people do, and they can't pause and stop when they have their own concerns to deal with, especially for someone that hasn't really produced anything.

Let's just say it isn't getting better. It's not. It's getting worse. I can't be on here as much as I want to, and I'm beginning to think that I've been damaged permanently by what happened to me. My dad had lung cancer, I did everything I could, but that's all I can say about it. Even just typing that sentence has me bawling now.

I'll either pass Spanish 102 this semester or I won't. If I don't, I definitely won't take it well. I'm sorry for everything I've said about how I'd made progress, or that I'd be around to do replies only to post nothing at all. I'm not doing well and haven't been for awhile.

Hopefully things will get better. But then again, I've said that before haven't I? Time will tell. I'm sorry to everyone for the times I've wasted their time with starters or replies I haven't responded to yet. Blog isn't even finished yet, but if I pass I'll try. I promise I'll try.

[ceasarslegion]

Hey man I just wanted to give you condolences for how hard this work shit is causing you to struggle. Just one of those things everyone has their own crosses to bear in regards to toxic workplaces. If you are considering a change in careers I'm sure it can't be too hard to translate your experience to somewhere less intense.

Thank you 😭

I just need to get out of this specific place to somewhere that let's me rest and get my ducks in a row from here. It sucks to be at a part of my life where I realize I'm not doing what makes me happy and I have to start all over. My 20s have felt like an endless cycle of starting all over honestly, but my family tells me that's normal for your 20s and it's why they suck so bad and that I'm doing fine for a 25 year old. They've told me in a worst case scenario I could come crash with them and be a paid farmhand at my aunt and uncles cattle ranch while I figure things out, but I'm not a country guy at all. It would make me so much mentally worse to leave the city, but at least I have a nuclear option if things really blow up in my face. I'm not in danger of being utterly out of work with no roof over my head or food to eat.

I think the security industry has just gone to hell honestly. It used to be a respectable and livable job where you were trusted to handle things and weren't expected to put your life on the line for customer service experience or whatever. You could bring your books and little things to play with while on guard duty because no one expected you to just stare at the fucking wall for 8 straight hours if there was nothing to respond to. I actually first got into security early on in uni because it allowed me to do my schoolwork at work so I could balance school and finances without being utterly devoid of free time or sacrificing my sleep. As long as the checklist got done and the building was still standing at the end of my shift, they were happy.

Now they treat us like a hybrid between emergency responders and customer service representatives. We aren't emergency responders, we're supposed to be the mid ground responders. Yknow, the incidents that need intervention but aren't threats to public safety. You don't call the cops on someone screaming at the service staff or the fire department when you lock yourself out, you call security. In recent years it's turned into "well what can you do to both curtail actual emergencies and make their *experience* better?" That's not my job!! Nowhere in my job description or certifications does it say I'm a first responder! I'm not supposed to be! I'm the guy who assigns tasks and keeps everyone's head screwed on when the emergencies happen but I am not the guy who puts my own life in danger to solve them. Do not ask me to do that for 23 bucks an hour and no mental health benefits and then ask me why the guy screaming at me wasnt happy with his experience today, what's wrong with all of you

Luckily my old work friend got out and found work doing like, proper big boy government aviation security for celebrities and political figures. She tells me there's no drama or mean girl bullshit there because there's only like 5 of them and there's no need to prove themselves to each other. And it starts a whole wealth bracket above what I make now. I gave her my credentials and CV and she said she'd pass them on and put in a good word for me, so I hope that goes somewhere. Other than that my like regular schedule now is waking up and going right to my pc to open the city job board and hitting apply on everything I even remotely could do

Sorry this turned into a bit of a rant man, I really do appreciate the gesture. And as a general sentiment, please be nice to security guards. We're going through enough as it is

[edenfenixblogs]

Attention Goy Friends!

I was recently asked by another goy friend on Facebook to explain something. And I thought I’d share it here for people who are not in the know.

This person wanted to know why we get SO upset when synagogues are defaced. It wasn’t like they were telling me they didn’t understand why we got upset at all. But they didn’t seem to understand where the depth of feeling came from, especially when there is actual genocide happening to Palestinians. This is a good person acting in good faith and is working on holding two truths at once, so I answered. Here’s what I told them:

First of all, of course, we can fight for Palestinian liberation shoulder to shoulder and feel as awful as you do about it! I hate this genocidal Likud party and their deranged evil leader just like anyone else would. This does not mean we don’t also carry our own pain. It doesn’t mute the pain we carry for Palestinians. We just feel EVEN WORSE on top of that.

Second, with regard to synagogues and other places of Jewish social gathering—I think those of us living in Christian-majority nations all know a fair bit about Christian history just by way of cultural exchange. But if you are not aware—The Protestant split in Europe led to the translation of Church services and texts into English/the primary spoken languages of the various Western European nations worshipping within various Jesus-centric religions. This was a huge and important milestone for poor and lower class people who had every right to participate equally and fully in their religion and could now understand the scriptures and services.

However, to this day, shul is conducted in Hebrew. Prayers are sung in Hebrew. In every Jewish synagogue regardless of denomination. Sure, there are often parts in the common tongue of the area too, but the prayers themselves are still in Hebrew. Usually the same melodies or selection of melodies too. And it’s not because we are some elitist group, as some might claim.

It’s because, even in diaspora, I can go to any Jewish community in the entire world. I may not speak the common tongue of whatever place I end up. But I can go there, listen for the sound of Jewish prayer. If I have nothing to my name and no money or food or home or safety I can look for some Hebrew on a door or a Jewish star and listen for someone singing Oseh Shalom or the Shema Yisrael or the V’ahavta in the same melody that I learned it growing up. And I will have found safety. I will have found community. I will have found people who understand me.

And the part of this that I think most goyim don’t understand is that because of our long history with Christianity there is statistically a more than 50% chance that I or other members of my generation will actually NEED to employ that Jewish community as a resource in the exact circumstance I described above. Because we become victims of genocide within 2-3 generation intervals like clockwork for the last 2000 years.

When a synagogue is attacked in a nation that allows antisemitic hatred to foment unchecked it is such a brutal emotional blow. Because every synagogue destroyed is a safe place for Jews that is no longer safe. Not for the people who go there regularly. And certainly not for the people who may need to go there—who will VERY LIKELY need to go there. And with each space eliminated, we are sent further into diaspora.

[kitsunexgari]

Chapter Eight Summary: Kitsune is a wealthy billionaire on the hunt for the Front Man of these legendary Squid Games she’s heard so much about. However, in her attempt to find this man’s true identity, the hunter will become the hunted. Relationship: Hwang In-ho/Original Female Character Tags: Kidnapping/abduction, assault, non-consensual drugging, sadism, fear play, knife play, blood play, Dom/Sub, consensual but not safe or sane, dub-con, sexual activity, torture, knives, language, humiliation, slapping, biting, stabbing. Note: The tags are general tags not all things happen in every chapter I just want people to be warned what they could potentially get into.

[Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [Chapter Three] [Chapter Four][Chapter five][Chapter Six][Chapter Seven]

“You don’t have to speak Japanese if you don’t want to. I might answer back in Japanese but you can use whatever language you want since we both understand either of them.” She said as she was finishing up her food. She gathered up what she was going to need to throw away and got up to do so. 

“Do you not like my Japanese?”

“I like it just fine, slight accent but I’ve heard a lot worse. As long as I can understand you I’m not going to complain.” 

“But your Korean is…if I’m being honest when I removed your mask I was very surprised you were not Korean.” He chuckled. She went to the sink and washed her hands before coming back over to sit by him on the couch. She grabbed her drink and took a sip then looked at him. God, the things she wanted to do with him were quite sinful. It probably wouldn’t be a problem, though, seeing as how she already had a taste of what he wanted to do to her. Unless that was just his method to break someone. Still, he’d been aroused so there was something there. 

“I knew that if I was going to find you then I would have to sound like I lived there. I had already been studying the language to do business in the country but I was aware that I spoke like a foreigner. Around the time I started to hear whispers of the Squid Game I was sure no one would answer me if I didn’t sound like a native so I took private lessons. Learned how to sound like anyone else would sound in Seoul.” It had been a pain in the ass but worth it considering how far it had gotten her. He nodded. 

“Maybe you could teach me to be better at Japanese then.” 

“In a week?” 

“Do you underestimate my intelligence?” 

“No, but I think you overestimate how much effort that would take and don’t get me started on the other dialects I know.” She laughed and gulped down more of her drink. 

“You asked me, before, if I was a cop.” 

“Mmm yeah I vaguely remember that. What about it?” 

“I want to know why you think that.” 

“You remind me of someone I used to know.” 

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” 

“In his case? A bad thing, but he was married to my best friend so I found a way to tolerate it. In any case you are strikingly similar in a lot of ways.” 

“You say that but you seem to like me when you didn’t like him. What was it about him you didn’t like?” 

“You’d never believe me even if I explained it.” She laughed then picked up her phone again. “If you are going to be staying for a week then it’s probably best we move this to my penthouse. It’s a lot more comfortable and has a lot more privacy.” With that she used the app on her phone to order the car service she had that took her from her office to her penthouse, which thankfully wasn’t too far away. It was after rush hour traffic so it wouldn’t be a complete pain in the ass to get there. 

“But I want you to explain it to me.” 

“I said-”

“Try me. Let me decide what I believe and don’t believe.” 

She sighed, because she hated telling this story. Fortunately she’d only had to tell it a limited number of times to a limited number of people. Which included at least one testimony in court, which had also been a quite lengthy stretch of the truth to protect her friend so she wouldn’t go down for being some sort of accomplice to his crimes.

“A lot of this has to do with American media and crimes so unless you’ve kept up with that in the past ten years you may not be aware of anything that I’m about to say being true but you can always confirm it with an internet search.” She said then finished her drink and stood up. “I’ve ordered us a car to go back to the penthouse but what about your things? I assume you are staying at a hotel or somewhere else close by?” 

“Yes,” 

“We can go there first to get your stuff then.” She held out her phone to him, “Here just schedule a detour and put in the address.” 

“Sounds reasonable, continue the story.” 

She looked at him and tossed the cup she had been drinking out of into the garbage. As much as she didn’t want to go through this story with him or anyone ever again she figured that if she gave up some information about herself then maybe he’d feel the need to give her information. At the very least she could use it as leverage to try to get more information out of him. At least she hoped. 

“His name was Mark Hoffman and he was the apprentice to the Jigsaw killer. All of this happened over ten years ago now, almost twenty. He kept her well hidden from the public and the press since he knew the chances of her being buried by them were rather high as she was and still is an FBI agent.” She explained. He looked up from the phone for a moment, as if he were deep in thought, then went back to the phone and finished typing in the information. She grabbed the computer bag that she usually took with her to work and headed into the office part of the suite so she could grab what she needed for home. 

“That was fairly big news at the time. I remember following the cases as much as I could. It was particularly intriguing for anyone in law enforcement seeing as how he got away with it for so long until he died.” In-ho finally commented. 

“Except for the fact that he may not have died.” She said, “The truth is, and of course this isn’t something you can find out officially, anywhere, well they declared him legally dead. No body, no real evidence to say he was even probably dead, but as you can imagine there was a lot of public outrage. People wanted someone brought to justice or at least assurance that the games wouldn’t start again and the best way to do that was to claim he was dead.” 

“And your best friend was his wife?” 

“Was…is…she doesn’t think he’s dead but as far as I know he has not contacted her since the night he went missing.” She finished packing her bag and got an alert on her phone that the driver was a few minutes away. “Come on, by the time we get down there the car will be waiting.” She slipped her shoes back on and then motioned for him to follow after her. 

“You have a problem with this man for what he did, creating these games of life or death, but you sought me out while ignoring your own safety, for a chance to participate in the games that I run. Does that not seem a bit hypocritical?” He chuckled. She gave him a look and she could definitely see the point that he was making but she already had a counterargument to that. 

“The people in the Jigsaw games, whether they were run by Mark or John Kramer, weren’t voluntarily in them. As far as I’m aware with this Squid Game rumor, those people ask to be there. Like I did. Completely different situation.” She smiled and got on the elevator as it opened up. 

“And yet he never put you in one of his games, did he?” 

“No but I don’t take my life for granted. That and I’m sure Leila would have murdered him if he even thought about it.” She laughed and hit the button for the lobby, “Besides, him and I may not see eye to eye on a lot of things, and we didn’t get along since well before he was revealed to be a killer but I know he loves Leila and I know he was the best man she could have ever had. I’m not so incredibly cold hearted that I can’t recognize true love when I see it.” 

“And you saw it with them?” 

“Yes and I still see it in her eyes anytime she talks about Mark.” She sighed, “She’s never going to let him go even if he never appears in her life again.” 

“So you think people with these feelings, continue to have them, no matter what? She wasn’t upset or disgusted once she found out what he was doing and who he really was?” 

“Far from it, but she also has hybristophilia so-” 

“What was that?” 

“Uh…best way to put it is Bonnie and Clyde syndrome. Acts of danger, or being with a dangerous partner turns her on. A lot. It’s quite common but for the vast majority of people it never leaves the fantasy stage. She is one of the very rare cases where she continued to escalate and wanted to escalate. She knew what he was doing before he was caught and well the rest of that isn’t any of your business.” The doors to the elevator opened into the lobby and she walked out with him toward the entrance of the building. 

“Could you not say the same thing about yourself with the time you spent on the island with me?” 

“Danger doesn’t turn me on.” 

“But I didn’t quite hear you complaining about what I was doing with you.” 

“Who said it was the danger part I was attracted to?” 

The doorman opened the door for her and then the door to the car so she could get in. In-ho followed her and the door was shut behind them both. The car started to move and she looked down at the information he had provided for the hotel detour. 

“Janu? That’s where you’re staying?” She turned to look at him, very close to asking him how much money he had but she stopped herself. That was not an appropriate question at all, and she knew that now that she had accumulated her own level of wealth. That and she’d grown up with Leila and her family and the subject of finances was incredibly taboo. Still, she hadn’t exactly fathomed whatever his job was with this Squid Game was paying him that kind of money. She’d had him pegged more as a lackey or the go to guy if you wanted to get in, not the actual owner. Then again, maybe he was paid well for his discretion and silence. That was a possibility. “What kind of room did you get? Maybe I’ll have to stay with you instead.” 

“It’s a premiere suite but it was also rather short notice when I decided to come do this so nothing better was available, not that I need more than that either.” He replied. The type of suite he was talking about was over 200 thousand yen per night. Something she only knew because she regularly had clients and investors travel internationally to stay there and the prices of the rooms had come up on occasion. She didn’t know how long he had intended to stay before seeing her, since it may not have worked out and she could have told him to go to hell but it would have probably been at least a few days. She nodded. “But wouldn’t you rather be in a much more intimate setting with me than a hotel? Which we both know you could afford at any time if you wanted?” 

“Yes, but I don’t have the kind of staff that comes with a fancy hotel room.” She laughed, “Just a live-in maid and personal chef. Don’t worry she’s very…understanding of the types of things I get into when I’m entertaining certain guests. You won’t have to worry about her repeating anything she sees or hears.” 

“Don’t worry, I can imagine you have your bases covered when it comes to that sort of thing.” He reached over and patted her on the hand and she laughed softly. She knew that there was almost no way more questions about her involvement with Mark would come up again in the future but she was determined not to answer anything else until he gave her something in return. At least things were going well so far, and she could only hope they would get better with time. The only problem was she had no idea what she could do within a week of time to impress this man or why she was so concerned about how he felt in the first place. 

When they got to her penthouse she welcomed him in and told him to make himself at home. She exchanged her shoes for some slippers by the door and headed into the kitchen to grab herself a bottle of water. It was tempting to have a drink but she was pretty sure she should keep her head clear, for now. As excited as she was to have him back and have this opportunity with him she had to also be cautious. He may appear nice at the moment but there could very easily be an ulterior motive to him being there and she just didn’t know what it was yet. He followed her into the kitchen after removing his shoes and looked at her. 

“Drink?” She asked. 

“Water is fine.”

She nodded and grabbed him a bottle of water then held it out for him to take. The first floor of the penthouse was a very open floorplan. Almost everything could be seen from the vantage point of the kitchen. There was an island in the center there to eat for quick meals but off to the side there was a dining room. There was also a lounge area with a fully stocked bar and a killer stereo system. One which she was easily able to hook up to the karaoke machine she had which was always fun at parties. There were floor to ceiling windows that looked out over the city of Tokyo and there was a nice terrace on the outside with an area that held a gazebo and a hot tub. She walked over to the lounge area and sat down in one of the chairs. He followed and took a seat across from her. 

“If you are going to smoke you’ll have to go outside but the terrace is nice. Has heat lamps when it’s too cold.” She said. 

“I don’t smoke.” 

“Good to know, hope you don’t mind if I do.” She laughed, it was a terrible vice for her to have especially as someone who was a certified nurse but it was also one of the few stress relieving activities she had outside of video games that she was sure was keeping her from having a complete mental breakdown with all she had to handle at work. “I’ll show you to the guest room in a minute, thought you might want to get a good look around down here first.” 

“It’s a nice place and somehow the design seems very appropriate for who you are.” 

“Thanks?” She wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not but everything about the decor was very modern, almost futuristic. Though it did have a fusion with Japanese art and some more traditional elements she favored modern design much more. Perhaps it was due to the fact that she’d spent so much time in the states where she had attended school. “So what’s with the eye thing?” 

“Hmm?” He asked as if he didn’t have any idea what she could possibly be referencing. She arched a brow and motioned to his eye, the one with the scar across it. 

“Oh yes, hazard of the games.” 

“You…played them?” 

“I wasn’t given much of a choice once Snake decided to take control. You should be happy to know I won, though.” 

“I think that much is obvious since you aren’t dead. He just let you go after all of that?” 

“Yes. That was the terms of the deal.” 

“But you still don’t think he should be running things, do you?” 

“How did you ever guess?” 

“Does any of this have to do with why you came to find me?” 

He chuckled softly and played with the cap on his water bottle a bit. Even if the answer was yes, she wasn’t bothered by it. If anything she was flattered that he’d come here thinking that she’d at all be useful in helping him out with whatever plan he may have formed to take control back over the squid game. 

“I feel I should be careful on how I answer that.” 

“Why? Just be truthful.” 

“Maybe I did consider that you were one of the few people I could potentially trust to help me with this and that you had the intelligence that would be needed to pull it off.” He shrugged as if it weren’t a big deal in the first place. She took another sip of her water and considered what he was saying. If he had survived the games, especially when they must have been highly stacked against him considering the grudge this Snake guy seemed to have…she was quite impressed that he had made it out alive. It still seemed like suicide going back. “You have the location of the games anyway.” 

“Do I? And how would you know that?” 

“I saw your phone and the last recorded GPS coordinates. I have to ask why you didn’t come to try to find me.” 

“What would have been the point? I didn’t know if you were dead or alive, and it could have been a death trap for me.” 

“Not with Snake he’s taken a liking to you.” 

“Really?” She laughed, finding that hard to believe. Maybe it was just because the first interaction she had with him was getting stabbed in the shoulder and almost forced into sucking his cock. 

“He let you go, he could have done much worse.” 

“That’s your indication?” 

“We need to get back there and we need to take control again.” 

“You keep saying we, as if you think I want to be part of this.” 

“If you are not interested I could drop it. We could spend the week together and then I go back to that. However, I should mention that it’s important to note that this is not a one man job. It could very well get me killed.” 

“It could get both of us killed.” 

“Or we could approach this in a much more tactical way, two heads are better than one.”

She considered what he was saying and she knew what kind of connections she had to get them help. If he was looking for mercenaries to join them or money to back them then that wouldn’t be a problem. She had to assume he would have the same thing but then again if his entire operation had been taken over by someone else then it probably cut off what little resources and contacts he’d previously had as they’d turned against him. 

“So you are using me for my connections.” 

“I am asking you to help assist me in a way that would be mutually beneficial if we were to succeed. I am not trying to use you. The decision is yours but I can’t say I’d be happy to hear you don’t want to help.” 

“How would this be beneficial to me at all?” 

“I could put you in the games with the benefit of immunity. You could experience them safely without risk of severe harm or death.” 

“What if I want that risk?” 

“I already explained you are far too high profile to do that, you are a stubborn one aren’t 

you?”  

“Only to my benefit. I also told you that I get what I want.” 

“This is my offer, my best offer. Take it or leave it.” 

She didn’t have a death wish or anything, quite the opposite. As she had explained to him before, she craved the challenge and there was no higher stakes more challenging than playing games of life or death. By choice. There would still be some level of risk, certainly, because there was no guarantee she wouldn’t be free from injury or mutilation but there was a guarantee of survival, at the very least. Maybe that was the way to go. Even if she desired to experience this type of thing in its true form he was right about who she was. Risking it all just for an adrenaline rush that she couldn’t find anywhere else wasn’t a good idea. Leaving behind her entire company, employers, and a friend like Leila would be a mistake. 

“What about our own games?” 

“As in…?” 

“Do we really need Snake and the squid game? I’m a wealthy benefactor, I make over 2 trillion yen a year. I can buy my own island, anywhere, doesn’t even have to be near Japan. If you want to talk about the ultimate squid game here I can create it, staff it, and fund it.” She finished the rest of her water bottle wondering why she’d not thought about this to begin with. Then again, she wasn’t even sure where she’d start even with her underground connections to some of the most seedy people around Japan. 

“I would not be opposed to that other than the fact that I have a duty to complete what I started. At the end of the day, Snake is not the optimal Front Man for those games and they will be destroyed if he continues to run it the way he wants. I owe it to my benefactors who put me in that position in the first place to do as I promised.” He said, “But that does not mean once we have completed the goal we couldn’t branch off into an alliance of a much larger scale operation and take these games somewhat internationally.” 

She understood what he was saying and she definitely appreciated his loyalty. It was one of the few things that she could find impressive about a person. That and his sense of honor. She also greatly enjoyed the idea of the creation of a much larger game system. More challenging and brutal with more contestants and higher stakes. The only person she currently knew who also had any chance of helping her set this up in the first place was In-ho so if she wanted her own games she was, once again, going to have to play his first. She leaned forward and held out her hand to him to shake. 

“Deal.” 

He looked at her for a moment then leaned forward and gave her a firm handshake as they both made intense eye contact. This could go down in history as either the stupidest deal she’d ever made, or the best. But only time would tell. For now, they had a week to figure things out and if she was being honest with herself she knew that it wasn’t going to be easy.

[letrune]

Everyone is a revolutionary until the trash has to be taken out.

Let me explain: most people who want the status quo AND a giant revolution with blood think the system will benefit them. However, the moment they have to do the annoying minutae of society, they suddenly refuse to engage in it.

This is because most people are under the assumption that they will benefit more in the new order, not that they will be the ones required to run it or do the dirty jobs nobody wants to. Some happily tell about having servants and the strong to rule and to kill the rich, ignoring that they may be the servants, the weak, the rich. They believe that their life will improve, not worsen.

Which is what oh so many revolutions fail at. They get the depose-replace part, but then fall into the same traps the old system had, or worse, create brand new traps and willingly charge into them.

Imagine, we go to a free buns party. 500 people can get free buns! Yum! However... there are a 1000 people. How should we solve it?

Give to the first 500? Great, and- oops, sorry, you are the 501st...

Oh, tickets. You can buy a ticket, get a bun. But it is not a free bun then... but alas. Oops, sorry, you can't buy a ticket, guy before you had more money.

Redistribute. Okay, give me two hours. And also service fee, one bun for me... got to get people to carry... my buddies in the council... oops, sorry, you JUST missed it. I mean, you look like someone who could use some less buns, you get me?

Free for all? Ok. Oops, sorry, those guys are bigger and faster than you. Sorry.

Oh, sharing! Lovely idea. Half a bun for everyone. There. It is solved, as long as we only got 500 buns for 1000 people.

Now... imagine it not being about free buns. It is about housing, plumbing, mass transit, jobs one can do, water, food, etc.

But let us imagine tomorrow we find out the Utopian Edict. It is suprisingly easy to implement and comes free! It even solves the resource problems all across the globe, and SOMEHOW none of us becomes a selfish jerk by political, national, emotional, sexual, racial or other identities we have. A true utopia, where happiness is free for everyone and nobody leaves unsatisfied.

Who will take out the trash?

Come on, you know we can recycle them, but someone still has to take out the trash. Someone has to deliver the mail. Someone has to put the buns in the oven and take them out, with the right time between the two. The books have to be printed AND written by someone for us to read. Someone has to make sure there are schools, libraries, hospitals, buses, trams, buns and so many more.

In the Utopian life, we won't just point to someone else. It ought to be either volutary - the people who like doing these - or rewarded well - so people do these and not much more.

Taking out the trash is not as glamorous as being the Hero of the Great Cause, but have you ever considered that after the Great Revolution wins, you have to build a new world, right? What world would that be?

Consider this: you are asked what should happen to the worst members in society. When you say the answer, a random roll is done to determine if you get the worst member role or not. Will your answer change?

In the Utopia version, you will be asked who should take out the trash and what we should give for them for doing such a job. "Nobody" wants to do it, but it has to be done. Surely, we find volunteers but it won't be enough...

So. In this utopia we fight for, we should consider what world we build. Not just shout for guillotines and firing squads and "we figure it out eventually"; not just "we can fix this all", and ignore the minutea like taking the trash out. Storming a palqce qnd blowing bridges up is the stupid eaasy part of a revolution, building houses and bridges and making sure there are trains and running on time is the hard part. Almost all revolutions failed on these when they started. Wwe will need logisticians, planners and people who are willing to take out the trash more than people good with bombs and guns.

Even in Utopia, you will need someone who does it. Except in Utopia, it would be a job that is not treated as trash.

[elletromil]

Job Offers

Surprising even myself, here's a new fic after about a year without having written anything :D

This one has been in my drafts for a while, half-finished, and i can't say why exactly i decided to kick my butt into finishing it but I did it!

Set in the Come Back (Home) 'verse after Harry comes back to London but is still retired and has no plan on getting back into Kingsman.

This is based on a discussion I had with @honey-bee-britt

Enjoy my good peeps :D

Job Offers

“-and while I’ll never force a retired agent to come back except if we are in dire straits, you understand why I think it’s a waste that we haven’t retained the previous Galahad’s services in some capacity.”

Merlin nods because that’s what is expected of him. He doesn’t mind their newest Arthur much most of the time, but he knows better than to try and speak him out of his newest crusade.

He knows that no matter what they do, the only way Harry would ever be tempted back into Kingsman is if the ‘dire straits’ Arthur mentioned include Eggsy being in very deep trouble or far worse. And Merlin is doing his damnedest for that to never happen. To Eggsy or any other agents under his care.

“And considering your old friendship with him, I am sure you’ll be just the man to convince him.”

Merlin stares at Arthur for a beat, wondering if this is some kind of joke. Sure, Harry and him are friends, but it’s been at least twenty years since Harry has listened to Merlin. And that’s if Merlin is actually trying to make him see reason.

Arthur is in for one hell of a disappointment.

Still he nods again without saying anything else. At the very least, it will entertain him for some time.

***

Since Harry’s return, they’ve made a habit of meeting each other for breakfast whenever Eggsy is away on a mission and Merlin isn’t needed at HQ.

It’s been two weeks since Merlin’s talk with Arthur and he hasn’t mentioned any of it to Harry yet. Mostly because retired spy or not, Harry is smart enough to know that Arthur would probably be interested in having him back in some ways. But also because there’s not really been an occasion for it.

“So, R&D is looking for someone,” he says apropos of nothing. He doesn’t phrase it as an offer because he knows what Harry’s answer would be. But he can admit to being curious to what his reaction will be.

Harry doesn’t mind talking shop with him, even if Merlin has had to learn how to be more careful about what he tells him.

“If she wasn’t so young and if Eggsy wouldn’t kill me for it, I’d recommend Daisy for the position.” There’s only good humour in Harry’s eye as he looks up from his poached eggs. “I’ve been helping her with her science project and let me tell you, I’ve been very impressed. Did you know that-”

The rest of breakfast is spent discussing Daisy and the upcoming science fair at her school.

*

Harry doesn’t say anything when Merlin pushes past him as soon as he answer the door, not waiting for an invitation to get in. After the day he’s had, he seriously has no patience for social niceties.

If Harry minds, he doesn’t say anything, but he does frown when he notices the bottle of scotch Merlin has brought with him.

“We’re eating dinner before we open that.”

Merlin would protest, but that’s about when the smell coming from the kitchen hits him and he decides that if Harry wants to feed him, well, he’d be a fool not to accept.

He lets himself be pushed into the dining room and onto a chair, his first look on Harry’s half-eaten plate enough to convince him he made the right choice by not protesting. It look as amazing as it smells.

Tastes fantastic too, he discovers as he waste no time digging into the warm food once Harry sets a serving in front of him. It’s no wonder Eggsy has been putting on some much needed weight since Harry’s return.

If he had the same to look forward to for lunch, it would be enough to remind Merlin to eat too.

He looks away from his plate to compliment Harry on the food, when he notices the obvious worry of his expression.

That’s something he’s still getting used to since Harry has been back in London, the way he is so much more open than he ever was, at least in the privacy of his own home.

“We just got a new batch of recruits to train,” he says instead of the compliment and watches the worry morphs into an amused sort of understanding.

“My sympathies.” Harry tries for something solemn, but Merlin can see his bloody dimples.

“Fuck off Hart. If you don’t stop taking the piss at my suffering, I won’t share the scotch.”

“I guess I’ll just keep all the baklava I made for dessert to myself then,” Harry threatens right back with a smirk.

“You’re such a bastard,” he grumbles half-heartedly. It’s been a while since he’s treated himself to baklava and if Harry’s taste just half as good as their meal… He really doesn’t want to miss out on them.

Harry graciously inclines his head, as if the insult had been the compliment Merlin had first intended to pay him. Exasperated, Merlin sighs before he focuses back on his plate, but he can’t quite help the smile tugging at his lips.

He might never admit it out loud, but he’s glad Harry is back.

He’s missed his friend.

*

To say the last thing he ever expected to see at their new HQ was Roxy coming into his office, armed with an enormous basket of various pastries and baked goods would be a lie, but only because Merlin would never have thought it in the realm of possibilities.

“Come on Merlin,” she urges him past his shock, “you get first pick. Or well, second really. I did help myself on the way over.”

He smiles back at her, glad to see the return of the mischievous glint in her eyes. For a long time after miraculously surviving the explosion of the old manor, she had seemed rather apathetic of the world around her even after her physical recovery.

While he knows that the experience will forever leave its mark on her, it hasn’t changed her completely. With how Roxy and Eggsy had not been in the mood to fool around together for various reasons after Poppygeddon, the morale at HQ had been bleaker than in the aftermath of V-Day.

He’s relieved that the atmosphere has been slowly improving, partly thanks to the young Knights’ return to their regular antics.

“Thank you,” he says after selecting a croissant for himself. He’s not particularly hungry yet, but that doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy it. “I didn’t know you baked.” He gestures at the basket as if he needs explaining. It’s obvious that even if it all looks highly appetizing, everything contained in the basket comes from someone’s own oven.

To his surprise, Roxy snorts rather gracelessly at that.

“Oh, I don’t bake. I barely know how to boil an egg without burning the water.” She grins, apparently unbothered by her ineptitude in the kitchen. “No, I’m just doing the delivery. Should have been Eggsy, but something came up with Daisy, so Harry enlisted my help instead.”

He nods as if it makes perfect sense.

Which in a way, it kind of does, if one knows Harry won’t even step a food inside the new tailor shop whenever he’s waiting for Eggsy.

Merlin just doesn’t understand what prompted Harry to spend hours at the oven.

“And really,” Roxy continues, probably picking up on his slight confusion like the trained spy that she is, “we should be thanking you. I don’t know what you told him, but apparently, you should expect a basket once a week as a ‘show of appreciation to all the handlers from someone who knows just how hard you work at keeping everyone as safe as they can’. A sentiment I wholly agree with.”

She’s grown more serious now, but she’s still smiling. Merlin isn’t quite sure what to do with the gratitude he sees in her eyes, the gratefulness of Harry’s gesture.

All he had done was complain to Harry that two of his handlers had burned out already this month. And he had only mentioned it after Arthur had commented to him how Harry’s expertise could make quite the difference if he was to come back in such a position. That way, he could honestly say he had made an attempt to bring Harry back into Kingsman.

And if he would be lying if he said he didn’t wish Kingsman had more handlers in its employ, he’s selfishly happy that Harry is completely uninterested in returning to any kind of active duty. His friend has given enough pieces of himself in Kingsman’s service over the past decades. He deserves to live the rest of his life as he pleases.

Especially if what pleases him is apparently fattening the whole of Kingsman with amazing food.

*

Admittedly, giving the extremely late hour, Merlin should have been sleeping in his bed rather than lying on Harry’s living room floor.

But after four days where power-napping between crisis was his only source of rest, he’s far too keyed up to attempt sleeping. And even if Eggsy’s current mission is in no way related to any of the metaphorical fires he’s had to put out all week, that doesn’t mean Harry is sleeping soundly while he’s away.

Some inane text received while he was on his back from HQ was all it took for Merlin to choose to head to the house he’s sharing with Eggsy rather than his own home.

He scowls at the cup of chamomile tea Harry sets within his reach on the low table, remembering perfectly well that he asked for the good scotch when Harry asked him if he wanted anything.

“Merlin, I can feel your headache from where I’m sitting.”

He turns his glare towards his friend, but it’s not like he’s wrong. His head has been positively pounding for the past few hours. Adding a hangover to that is probably unwise.

He shudders at the thought that Harry Hart has somehow become wiser than him. And bites back a curse when it only worsen the pain in his head.

“Hmm. It’s far.”

“I’m not going to tell you to go to bed, but you should at least take the couch.”

Merlin spares a look to the couch, before wearily staring at the foot or so of empty space that separates him from it.

He doesn’t need to look at him to know Harry is rolling his eyes at him.

He is surprise however when the rustle of fabrics isn’t followed by a pillow hitting him in the chest like he expected but rather by Harry getting up again from the armchair so he can carefully drag Merlin to the couch. Apparently, retirement has made his friend wiser and softer.

Merlin doesn’t thank him, but he does grab his hand and give it a gentle squeeze before Harry moves back to his own seat.

The silence between them is comfortable until Merlin breaks it with the most trivial of their latest crisis.

“Arthur wants to hire a new tailor.” What Arthur really wants is to hire Harry as a new tailor. He might not be an expert, but it has been his cover for a few decades. Like all of the other Knights, he had been required to know enough to get by. He had also hated it with the burning passion of a thousand suns. His words, not Merlin's

“Have you asked Dagonet’s nephew already? What was his name… Joseph?”

“Joshua,” he corrects Harry, “and no we haven’t. But that’s not a bad idea.” The man is a trained tailor unlike Harry. He doesn’t know for sure why Joshua has never been offered a position at the shop as he has never been in charge of anything relating to legitimate tailoring aspect of their organization before, but it can’t hurt to ask.

He closes his eyes, focusing on his breathing and wondering if he’s imagining the lessening intensity of his headache. He’s half asleep when he registers a soft sound he can’t place and his curiosity gets the better of him.

He opens his eyes and looks over to Harry again, still sitting in his armchair, but his hands busy with whatever was making the sound.

“What on earth are you doing?”

“A blanket.”

He raises an unimpressed eyebrow at the answer because Harry knows that’s not what he was asking.

“I’ve picked up crochet,” Harry adds after a while. “Soothes me when I worry at night.”

It’s been months since Harry’s return now, but no matter what, Merlin doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to how honest he’s become on such matters. At least not as long as Merlin himself will continue to work every day with trained spies.

He’s grateful for it however. The candour is kind of refreshing.

“Hmm. Maybe I should pick that up too.”

Harry snorts and this time, does throw a pillow at his chest. “What you really need is sleep. Not another reason to stay awake.”

A jaw-cracking yawn interrupts whatever protest he had intended to make and he decides to close his eyes rather than have to look at Harry’s smug face.

And if he does fall asleep shortly after that?

Well, he’s not too proud to admit Harry can be right.

Sometimes.

*

“You’re sure you don’t want to drive?” Merlin asks as Harry makes to climb into the passenger seat.

For once, his asking has very little to do with Arthur’s needling comments over bringing Harry back into Kingsman in some capacity.

While it is true that they do need new drivers -- hence why h is currently driving the cab himself -- mostly Merlin just loathes driving in London’s traffic. It’s very close to the very top of his list of things he doesn’t want to be doing during a mandatory day off and it’s only because having to deal with the crowd on the tube would be worse that he didn’t suggest public transport to Harry.

“You do know that I’m actually pretty shite at driving, right? I’ve been driven everywhere during most of my tenure as a spy except for car chases. And there hasn’t been a lot of them either.” It’s true. Before Eggsy becoming the new Galahad, being a Kingsman Knight had involved relatively few pursuits of that kind. “You never wondered why I never fight with Eggsy for the wheel?”

“I always assumed it was because the lad has you wrapped around his little finger.”

“Well, there’s that too,” Harry admits with a complete lack of self-consciousness. “But mostly, I don’t feel like adding to London’s traffic problems.”

“How magnanimous of you.”

“I try.”

The click of Harry finally buckling his seat-belt makes Merlin involuntarily grit his teeth and tightens his hold on the wheel.

“Think Eggsy would mind playing chauffeur for us on his day off?” He asks half-seriously instead of starting the car.

Harry laughs, but he’s already unbuckling.

“I’m sure he’ll be happy to, he was getting antsy when I left.”

*

When Merlin finally makes it to the pub, Harry takes one look at him before pushing his own pint towards him. And while Guinness isn’t usually his first choice, at the moment Merlin will take whatever he can get.

“You look terrible.”

“It’s been a terrible day… Week even.”

Harry makes a sympathetic sound and gives his hand a gentle pat, before getting up to, hopefully, get them more alcohol.

Merlin sighs as he nurses the rest of the Guinness, trying to relax.

Today might not have been ‘end-of-the-world’ terrible -- hence why he didn’t cancel his meeting with Harry -- but combine enough small annoyances together and one can still get a massive headache.

He musters a grateful smile for his friend when Harry returns with what is probably scotch for Merlin and another pint for himself.

“I took the liberty of ordering us some fish n’ chips too.”

He hums in approval in his glass. “This is why we are still friends.”

Harry rolls his eyes good-naturedly, but doesn’t take the bait.

“Want to talk about it?”

Merlin groans, the semblance of calm he achieved thanks to the scotch he’s sipping completely shattered.

“That bad? Or you can’t talk about it?” Even with Arthur being hell-bent on bringing Harry back to an active Kingsman status, the fact he’s retired means Merlin had been keeping more things from him than he’s ever had to before and they both know it.

Not because he doesn’t trust Harry, but simply because he wants it to be clear that he respects his decision to retire from the spy world.

He’ll still complain about problems that fall more under the office work category than the spy one, but that’s all he allows himself. That and vague updates about Eggsy’s missions when he thinks the situation warrants them.

“No, I can talk about it. It’s just trying to figure out where to start when it’s been everything.”

How about you start from the last thing that happened and work your way from there?”

It’s actually not a bad idea. Better than trying to figure out when and what made everything go to absolute and utter shit. (On a personal level, Merlin is aware that it all can be traced back to his decision to join Kingsman. But for the specific chaos he went through this past week… It probably has the same point of origin to be honest.)

“Paul from the kennel is retiring.”

The thing about it that made his blood pressure rocket through the sky was the pointed look Arthur gave him when he gave him the news.

And to be fair, dogs do have more of a fair chance of convincing Harry to come back, but Arthur forgets the man already has two at home. And regularly dog-sit Roxy’s poodle too.

He’s about to launch into the next annoyance -- Percival’s pyromaniac tendencies -- when he notices Harry’s sheepish expression.

“What did you do?”

Of course, Harry tries for innocence, but that hasn’t worked on Merlin in decades. One unimpressed arches of an eyebrow is all it takes for Harry to give up the pretence.

“Please don’t tell Eggsy before he’s back.”

“Can’t make that promise without knowing what you’ve done,” he replies to that without an ounce of pity.

Harry might be his oldest friend, but that doesn’t mean Merlin will always side with him. Especially not when it can affect Eggsy.

The lad has more than earned his loyalty, especially after the year they both spent keeping each other afloat from their grief when they mistakenly believed Harry was dead. And not after the year after that where Merlin had to watch Eggsy continuously making the hard choice to stay rather than run after Harry as he so obviously wanted to.

There’s a beat of hesitation before Harry caves. “I might have adopted a new dog.”

For a moment there, Merlin can only stare at Harry’s guilty fidgeting. And then, he can’t help it.

He starts laughing.

When even the appearance of their meals isn’t enough to stop his hilarity, Harry starts pouting.

“It’s not that funny.”

And it’s not, not really.

But it has been a while since Merlin has had any reason to laugh, no matter how ridiculous it is.

It’s not like Harry is in any real trouble anyway. The man has more than enough time to take care of another dog. And Merlin is certain Eggsy won’t stay mad for long after he’s subjected to a puppy-eyed look.

Now, whether the look will be from the actual puppy or from Harry, that’s a completely different story.

*

“Sit your arse back down on that couch Harry.”

He grabs Harry’s elbow before he can take another step in the direction of the front door.

“But-”

“No Harry.” His voice his firm, but the slight tug he gives Harry’s arm wouldn’t even move a child. “I know you’re worried, but you can’t go.”

“You could sneak me in,” Harry tries weakly.

“I could,” Merlin agrees easily, but only because he knows he’s won already when Harry drops on the cushion next to him. “And I would. If it was in any way serious. But Eggsy’s only being kept in the infirmary as a precaution. Gaius doesn’t he’s got a concussion, but he’d rather be safe than sorry.”

Harry lets out a shaky breath and Merlin drapes an arm around his shoulders in silent comfort.

“You’re not gonna tell me Gaius has been looking for a new nurse?”

Merlin knows that Harry has been perfectly aware that all the mentions of the various Kingsman’s openings have been Merlin’s rather unenthusiastic attempts to bring him back into the fold. Harry might be retired, but he’s still one of the best spy Merlin has ever known.

After all, there is a reason the man got to retire.

But the question stings even if he’s made an accurate guess as to what Arthur told Merlin before he left to let Harry know in person not to expect Eggsy tonight.

“I didn’t know you thought so badly of me that you’d believe I’d take advantage of your current state of mind.”

He feels Harry flinch against him at the words. He’s half-tempted to push him away out of wounded pride, but before he can resolve himself to it, Harry press one of Merlin’s hand between his.

“It’s not you I think badly of. I don’t think I’ve ever said it in so many words, but you’re a great friend Merlin. I am lucky to have you. We all are.” That’s Harry’s newfound honesty and openness in action again and for the first time, Merlin thinks he could learn to get used to it. “It’s Arthur I think rather poorly of.”

Merlin hums in understanding.

Of course, Harry would have guessed what, or rather who, was behind Merlin’s vague job offers.

“He’s not all that bad,” he still feels the need to say. Not out of any particular loyalty towards Arthur, but simply because it’s true. He’s not that bad. At the very least, Merlin truly believe the man won’t ever be swayed by a megalomaniac into mass murdering civilians. “And you’re a great friend too.”

It’s not anything he would usually have admitted to without withstanding some sort of prolonged torture first, but Harry’s openness must have been rubbing off on him these past few months.

And if he’s being honest, it was surprisingly easy to say.

It’s what prompts him to add more. “I’m glad you came back Harry. I missed you.”

Harry only acknowledge the words with a soft press of the hand he’s still holding between his.

A somewhat peaceful silence falls over them after that, as comfortable as it can be with the undercurrent of worry they feel for Eggsy.

It doesn’t last long before Harry breaks it however.

“I could always replace Arthur.”

“Please no. I’d actually kill if you were my boss.”

[snake-and-mouse]

Tell me a favorite memory of yours, please and thank you 🖤🖤🖤

When I went to pick out a puppy to train to be my service dog, it was a bitterly cold and snowy January night. The house was a split level in the middle of a very confoundingly shaped suburb.

It wasn’t a real breeder, just a woman who happened to have both a male and female purebred chihuahua (I prefer large dogs, but my needs could most easily be met by a small breed that could be transported anywhere without hassle, not to mention food costs and my physical inability to care for a large dog when having a flare up) and wanted to make a hobby of breeding them.

This was her first two litters. Two, because she was fostering another dog (that they thought was a chihuahua or at least a mix, but had no way of knowing for sure) who it turned out, was actually not spayed, much to her chagrin. I dislike backyard breeding but we couldn't afford better.

The litters were born five days apart, over a dozen puppies between them. Christmas time babies with a slightly less immaculate conception. When we arrived we were told they had just been back from the vet, and given a clean bill and leave to be adopted.

Walking into the "puppy room" which was just a normal bedroom with a baby gate and spilled dog food all over the carpet, I was greeted by what I first thought was a suitcase with a pile of socks in it. It was actually a dog carrier with the top zipped open, and a huge mound of sleeping puppies inside.

The picture that made hasn't left me for half a decade and I hope it never does.

Now, I take animal care very seriously, and really needed aid for when I went to college. This wasn’t a respectable way to get a service animal, but I would still do my best. Failing wasn’t an option. I had plans for conducting myself. The correct way to present yourself to young dogs, and their overlooking mothers, strategies for how to assess the puppies to find the best service dog candidate in limited time when the inexperienced breeder wouldn't have done anything along those lines a professional would have, the unfortunately practical need to keep an eye out for any health concerns or signs this breeder wasn't trustworthy and the puppies were a risk to buy, and a more hopeful checklist of what I actually wanted and not just needed including a very set preference for a male.

All that went out the window because both my mother, who knew nothing about anything respectable, and the breeder's eight year old daughter, who was eight, were in the room.

Three half asleep puppies were scooped up and passed around by the little girl like she was handing out ice cream samples before I could conduct my assessments with any real sense. She just about tossed a puppy at me the moment I sat down, babbling in that excited way small humans do in the presence of small animals. Thankfully the momma dogs didn't seem to give a shit what we were doing with their babies.

Now, there had been one puppy I'd had an eye on from the pictures. Male, pretty, a healthy chub to him, a thick chocolate brown coat and markings like another puppy I'd almost chosen from a breeder who did end up being untrustworthy. The puppy tossed at me wasn't this puppy.

It was a girl for one. It looked similar, but... well, worse. Identical colouring, but a very thin coat, she was kind of pink through her fur. Like a naked rat. And she was scrawny, wrinkled because she didn't fill out her skin, noticably smaller than the already tiny other puppies. It made her big ears look cartoonish and her eyes bulging. The one I had been considering was from the legitimate litter, with a mother who's breeding and health wasn’t a complete mystery. This one was from the accident.

"She stays with my girl though. Her mom wasn't feeding her, but thankfully mine would." The breeder informed us.

An accidental puppy, who was a rejected runt, with a mother who might not even be the breed they guessed, not even the sex I wanted, and as cute as all puppies were I could admit she looked weird, even a bit sickly.

She made a little noise as she settled into my lap, bullying her way into the folds of my jacket, and then went right back to napping. She refused to budge a centimeter as I tried to look over the other puppies for actual options until I put her back despite her protests, my practical lists repeating stubbornly over and over in my head.

The male I thought I wanted woke up and promptly acted like a hyperactice menace, even for a puppy, rough with his siblings and unwilling to be still enough for me to hold him at all let alone lay in my lap, and I knew in a couple minutes I didn't want him (but my mother did, even as he tried to eat her shoe, because she always chose looks over personality)

I pretended to consider the other puppies, deliberating for around half an hour.

But honestly I knew.

I already knew from that first moment.

As soon as that annoying eight year old tossed her in my lap and she laid there like it was hers, I knew.

I didn't resist picking her back up for long and my mother gave me a sarcastic look while I picked over the other puppies but had that one parked firmly in my arms, because she could tell too.

As I settled into the car with Tanis (who wouldn't get that name for almost three days because I couldn't pick, she looked so strange no name really seemed quite right) all she cared about was being warm between the blanket and my stomach so getting a picture of her on my phone was so damn hard. She wouldn't really be photogenic until about two years old.

My mother decided to stop for dinner, some mischief to end the exciting night. Now that she's a trained service dog I bring Tanis into restaurants all the time. She turned out to be perfect, exactly what I needed, even though I barely knew what I was doing as I trained her.

But the first time, she wasn't trained. She was a baby, just barely old enough to leave her mother, and she and her brother slept hidden under a jacket on the booth next to me in my third favourite chinese restaurant for about an hour. And she didn't get close to being caught even once.

Now, she still doesn't get noticed even being right there in the open, quiet as death and staring the servers down with her still admittedly too-big eyes. But I really enjoy telling people, on the rare occasion they do eventually notice her and then always say the same oh wow I had no idea she was there! phrases, that she's very good at her job.

Which as far as she's always seemed to believe, from the very first time, was to just lay in my lap and snooze until I need her. I'm very lucky it seems to be her one and only goal in life.

(Baby pic tax for the long post, I promise you she's a good chunk older here than you are guessing and thankfully was already less bald and weird looking 😂)

[miscreantahead]

When I worked at Burger King as a manager (roughly 11 years ago), I knew managers at other branches and some of them even knew the management at other fast food spots in the area. I knew how often my GM worked without being paid, and I knew how often she asked the other managers to work without being paid also. I knew one specifically who agreed to it for double-shifts on sundays. Unpaid double shifts on sundays.

I know from the grapevine to the other fast food management that the McDonald's up the road was even worse about this. To so many people this was normal and just something that happened. Even to me, I never reported it. I wouldn't do it because I knew they weren't going to fire me and I barely made minimum wage as a manager anyway, but as a collective me and the other employees just talked about it like it was a messed up but relatively normal thing that happened.

Now I feel like we all know how illegal that is. I wonder if I were to go back if that would still be a thing. I wonder how much money fast food and food service (and retail) are losing by actually having to pay their workers now. Shortly after I left my job at Target, about 7 years ago, I was informed of a class-action lawsuit from management because they were offering managers salaries that were a few thousand more a year than they would have made hourly for 4-56 hours a week, and then demanding they work 100-120 hours a week. I'm not sure where that went, but I heard about that happening while I was there and the team leads were all always there and always looked exhausted.

Assuming this exploitation isn't still as rampant, if companies are no longer benefitting from illegal unpaid labor, it's likely just another reason they're raising their prices despite the stagnation of wages. The system has always been so corrupt, it was never designed to work without exploitation. Companies are panicking because it's becoming harder to exploit people and that's both hilarious and terrifying to me.

[aelaer]

🔫

Another whump icon prompt filled! And this is the last of my pre-written fics before my first poll, so now I *have* to work on figuring out how to write Loki...

Also a fill for @badthingshappenbingo! The bad thing happening to the protagonist is pretty light, *but* it's still a not-terribly-fun thing, so I figure it works out.

I was trying to write something else for this for ages (read: almost 3 years), but it never came out the way I wanted it to, and I still had this ancient prompt to fill so I figured I'd try not to make a huge story out of it and just do some writing exercises to get back into it. And the normal stuff wasn't working so I flipped the angst on its head to something a bit more BAMFy. Still a bad thing happening though. 

The MacGuffin here is pretty simple but hey, it works.

Lightning Before The Thunder Rating: Gen No pairings

On occasion, Doctor Strange still had to do mundane, normal-people things. He still needed to buy food and even magic wasn't quite as effective as the dry cleaners two blocks away for his suit, whenever he needed to wear it for whatever occasion presented itself.

Today it was the bank. The New York Sanctum still sat in the city it was named after, which meant that every year property taxes were due. And sometime between the Blip and now, the automatic payment to the city on the Sanctum's bank account stopped going through despite nothing changing, which meant Stephen had to go talk to someone to get it fixed. He figured it'd be easier to do it in person than try to navigate the menus in the bank's phone system and never ending hold times that characterized every customer service center after the Blip.

Despite his rather unfortunate infamy that came with his involvement with the Infinity Stones and the last battle against Thanos, he wasn't recognized nearly as often as, say, Tony Stark or Steve Rogers once were. In casual wear people rarely recognized him, and it was only once he gave his name that recognition lit up in stranger's eyes. He was thankful for the relative anonymity.

Stephen wasn't sure if said anonymity was a blessing or a curse when four armed robbers stormed the bank five minutes into his appointment. On one hand, they may have shot him for it if they thought he was a threat.

On the other hand, maybe that would have meant that the security guard wouldn't have been shot.

Each second of calculation felt like a minute. He could go immediately on the offensive and attack them, but their guns were pointed at clerks and patrons as they shouted for everyone to get down. They had already shot someone and the man was bleeding heavily.

He had a life to save first. He needed to play doctor—and hostage—before he could do anything else.

Stephen crawled to the security guard even as the robbers shouted orders across the building. He shed his outer shirt and pressed it against the security guard's bleeding shoulder. When he cried out in pain, one of the gunmen turned to him. 

"The fuck you doing? Get on the ground!" He turned the barrel at him. 

"I'm a doctor," Stephen said, voice even. He'd certainly faced worse, though he was really regretting not bringing the Cloak with him. "Let me help him."

The man hesitated, but another spoke up as he addressed the majority of the people by the counters. "Stay on the fucking ground and y'all live, right? Just stay there. No phones!"

That seemed to be enough for the gunman focused on Stephen. "Stay there," he ordered.

Stephen complied. Underneath his blood-soaked dress shirt he silently applied subtle healing magic to constrict blood flow from the wound, the glow barely going through the cloth. The security guard frowned at what would have been an unusual, warm feeling.

"What…"

"I'm a doctor," Stephen repeated. The blood flow was slowing down. He glanced over his shoulder to gauge the situation. Once he heard sirens outside and the gunmen were separated, he could act.

The security guard winced. "Is it—supposed to feel like that?" He glanced at his shoulder with a grimace that twisted into a confused frown as he caught some of the glow from underneath Stephen's shirt. "What the—"

"My name," he cut him off, words soft yet sharp, "is Doctor Stephen Strange. Do you understand?"

The man's eyes lit up in recognition. His gaze went beyond him to the action in the background. "Can you—can you help—"

"Everything will be fine," Stephen reassured him. "Just concentrate on breathing."

"Hey! No talking!" It seemed one of the robbers noticed their whispers. Stephen glanced up to see a gun being waved in his general direction, which was more annoying than frightening if he was to be entirely honest. Then again, his line of work had rather desensitized him, perhaps to a rather alarming degree. He wouldn't be able to get a shield out fast enough to stop a bullet.

Hmm. Were there spells out there that could? Probably. It was physical damage, so those that held against that may hold up.

His silence seemed to appease the gunman enough to get him to back off—or maybe it was the sirens finally at the building. Good. It would take a couple minutes for them to set up a perimeter, then he would act.

Stephen's chance came soon enough. The gunmen were split now with only two in the main foyer, and one of the two was wandering to the far end of the room to peek down the halls. Great.

He moved the security guard's hand to his wounded shoulder. "Press as hard as you can," he muttered. When the man did so, Stephen slipped his sling ring out of his pocket.

The first gunman was out in a blink. With one gesture Stephen tore the gun from the man's hands, scattering it to the other side of the bank. In the next the man fell through a portal that deposited him on the stairs of the building outside with barely a second to shout.

Still, his buddy heard the brief commotion, which worked perfectly for Stephen. He came from around the corner at a quick walk. "Jerry?"

That gunman suffered the same fate as Jerry. 

The bank employees and clients were staring at him now, naturally. With the other two robbers in the back room, Stephen felt it was safe enough for him to stand without anyone else getting hurt.

"Stay there," he told the other hostages. "I'll be right back." He strolled his way into the back where the other two robbers were.

They weren't even facing him when he approached. Disarming them and placing a portal under them almost felt like cheating. So it wasn't even two minutes later that Stephen was back in the front of the building. "All four of them have been deposited outside," he said to the person that looked like she was a manager. "Call the authorities and let them know it's only civilians within the building now, and that we need an ambulance." 

At her startled nod, he went back to the wounded security guard to see how he was holding up. "Medics will be here soon," he told him. "You'll be just fine."

"Thank—thank you."

"Don't mention it."

As he heard the front doors open a few minutes later, Stephen realized that he probably couldn't just slip away as he would have preferred to after giving the paramedics a summary. The civilians would definitely point his way, which meant he'd have to talk to the police.

Ugh. There went the rest of his day.

[thealolanchamp]

¡Introduction post!

Alola! First post here! In case you do not know me, I am Apoālewa, Champion of Alola! If my name is too difficult to pronounce that's ok, You can call me Dugga!

Here are my current pokemon with some info!

Evo the Sylveon, he's my service pokemon that helps me keep in check and ensure I'm under control of myself, he's an absolute sweetheart! He was a gift from my older half sister when I first met her(she had to adopt me after some unfortunate things that happened to me, I do not wish to say what exactly)

Mr.Squirt("lil Mister") the Primarina, my Ace in battle, he's been with me since I started my Island trials, as you can tell I was not the best at names when I was younger. He's quite a calm, gentle pokemon who enjoys his naps. He's also quite the Peirs enjoyer, you should see him make his way into whatever room has that guy's music playing!

Midnight the Lycanroc, you can guess by the name what variant of lycanroc she is lol, she's the playfully rough kind of pokemon, always nibbling on me or my clothes, rubbing her rocky parts on stuff(lost so much furniture to her). She's also what i like to call a "screamer", basically she doesn't bark, woof, ruff none of that, but SCREAMS like a bolthound that found something(usually at the late hours of the night too)

Jell-o the (shiny) Goodra, my only shiny pokemon, I found him as a goomy during a pause of rain near Po town I think, poor thing was dry from the sun:(, i got him near a shaded puddle and began to leave, but he refused to leave my side hehe, he's also caused a lot of furniture problems, he's joyfully lazy and he won't leave my chairs alone(goodra slime is hard to get out of fabric, worse is that stuff bleaches)

E ("Esper") the Espeon, a absolutely amazing if not shy companion, I got her after seeing an ad from a shelter about an eevee(her) that was used for shiny breeding and needed a home. I feel so happy that she felt safe enough around me to evolve into such a friendship related evolution. She surprisingly great in battle, the pokemon center said if mist be therapeutic for her(i make sure shes ok before and after every battle don't worry)

Mocha the (alolan) Raichu, probably my most food motivated pokemon😅, you shake a bag of food and he comes zooming, also no one told me the move Electric Terrain made them surf faster! He had to go to the pokemon center because he zoomed indoor and hit a wall🤦‍♂️(he's ok btw, happened several months ago)

Aohd(pronounced "ay") the Volcanrona, had no clue that Volcanronas are rare in Alola until guzma lost his shit at the sight of her as a Larvesta, she tends to lounge about ouside when not battling, soaking up the sun. Also I recommend to anyone thinking of having a Volcanrona to have a large backyard with easy access to sunlight and plenty vegetation, I've learned it's vital for their diets(just a tip)

Chase the Gardevoir, not my pokemon but my sister's, she(chase) is essentially a caregiver since Kahu(my sister) left for Paldea some time ago for education purposes, she helps me with chores and errands, she also speaks via ASL(Alolan Sign Language), I pretty much look up to her as a mother figure. Not sure where exactly she came from as Kahu found her as a Ralts on Poni island and apparently the Ralts line don't reside in Alola.

Rotom-Dex the Rotom, can't forget one of the most helpful pokemon I have! They were quite chatty too after they learned they can talk with the pokedex they possess, they're quite well trained for their job too! Always giving me needed tidbits about for forgettable pokemon so i won't falter in battle! Even though they don't battle themselves, they're quite vital to my job as champion!

¡Update!

So it seems I have been transported to the past via otherworldly means and now I have to make a new team for myself to ensure saftey, i currently have-

Mr.Squirt("lil Mister), he was one of the only two pokemon that came with me unfortunately, he's still the same ol' Primarina

"Arc-Dex"(RotomDex), Rotom, they started calling themselves that after I woke up in hisui, they resemble Akari's "ArcPhone", some modified phone. They still do not battle.

Ghostface the Cyndaquil, the professor here, Laventon gave her to me to ensure I learn of the "Hisuian" veriants of pokemon here, apparently she'll become a ghost type but i remember them being pure fire type, this may be interesting.

Anyways welcome to my blog, hope this wasn't too long! Don't be scared to ask questions!