#just a bunch of locally owned places which pay their workers better

[i-like-gay-books]

just bought myself a new set of hair cutting scissors and a fine toothed comb and midterm papers are about to be underway you know what’s up

[mxrcayong]

part of @nct-writers​’s cafe resonance collab!

genre: fluff, a more UK-based pov of university

summary: jisung, a college student now looking for a job, has decided to apply for a job at the local café. he thought being friends with the manager and its employees has it perks; from unlimited free coffee to whatever pastries haven’t been eaten by the end of the day. needless to say; the perks must end somewhere. 

word count: 2317 words

note: i didn’t make the divider!!

College students practically live by coffee shops. If university was a religion, the on-campus coffee shop would be the bible. Daily, college students’ breath in the coffee beans like oxygen, feel the permanent imprint of coffee mug or a ‘to go’ cup on their lips. They’re surrounded by the smells of different fruity pastries and savory snacks, and the sounds of students either chatting or typing away on their computers. 

It’s no wonder that the university coffee shop was practically a hub of activity. When you sit down to work at Café Resonance, it’s feels like you’re a part of a bigger and collective community, stressing for assessments or just taking a break from their hectic university schedules. It’s especially hectic when you’re a full-time student and work part time.   

“Do I really need to get a job?” Jisung sighed, scratching his head as he leant against the barista’s counter. His six closest friends were working behind the counter: using the coffee machines and decorating the pastries. “Can’t I just use your employee discount on everything?” 

Jaemin furrowed his eyebrows. “You know I want to, my little mouse.” He teased as he placed another order on his tray, “But I can only put the café employee discount on so many things.” He practically sung as he left, heading to a table to bring another set of students their own cups of their own ambrosia.     

From the cash register, Haechan had just finished taking the orders of the last bunch of the line and immediately replaced Jaemin’s place next to Jisung. “You can always just become a sugar baby.” He suggested, coming over to the display case to grab one of the pastries to heat up per the customer’s order. “Or a pole dancer… aren’t you a good dancer?” 

Jisung immediately protested. “Firstly, no. Secondly, is it even legal? I literally only became an adult this year.” 

“Actually…” Haechan started to counter, only to be interrupted by Mark approaching with a raised hand and a dirty mop. 

“Stop telling everyone to become a sugar baby.” Mark chided as he ducked to get back behind the counter, drudging the cleaning supplies with him. “You do realize that if someone does become a sugar baby, they aren’t entitled to paying for your shit either.” In response, Haechan grumbled under his breath as he gave the bewildered customer overhearing the odd conversation their fruity treat. 

Jisung has visited his closest friends enough to know that working at the café is like a beautifully choreographed dance. It moves like clockwork; with the six doing their roles diligently and without question. So, it’s not unusual for his friends to come and go during the conversation – all taking part whilst separating themselves at the same time. 

“Why don’t you just ask Chenle if you could work here?” Renjun suggested, coming out from the back room where he started baking some more pastries – obvious through his powdered apron. “We all work here already, and we can go through the ropes with you.” 

Jeno immediately stepped in and basically rejected the offer. “Do you remember the last time we hosted an event and Jisung wanted to help?” He prompted, before chuckling. “He tried to wash the food with dish soap…and he broke the broom when cleaning!” 

Almost as if the thought of teasing Jisung summons him, Chenle came out of seemingly nowhere. “Didn’t he leave the broken broom on the floor and just started playing video games?” Jeno, Haechan, and Renjun nodded – remembering the mess the 00-line apartment was that night.  

“Not the best party we hosted.” Jaemin commented, going around the counter to make his own drink now that the list of waiting customers is gone. “But, still, Jisung learns fast. I think he could work here.” 

Chenle let out an introspective hum, before leaning over to whisper to Haechan. With a questionable look on their faces, Chenle decided to call Jisung into the back room and in his makeshift ‘managers office’ (a perk of being family with the owner of the university café). “I’ll consider your application, but I can’t do any nepotism.” He started, “so, you must go through the whole application process.” He paused. “You must come up with your own recipe.” 

With a rule to not discuss recipes with his ‘potential future co-workers’ – which Chenle weirdly specified as everyone but Haechan, Jisung had to get straight to work. In all honesty, he had no baking experience nor ever made a drink without a guiding recipe.

While his six closest friends were out of the equation, he had another friend he could reach out to; Y/N. 

You were in his freshmen orientation group earlier this year. Not going to lie, you initially thought of each other as familiar faces who you’d occasionally wave at or nod in acknowledgement when you walk past each other. However, you later found yourself eating in the same hall cafeteria…and then the same hall pantry…and then, it clicked. You two lived only four doors away from each other in your university hall. 

Needless to say, you two ran midnight McDonald trips basically on a weekly basis. You became integral to Jisung’s daily routine; from waking each other up for breakfast to storming into each other rooms, armed with complaints and rants about the shitty professor who made you read 300 pages for one night. Even on your busiest days, you two would always pick each other up for the hall provided breakfasts and dinners. 

So here you were - Jisung was slouching down on your desk chair while you were resting on the bed, your back against the wall and a pillow in your lap as you tried to help Jisung solve his current problem. “Well…did Chenle give you a prompt or anything?” 

Jisung shook his head, groaning back. “It’s not like we have a kitchen to try and bake either! We only have fridges and a microwave and a….” He tried to recall what was on the floor pantry. 

“Just a fridge and a microwave.” You added. “That means pastries are off the table…how about a drink?” 

Jisung groaned again. “I have a hard time making pre-made coffee!” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle; you remembered that day. It was a scary time for you; your credit card company sent you a text about a fraudulent use of your student account. Not only did you end up stressing to the point of crying, but you also learned it was a false alarm. Luckily, while still reeling from the anxiety inducing news, you ran into Jisung as he was leaving his room. He then took you to the pantry to try and cheer you up with coffee…however, a fire alarm went off and practically deafened the whole university housing cohort for hours. 

And poor Jisung…Jisung was just an awkward little mouse, trying to look innocent as he saw his exhausted neighbors clamber out into the park due to his attempt of making pre-made coffee. 

“Well…you have me. This isn’t hopeless.” Climbing off the bed, you pretended to dust yourself off. “So, let’s go to the pantry? Another one of our…”

Jisung quickly furrowed his brows, interjecting while you still spoke “I don’t think this can be considered snacking…”

“Pantry-time dates.” You stuttered, obviously unsure of the title. Usually, you call them ‘cup noodle dates’ or ‘popcorn dates’; a joke that ran through your small group of friends as well as the resident advisors at the university hall. 

No one likes being in the pantry. Especially the second floor. For one, things always get stolen; from cutlery to a six pack of coke. Secondly, the few times people use the microwave to heat up their meals, they tend to leave the leftovers to rot on the windowsill. But you and Jisung sit there together; maybe because something about it feels open and comfortable, despite the terrible smell. Plus…the two of you placed bets on who could be the thief when people awkwardly clamber on by, and if on one of these ‘dates’ you catch the thief obviously taking something that isn’t theirs? Even better. 

But today… you two will have to be the forsaken thieves. 

“So someone put chocolate powder in the fridge…” You commented incredulously, especially as this fridge is known for freezing things into ice in minutes. “There’s some…expired milk.” Jisung watched as you searched through the fridge for any hidden treasures; feeling more and more unsure of himself as you listed more and more ingredients. “Oh, okay, some non-expired milk. That will be useful.” 

“We can make a latte?” Jisung offered, now on his phone searching up popular café drinks. 

“Yes!” You enthused, finally feeling like this trip to the pantry isn’t useless after all. “But…we should probably write an apology note to the people we’re stealing from.” 

It’s been almost five hours in the pantry. Countless of people came in (however, this time you tried not to place bets as you knew who the real thieves were tonight) and would just stare at the two of you, arguing over a kettle of milk. Even your neighbor Victor came in; having sat and watched you two for a good while (which made Jisung extra cautious; he’s had a theory about him being the forsaken pantry thief for a while). Victor, however, said you two should have a cooking show, to which you scoffed while Jisung basked in the compliment. This very same compliment crossed Victor off of Jisung’s “potential criminals” list. 

Eventually, you had a drink in front of you. A chocolate latte that Jisung insisted on putting salt in, as “Modern Family said it was a good idea”. Admittedly, the first ten versions of this drink were absolute failures; making you go to the bathroom numerous times to vomit out the thick and almost flour-like texture.  

So, for your final check, the two of you grabbed the non-eaten pastries Jisung brought home from the café. Hopefully, this will act as a palette cleanser; especially since tasting all of the failed drinks probably have messed with your taste buds and lowered all sorts of expectations. 

After taking bites into the Suh-ndwitch and Henpretzel, you two finally took sips of the drink you attempted to make since 10pm – with Jisung making far too many references to the Powerpuff Girls opening theme. 

Alas – the taste that flooded their senses wasn’t at all bad, no. Nor was it ‘a little bit of sugar and everything ice’, but it was something you’d expect from Starbucks. You two immediately squealed out of excitement, ignoring the fact that you probably woke the neighboring rooms up at three in the morning. Jisung immediately went over to hug your waist, spinning you around as fast as he could; before something unexpected happens. 

You felt his lips on yours; tasting like chocolate and leftover ingredients that were remnants from his palette cleanser of a sandwich. The feeling was foreign; you never expected to kiss Jisung. He was your best friend, your neighbour; but his lips were soft…and something about this felt right. 

But then the door slammed opened. A zombie-like RA came in and you two immediately jumped to different sides of the room. “I know you two always do your pantry dates, but…” The RA started, obviously sluggish from being woken up at 3am. “We got noise complaints.” 

Jisung awkwardly coughed, apologized, and ran away; leaving you confused in the corner of the pantry. 

Café Resonance were never busy Friday evenings. People were most likely out pubbing or preparing for their weekends of antics. So when Jisung stormed in with a recipe in hand, he wasn’t afraid to celebrate as loudly as if he had just won the Olympic World Cup. “I got the recipe! Can I please have the job?” He practically pleaded, dropping the piece of paper with messy handwriting and the sample drink you two whipped up again the night prior. On top of the page with chocolate colored stains were the words; “Hamji Choco Latte” with (served hot or cold)  at the bottom.

“A recipe?” Everyone but Haechan and Chenle looked confused; with the latter two smirking in the corner of the room. But as soon as Haechan cracked and let out a loud laugh, Mark turned around and immediately recognized the culprits of this misunderstanding. 

“Bruh,” Chenle let out throughout his charming ‘dolphin laugh’, “You had the job – I was just messing with you.” 

Haechan pouted, approaching Jisung to ruffle his hair. “My sweet, small, dumb idiot…how much I love you.” He placed a sloppy kiss at the corner of his head, making Jisung immediately try to scrub it off. 

Jisung scowled, upset he let himself get fooled by his best friends. “At least I got a girlfriend from it…” He mumbled, more to himself, but forgetful of how Jeno’s ears can pick up on anything. It was from my ASMR stint, Jeno would say. 

“WHAT!?” He exclaimed, as if Jisung getting a girlfriend would happen the day pigs would fly. 

“I sent you to make a café recipe, not a love potion!” Chenle cackled even more; while his fellow friends made him explain what happened. 

By the time the store closed, Jaemin gave Jisung the ‘talk’ and warned that although they spent nights in each other’s rooms before, Jisung and you must be ‘safe’ and ‘protected’. 

People always say the first people you become friends with at university don’t always stay friends for life. People tend to clash, find their hobbies, and go different ways. But Jisung was lucky. He met you; his best friend and now his other half. And despite the annoying prank Chenle made that wasted hours of your time, Chenle was right; the Hamji Choco Latte was basically a love potion as it brought the hidden infatuation you had for each other to light.  

Now, every time he picks you up from your lecture hall, he brings one extra-large chocolatey drink to share. 

“Email sent out to residents of NCU Hall: 

Dear residents of the second floor, 

The person who has been stealing cultlery and food has been identified. Victor Cho will be coming by to return any items that may have belonged to you.”

Jisung screamed at the top of his lungs when he got this email. “I TOLD YOU SO!” 

[searchingwardrobes]

It’s Been . . . a DAY 2/3

One month a few days, and finally I bring you chapter two! Sorry for the wait. Are you ready for Killian to have a bad day? And maybe a certain blonde makes it better?

Summary: Emma Swan bursts into Killian’s life in spectacular fashion - when her three year old pees on his office floor. Nevertheless, Killian is mesmerized by this tenacious woman. Perhaps fate will let them cross paths again …

Rated: G

Words: Just a bit over 2k in this chapter

Also on Ao3

Tagging: @kmomof4​  @snowbellewells​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @xhookswenchx​ @teamhook​ @let-it-raines​ @winterbythesea​ @spartanguard​ @shireness-says​ @superchocovian​ @thesschesthair​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @vvbooklady1256​ @hookedonapirate​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @hollyethecurious​ @welllpthisishappening​ @wellhellotragic​ @bethacaciakay​ @optomisticgirl​ @lfh1226-linda​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @ekr032-blog-blog​ @itsfabianadocarmo​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @thisonesatellite​ @winterbaby89​ @tiganasummertree​ @xsajx​ @jennjenn615​ @zaharadessert​​

Chapter Two:

“That’ll be $2.50.”

It’s an innocuous statement, or it normally would be, but Killian has just escaped the office after a particularly nasty run-in with Zelena Green. Escaped her demands for the most ridiculous tax deductions (with no receipts, mind you) along with her shrill screeching and her terrifying claws - ahem, manicure - so swiftly that he apparently ran to the coffee shop empty handed. 

“Um . . .” Killian’s panic mounts as he pats his jeans pockets and then his leather jacket with no success. “I think,” he chuckles awkwardly and throws the barista a lopsided and charming (he hopes) smile, “I forgot my wallet.”

The barista simply arches a brow at him, communicating quite clearly that she is immune to his wiles. She braces her arms on the counter and leans towards him.

“It’s still $2.50.”

He clutches the to-go cup in his hand so tightly that it threatens to pop the lid. 

“I heard you, lass, and I plan on giving you the money. I just need to run back to the office -”

“You’re not going anywhere until you give me two dollars and fifty cents.”

For a moment, he wants to snap at her, but he learned long ago that he can catch more flies with honey than vinegar. He leans his hip against the counter casually, lowers his gaze a bit, and gives the barista his best smolder.

“You’re a good worker . . .” he finds her name tag, “Ashley. I admire that. I promise you can trust me. My office is only down the block. I’ll be back in a flash.”

“Or I’ll never see you again. Just give me the damn $2.50. I got my pay docked last week for the tinder being short, and I sure as hell won’t let it happen again.”

This is clearly not his day. 

“$2.50 you said?” a voice over his shoulder asks. 

Killian spins, recognizing that voice. His eyes widen with joy when he sees none other than Emma Swan standing there with a sparkle in her green eyes and a smirk on her lips. She leans around him to set her cup beside his. 

“Just put his on my bill,” she tells the barista.

“I can’t let you do that,” he starts to protest, but Emma lifts a hand to stop his words. 

“It’s the least I can do after . . . well, what happened to your floors.”

He chuckles lightly, and she blushes even as she shakes her head and lifts her gaze to the ceiling as if to say what’s a mother to do though, right?

“Fine by me,” Ashley says with a shrug, ringing up Emma’s purchase. “So that’ll be $6.15.”

Killian grimaces inwardly - this is a local place, and the prices are steep - but Emma doesn’t even flinch as she scans her card and then takes the receipt. She turns to Killian with a smile, holding out his to-go cup. 

“I am in your debt,” he tells her. 

Emma rolls her eyes and waves her hand. “Are you kidding? We’re even now.”

Killian racks his brain for a way to prolong this little encounter, but before his mind can connect to his vocal chords, Emma turns to the bar that holds the cream, sugar, and various shakers of spices. He hovers, his brain still refusing to cooperate, as she removes the lid of her cup and shakes some cinnamon on the swirls of whipped cream inside. He practically jumps when she ends up breaking the awkward silence first. 

“You see, I didn’t really mind adding your $2.50 to my order. That’s nothing in this place.” She snaps the lid back on her cup and turns to face him. “Let me guess, regular coffee, black?”

He nods, a smile curling his lips as he takes a sip of said coffee. “Aye. And yours is?”

“Hot chocolate, actually. Most expensive thing on the menu besides the pastries, which is just unfair, in my opinion.”

Their gazes connect over the rims of their cups, and Killian catalogues the new information. She prefers hot chocolate over coffee, with whipped cream and cinnamon. 

“That doesn’t happen to you often, does it?” she asks.

“Forgetting my wallet?”

“No, your charm not working.”

Killian tilts his head back and laughs. Then he saunters closer to her, bends his head, and lowers his voice. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

She doesn’t seem to be visibly affected by his flirting in the least. Instead, she tosses him a casual smirk, one eyebrow arching. “Perhaps I would.”

His heart hammers in his chest as he searches her eyes. This woman is a bloody marvel. He had seen it even when she was falling apart in his office, and it’s even clearer now when she’s the one in control. His gaze falls to her lips, and he can’t help wetting his own. Abruptly, she clears her throat  and takes a step back. 

“I . . . uh, I really need to get back to my stuff.”

She hurries over to a table by the window and starts gathering up a laptop and some books and papers. A highlighter marker falls off and rolls across the floor. Killian picks it up and hands it to her. 

“Thanks,” she mutters, color staining her cheeks. 

“Work?”

“Uh, no,” she stammers, tucking hair behind both ears, “it’s school. My current job sucks, quite frankly, so I’m trying to get my degree.”

“That’s admirable,” Killan tells her sincerely. “In what?”

“Dental hygiene,” she wrinkles her nose adorably. “I know that’s stupid.”

Killian frowns. “Why in the world would you say that?”

Emma shrugs. “I mean, who likes teeth?”

He arches both brows as he bites down on his lower lip. “I can think of some reasons people would.”

She rolls her eyes again and smacks him in the arm. “You know what I mean!”

They both laugh then as he rubs at his arm exaggeratedly. “Okay, seriously, dentists like teeth. I mean, I assume they do.”

Emma shakes her head. “I don’t think so. I mean, maybe some, but mostly I think they just know it will make them lots of money.”

“And that’s why you want to be a dental hygienist?”

Emma lifts her messenger bag and loops it over her shoulder. “I don’t need to be rich, but secure would be nice. I want to give Henry a good life, you know? And dental hygiene is steady work, steady pay, and good hours.”

Emma doesn’t seem to mind when Killian walks beside her as they leave the coffee shop. 

“You’re a good mother, Emma. I still fail to see where any of that is stupid.”

She hitches the bag further up her shoulder, then takes another sip of her hot chocolate. “I don’t know. Aren’t I supposed to be studying something I’m passionate about? Instead, I’m being completely pragmatic. All I need for this career is an associate’s degree, which will take way less time and money.”

“I think we put way too much pressure on people to find a career - a passion, as you say. At the end of the day, a job is pragmatic. We need money to live, and a job gives us that.”

“Is that why you became an accountant?” Emma tilts her head and studies him as she asks the question. “You don’t seem the type. No offense.”

He scratches behind his ear. “None taken. And yes, I make good money at it, so that’s part of it. Liam and I went our entire childhood barely surviving, so we both vowed to change that when we were old enough.”

“I get that,” Emma mutters into her cup of hot chocolate. Killian wonders at the comment, but doesn’t press her. 

“I do like numbers, though, so does Liam. We both excelled at that when we were in the Navy, and . . .” he shook his head. “It’s a dull story. We’ll just use the cliche the rest is history.”

Emma laughs, a free and easy thing in the early spring air, and Killian wants to hold onto it. For some reason, he gets the impression it’s a rare sound from her. 

“I suppose going to school for accounting is about as interesting as dental hygiene.”

“Well, then, here’s to making a living,” he tells her cheerfully, extending his coffee cup. 

She taps it with her cup of cocoa. “To making a living.”

They both sip, the air becoming charged again as their gazes linger. Then Emma glances over his shoulder, and her eyes light up. 

“Flowers!” 

She hurries over to the sidewalk display and picks up a bunch of snowdrops. “These are Mary Margaret’s favorite,” she said with a smile. 

“Really? Elsa loves them too,” Killian says, gently touching a delicate white blossom. “Who is Mary Margaret?”

“My sister,” Emma tells him, her smile fond, “foster sister, technically. Eva and Leopold adopted me when I was twelve and Mary Margaret was sixteen. I was a terror, let me tell you.”

“You had been through a lot of pain, I’m sure.”

Emma studies him for a moment, slight surprise lighting her eyes. “Yeah, I had . . . but the three of them loved me anyway. And now, well, Mary Margaret is both my sister and my best friend. She and Eva both watch Henry for me while I work and study.”

“What about Leopold?”

Emma buries her nose in the snowdrops, “He passed away when I was still in high school.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Emma gives her head a quick shake. “The point is, Mary Margaret and Eva are both the absolute best. I don’t know what I would do without them. David’s not bad either, I guess.” She chuckles fondly.

“David?” He assumes by her laughter that he isn’t a boyfriend. Please don’t let him be a boyfriend.

“Mary Margaret’s husband. They’re newlyweds and completely nauseating.”

Killian treasures each tiny nugget of Emma’s life and files it carefully away. He wants to know so much more. How did she come to have Henry? Why is she raising him alone? What pain was she forced to endure those first twelve years of her life? Though he can imagine that last one fairly well. He and Liam had spent nearly that long shuffled from home to home after their mother’s death, Brennan Jones never wanting to take responsibility for his sons. 

“I want to buy these for Jones & Jones,” Emma tells him, “as a thank you.”

“We’ve told you that it was no trouble. Besides, you bought my coffee, remember?”

Emma shakes her head. “I’ve been meaning to come by with flowers all week, but I was just too embarrassed. Please let me.”

Killian nods, albeit a bit reluctantly. He guesses that Emma is on a tight budget. She said her job sucks, and she’s caring for a toddler while also putting herself through school. He’s sure the small family she mentioned helps when they can, but still, she already spent over six dollars at the coffee shop, thanks to him. However, he can already see that she is a lass of great pride. He doesn’t want to insult her by refusing the gift. 

Emma purchases the flowers, and then she walks with him the rest of the way to Jones & Jones. Elsa exclaims over the flowers just as Killian expected her to, even enveloping Emma in a hug. Ariel hugs her too and asks about Henry. Even Liam is lured away from his desk, and he ends up showing off pictures of little Ian to Emma. He and Elsa swap funny stories about raising a three year old, and before long, an hour has passed. 

“Oh my God,” Emma suddenly gasps, “what time is it?”

“Almost five,” Elsa tells her. 

“Shit, I’ve gotta go. Mary Margaret is expecting me soon, and Henry gets cranky when dinner is late.”

Killian stands there like an idiot as Emma rushes out in a whirlwind, leaving her now cold hot chocolate on the edge of Killian’s desk. 

“Please tell me you asked her out this time,” Liam says once the door has shut behind her. 

Killian groans. He didn’t even get her number. 

“Maybe you’ll run into her again?” Ariel suggests, but there isn’t much faith in her voice.

Not that Killian blames her for her doubt. Fate gave him a second chance, and he doesn’t hold out much hope that it will give him a third. 

[jacqcrisis]

more lumberyard monster stuff including characters and monster anatomy. putting under read more cause LONG

characters: 

Sixer: monster man. no idea what he is or where he came from, only that he doesn’t want to go back. is generally playful, lazy, incredibly quick to learn, curious, and a trouble maker when he’s bored. loves his tv, the dog, eating, annoying Dale, sleeping, and Alvin. 

Alvin: lover boy. Tony’s nephew. Started working at the lumberyard not long before they found Sixer. is kind of quiet, gentle, relatively down to earth, clearly beat down already even in his mid-twenties, not helped by his verbally abusive and manipulative girlfriend who eventually becomes his fiancee as he doesn’t know how to get out of the relationship. loves working with him hands, modding/fixing things, old cars, all kinds of music, and chilling with Sixer.

Tony: the dad guy. first generation American. mom immigrated to U.S. from Mexico. loves motorcycles, making people smile, and his wife. is second pony to the owner, runs the saws, and is basically the lumberyard’s HR department. has four kids and is all-around a nice guy. see’s the yard crew as a second family. Named Sixer for his six limbs and is very proud of that fact. Thinks of him as his ‘buddy’.

Charlie: bull dyke owner. Took over the yard from her father. is happily married to a law professor. loves bourbon, her motorcycle, and her dog. used to smoke, has the smoker’s voice and laugh, and chews nicotine gum like her life may depend on it. is tough but fair. pretty no nonsense with most of her workers, but Tony who is both a family friend and her second in command and Sixer, who she dotes on in her own way.

Dale: Shitty guy. Hates paying child support. Just the worst. An HR nightmare before Sixer came along to keep him in place.

Brian: Alvin’s friend who also works at the yard. Likes to drag race, pick up chicks, and kind of instigates Dale even if he doesn’t mean to. Is kind of ambivalent to Sixer but likes the novelty of having this weird monster at the yard

McKenzie: cashier girl/secretary. Doesn’t work in the yard itself, but spends all day inside answering the phone and cashing out orders. Single-mother in her early twenties and Charlie allows her to bring her kid to work when she can’t get a babysitter especially with Sixer around cause he likes watching the kid. Kind of stuck up, kind of a party girl, but is fun to be around.

Scruff: Is a dog. Some kind of large shepherd mix. Loves to follow Sixer and is the one who initially found him on a rainy afternoon, injured and hiding behind the saw mill.

Angela: Charlie’s wife. visits the yard from time to time. Tony calls her the big boss because everyone watches themselves when she’s around. Is beloved by all save for Dale. Sixer has some kind of crush on her.

Monster anatomy bits: 

- Sixer is a strange mixture of ape, panthera, and reptile in body shape, while gait swaps between felid and simian depending on the situation. is capable of sitting on his haunches to get a better look around and capable of walking for a limited time on two legs, though very awkwardly. hips generally sit lower to the ground than shoulders while walking on all fours as forelimbs are slightly longer than backlegs. is capable of reaching speeds of 35mph for an extremely limited time and can leap up to 30ft horizontally though is capable of walking for days on end if needed.

- is covered in large golden brown plated scales that are smooth to the touch. from the shoulder to just before the hips are large thick black spines ranging in length that can be raised and lowered at will to be flush against the back or stand straight up. spines are used to sense vibrations and temperature changes in the air to make up for piss poor hearing. also has some very vibrant neon blue markings that show up after his winter shed during the springtime along his back and sides and that fade by mid-summer. 

- skull and face shape is vaguely human in that it is forward facing and very flat though with noticeable differences. face is covered in smaller thinner scales. eyes are larger, green-yellow in color with round pupils and has two sets of eyelids, one for blocking out light, the other for blocking out dust, debris, and water while still maintaining sight. nostrils are almost flush to the face and also large, covered by sensitive receptors that are activated by a chemical in his saliva, excellent at smelling. brow has bumpy ridges that stick out instead of eyebrows. jawbone is bisected and each side is capable of limited independent movement. has no lips. tongue is long and teeth are more ape like. has no external ear and is genuinely not great at hearing unless someone it talking directly at him. has a crop of black hair/fur on top of head that never grows longer than inch along with a few more psuedo-horns around the crown that are dull.

- six limbed. two hind legs and four arms, each ending in a foot/hand with four digits. one set of arms is slightly larger than the other and has larger claws and are used primarily for locomotion, climbing, and fighting/hunting. other set used for more delicate work. scales on the palms of smaller hands are notably thinner and more sensitive to touch for tool work, affection, and object manipulation. Tony jokingly calls the larger arms his ‘fightin’ arms’ and the smaller ones his ‘doin’ arms’

- from head to tip of tail, Sixer is about 12 feet long and from shoulder to ground when on ‘all fours’ stands at about 4 feet tall. tail makes up 30% of body length, is neither stiff nor prehensile, and is capable of a limited amount of wagging closer to the tip, generally used to signal mood though can be used to whip antagonizers.

-he sheds twice a year, the process taking about two weeks from start to finish and these have been dubbed as ‘hell weeks’ by the crew because they have a massive grumpy snappy itchy monster who rubs himself on every rough surface up to and including the buildings, forklifts, the lumber, any unfortunate cars, the fence, and Alvin for 12-16 days. the best way to deal with it is to hose him down twice a day or provide a small pool for him to soak in and give up on trying to get the garage broom from him which he uses to brush himself.

- opportunistic omnivore that can eat almost anything. to lead a healthy diet, requires 70% meat/organ/bone and 30% veg. while svelte, he actually gains a little extra belly cause of the access to a local deer/rabbit overpopulation and the crew just giving him food all the time. 

- has a range of vocalizations and i still haven’t decided if he’s capable of speech or if it’s severely limited and the crew teach him to use asl cause it would make sense if he couldn’t form most words given mouth anatomy and I like it better than unexplained telepathy. i’ll probably go with that.

- genitalia are internal and male in nature. 

monster man and the lumberyard extra bits i thought of:

- Tony gives Sixer a T.V. but it’s only hooked up to local channels so at night he watches a lot of bad television and soap operas.

- Sixer starts crushing on Alvin very quickly, but does not understand how to romance Anyone, so he tries to do a mixture of whats instinctual for him and what he sees on bad T.V. Alvin brushes it off for years, thinking Sixer is Just Like That. it takes him a bit to realize he’s catching feelings because while he is book smart, he also is, regrettably, a himbo

- some sneaky government thing is looking for him. so is a local cryptid hunting group. They get alerted cause some hunters find the remains of deer who’s wounds look nothing like something a local predator could do. no one suspects to look in the dusty lumberyard, of course.

- for holiday parties and get togethers, either Charlie or Tony always hand off a bunch of food to Alvin, telling him to go give it to the ‘old man next door’ so he can get away from his fiancee for a bit and so Sixer doesn’t miss out on the festivities

[pi-cat000]

FMA:B/BNHA Crossover (2)

Summary: Ed gets stuck in the BNHA world after the end of brotherhood. He starts trying to find a way home and ends up inadvertently working for the league of villains.

Part 1 here

..

..

At one point, the ground level of Ed’s building had probably been a nice-looking shopfront, maybe a flower shop or grocers or something more befitting this weird world…like a tech repair store.  Now, the ground level doubles as apartment space, large windows caked with dust and grime, curtains permanently drawn to hide its occupancy. Heck, if Ed hadn’t been around to fix the glass with alchemy the ground floor would have been pretty much unliveable. Like many buildings in the area, it was a victim of a villain/hero confrontation which always seemed to generate an obscene amount of property damage. Great for leveraging his repair skills in exchange for free accommodation and about nothing else. Not that the people here saw it as much of a problem.

Ed scowls, flipping his OPEN sign to CLOSED, yanking the door shut, locking up as he goes.

Ed doesn’t quite understand the whole thing, and he had had one of the worst track records for property damage when it came to state alchemists. The difference being that he had always returned to reverse as much of the alchemical damage as he could and if he couldn’t Mustang had some other military alchemist/personal waiting in the wings to see to the problem. Rebuilding here was the responsibility of some external agency or other. Ed is a little hazy on how the system was supposed to work, seeing as the military had little to no involvement with anything hero related. Though, considering how the Amestrian military had been in the process of feeding the souls of its citizens to a loosely defined truth God, maybe that was a good thing. Honestly, researching how this place ran its bureaucracy was low on his priority list.

“Hey! Ed! You’re out early? Off somewhere interesting?”  

“Did you see the guy who just came through here,” he asks, eyeing his fellow apartment-liver who seemed to have nothing better to do than loiter outside and yell at people on the street. The greasy-haired man is puffing smoke near the corner of the building with his two equally scruffy friends. They all have a physical abnormally, a lizard tail, claws, bulging eyes, that remind him uncomfortably of chimeras despite knowing it was a result of more quirk bullshit.

The guy blows smoke in his direction, “Big, tall dude? Pretty suspicious looking with the hood and all. I saw him go in. Didn’t see him leave …funny that.”

“Yeah…funny…” Ed mutters, “Did you recognise him?”

“I might have.”

Ed huffs, rolling his eyes and continues down the road. He would leave bribing his neighbours for possible information as a last resort.

He passes the vacant lot holding a near identical half-collapsed block, followed by another nicer looking building, then another, before they gave way to shops and smaller structures. That was something he was still getting used to…the sheer scale of the city. Even Central had barely been a quarter of this city’s size. Luckily, his destination isn’t too far so he doesn’t have to worry about getting lost.  

The building he arrives at is taller than the rest and full of office space. The main lift is out of order so Ed trudges up three flights of stairs to the top floor, stomping into the empty reception/waiting area only hesitating for a second before slamming his hand onto the bell sitting atop the front desk.

There is a muffled voice, “I’m coming. I’m coming. No need for that racket!”

The door behind the desk swings open.

“Edward?”

“Hey, old man,” he gives a small wave, “It’s been a few weeks.”

The man, tall, well-built, cropped brown hair, stares at Ed.

“Yeah it’s been a few weeks! You need to check your phone and answer your messages every now and then. You’re giving me grey hairs. More grey hairs!”

“Right…my phone….” He forgot he had it when not using it to help with navigation. Also, messaging was a pain. He had picked up the local spoken language fast enough out of necessity, but his reading and writing were still a work in progress. Lucky for him, this reality had a few languages similar enough to Amestrian that if he really wanted to read something he could get a translation. It still made written communication tricky.

“I'll try and check it more often," he placates, "I’m here for some information about a job I was offered and seeing you know a bunch of the local businesses I thought I would drop by.”

“Information?” Masao Uraraka lets out a long breath, “And there I went thinking that you were going to take me up on my apprenticeship offer.”

Ed shoves his hands into his pockets, shrugging. The older man grunts, “Well come on through. You’re lucky you caught me in the office. I’m usually on-site supervising about this time. But, can’t do much of that until those idiots at HC Construction.co get the go-ahead from their insurance company.”

Ed slips past and into a dimly lit office space which is surprisingly well organised. Across the wall is a collage of family photos, depicting a woman and young girl at various stages of growth.

“…that’s not your problem though. How have you been kid? Hope you haven’t been in too many fights.”

“Hey,” he objects, “Some idiots need a good punch,” and then adds a little less aggressively, “But no. No fights. I’ve been researching quirks....”

“Quirks. That’s different? Weren't you studying chemistry or something?”

Ed shrugs again, unwilling to divulge much else. Uraraka tended to be nosey out of some misguided notion that he could help Ed ‘get back on his feet’ after whatever tragic backstory he had cooked up for him.

“You’re still living at Old Man Watanabe’s right? He not pulling anything is he? Old coot always tries to weasel more out of his deals.”  

Ed can’t help but agree,  “He’s been trying to get me to re-wire the whole building. Nothing I can’t deal with.”

Of course, this just sets Uraraka off on a round of angry muttering, “Is that right? I can have a talk with him. I’ve told him that he needs an electrician and a proper plumber. He owes me a few favours so I can… ”

“It’s fine,” Ed quickly interrupts. Uraraka had his own problems and family to look after. The guy reminded him of Hughes in that he cared way too much. “One grumpy landlord isn’t worth worrying about.”

Uraraka visibly deflates, “Yes, well, most kids your age shouldn’t be worried about that sort of stuff at all. You should be finishing up your schooling, getting your Japanese up to scratch and studying for college entrance exams. You remind me of my daughter. Stubborn.” He pulls a framed photo from his desk, pointing it at Ed, shaking it for emphasis, “She wants to be a Hero you know. A HERO! Can you believe it! My cute little girl, getting into fights with villains.”

Ed clears his throat awkwardly. Yeah, this guy was definitely this world’s weird version of Hughes. If Hughes had worked in construction and had, you know, not died. This isn’t the first time he has had a picture of Ochako, Uraraka’s daughter, shoved in his face.

“About that information?” He cautiously interrupts and gets another sigh.

“Yes, yes. You kids are always so impatient. What’s this job then? What idiot is going around hiring 16-year-olds.”

“Actually, the guy that came in just mentioned some construction work,” Ed rubs his neck, now slightly subconscious, realising he doesn’t have a whole lot to go on, “he didn’t give me a lot of details, just left this.” Ed pulls out the envelope placing it on the desk next to the assortment of framed photographs and scribbly kid drawings.

With a raised brow, Uraraka pulls it towards him, peering in. The man’s eyes widen and he closes the envelope, frowning, “This supposed to be a down payment in advance of a job, or is it for material costs? Because it’s a bit much for a down payment and nowhere near enough for materials. Not if it’s for anything serious. What sort of work is it? You know I can’t lend you equipment without a licence…but I’ll help you source anything that you…”

“No,” Ed rushes to interrupt, “the guy said it was a sign of goodwill. I take it that’s not a normal thing people do in the, ah, construction business?”

“No. It definitely is not,” Uraraka now looks concerned, “there would usually be a contract for services before any sort of payment. Especially, if you’re going to be working as an independent contractor.”

So that just confirmed what he already knew. Ed continues, “So you haven’t heard about people asking around for under the table construction work then?”

“No. I can ask a few of my freelancers if they’ve had similar offers but I deal above the board with licenced workers only, so it’s unlikely they’ll have heard anything.”

“Yeah, I figured.” He glares at the envelope.

“What did he look like? This man that came in?”

“Oh, he was tall, made of dark purple smoke and had a teleportation quirk…I think. He also asked about my quirk and its limits.”

“I’ll keep an ear out.”  Uraraka promises and frowns at Ed, “I hope you’re not considering this offer.”

Ed grunts noncommittally and gets a look of disapproval that reminds him so much of Hughes its almost painful. He tries not to feel disappointed at the lack of answers because coming to Uraraka had always been a long shot. ‘You’re sad, lonely and the only conversations you’ve had this last week were yelling matches with your landlord and neighbours. Uraraka is a nice man. Of course, you would come to him for advice.’ A voice that sounds suspiciously like Al chimes in. ‘I don’t want him to worry. I’m not staying here long. What’s he going to think when I suddenly disappear,’ he snaps back and immediately feels foolish.

Maybe the isolation is getting to him a bit.

“If it's money you need that I’m more than happy to help you get licenced and certified…” Uraraka continues to talk oblivious to the fact that Ed is barely paying attention.

He doesn’t want to settle down and get a popper job or finish off his schooling or talk to youth services or whatever other things Uraraka had brought up in the few months they had known each other. That would be admitting defeat. Also, he had no ID or history and he was pretty sure you needed both to work any legitimate jobs.

“I can handle myself,” he says out loud.

“Yes, you’re worryingly self-sufficient but there is a difference between unlicensed quirk use and aiding and abetting criminals. No self-respecting, above board, organisation hires a kid to do construction work and throws a bunch of money at them.”

“I know.”

Yeah, he knows Tall-Dark-and-Mysterious was probably a criminal of this reality. He knows he is probably getting himself into something dicey and illegal but he needs to follow whatever lead he can to get back home. Finding a quirk with either the ability to transport him between realities or one with the power equivalent to a few thousand souls was his last hope of ever hearing Al's, the real Al’s, voice again.

The older man rubs his forehead, visibly exasperated, “But you’re going to ignore me. Stubborn brat.”

[fictionbyafangirl]

Tundric Heart

Most shifts that Jill worked were uneventful. The co-workers that she shared shifts with were always the same. Clark was the cook, and if need-be, the bouncer. He was a large, middle-aged man that had served in the army for a few decades. Burly when he had to be, he could be intimidating, but to Jill, he was just the sweetest. Typically, the waitresses had around an hour or two of overlap, which usually meant Trina, a woman who worked three jobs while finishing up college. She was honestly an inspiration and Jill admired her hard work. Trina always set the brunette up for a successful shift.  Her regulars were there nightly, without fail. 

“Can I get you gentlemen a refill?” She’d usher coffee to Glenn and his brother, Jack, as they wrote up itineraries for their senior’s club right at the bar. The eldest brother, Glenn, preferred his coffee black and straight up. It was amazing how he could swallow the piping-hot liquid just as soon as it was poured. Jack, on the other-hand, liked a bit of sweetness and cream to his, a stack of half-and-half cups usually towered next to his saucer that housed his brew. 

“Maybe one more before we go,” Jack mused aloud before placing a sticky note down in his planner. “It seems like a chilly night and I’ll need all the warmth I can get when I leave.” He was cheeky, and Glenn’s chuckle showed that he agreed. Jill topped their mugs off with her customary smile before saddling the pot once more to make her rounds.

“How are you doing over here, Miss Bernice? Need any refills or can I put in a to-go order?” Bernice, and her binder of papers scattered all across the table, did the books for her local church congregation.  She had been born in the city and lived her entire life, practically knowing everyone that lived in the area. Her strawberry blonde hair had shifted to a pearlescent white over the years, with one streak of her natural color still weaving its way through. 

“You know, I would love another glass of sweet tea, if you could, dear?” Bernice was sweet, grandmotherly in her nature as she smiled with her whole face, her eyes nearly disappearing behind the pleats in her matured skin.

“You got it,” Jill winked before departing from the table to her station with the glass in hand. With ease she punched the addition to Bernice’s order before finding the massive pitcher of sweet tea that Trina had stored in the fridge at the end of her shift. Within a minute, she had the refill back to the woman, glancing to her next table to tend to.. “All set, dear.”

Holliwell, or as she would become known as: Holli, would sit in her booth, solo, to work on her graphic novel. She wasn’t much of a talker, but was kind enough. Jill and Holli mostly stuck to a series of nods and hand gestures, particularly a thumbs-up, for their communication after initially serving her what she normally ordered. The gang of college guys that lived together always had their dinner at the diner, and they always were Jill’s source of entertainment. The group consisted of Matt, Jerome, Steven, Jared and Paul. They were lively, comedic and good-natured. The young men were roommates that rented a house a few blocks from the diner. As typical, collegiate bachelors go, they weren’t blessed in the culinary department and often found themselves at their usual spot with two tables pushed together. They inflicted some harmless flirting onto her, to which she respectfully declined and they would carry on with their stay. 

The night would always entail the same, expected things and Jill was comfortable with that as opposed to the opposite. She had worked in a rowdy bar once while trying to make ends meet in her own school days. Between sports nights and events held at the bar, she was constantly having to take care of conflict. She had been thankful for bouncers and speedy policemen before she couldn’t handle the chaos anymore. Simple and quiet suited her as she grew in age, and nonetheless, she loved the relationships she had built with her regulars. Whether it was hearing about their prime or just simply what they had done that very day, she was a welcome ear to chat at. That evening that she worked, everything had been happening like clockwork, that is, until he walked in. 

The moment he walked through the door, Jill couldn’t help but to keep an eye on him, subtly watching him take his seat. She hadn’t been the only one who’s attention was grabbed by him. Instantly, Bernice’s watchful eye was on him the moment she heard the chime of the door, casting her eyes back to the array of numbers she balanced, though occasionally checking on him. He was clad in all black like a walking mystery shrouded in secrecy. He was a mixup from her typical shift. Since he shielded his face with his hat, she wasn’t sure if she should approach him, but her better judgement told her to treat him as if he were any other customer. Jill topped off Glenn’s coffee, almost forgetting to pay attention as her focus was pulled elsewhere. 

Thankfully, she regained her rights and made sure her current customers were taken care of before making her way to the mob of young adult men who were particularly rambunctious this night. She overheard garbled conversation of advancing to the state playoffs which filled in all the gaps she needed to know. With her order booklet ready, she made rounds. They typically didn’t venture from what they frequently ordered, which made Jill’s life a tad bit easier.

“Hey Jill, when are you going to let me take you out of this place to a real restaurant?” Paul smirked at her, having given similar variations of the same line to her in the past. The blonde man with brown eyes was a football player for the local college, hoping to make it big. In fact, they all played for the football team. Paul had always been the most vocal about his flirting, clearly having not been turned down in his hometown very often. Jill didn’t know if his jaw could drop any faster than it had the very first time he asked her out and she declined. He recovered quickly and played it off as though he had only been half-serious, but she could see he had been slightly jilted with the word ‘no’. 

“When you can afford me, so… never?” She was quick and clever when it came to shooting them down. The boys had never gone beyond playful, to which she was thankful for. “So, who is next? Who’s gonna shoot their shot now?” Jill gestured for the next grab, though it was evident that she was being lighthearted with them. All were hysterical, always prompting laughter from the waitress’ lips. They varied in the degree of their attempt, Paul usually being the worst and Steven being the gentlest. Matt was from the Northeast with his evident accent that he swore he didn’t have. Jerome was from the south, vowing to make his mother proud with his grades and athletics scholarship. Jared was from the Northwest, a country boy that tended to the family farm but broke off with bigger aspirations in life. Steven was a lean Asian man that defied his family to play football. They had planned his life for him, which he didn’t dream of. Jill was proud of him for standing his ground to live his own life. He was, by far, the sweetest of the bunch with his pickup lines, which the waitress surmised was just to fit into the situation. Everyone else was doing it, so he figured he would, as well. It almost made her want to accept his proposal just to mess with his friends, but almost wasn’t enough to convince her of doing so. She addressed each one, waiting for the playful pickup lines before shutting them down with grace, poise and a smile on her face. It was flattering that they found her attractive despite having ten-or-so years on them. She took pride in how she kept herself together, applying extra effort when need be, but she took care of herself and apparently it showed. 

As she jotted down each meal order, Jill couldn’t help but to feel as though she were being watched by a spectre in the corner. He had been so silent, so still the entire time. It was eerie, yet she wanted to see his face, which was beyond her. She wanted to find out the reasoning behind the masking. She wasn’t sure what to expect beneath the hat, nor did she know if she’d even get that far. Finishing with the young men, she took a minute to go pin the checks to the order wheel, momentarily shielded by the walls that formed the cook’s alcove. Using a small mirror, she used her fingertips to give her hair a tousle and re-apply her lipstick, a warm nude color, rubbing her lips gently together. The man was new to the diner and it was her job to ensure he had a pleasant time to return. Jill’s boss had confided in her the troubles the diner had hit so any customer was a step toward keeping the doors open. 

Jill drew in a long breath that rooted itself in her stomach, her chest raising and falling as though weighted down with an anxious feeling before walking out toward the table that sat the cloaked gentleman. She couldn’t for the life of her figure out why she was so curious and intrigued about him. For all she knew he could have been a homicidal maniac just moments from breaking out in a murderous rampage. Yet something nagged at her, drawing her interest to him as her feet, quite literally, brought her physically closer to him. Each step was heavy in its placement, a specific destination lying ahead of her. The diner was typically kept at a pleasant temperature, with the exception of days with colder weather, such as the evening she was working, that the staff would dab the thermostat up a bit. With the cook’s ovens and burners constantly blazing and the hot coffee brewing into stainless steel carafes all day long, Jill always found the climate within the diner to be suitable for how she dressed. She had chosen the comfortable flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up after checking the weather before her shift,  though she noticed as she neared the lone table against the glass that she seemingly became colder, a chill dancing atop her flesh. Bringing her hands briefly to rub over the top of the sleeves of her shirt to warm herself, Jill continued on her path. 

The waitress pulled a deep, reassuring breath through her lips before approaching the table. The bill of the man’s hat had been pointed in the direction of the opposite side of the diner, never moving once he settled in. Without thinking, Jill took the few extra strides to move in front of his view, her hands moving to perch on the curve of her waist before speaking as she smiled though his face never once glanced up to acknowledge her. She could practically feel Bernice’s prying eyes boring into her back, shielded by the waitress.

“Hi, there! I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. My name’s Jill and I’ll be your waitress on duty tonight. What can I get you?” Jill added a bit of pep to her voice, her one hip subtly cocked out to place most of her weight on the corresponding foot. She tried, for the life of her, to figure out why she wanted to hear what his voice sounded like so badly in that very moment. Perhaps it was the classic trope of the good, innocent girl and the bad, mysterious boy but he was such an enigma to her. Her eyes followed his hand as he fumbled with the menu provided, but still, he didn’t move his head a single inch. She anticipated hearing him speak. She could see from his nose down to his chin and neck, which from what she saw was more than appealing, but he remained in the shadow of the bill of his hat. Jill wasn’t sure if hearing him speak would alleviate her curiosity or add to the mystery, but she still waited to hear him. 

“Green tea. Iced.” His voice was low, yet smooth. A mixture of a whisper and coarseness. Jill felt every hair on her arms raise in reaction, her flesh prickling as a small shudder swept over her. His voice was far different than what she had imagined in her mind, but it wasn’t different in a bad way, based on her body’s involuntary response to three simple words. Yet, those three words, watching them leave his mouth, watching the details of his lips as he formed them was enough for her to forget for merely a moment where she was and what she was doing. Blinking hard to bring herself back to reality, Jill fumbled with her hands to grab her order pad and pen, giving one blunt nod before scrawling down his request. 

“Iced green tea, coming right up. What’s uh… a name I can put on this order?” The waitress hoped she recovered nicely to not expose her nerves. Why on earth was she so timid and coy when it came to this man that she didn’t even know? Confusion didn’t even begin to touch the way she felt inside, knowing that this elusive man was simply another customer, yet still, there was a strange, baffling draw toward him. Jill’s teeth found the inner-edge of her lips, gnawing as the tension of the moment flared. At least she’d have a name for half of the face.

“Brian.” Faint and subdued, just as before, though she did detect a hint of an accent. More curiosities swirled around in her brain as she then began to wonder about where he was from, what brought him here, of all places. What he did.  She just simply wanted to know him… though finally, she had a name. She thought of asking more, but instead, she kept her professional distance. If he had the capacity to peek inside her mind he’d surely be out of the door in an instant. Still, she wasn’t a moron as he definitely made it known through his demeanor that he surely didn’t want to be bothered.

“Right. Iced green tea for Brian, coming right up.” Jill held the book of paper and pen to her chest before twisting around on the balls of her feet, her hair swinging listlessly as she made the turn. Despite her wanting to keep in his company and continue asking him whatever popped in her mind, his disposition made her better judgment kick in. 

Jill found herself at her work station, entering her credentials into the kiosk. She gripped the edges of the table and bent over to release a long, shaky breath as it loaded the program on the screen. Her eyes closed briefly, unable to pinpoint exactly what in the hell was up with her that night. She never lost her cool, and more importantly, never felt so compelled to a stranger. ‘Get a grip, Jill. Snap out of it’. She was glad her brain still had a semblance of rationality. Bringing herself back, she lifted her head to punch in the order for the table before suspending it to make the tea. It wasn’t ordered often in the diner, but the task had seemed simple enough. She placed the tea bags into the cup, pouring half of the water from the heated spigot to allow it to steep. While she waited for the essence of the green tea to infuse with the water, she prepared a saucer with an array of sweeteners and a straw, making sure each placement was precise and to her liking in a circular fan-shape. She couldn’t figure out why on earth she was putting so much thought into it but still, she strived to make a good impression. Once the tea was ready, she added the rest of the cold water and ice to top it off. She placed the glass in the center of the display of paper packets and ushered it over to his table, swallowing hard as the distance between them closed. 

“Enjoy, Brian... “ Jill smiled as she sat the tea down on the table beside him, though he couldn’t see her expression through the thick material of his hat, opting for a slight nod instead. Jill lingered for just a moment before pacing backwards slowly away, turning on her heel to check in with Holli, then next Bernice, and finally to check on the group of guys, occasionally casting a glance Brian’s way in hopes to catch a glimpse of his full-face. He was stoic as he sat, his hand only moving to take idle sips of the tea, opting to drink it plain. She hoped she had prepared it well enough to his liking. 

He never ordered anything else. The entirety of his stay he nursed that tea and made it last throughout it. Jill had said her goodbyes to Glenn and Jack, sending them off in their usual manner before closing their tab and setting aside the same allocated tip they always left on their bill. It wasn’t much, but it was a nice gesture. The meals of the college students were ushered out swiftly. Next came her duties of refilling condiments, prepping for the next shift that would relieve her. It was all about helping out. She cleared Holli’s table after she had left, though Holli only ever ordered appetizers, keeping her table free of obstacles as her pencil was constantly on her sketch pad. 

“Anything else I can get for you, or are you packing up for the night?” Next was the bookkeeper’s turn as she helped Bernice gather her things and return them to her orderly nature. The bookkeeper was growing older in age and appreciated all the help she could get.  Jill crouched down to the elder woman’s level as she leaned in close, one defined brow among her wrinkly complexion arched in suspicion as she glanced toward the massive pane of glass. 

“No, I’m doing just fine. But have you seen that fellow over there? I don’t know about you, but he seems up to no good… So very odd.” The woman’s voice was gravelly, yet quiet. Her deep, blue eyes fixated on him as though she were the watch-person for the diner. Truth be told, she was a nosey woman who loved to impede where she could. Shifting on her feet, still crouched, to cast a glance at the man in black. She couldn’t help the chill that trickled down her spine in the most exhilarating way. She captured her plump lower lip between her teeth, gently biting down in thought before turning back to the matronly woman.

“Oh, stop that, Bernice,” she said teasingly to her customer. “That doesn’t seem very becoming of you to judge someone you don’t even know. Besides, he’s probably just passing through and you’ll probably never see him again. Maybe he’s waiting on a car repair and has nothing but time to sit and relax? You just don’t know.” Jill was right and Bernice knew it. Her pride made the older woman turn her nose upward, her chest puffed as though she would rather appear courageous in her accusations than recoil in defeat. Jill gathered up the clutter after assisting the woman, though after Jill’s remark, she managed to finish cleaning up her things on her own. Pride could be unbecoming for some. 

Jill brought the dirty dishes to the back to throw in the washer in her off-time before it was time to close out the group of friends and their order. She collected all their payment methods and returned with their corresponding receipts. They had always been kind tippers, despite being college students. Their mothers would be proud. She said her goodbyes, wished them safe travels and told them she’d see them the next night, just as though it were second nature. Her smile was bright as her eyes followed them toward the door, noticing Brian had left already without a trace. Jill’s eyebrow quirked as she made her way to his table to clear the untouched saucer and glass. He had finished the beverage completely. Lifting each item, she noticed the bill tucked beneath the condiment holder. He had left a fifty dollar bill to purchase a two dollar drink with free refills. The edges of Jill’s lips twitched upward in a smirk as she picked it up. She was more than flattered but knew she was undeserving of such a tip. As her eyes lifted to peer through the glass into the dark and rainy evening, they settled on the abandoned building outside, seemingly in a daze of hoping she’d left a good enough impression that he’d return. 

Jill put the remainder of Brian’s money into an envelope to stow in her locker in the employee’s break room. If he’d come back, she’d kindly remit it back to him. She’d give it a month before accepting his generosity, though it was hardly something she expected with how impersonal he had been with her. Despite that, she still looked forward to his presence, should he show again, more than she should have.

[nymphigeon]

From me, to you || 01

♤ Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

♤ Genre: fluff, angst, romance, hybrid au, hybrid!Taehyung, detective!reader

♤ Words: 2.1k

♤ Rating: PG-13

♤ Warnings (for this chapter): swearing, crime, a sex club, mentions of murder, blood, mentions of hybrid abuse, mentions of drugs, mentions of the mafia.

Synopsis: A story in which he has never known love, so you'll give it to him.

Series masterlist

01 02

The weather has been terrible lately. The summer heat has been replaced by cold days full of rain and wind. The sky is constantly grey with now and then a flash of light caused by the thunderbolt that decided to say hi. Leaves have turned brown, dying as the trees don’t have the resources to take care of them anymore.

The flock of people on the streets has all but disappeared, giving shops an opportunity to adjust their opening times. Animals feel the need to hide away more and leave to their homes underground or high up. Some even completely move to places where the sun shines brighter. Of course, because where the sun shines there is warmth.

Now sometimes autumn is associated with warm chocolate milk in front of the fire place wrapped up in a blanket. A slow song is playing in the background on low volume while you’re playing cards on the floor, or well most likely on a rug. Seated comfortably, your back against the sofa and your knees raised, nicely cuddled up into yourself, or perhaps someone else.

The sound of rain hitting the windows acts as a lullaby during your time inside. And if you do forcefully need to get out for a short time, the pleasant petrichor will softly welcome you. Or maybe this sounds more like winter? What does it matter, both seasons are cold.

At the time mother nature decided to shift it’s warmth to other places on earth, a thick layer of unease seemed to settle over the city. Like all the fun the sunrays brought were traded for despair. Awfully noticeable in how the amount of cases for the local police have risen dramatically.

People are staying at home so everyone who was hired during the busy summer has to be fired. There is too much staff otherwise. People in this particular town already aren’t the richest in the world, imagine what happens when employment rates drop.

Crimes have been a regular subject for the news. The few that did go outside, now stay at home out of fear. Curtains closed, lights out, please don’t enter my house. Or curtains opened, lights on, there is someone at home.

Most offenders have yet to been caught. Everyone is your enemy now. Don’t trust the neighbour who came home late last night. The sound of your glass falling is the window being broken. I’m calling the police.

While jewellery is being stolen at one side, someone will use the opportunity of the police being busy to kill the innocent. Or maybe they didn’t pay back the money they got from some sketchy dude in an alleyway down the street. Not so innocent anymore.

The only workers making bank at the moment are those with a career in law enforcement. Oh and those criminals were talking about. That includes hybrid dealers and unlicensed sex clubs.

When my boss called me to work, I didn’t expect to hear about a hybrid deal gone wrong inside said unlicensed sex club. Just for your information, treating hybrids like slaves has been long forbidden. You can own them, show off your wealth all you want, but the instant you hurt the half-animal you can see your money out the door. In return, you can expect expensive fines and imprisonment. At least that’s what is supposed to happen.

Still a blind eye is often turned to incidents involving hybrids by both the general public and law enforcements. You can also be fined for not turning in the information you have of a possible abuser, but say that’s also ignored, there is no other law backing the poor hybrid up.

The laws were originally established because the half-animals are also half-humans, created by some crazy scientist who perished years ago. Some rogue failed experiment turned on him. A warning for humans not to take in wild animal hybrids, not that anyone listened. Those wild animal hybrids are sometimes worth more money than the diamond necklace your mafia-boss husband got you.

The second I agreed to meet my colleagues at the crime scene I was hung up on, the beeping tone at my ear notifying me. I love the work I need to do, but I hate the people involved. It pays the bills though, so you won’t see me complaining. I get my stuff together and head out the house. It’s dark outside, raining too. The darkness might be explained by the fact that it’s 11 pm at night. Not the greatest time to be out. Luckily my job has provided me with a car, so you won’t see me walking.

During the ride the radio plays reports of different crimes throughout the city. Some happened at the exact same time, others had no connection whatsoever, yet they ended up being executed by the same group. Tv shows like CSI have been stuffing these sinners with the confidence to rob a place. The average criminal is luckily stupid enough not to know these shows don’t show the entire picture. However, that didn’t make them any easier to catch according to this radio report. On the other hand, what radio stations don’t know is that police won’t show them the entire picture either. Well they’re just there to spread panic, fact checking isn’t a job requirement.

The rain makes the view basically non-existent. Coming down like the angels are just throwing buckets of water over our heads, everything in the distance is blurry. Or maybe they just drank a lot, who knows. Weather reports have been warning for slippery roads, albeit I think they forgot to mention anything about nature made swimming pools outside of our houses.

Seeing as there is nothing good to report on the news they might as well downplay everything to give viewers their daily dose of good news. There is no good news though, and pretending that there is, is dangerous. Hope will only crush future expectations of being safe. Not that they care, they just need high ratings.

Seeing blurry blue and red lights in the distance is my indication that I’m getting close. I’ve never been to this part of town, if I had this so called sex club would’ve already been long gone. Don’t underestimate me, I can sense law breaking acts from a mile away. The fact that I don’t live too far away from addresses where everyone looks to be a drug addict just makes me better at my job.

I park my car next to the others at the side of the road and uncomfortably bend myself to take my bag from the backseat. I do not want to stand in this rain for longer than needed. I mentally prepare myself to get inside as fast as possible. I won’t worry about the sight inside too much, I’m used to it. 

I get out of the car and lock it, before walking over to the barricade tape. The outside of the club looks the same as any other sexual fantasy indulging club. Pink lights and posters of men and women in nothing but flimsy underwear plaster the windows. If it wasn’t for the bunch of officers behind the barricade tape, nobody would’ve known there was somebody murdered inside.

Reporters collect themselves in front of officers close to the tape, trying to get any kind of information out of them. They’re not getting any, so they keep trying, foolishly believing we know any more than they do. Well maybe a little more.

Anyways, without proper investigation we are just as clueless as they are. I’ll applaud their dedication though, as not all reporters have brought an umbrella with them. Imagine getting soaking wet just to ask a few questions. They might not have a raincoat, but they’re all somehow protecting their camera’s one way or another.

As I get closer to the tape blocking outsiders from entering, reporters notice me approaching. If it wasn’t for my uniform they wouldn’t even have batted a lash in my direction. Right now apparently, I’m the most interesting human being on earth. Remembering my trainings I keep my head low and ignore every question thrown my way, until I reach the officer waiting for me.

“Ah, detective Y/F/N Y/L/N, we have been expecting you.” He allows me to duck under the tape, fore shaking my hand and placing a gentle hand on my lower back. The umbrella he’s holding protects me from arriving inside looking like I just had a shower with my clothes on. Like this, I get escorted inside, leaving the flashing camera’s behind me.

“Good evening, Miss Y/L/N.” Another female detective greets me immediately once I step inside. The male officer gives me a nod ere disappearing back into the front garden of the club. Probably going to spend his time listening to silly questions and being blinded by light. At least he might make in on the front page of tomorrow’s newspapers. Maybe he’ll get scouted by some modelling agency just to appear on more front pages.

“David Brown, mid-thirties, and an employee at the club, Mia Labell, 23, both got killed after Brown tried to buy a hybrid of another man we can’t identify from the security footage. Both the hybrid and man wore a hood. We don’t know what went down inside the room as there are no camera’s inside and the walls are soundproof.” The woman, whose name is apparently Blair Miller as shown on the name badge on her chest, explains the situation while she leads me to the room.

“For an illegal sex club they are awfully professional.” I note, having paid close attention to her words. “Well if you don’t want to get outed by a customer I guess that’s the right thing to do. People value anonymity.” I  add as the other female holds up a key card against a control panel to the right of a metal door.

The door slides open after a beep of confirmation. A young girl laying on the large bed in the middle is the first thing I lay my eyes on. The bed sheets are tainted completely red with her blood. Next to the bed lies a man, drowning in a puddle of his own blood. The bodies of the two still look like they could stand up at any moment. “Time of death?”

I walk further into the room, looking around for any other clues I should note. “Approximately 10.38 pm for both of them.” Blair answers, meekly standing in the door opening. “How did they rent the room?” I put on a pair of white latex gloves, before gently expecting the girl on the bed, without moving her from her position. Her hands are tied together, thick ropes cutting into her skin. A gag in her mouth, a blindfold covering her eyes and some lingerie complete the look.

“They wanted one girl for the three of them, paid, then took this room as any other customer would.” Dangerous, there is no way to keep these girls safe. No camera’s, just selling them off to multiple men at the same time. Is there any security around here? The two bodies contain multiple stab marks in their chest and stomach area. There are no signs of any strangling or poisoning. Cause of death for now is bleeding to death, but we’ll have to wait for the autopsy.

“Three?” I don’t look at Blair as I voice my questions. I’m good at multitasking, no need to focus on one thing only. “Mister Brown, the unnamed man and the hybrid.” They rented the girl as normal, then tied her up and proceeded to use the room for their business. Seeing as both died around the same time, the girl was alive during their exchange. We can’t exactly ask her anything right now though.

“How did the culprit leave?” You take a swab from under the fingernails of both bodies, hoping they might have scratched whoever did this. “Leisurely strolled outside the front door with the hybrid on a leash.” The poor hybrid must have witnessed everything. There was never a reason for this to happen. “These two were found by a cleaner going in not even a minute or two later.” It’s not my job to care. It’s not my job to ask either, but I’m not heartless, I am able to feel sympathetic.

“How are they doing?” I look at Blair for this one. Maybe because it’s a different type of question. “Shocked at first of course. They’ve calmed down now.” That makes me feel better. I’ve been doing this for over 2 years, and never will I be able to understand how someone could do this. Then again, the reason for becoming a criminal investigator was not to understand anyway, but to serve, to protect. And protect I will.

[purplesurveys]

1147

Have you ever overflown a bathtub? Hmm, I can’t remember ever doing that.

Why did you ignore the last person you ignored? My new manager, Kata, messaged me a bunch of links to EXO’s videos to get me into them – I looooove that she’s friendly and we vibe super well so I have a feeling will be close soon enough, but I’m still a bit shy so I ignored her for a bit while I was thinking of a reply haha. I’ve since gotten back to her, though.

What's your favorite pizza place? Yellow Cab’s pizzas have never failed me. Mama Lou’s is good too, but they don’t deliver to my area so I haven’t had their pizzas and any of their food in over a year now.

What was the last stupid thing someone talked you into believing? That we can stay friends. I believed it for a while and it was so mentally and emotionally deteriorating for me, so I did the right thing and let go instead.

What's at the top of your to do list in life? Save. I’m superrrrr frugal with my money and hate spoiling myself. I’d rather enjoy everything in the future once I feel like it’s right to settle down.

What's a song that would describe your life at the moment? What Type of X by Jessi. Maybe not my life, but the song certainly matches my mood these days.

Do you ever scream at inanimate objects? Occasionally, if they’re not working or if I accidentally hurt myself with them.

What was the last thing that you shared? I just had lunch delivered to Angela’s place as a surprise, if that counts. I got her chicken wings and these chocolate chip cookies she’s always wanted to try. It feels really nice surprising people with gifts; I might start making it a habit :) I have to credit my director Bea for it - she’s been having food delivered to mine and Kata’s places recently and I just want to pay it forward.

What smell/s can you absolutely not stand? Fruits. We constantly have a stock of oranges because my parents and sister like having them after dinner, and the smell is nauseating. Spoiled food is also high up on my list, and the general smell in Manila is also very foul. Go to other places in the Philippines if you’ll ever visit!!!

Do you ever eat leftover pizza cold? Yessssssssssssssss. Idk why but I find it really good? like even if I eat it straight out of the fridge.

Where are you the most ticklish? The sides of my stomach and around my neck.

Would you put your life in danger to rescue someone? Someone absolutely important to me, yes.

When you're wanting a midnight snack, what do you normally get? I usually don’t really like the snacks we have in our pantry so unless I already had food delivered earlier in the evening I just let the hunger fade because I don’t like having food delivered that late anyway.

Which cartoon character would you want to keep as a pet? Buster from Toy Story. Or Maximus from Tangled but in dog form, because I don’t know how to care for a horse.

What color best represents you? Something peaceful like off-white, or a pastel shade.

Do you like marshmallows? I hate them.

What is your favorite flavor of candy cane? I also don’t like candy canes, or candy in general. Too sweet and I can always feel how unhealthy they are whenever I have to have them.

Do you have any shoeboxes full of old photos/letters/other memorable stuff? My mom has several plastic bags filled with photographs over the last few decades. As for me, I don’t own any memory boxes; but recently, I’ve been sticking up notes from my friends and co-workers up on my corkboard.

Are you in any way double jointed? Nope.

Have you ever considered a career in music/acting? Never. I never liked singing in public and I’ve never considered acting.

When was the last time you felt seriously embarrassed? A few days ago when I accidentally turned my camera on during a work Zoom meeting while I looked completely unpresentable. Luckily I knew I clicked the button and immediately un-clicked it, but my video still showed up for like 0.001 seconds lol.

Have you ever liked a song, looked up the lyrics to it, then hated it? I don’t think I’ve gone so far as to hate it. I have felt slightly disturbed upon hearing the lyrics of some songs I’ve taken a liking to though; and Cherry Wine by Hozier certainly ticks off this box.

Which is worse for you: being hot, or being cold? Hot, which is why living where I do doesn’t work with me well for the most part.

What would be the icing on the cake for you this Christmas? Get nicer gifts for my loved ones. I was able to get everyone presents last Christmas, but given that I had just received my first-ever salary then, I wasn’t able to go all out as much as I would’ve liked. I’d love to spoil my loved ones even more for next Christmas.

If you had the opportunity to live forever, would you take it? Probably, as long as I was guaranteed to live comfortably. I’d love to see how else technology can continue to improve.

Have you made someone happy today? I hope so, when I got Angela food earlier.

Do you generally watch a lot of television? I do watch my favorite shows a lot, but not on television. Most of my content I already consume online.

If your bedroom walls could talk, what would they most likely say? They’d probably go over all the shit I had to go through and the ensuing breakdowns they’ve had to watch from me over the years.

What's your favorite Christmas song? It’s Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas, because it makes me feel festive.

Did you ever really believe in Santa Claus? Only for a brief moment when I was introduced to the concept, but kid-me never bought it because he never showed up.

Do you like the band Relient K? I’ve heard of the band name but I’m largely unfamiliar with them.

Have you ever seen a movie that was better than the book it was based on? Maybe, but for the most part I usually find the books to be better.

Do you like quesadillas? Yes, omg and with jalapeños and cheese *chef’s kiss*

Did you like the show Invader Zim? Nope.

Do you think tomorrow will be a good day? I feel like I’ll be sullen because it will be Sunday again, but I still plan on making the most out of it.

Do you ever talk to yourself? A lot.

Whose butt did you last slap? Idk, probably my ex.

Do you think that chivalry is dead? I don’t think so, but I also think it’s a bit outdated.

What's the greatest/most influential song you've ever heard? That’s a lot of pressure on a song... as much as I don’t really like The Beatles, I’d say Hey Jude has been pretty influential.

What's the weirdest thing you've seen in a grocery store? Not sure. If I had thought something I’ve seen was the weirdest thing ever, I would’ve taken a photo.

What is true love to you? Sacrifices.

Do you like chocolate milk? YES, lactose intolerance be damned.

Have you ever bought yourself a present on Christmas? Not yet. I hope to be able to this year!

Have you ever been on a mechanical bull? Nope, but I’d definitely get on one if I find one here.

Do you prefer to pull off band-aids slowly or quickly? Slowly. Actually, I prefer running water over it until it just slides off.

Have you made a mistake in the past week? I am constantly making tiny mistakes at work.

What was the last weird thing you said to someone? Idk, I feel like all the conversations I’ve had recently didn’t involve any inside jokes or general weirdness.

Have you ever met any bands/band members before? I got to work with one - Redd is the drummer for a local band but he’s since resigned to work with another company.

Have you ever sat on a copy machine and made copies of your butt? No. I’ve never even used a copy machine.

Are you a camera whore? Not at all, I hate posing for the camera.

Have you ever purposely dropped someone's toothbrush in a toilet? Never even considered it.

What kind of mood are you in right now? A little sad because it’s the weekend and I can’t even do my weekend coffee shop trips anymore because Covid cases are experiencing another surge (9000 cases a day!!!), protocols are everywhere again, and my parents already told me I can’t go out...those moments were my rare time alone where I can take walks and reflect and whatnot (and not to mention experieince air conditioning for a few hours), so it sucks to have to be stuck at home again. There’s not much to do at home to begin with, so now I’m just stuck in a cycle of taking surveys and finding videos to watch on YouTube.

What was the last thing someone told you that had you at a loss for words? I was ranting to Andi about how I started despising Diane from BoJack Horseman the moment she flipped out over Mr. Peanutbutter gifting her an entire library. I get where she’s coming from, of course, “understand people’s love language” and all that; but I felt like the very hostile reaction was super uncalled for and it reminded me a lot of my relationship with Gabie – I liked giving and giving, but it was either 1) never enough or 2) apparently the wrong way to show her love, and I was always the one punished for it in the end. I told Andi that because of my experience with her, I don’t even feel like giving a library (metaphorically speaking) to any future significant others anymore because of how hard I had it with her. 

Anyway, they gave me some advice about it and in the end they told me, “One day, someone will tell you, “Thank you for your library.’” It was very beautifully put and I struggled to find the words to reply.

What's something that always makes you smile, regardless of what’s going on? I’m not sure there is such a no-fail thing.

What was that last thing that you bought online? Food for Angela.

Do you enjoy riding around town looking at Christmas lights? Yeah, but the general mood for last year obviously wasn’t super festive and there weren’t as much lights, so it’s been a while since I’ve seen my village all decked out.

Is there someone that you're mean to for no good reason? No, that’s terrible.

What was the last thing you got out of the freezer? The coffee ice cream that I bought from Leigh yesterday! It’s crazy fucking good and I already feel a repeat order coming through.

Are you currently reading anything? No.

What's a good book you'd recommend? I don’t read anymore. I know child/teen-me would be very disappointed.

[girlwithwolftatoo]

Your “eco-friendly fashion” can go and f*ck itself, and so you do.

Let me explain this: no, I don’t hate the eco-friendly trending of, actually, trying to get the less waste of products and similar stuff, for we need to be more responsible with the planet because, just as Starlord said, we are the idiots living on it. 

The problem comes when this idea of a “green life” becomes just another fashion to follow, building another bloody capitalist industry around it so those poor nasty rich people feel a little less bad for basically being the ones who contributes at more than 50% of carbon emissions  and contamination. What am I talking about? Let’s check some advices to contribute to help the enviroment which are in fact just pacifiers for first world, good wealth people:

Wasting reduction, a.k.a “my zero waste challenge”. Yes, plastic is the big villain at this moment, and to fight against it the population across the world is recomending the use of certain stuff to replace it, like glass recipents (fun fact: some idiotics enjoy saying how millenials are guilty for using plastic containers instead of glass like “my good ol’ granpa used to”, but hey, guess which generation started exploiding petroleum -where plastic comes from- to increase their wealth and reduce costs of production? One clue: not Millenials) or fabric bags. A good idea? Yes, until you remember most of the products like food come in plastic stuff, and I’m not just talking about that first world obssession for covering their fruit and veggies with fucking plastic when, hello, fruits and veggies ARE ALREADY PROTECTED BY THEIR SKIN, YOU JUST NEED TO FUCKING WASH IT A LITTLE BEFORE COOKING. 

Yes, Karen, I know what you’re thinking, “Well, duh, if you don’t like plastic around your food go to an organic market, they have this lovelies glass or fabric containers, stop complaining and do what U need to do”. And here comes problem number two:

Organic everything, the new way to show how rich you are. I have some news for ya, except for the processed food, EVERYTHING IS ORGANIC. The only problem is you are afraid of “toxicity in food for pesticides and dark water” which, guess what, is pushed violently by your bloody wild capitalism in order to produce more food. And now a lot of stores selling you organic, zero-waste, green food is just part of the same system, it just puts a huge stick in front of your ecologic container swearing these overpriced carrot (which vitamins are THE SAME AS THAT DOUBLE-LEGGED CARROT PLACES LIKE FUCKING WAL-MART RATHER THROWS TO THE GARBAGE) is good and fair... yeees, you just need to make some researchs on internet to find out the “fair price” for the peasants and agriculture workers just doesn’t equals the price you are paying to your white, nice lady in white uniform attending your weekly shopping of “clean” veggies and soy and quinoa. 

I know some countries aren’t used of local/producers market where you’re actually buying to the producer and paying a low price that goes directly to the field workers, but here’s a funny thing: the organic stores doesn’t just sell you the idea of “organic, ecologic” stuff, but the key word is “clean”, the idea of a mutant potato sounds “unclean” for them, because if it has a brother stuck in a side of it is because it was soaked in “evil chemistry stuff to make it grow like that”. Well, say thanks to Monsanto for covering the world with their bloody products who are actually doing worse damage than your ugly looking veggies, and all of it just to make money and provide you, person of a wealthy, capitalist, whitey country, of your organic stores and the rest of your nice stuff like year model car and Starbucks. 

In short: organic stores are just face washed supermarkets feeding with the explotation of people in other countries, putting an enormous, unnecessary price to their stuff which not everybody can afford just to make you feel good and a planet savior. 

The cow didn’t suffered, but what about Pablo? I know I’m entering a dangerous point here, but with these eco-friendly trending, veganism has been exploited like the panacea for everything, from enviroment contamination to poor cows and pigs crying in the farms. And yes, becoming more aware of the cruelty towards animals has been the iceberg peak to become more humans and protective to the other living forms in our society, and yes, the carnic industry tends to be awful and utterly disgusting... IN FIRST WORLD COUNTRIES. 

This might sound shocking, but the images of cattle of any shape being tormented since the moment of birth are usually from USA, UK and similar “farms” which act more like a corporation in the middle of a field than like a real farm. Places like South and Central America has a carnic indsutry which works pretty different; you can actually see, in a daily basis, cows and goats walking free in the farm’s territory, eating as much as they want and sometimes getting involved in fights with cars on the road, and though this isn’t an excuse for the late slaughter, at least those aren’t creatures jailed and tortured inside a 5x5 box. Chickens are the same, for instead of killing the males the farms in Mexico and sibbling countries rather let them grow to become the source of meat, the hens aren’t eaten a lot in our culture so they live to lay eggs and they also have a nice life in comparison with their north-americans or european pals. 

In other words: stopping meat consume doesn’t make you the person of the year, but fighting for animal rights and stop eating meat from massive industries will help a lot more than just hating everyone for getting a burger. 

“But still I rather take vegan products, soy and quinoa and other stuff...” Uh, do you remember what I said about the organic stores selling you smoke and mirrors? Yes, perhaps none animal died because of your vegan product (at least not none of the cuties like baby cows and chubby pigs, just a bunch of insects which exists as part of the natural balance and very probably wild life), but a lot of people of third world countries certainly will. Illegal buy of land made by corporations to needy goverments, privatization of fucking water from local comunities in order to create and feed fields of “organic food”, child and indigenous abuse due to this “legal steal” of land and bad payed, forced work (because in the end, the poor need to, you know, fucking live even if it’s at the minimun wage)... All of this so the white lady who enjoys speaking to managers and drives a massive truck just for her and her two children, can go and buy her quinoa and post a pic on Instagram claiming how “nice and easy” is save the enviroment.

Oh, I know, I’m being too mean to that people, am I? I don’t fucking care, because the hidden part of this fashion, the worst part of this idea of “ecologic capitalism” comes with this only truth:

Poor people aren’t “eco-friendly”. Classism has become the key to keep this trending just made for the wealthy, the idea of poor people not being “good with the enviroment” comes from a lot of cultural ideas created by the vision of a thirds of the population. Rich people hates seeing images of countries like India, Colombia, Phillipines and similar because the images sell a complete lie which helps to keep them in a bubble: poor people eating fast food or buying things in plastic containers is gross and they think “Oh thank God I left that life style behind” as they drive his car leaving a lot of CO2 compared to those who takes public transport, that same public transport that looks disgusting in those images I’m talking about, because hat portion of the world has no money to get new vehicles every year, because they can’t #govegan because their only sources of a certain quality food is the normal food, those who doesn’ have a seal of aproval which claims how enviroment-savior is, because that lack of wealth forces them to work much more than people of France, Germany or USA and gaining much less than them, with so little time to think on “being green”, sometimes even with little time to cook natural food in their homes, and of course being unable to pay to an inmigrant to cook for them like... well, you know like who. And because these poor people, who works and dies because their country and the “free market” is pushing them to a modern slavery for international corps which provide to their targets, people who aren’t from the South of the tropics, white and wealthy, free of any guilt because they spend 50 bucks every week in organic coffee which was grounded in the last remains of an indigenous land and harvested for a dark-skin, 10 y/o boy who is forced to work instead of studying because all this economic machine made him part of the poorest side of the society, the idea of being “better than others”. Because they’re selling the idea that being a helper for the enviroment is easy, as long as you can afford it in their terms, becaus they’re making you think your green bag is making more for the world than stop and think how those who make that bag are being paid 5 cents of dollar at day in a dark little room in the East of the world, consumed by the greed and vanity of capitalism.

You can be eco-friendly without spending like an idiot in that special stores and markets. How? You can recycle when you’re able to, you can use public transport or walk for short distances instead of depending of your car, you can carry water in a bottle to avoid buying one-use bottles outside, you can support your local producers market and stop thinking of the “zero waste challenge” and making it the “less, well thinking waste daily basis”. And, for the love of any God you’re praying to, STOP SUPPORTING FUCKING MARKET CHAINS OF ALLEGEDLY VEGAN, GLUTEN-FREE, ECOLOGIC SHIT. If you have the time and money to make your own food or to spend less plastic, FUCKING DO IT FOR YOURSELF AND NOT VIA BUYING USELESS SHIT FROM THOSE COMPANIES.

This was my 2020 year advice, thanks for reading. If you want more info, you can search for “international agriculture explotation”, “organic food origin” and “most enviromental dangerous companies” in your favorite searcher.

[stupidheadwithablog]

Robin Hood Chapter One

The area around my left eye was sore and it was starting to swell shut thanks to me getting punched there. I’d just beaten the crap out of some guy a year older than I am in the local library who thought it was a good idea to called me a selfish bitch simply because he somehow managed to found out that I’m still a virgin. Okay, technically it was my own fault that he’d found that out, but it’s not my fault his dumb self didn’t know the correct meaning of what a virgin is! Not only that, once I told him what it meant he said that it should be illegal for females over fourteen to be one! What the fuck!?!

Anyways, I’m sixteen, so I’m not even worried about still being a virgin. No one my age should, in my opinion. I told him that too, and that jerk said how his own father taught him how females are only good for being in the bed or in the kitchen.

I kind of feel bad for him, being brainwashed to believe those majorly outdated ideas by his own father. I feel bad for his mom too, if she’s still even with his father. I sure hope she isn’t still with a jerk like that.

It made me megapissed when he tried to force himself on me after insulting me for my opinions, so the way I see it is that I had no other choice but to beat him up for trying that shit on me.

I’d gotten banned from the library for a month while he’d gotten kicked out for life. It sucks for him since I’d seen him in there a bunch, but he really should have know better than to try something like that in a public area.

It would have been a lifetime for the both of us, but thankfully for me, my brother had the smart idea to record the whole fight on his phone. It was proof that I didn’t start it and was only fighting back as self defense, seeing as how I didn’t start fighting until after he’d pressed his lips on mine. I feel gross thinking about it. I thank whatever powerful force out there that’s keeping this planet together for planting the idea of phones having cameras into someone’s head.

The lower part of my left arm is a bit sore along with my eye, and there was a hand mark there thanks to him grabbing my arm there really tight when he’d forced his mouth on mine. My knee is sore too from when I’d kneed him in the privates after he forced me to kiss him and my knuckles are pretty sore and two of them on each hand are starting to bleed from all the times I’d punched him. I’d definitely need some icepacks and bandages once I got back to my foster home.

“Robin, you’re not hurt too bad, are you?” My brother asked, ever the worrier he is.

“He managed to get a few good hits in, but nothing bad enough that I’d need to see a doctor, so you don’t need to worry about me.” I told him, pulling my hair out of my face and back into a wolf tail with one of the hair ties I tend to keep on my wrist.

It would have been a ponytail, except for the fact that I shaved the hair off of the back and sides of my head almost a week ago, leaving my red hair only on the top of my head, reaching just below my shoulders.

“Do you want to get it iced?”

“Not right now. Can I have her back now?” I asked my brother, gesturing to my beat up black and dark green backpack.

“Here you go.” He said, carefully passing the bag over to me. Opening it up, I looked at the tiny black and white dog that, at this point, was more gray than anything.

“You’re a good girl, you know that? You stayed quiet the whole time we were in the library!” I told her, playfully moving her ears around for a bit before scratching her behind them. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a zip lock bag that I used to keep dog treats for her. I let out a sigh when I saw that there was only a few left. That wouldn’t last very long with how much the tiny dog tended to eat.

“This is one of the last few, but you deserve it.” I said, handing her the treat that looked like a tiny hotdog in a hotdog bun.

My brother Jonathan and I have lived in foster care ever since our parents died when we were little. I’m the older one out of the two of us. With the two of us constantly being passed around from one foster home to another, the two of us quickly realized that the only ones we could rely on always being there no matter what were each other.

Then there’s my dog, Ellie. She’s a mix of multiple breeds of dogs and the only one I’m able to recognize is Papillion thanks to those butterfly ears of hers that look like they’re flapping every time she jumps or I go to toss her on my bed.

My mom gave her to me as my fifth birthday present when she was already two years old. She’s thirteen now, which saddens me whenever I think about it because I had to take her to the vet a few months ago to get her shots updated and they said that they only expect her to only live at least one more year, two if we’re lucky.

“Hey, since it’s nice out and we’re not really expected back for a couple more hours, how would you feel if we were to go to that pizzeria down the street?” I asked my brother, walking backwards after jumping in front of his path so I could face him while talking. If there was a car driving on any of the roads we had to walk across, he would let me know.

“The pizza there is super greasy and expensive. Also, you didn’t have any money last time I checked.” He said, stopping at a street corner. If we walked straight according to the direction he was facing it would eventually lead us back to the foster house we were staying at. However, if we went left, according to the direction I’m facing, right according to the direction he was facing, it would quickly take us to the pizzeria.

“Hey, I actually like greasy pizza! Besides, you and I both know that there’s barely anything in the kitchen back home and I’m hungry. Also, what makes you think I don’t have any money?” I asked him, holding up the two fifty dollar bills I managed to slip out of the jerk’s pockets during the fight. When I referred to the foster home as home, I didn’t mean it. It was a fact I didn’t have to say out loud because of him being fully aware of that. After all, he felt the same way about that place. “You know what? If it makes you feel any better, I’ll ask the workers there if I can have some ice to put on my eye. Does that make you feel any better?”

“You and your sticky fingers.” Jonathan said laughing, turning towards his right.

“Crappy pizza, here we come!” I said, laughing as well.

~~~~~

“Wait, so he took the sister instead?” I heard a familiar voice say, walking into the pizzeria. I tried to ignore what he said and instead, I tore off a piece of crust from the first slice of pizza I had so I could feed it to my tiny mix breed dog that I had managed to smuggle into the pizza shop by keeping her in my backpack. I twirled my finger in the air around her muzzle before poking her on the nose when she gave me a look that I recognized as her wanting more.

“Yep. Apparently she wasn’t as attractive, but she made sure to make it up to him, if you know what I mean.” I heard a second familiar voice say. I was unable to place a face with the voices, so I found myself turning around to figure out who they were.

“Oh, dear god.” I said, pulling the hood from my jacket up while turning back around.

“Rob, what is it?” My brother said around the mouthful of his pepperoni pizza.

“You see the two boys that just walked in? The blonde is the one that kicked me out of the seat and told me to go jump off a bridge because no one likes me after I had a super crappy day at school, and the brunette is the one that started to spread rumors around the school that I’m his baby mama and sell myself super cheep.” I told him, trying to stretch my hood further over my face.

“They’re the ones that did that to you? They can’t do that to you and get away with it. I’m going to go beat them up.” Jonathan said, placing down his pizza before attempting to slide out of the booth we were sitting in.

“Don’t you dare, Little John. You don’t even come close to swinging a proper punch and I’m not about to risk both of us getting kicked out of a building in the same day.” I said, moving my leg so it blocked him from sliding out any further by placing my foot against the back of the bench he was sitting on.

Little John was originally our parents nickname for him thanks to him being named after our father. With both of them gone, I try to use it whenever I see the chance. Most of the time, that’s times like this when I need him to calm down.

“Thank you. Now just finish your pizza and root beer so we can get out of here.” I said, placing my foot back on the floor and taking a bite out of my mushroom and chicken pizza when he slid back to his seat. “Chances are that they might not even notice me anyway. Hardly anyone ever pays attention to me anyway, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know that. Doesn’t mean I think it’s right. You’re one of the most caring people I know. People should be able to realize that you exist.”

“Hey, I’m notas nice as you like to make me out to be. If I don’t like someone, I like to make sure they know it and I get into fights a lot because of that.” I told him, acting like he’d managed to insult me.

“I said that you’re caring, meaning that you tend to help people out whenever you can, even if they’re not fully on your good side. Like when you were in fifth grade and ran to get the school nurse when Lillian Merlin fell off the swings and landed on her arm even though she liked to trip you every time you walked past her.”

“Boy, she didn’t just fall off the swings and land on her arm! She flew at least ten feet away from the swing set and ended slamming her arm on the ground so hard that it ended up breaking!” I said, reaching for my large cup of sweet ice tea with the intentions of taking a huge gulp.

“Hey Tom, look who’s here!” I heard the blond boy, David say.

“Please tell me they’re not looking in our direction.” I whispered to my brother.

“Sorry. They’re walking our way right now.” He whispered back.

“Screw my luck. Don’t you dare try to step in.” I said, turning to sit so my legs were outside of the booth, getting ready to stand up.

“Hey, lesbo, who’s your girlfriend?” I heard Thomas, the brunette say, actually insulting my brother.

“Well look who it is, Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber.” I said, reaching behind me to make sure I was able to reach my cup of iced tea in case I felt the need to splash it on them as I stood up. “For the record you two, that’s not my girlfriend. He’s my brother.”

“What did you just call us?” Thomas, the brunette said.

“Well, I was originally going to call you two Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, after the two characters from Alice in Wonderland. You know, those two fat twins that fought each other over stuff of theirs that would go missing? You probably don’t since it doesn’t look like the two of you have willingly read a book in your life.” I said, feeling proud at the insulted looks on their faces. That’s exactly what I wanted.

“Then I decided against it, seeing how it would be an insult to two of the characters of my favorite books since they somehow still manage to seem smarter than you. Then I decided that I could call you two Dumb and Dumber instead, after the two main characters in those two movies that came out in the nineteen hundreds, but then I decided against that too since it would be an insult to those two hilarious movies. So instead, I just decided to just mix the two ideas together.” I told them, smirking when I saw Thomas clench his fingers into fists.

“Hey, don’t you two boys start! You’re lucky I let the two of you come back here at all after breaking two tables during the last fight you two had in here!” We heard the owner call out from behind the counter as Thomas reached up to punch me in my already swollen eye.

“By now!” I called after them as they walked out the pizzeria, warning me how they were planning on getting me the next chance they get. The thing that worried me was how they were staring at my bag. I really hope they didn’t notice Ellie. And if they had, I really hoped that they weren’t planning on doing anything to her.

“Dang. That was bold of you to say that to them!” Jonathan said as I sat down.

“Yeah well, when I told you two days ago that I was done taking crap from anyone, I meant it. Now hurry up and finish your food. It’s going to get dark soon and you know how he always wants us all back before the streetlights start turning on.” I said, stuffing the rest of my pizza into my mouth, making sure to save the crust for Ellie, before moving to finish off the rest of my half of the small plate of spaghetti the two of us decided to split. The ‘he’ was referring to our foster father who is a controlling jerk while the ‘us’ was referring to me, my brother, and the other foster kids the jerk was supposed to take care of.

“Crap, you’re right!” He said, stuffing his face as well after checking the time on his phone.

~~~~~

.

“Johnny, hurry up. The street lights are starting to turn on!” I yelled back to my brother who was a few feet behind me. “Seriously. How are you that much slower than me? I’m running with Ellie in my arms and yet you’re pretty far behind me!”

“Yeah well do you think you could slow down a bit? You know I’ve never been as fast as you!” He said back to me as I was adjusting Ellie in my jacket while running. After the first couple of months of carrying her around like I do, I noticed how it was safer if I had her tucked into my jacket while it was zipped up and held her still in it than if I were to just have her wrapped up in my arms. Less chance of her falling out of my arms that way with the way I tend to run.

“Well, excuse me for not wanting to get in trouble again! I know you’re fully aware of what happened last time I got in trouble with him!” I called back to him, stopping at the next street corner so I could wait for him to catch up with me.

I reallyreallydidn’t want to get in trouble with our foster father again. The last time I missed the sunset curfew was during the school’s spring break. He’d ended up locking me up in my room until school the break was over with no food, water, or bathroom privileges. He could easily do that too, since my bedroom door handle locks from the hallway and there’s no way to lock or unlock the handle from inside the bedroom. I couldn’t see myself surviving that week if it weren’t for the fact that my brother had been willing to get in trouble himself in order to sneak in sandwiches to me via my bedroom window. Our foster father is also the reason why I have a tendency to carry my little mutt with me everywhere I go. I don’t think I would be able to take it very well if anything were to happened to her.

“Jay look, something’s going on.” I said, noticing some red and blue flashing lights coming from what looked like our street. Noticing that we stopped, Ellie popped her head out of the opening of my jacket and started barking at the police lights. She knew that for me and my brother, police lights meant nothing but bad news, so she tended to not be a fan of them because of that. I was just glad that they didn’t have their sirens on, with how they tend to hurt Ellie’s ears.

“Hush, Ells.” I said, handing her a small piece of pizza crust from the zip lock bag full of crust pieces I had in one of my jacket pockets. Thankfully, she accepted the food and stopped barking. The little glutton will do whatever I want as long as I give her a bit of food after telling her what I want her to do. Unless it’s tricks. I never did manage to teach her any.

“Sir, you’re under arrest for neglecting to take care of minors placed under your care. Anything you say or do can and will be used against you in the court of law.” At that, me and my brother took one look at each other before taking off towards the lights, hoping that the police would be reading the rights to the person we hoped they were.

It was exactly who we thought it was. Our foster father. Looks like we would be moving to another home, again. At this point, I’d completely lost count of how many different places we’ve been moved to.

With my arms getting tired from how long I’d been carrying her, I quickly but carefully placed Ellie back into my backpack.

“Miss, my brother and I are two of the foster kids he was put in charge of. Is it okay if we go inside to grab our stuff real quick?” I asked one of the female cops.

“We have the names of the foster kids he should have been taking care of. Just tell me you and your brother’s names and if I see them, you can go in.” She said.

“Robin Marie Woodson and Jonathan Daniel Woodson.” I heard my brother say from behind me. This is the fifth time we’ve seen a situation like this with all the different foster homes we’ve been placed in.

“Jonathan, you can go in. I just need to ask your sister something real quick.” She said after finding our names.

“It says here that you have a dog, yet we didn’t see any dog when we went inside. Do you know why that is?”

“Yes I do mam. She was almost killed by the foster parents me and my brother got stuck with in our first home, so I’ve been carrying her around with me everywhere I go ever since. The day they almost killed her was also the same day they hospitalized my brother. He was seven at the time and I was the one to call the cops on them. Chances are that you might be able to find that I’ve been the one to call the cops on multiple foster homes we’ve gotten stuck in and that with almost every time, you blues have found what I’ve said to be true. The other times were the times the fosters managed to hide whatever it was I was reporting.” I told her, I was trying to be polite to her, but that didn’t stop a rude tone from entering my voice near the end.

“Now if you don’t have any more questions, I better go pack my stuff.” I said walking away.

‘I wasn’t the one to report him this time, so who did?’ I thought, walking towards what’s now no longer my room. ‘Probably doesn’t really matter.’

Once I got to the room, I closed the door and placed down my backpack and placed it down with the zipper open so Ellie could walk around the room while I was packing. After making sure she managed to get out by herself, I walked over to my closet and pulled out the duffle bag I had shoved on the top shelf and tossed onto my bed, which was really just a pillow and a torn, falling apart blanket on top of an even more beat up mattress.

Hearing the mostly empty bag slam onto the bed, Ellie jumped out of fright and turned in the direction she heard the noise come from. I laughed when her ears managed to perk up even more than they already were after spotting the duffle bag as she ran over and started rubbing her sides all over the bag before wiggling all over the bed and floor. I knew from watching how she behaves over the years that her doing that meant she hated it here and was glad that we were leaving. I was glad I wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

I heard someone walking towards the bedroom door as I finally managed to start pulling my clothes off some of the hangers.

“Need some help?” I heard my brother ask, opening the door. It was sort of a tradition we had where if one of us were to finish packing first we would always go and help the other finish packing after.

“Are you kidding me? I just started getting my clothes out. Of course I need help!” I said as he walked in, closing the door behind him.

“You were getting distracted by Ellie again, weren’t you?” He asked, taking some of the clothes out of my arms.

“Maaaybe.” I said, slightly embarrassed. He just laughed as he started to help me put my clothes away. Like it when I’m able to get him laughing by even the smallest, dumbest things I do. It helps me remember that no matter how crappy our situation might become in the next house, or how bad it might have seemed in the previous places, that it’s always possible for us to find ways to be happy.

~~~~~

“This is the last house I could find in the area that was willing to take in both you two and the dog. You two mess this up and I’ll either end up having to separate you two from each other or finding that little Ellie of yours a new home.” Our social worker, Jasmine Agreste said. She’d been working with us since the beginning.

“We understand, Mrs. A.” I said. I knew for a fact that she was married and had a daughter a few years younger than me from the time me and Jonathan ended up staying in her house for a few months thanks to there being no homes at all available at the time. I was actually on sort of friendly terms with her daughter, who on one occasion admitted that she sees me like an older sister.

I don’t know how I feel about her or her mom though. It’s been hard for me to trust people other than my brother. I guess I could consider us friends.

“So, what could you tell us about the person we’re staying with this time?” Jonathan asked.

“She had biological kids of her own, a son and daughter, who both ended up moving out a few months ago. She had apparently grown up in foster care herself. She just recently got approved, so the two of you are going to be the first kids she takes in.”

“Well this should be interesting.” Me and Jonathan said at the same time.

~~~~~

The house the lady lived in looked to me almost like a more welcoming version of the house the Addams Family owned in the black and white TV show. It was only a couple of miles away from the place we were now leaving, so we would still be able to go to the same schools once they opened back up once summer break was over.

“Evelyn Blanchard? These are Robin and Jonathan Woodson, the two siblings you agreed to take in.” I heard Jasmine say to some lady with graying brown hair that answered the door.

“Well in that case, welcome you two. Now, come on in you three!” I heard Evelyn, the lady that was apparently mine and Jonathan’s new foster parent say. We may be sixteen and fourteen, but that didn’t stop Jonathan from grabbing ahold of my hand with how nervous he was. Normally from what we’ve seen, if someone acts super cheery like she currently is when we first arrive then chances are that they’re hiding their real self.

“I give it a week.” I whispered into his ear, stating how long I thought it would be until she quit her act.

“I say two.”

“Now, Robin. I heard you have a dog?” Evelyn asked, heading for the direction I guessed might have been the kitchen.

“That’s correct.” I said, refusing to move from near the front door. It looked as if the whole place had been cleaned recently. I was well aware of how the bottom of my boots were covered in mud and possibly even some animal crap. I didn’t want to risk angering her if I accidentally got it all over her carpet and I didn’t feel comfortable enough to take my shoes off either. Looking over at Jonathan out of the corner of my eye, I could tell that he had the same idea with how he kept looking around nervously. It may have looked similar to the Addams Family’s house on the outside, but it looked almost nothing like it on the inside.

“Where is it?” She asked, sounding actually curious.

“She’s in my backpack. I rarely ever let her leave my side.” I said, hoping that she would be able to hear just how protective I am over Ellie.

“You can let her out of there if you’d like.” She said, coming out of the kitchen with a plate full of sandwiches that she’d placed on the coffee table before sitting on one of the two couches. I knew that Ellie wouldn’t go anywhere if it meant me being out of her site and there’s no way her paws should be dirty enough to track around any dirt, so I carefully placed my bag down onto the floor and lifted her out. To the surprise of both me and my brother, Ellie walked right over to Evelyn and didn’t growl or try to bite her ankles.

“Aww. She’s so sweet!” Evelyn said as Ellie kissed her hands a couple times before laying under the coffee table and going to sleep. Jonathan, noticing this, let go of my hand.

‘If Ellie trusted her then I guess I could learn to trust her too.’ I thought.

“Is it okay if I go grab our stuff out of the car?” I asked.

“Well, since you’r going to be staying here, I don’t see why not. Would you like any help?” Evelyn said.

“There’s not that much, my brother’s all the help I need.” I said, heading out the door. I could tell that Ellie woke up from her attempt at taking a nap as soon as I left the house because I could hear her barking even after Jonathan closed the door.

“I’m guessing you trust her?” He asked after we reached the car.

“What makes you think that?” I asked, opening up the trunk after hearing Jasmine pop it open for us.

“You were willing to let Ellie stay sleeping in there with her. That’s the first time you’ve done that.”

“I don’t trust her. Not yet anyways, but Ellie seems to like her and that’s enough for me.” I said, passing him his duffle bag before grabbing my bag and the small foam steps Ellie needed during the times my bed was more than just a mattress on the floor, and closing the trunk. Luckily, or unluckily depending on how you looked at it, the only shoes we had were the ones on our feet. I liked to look at the bright side and remind myself that it just meant that much less things we would have to worry about.

“You ready to go back in?” I asked him.

“Not really. Could you let them know I’ll be sitting out here for a bit?” He asked, handing his bag back over to me.

“Sure thing.” I said, grabbing it from him. As I’d expected, Evelyn asked where my brother was as soon as she saw me walk through the door as Ellie started running her slow circles at my feet, barking at me to let me know how mad she was at leaving without her.

“He said he’s going to stay out there for a bit.” I said, placing our bags and Ellie’s steps down on the couch she wasn’t sitting on before taking my shoes off. It still didn’t feel right taking them off here, but it was better than tracking dirt everywhere. “Is it alright if I use the bathroom?��

“Sure thing. Go up the stairs, take a left, then it’s the first door on the right.”

Seeing how Ellie was following me as I headed towards the steps, I picked her up and carried her the whole trip up before placing her on the floor for the second level. I then had to wait for her to walk into the bathroom before I closed the door. If I didn’t then she would sit outside it and howl the whole time.

As I closed the door, I heard Evelyn ask worriedly if Jonathan might have ran off only for Jasmin to explain how he wouldn’t run off without me and I wouldn’t run off without him or my dog.

~~~~~

“The two of you have gone through a lot in your previous homes, haven’t you?” Evelyn asked us not long after Jasmin left. Jonathan had sat next to me on the couch as soon as he’d come in, only taking enough time to take off his shoes and place them next to mine that is.

“Now what would make you think that?” I asked, not bothering to hide the harsh tone in my voice.

“How the two of you tend to drift towards each other like attracting magnets. Not to mention the scars I see on your feet, Robin.” She said, gesturing to my bare feet. Not like I had any socks to cover them. They’d all gotten warn out beyond use a few weeks ago and I hadn’t been able to find the time to make it to the store since then.

“The scars on my feet have nothing to do with anything we may or may not have been put through. Those scars are there because on more than one occasion, I dropped plates and bowls on them thanks to sneezing not long after picking them up.” I said embarrassed because of how it actually was true. She didn’t need to know that I had some scars on my back from the punishments I’d gotten for some of the times that had happened.

“Well, in that case, I think it’s time the two of you see your rooms.”

The room she led me to must have either been her daughter’s or she had repainted it when she heard I was coming, Best way I could quickly describe it was a fantasy princess’s bedroom.

The walls were pale pink with lavender trimming, the carpet dark purple. The bed was a canopy bed with a green curtain and the blankets themselves were a pale blue with ruffles all over the edges.

“I can tell by the look on your face that you don’t like it. We could go to the store tomorrow so you can pick out stuff to redecorate it if you’d like.” She said. It was true. The only thing I could see myself getting use to was the canopy’s curtains because of them being green and because of how they looked like they might be blackout curtains. The carpet wasn’t that bad either, even though I’m not a huge fan of purple.

“The most the two of us have ever been in one place was a month. If we make it past that time, then I might take up your offer.” I said, knowing how I could easily replace the pillowcases with my own and how I could probably go to the store and get some new blankets with the money I’d taken from our previous foster father. Not like he would need it anyway, seeing as how he’s in jail.

“Jonathan, here’s your room.” She said, showing him a room not too far from mine. Well, there was a room in between ours, but I was just glad that it wasn’t on the other side of the house.

After placing down the doggy-steps and making sure Ellie would be able to get up onto the bed with the help, I walked over to the window of the bedroom I would be staying in for who knows how long and looked out. There wasn’t any bit of a roof that me or my brother could walk on to get to each other’s rooms if we’d ever gotten ourselves locked in them. I knew that the two of us would figure something out if that ever happened, so I decided to walk down the hall to see what his room looked like.

His room, to me, definitely looked more like the things he liked than my room with me. The wall was blue with white trimming, a gray carpet, and the bedding was red.

I sat on the bed and waited until Evelyn left before I laid on my back asked him how long he thinks we’d be staying here.

“You should know by know that I don’t like to think about that. “Could you tell me more?” He asked in a way that was somehow both sad and hopeful.

I knew what he wanted me to tell more of. He would always ask to hear about our parents with that tone. In fact, he’d only ever sounded like that when asking me to tell him more about them. I didn’t have that many more memories about our parents than he did, but he didn’t seem to mind. There were even times when the two of us would remember something about one of our parents that the other didn’t.

I decided to tell him how one time our dad decided it was a good idea for just me and him to go on a weekend road trip together, only for us to get a flat tire during the middle of a rain storm he hadn’t known about. It wasn’t funny at the time, but now it is to me, with all the different faces our dad would make each time someone would drive past us. He ended up falling asleep not long before I got to the end of what I could remember from that day, so I managed to carefully climb out of his bed before going back to what was my new room.

It had been a long day for both of us and it was starting to get late anyway.

~~~~~

Prologue | Chapter 2 (in progress)

[team-science-mega-nerds]

Fictober Prompt #19: “Yes, I admit it, you were right.” 

Fandom: Supergirl

Pairing: Danvarias

Warnings: Minor mentions of drug use

Thirteen miles from a bustling city with a designer landscape, quaint eateries, and a baseball team that nearly became the pride of Ohio is a rural blip on the map that is better left ignored. Duntown, which the residents resentfully call Doomstown, is a place that makes you reckon with reality. Ramshackle churches and hate crimes that people struggle to name, the folks of this city fear everything they do not know. For most that means outsiders. They turn up their noses and yell out the windows of their pick-up trucks. Go back where you came from! For some, their greatest fear is the only thing they’ve ever known - church. They drag themselves to Sunday service, seeking forgiveness for the things they cannot control. 

The two most popular places in Duntown are a local bar that serves stale beer and moonshine - if you know how to ask just right - and a weekly flea market that sets up in the parking lot of the local high school. Tents and tables are propped up around potholes that will never be fixed and people banter and barter their mundane little lives away. 

The biggest plight of the city takes everyone by surprise. It happens so fast that people struggle to make time between work - at a fading steel mill - and Sunday’s services to figure out exactly what’s going on. It’s a funeral of all things that sparks the interest of the collective town. Watching their children play in a field that they will probably never grow out of and eating bologna sandwiches and salad that’s nothing but iceberg lettuce and croutons, Sam’s entire life changes. 

“Went to water my plants this morning. That darn water,” Deborah says shaking her head, “looked like someone done pissed in it.” It’s the way she says it, all bite and resolute, apprehension comes to a head. That’s what catches Sam’s attention. It seems like just another thing to fear, another thorn in her side. Sam’s eyes go to Ruby, she’s laughing and playing tag with her friends. Ruby’s at that age where youth slowly starts to crumble and she’ll become aware of the world around her. 

Sam can see Tuffy and John sitting near a makeshift shrine of Kevin. They drink and drink, saluting their dead friend who perished on a normal workday at the mill. To date, Sam had been to seven funerals of people she’d known from high school. They all died in the same place, all had funerals presided over by the same poverty-stricken mourners, and all had after funeral receptions just like this. Tuffy and John smoked meth behind Mrs. Ainsley’s - Kevin’s mother - car. And all this was normal. All this met Sam’s expectations. 

Water that she had to boil before drinking did not. 

Deborah had made the comment about the drinking water six months ago and now, Sam seemed to be the only one brave enough to do something about it. Her bravery was, in fact, an accident. She’d been weaving in and out of her trailer home, trying to carry all of the groceries that she’d purchased at Costco six towns over. Ruby was supposed to be taking a bath and then going right to bed, Sam didn’t want to argue about it. Not today. 

It’d been a long road, getting where they are now. Borrowing from people she despised, working extra shifts at the grocery store, and relying on nosy neighbors to babysit. Sam, you’re a pretty girl. They’ve got some good men at the mill. She’d got a daily reminder of just how cute she was by handsy men, most of whom would go on to live and die at that very mill. Now that Sam and Ruby had a place of their own, things were starting to look up. “Mom. Mom!” Sam grabs four bags at once and rushes inside. She dumps the bags and throws the bathroom door open. 

“Oh, Rubes,” It’s a rash, tiny and probably inconsequential, but Sam has promised herself to always put Ruby first. Yellow water that has been slowly turning brown for months, and a rash, are enough to get Sam to make a call. 

The call itself goes terribly. She doesn’t know who to ask for or how to ask for what she wants. The secretary on the other end uses big words that feel suffocating. All Sam wants is to be safe. “Do you understand? I need you to send someone who can help us feel safe.” Sam feels like she blew it the moment she hangs up. She deeply considers moving. The cost is far outside of her reach but if she asks the right people and is willing to speak to her mother again, then she can make it happen. 

“Someone sent you an email!” Bernice, who everyone just calls Bezza, yells from where she’s seated in front of her trailer. Rocking and knitting like always. Sam approaches with Ruby at her side. “Remember when you showed me how to use the ‘Gmail’? Well, I guess your account is still up. The noise that email made, scared me to hell and back.”

“Who’s it from?” Sam can’t remember the last time she’d gotten an email that wasn’t about her missing a bill. 

“Some law firm.” Sam nearly trips on herself as she runs into Bezza’s trailer. She pushes past mounds of newspapers and boxes of old junk and finds her desktop computer. Sam bites her nails while she waits for the computer to wake up. She listens to Bezza tell Ruby about all of her fantastic finds at the flea market that week. Sam feels nauseous. 

When she finally manages to get to her email, Sam has to rifle through a bunch of spam and late fee notices to get to an email from Danvers & Danvers Law Offices: 

Dear Ms. Arias, 

I’ve received some initial information about Duntown and I am concerned about the lack of progress being made on behalf of your town. I’d like to come and talk to you sometime within the next few weeks. Please send me a list of dates and times that you are available to meet and we will work something out.

Alex Danvers LL.M. 

Sam rereads the email five times before typing out her response. She’s embarrassed that she’s only free to meet after eight most days, but she leaves room for other suggestions like a phone call. She sends the email and immediately gets a response. They’ll meet at The Tipsy Cow at 8:30 the following day. “Mom, you took like fifty years,” Ruby, who is far too aware and mature for a nine-year-old, says as they walk back to their trailer. “Bezza smells like mothballs.” Ruby hops up the steps one by one and they enter and both go in search of something that will pass for dinner. 

“I had to answer an email,” Sam explains. “Don’t comment on how people smell unless it’s nice.” 

“I like moths.” Ruby finds an apple in the fridge and munches on that while Sam gets to work on Hamburger Helper. “Who emailed? Delany’s mom got a new boyfriend. They went to Chicago for the weekend.” Sam wishes she could tell Ruby that Delany’s mom’s new boyfriend is an alcoholic who has questionable world views. Instead, she remains silent. “Can we go to Chicago?” 

“Someday.”

“There’s a giant bean there!” Ruby gets lost in an old Almanac, Sam starts to think that she’s made a grave mistake. Big corporations don’t take too kindly to meddling women. Sam’s a nobody, she knows that and what kind of lawyer travels all the way from National City just to talk? If Sam had a computer of her own, she’d email this Alex Danvers right now, and tell him to forget it. But dinner and bedtime stories get in the way of those thoughts. 

Sam is hunkered down at work just enough to forget all about it until it’s six-thirty and Ruby is asking why she has to stay at Deborah’s house that night. “I have to meet someone and I don’t know how long it’ll take. You like Deborah.”

“I like you more,” Ruby tells her pouting and sulking the whole walk over. The minute they arrive at the ranch house, Ruby sees Scout, an Australian Shepherd mix, and she forgets all of her misgivings. 

“Everything alright?” Deborah asks as they both watch Ruby, and her oversized backpack, bouncing around the yard. “You finally meeting someone?”

“A lawyer. Just to talk about the water situation.”

Deborah turns very serious. “You be careful now,” She warns, echoing the same tone that Sam’s mother had when she told her about this last night. Sam kisses Ruby goodbye and returns home to change into something more presentable. She settles for a turquoise shift dress and white platform sandals. The bar is close which is good for most people in the trailer community but terrible for Sam. On more than one occasion, there have been fights that have broken out right outside of Sam’s window. For now, she considers it a good thing that she lives so close, otherwise, she might have been late. 

The Tipsy Cow represents all the good and bad of the town. Everyone certainly knows everyone but that means that things often boil over and get heated in these very walls. Sam normally wouldn’t be caught dead alone in this place but it’s 8:30 and she doesn’t think she’ll have to wait long. 

Unless this big city lawyer is late. 

Sam orders a club soda and finds a booth in the back. They’ll need a quiet place to talk and there are too many mill workers crowding the bar and watching some baseball game that Sam could care less about. There’s a little bit of a lull, which Sam hardly notices until one of the mill workers barks - yes, barks - at a woman who’s just entered the bar. That kind of ruckus signals outsider, so Sam lifts her head to see what’s going on. The woman is wearing a grandad collar white button-up, mid-wash blue jeans, and a blazer that could probably pay off Sam’s mortgage. The briefcase is the thing that catches Sam’s attention the most. 

Oh, she sits up properly, Alex Danvers is a woman. 

Alex doesn’t notice Sam just yet. She checks her expensive watch, mutters fuck, and orders something from the bar. When Sam sees the bartender going for the tap, Sam rises to her feet and approaches. “I’d advise against that.” Alex turns looks between Sam and the bartender and taps her head as if to say ‘duh’. 

“Long drive. The brain’s on autopilot.” Alex motions to the bartender. “I’ll take a soda.” 

“We say pop around here,” Sam informs the lawyer. Once Alex has her soda, she follows Sam to the booth, and extends her hand. “So, you’re Alex.”

“Yep. And you’re Sam?”

“Yes.” Sam sits first. Alex slides her briefcase into the seat across from Sam and takes off her blazer before sitting. 

“Am I late?”

“Only by a few minutes.” Sam smiles. “I see you got a good Doomstown welcome,”

“Doomstown?”

“This place. It’s a nickname of sorts.” Alex frowns. 

“Doesn’t look doomed from where I’m sitting.” Sam toys with her straw trying not to get distracted by Alex placing her briefcase on the table. Alex pulls out a few documents and sets them on the table. “I’ve been doing a lot of reading. Coores & Phillips Company seems to be the main corp involved. They have the proper ordinances to drill in Cook and Favors county, but as you know, they’ve been drilling near the border here.” Alex goes to take a drink of her soda, but Sam reaches forward and grabs the glass first. “What?” 

“Don’t drink that.” 

“What’s wrong with it?” 

“The bartender put moonshine in that.” Sam quickly lets go of the glass when she realizes that their fingers are touching. Alex laughs, uncomfortably, at the very suggestion that she’d get her drink spiked. “I’m serious.” 

“I can handle my liquor.”

“Don’t be...stupid. We’ve got no-joke moonshine out here.” There’s a competitive drive in Alex. Sam imagines that makes for some magic in the courtroom. “Those papers can tell you plenty but not enough. This place isn’t some cute little town that needs big city saving. It’s been six months, soon people are going to start fighting back.” 

“And how would they? Fight back I mean.” 

“You see those guys?” Sam nods toward the men at the bar, cheering for a homerun. “When they’re not working, they’re drinking. And if they’re drinking and on crank, then guns get involved.”

“We’ll need a town hall meeting. Something to show everyone that the problems are being addressed.” Alex takes a sip of her drink and grimaces. “We did a case in Texas two years ago. A nice settlement too.” 

“How much were the lawyer fees?”

Alex shakes her head. “No, no, nothing like that. This is pro-bono-.”

“I’ll pay. We’ll scrape money together. I’m not a charity case.” Alex seems to recognize Sam’s seriousness, so she lets it go in favor of mulling something over in her mind. 

“Show me.” 

“Show you...what?” 

“This town. Show me what I’m missing.” Alex pays for their drinks and manages to polish off the rest of her soda before following Sam out of the bar. They get another bark on their way to Alex’s car, Sam turns sharply. 

“Fuck off!” She warns. She’s seen these guys before. Heard their poor pickup lines. She won’t let them bully what might be their saving grace. 

“Oh, mommy’s pissed,” One of them says as Alex unlocks her car. Alex looks like she might say something, but Sam grabs her arm and continues to pull her along. When they’re in Alex’s SUV, which is a black Porsche Cayenne, Alex looks over at her sympathetically. 

“You have a kid?” 

“A daughter.” Alex will probably ask more but for now, she drives out of the parking lot and down the road. “Nice car.”

“Thanks,” Alex says a slight smile on her face. 

“I was being sarcastic, you can’t drive this thing around.” Sam points to her trailer which is only a block away. “You need to pull over there. You can park by my place.” Alex follows directions well but seems less than eager when they get out of the car and start walking. “Don’t worry.” 

“I’m not worried,” Alex lies. They approach the church. Sam hasn’t stepped foot in there in four years and counting. Alex seems to acknowledge her jitters by slowing near the front door. “This the kind of place for you?”

“Girls like me avoid places like that,” Sam tells her. “Didn’t always. Things change.” The streets are quiet on the weeknights. The further you get from the bar, the easier it is to forget what kind of town this is. Sam glances up at the sky, the pollution from the mill has changed the whole world from Sam’s perspective. She doesn’t want Ruby growing up in a place without stars and with rusty water. “You shouldn’t take this case.”

“Why not?”

“I saw the way you looked at those guys. Like you wanted to say something or fight.” Sam stops Alex before they reach the long pathway that leads to the mill. “But you didn’t.”

“I would’ve. Easily. You don’t know me.” Alex sticks her hands in her pockets. “My mom would say that this is a lost cause. That we’ll get buried under big corporate lawyers, but our firm is solid. We’ll get you paid-.”

“If you think any of this is about money, then you don’t understand.”

“I do understand.” Alex touches the small of Sam’s back. She isn’t certain what to make of the gesture but she’ll remember it in case things take a turn for the worst. “Whoa.” Alex bends over with her hands on her knees. “Fuck.”

“What?”

“That moonshine.”

“Oh,” Sam laughs. “Yeah, it takes a bit to bite you like that.” Sam wraps her arm under Alex’s shoulder and guides her back down the road. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I could just use some water, which...I recognize is a problem.” 

“I have bottled water at home.” Even though they’re strangers, Sam feels comfortable enough with Alex to invite her into her trailer. For one, there’s nothing worth stealing in the place. And two, Alex has just decided to put so much on the line to help out. Sam wishes she’d cleaned up more. Or maybe folded up her couch so it would look like there was more space but Alex seems mainly focused on water, so Sam buries her shame. 

“Thanks,” Alex mumbles as she leans against the counter and downs half the bottle. Sam tries not to stare when Alex untucks her shirt and looks around the modest kitchen. 

“I told you not to drink that shit.”

“Okay, yes, I admit it. You were right.” Alex shrugs it off. Sam sits at the tiny wooden table and starts unlatching her sandals. When she’s finished and looks back up at Alex, she’s struck by the fact that Alex’s eyes are already on her. Like she’d been watching her. “Um...I’ll go. You have your kid and everything-.”

“She’s staying at a friend’s place.” Sam doesn’t know why she jumps in to say that but she does know that everything has a cost. If Alex wasn’t accepting payment from her, then she must want something. Sam takes a chance, a small one, and stands shoulder to shoulder with Alex. She’s been here before, giving recklessly. Never with Ruby around but there were times where desperation took hold. “I could repay you…” Sam has never had to say much to anyone, just show casual interest and they would find a way to take control. 

Alex is different, Sam learns right away, taking a step away and putting her water bottle down. “You’re a good person, Sam. I am too.” Alex lets out a breath. “We can work together, can’t we? Probably better when I’m not this drunk.” 

“I wasn’t…” Sam shakes her head. “In this place, things sometimes get warped.”

“It’s okay,” Alex says sincerely. “And in honor of us understanding each other. Would it be possible for me to sleep here tonight? On the couch, on the floor...whichever.” 

“Of course you can.” By the time Sam has gathered a pillow and blanket from the closet, Alex is already snoring softly on the couch. Sam covers her with a blanket, locks the doors, and goes into her own bedroom. Outside of feeling embarrassed by basically offering sex as payment, Sam is remarkably thrilled with her day. Even in her tiny room that often makes her feel like a child, Sam is floored by the possibilities that the future brings. 

Doomstown might not be doomed quite yet and if the fight that Sam has seen crop up in Alex’s eyes is any indication, they might actually have a chance. Sam doesn’t like to get her hopes up. She kneels at her bedside, crosses herself, and prays for the first time since she was in high school. She wants to be safe and for once, someone understands that. 

When she wakes up, Sam finds Deborah and Ruby in the kitchen. They’re both eating cereal and Deborah is boiling the water for the coffee maker. Neither seems all that phased, especially Ruby who points to the other room with her spoon, “Who’s that in there?”

“That’s Alex, she’s a lawyer.” Deborah arches a brow at Sam. Sam peeks into the room and finds Alex exactly where she left her. 

“What’s she doing here?” Ruby whispers as she looks over the couch at Alex. 

“She’s going to help us get clean water.”

“Really?!” Ruby yells. She bolts to where she can get face to face with Alex whose eyes open slowly. She has to blink a few times to remember where she is but when she does she smiles at Ruby and says ‘hi’. “You’re gonna help us?”

Alex looks to Sam and then sits up a little. “Yeah, I’m gonna help you.” On their way to check to see if Alex’s car got stolen Alex observes the town in the light of day. Bezza is rocking away in her chair. The hazy overcast does nothing to deter Alex’s smile. Even shouting from inside a trailer doesn’t seem to frighten her. “I like it here,” Alex tells Sam.

“Really?”

“I like the people at least.” 

The next time Alex Danvers comes into town, it’s to rent an entire building out for her team. They parade in with their fancy cars and nice suits but they immediately get to work. The drilling ceases for a week and after what seems like a standoff - marked by a lot of yelling in and outside of town hall - Alex takes the Coores & Phillips Company to court. The win comes suddenly, after months and months of proceedings. The big corporation senses the uneasiness and after a few men from the mill, high on meth, blow up a drill, it’s fairly obvious that this is a war they won’t win. Alex knocks at Sam’s door, sweaty from jogging over to this side of town, she is elated and Sam knows that finally, everything is right in their little burden of a town. 

Two weeks later, while Ruby, Deborah, and Bezza are playing cards, Sam announces that she’s going to take a shower. Alex looks up from where she’s seated, after losing in the very first round, and follows Sam into the hallway. “Don’t make me get a restraining order,” Sam jokes. 

“This is actually...about that night.” 

“I’ve known you for about a year. There’s been plenty of nights.” The hallway is barely a hallway. Just a sliver of space that leaves only a few inches between their bodies. 

“The first one.” Alex rolls her eyes, knowing that Sam will wait until she says exactly what she means. “We could’ve, you know. Ended up in bed together.”

“You wouldn’t have been very good. From what I remember you were all valiance and moonshine.” 

“That stuff was so strong, I might still be all moonshine.” Alex puts her hand on Sam’s waist, it’s the most direct she’s ever been with something outside of the courtroom. “I’d like to try again. Properly, I mean.”

“That’s sweet.”

“You aren’t interested?” Alex questions sadly. 

“I am interested. But more so in you joining me for a shower.” Sam holds Alex’s face in her hands and smiles. “Show me you belong in this crazy little town. Show me what you’re made of.” 

“We can hear everything you’re saying!” Deborah yells from the kitchen. Alex and Sam crack up laughing, hustling into the bathroom, and taking off their clothes.

[wateradvice3-blog]

• Revenues Coming From Top ICT Companies In Canada 2020

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When people read about IT providers they generally think of huge firms with a big office building as well as workers of IT specialists. They possess pcs in the place of work as well as organisation can be done, nonetheless, a bunch of services call for a method to hook up to the net. This is where ICT providers enter into play.

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[kaiju-z]

FINALLY back on track, after a month and a half of stuff getting in our way, but here we are with session 20!!!

Seon Adventures Episode 20: Going Solo...

With the passing of the night, comes the light of day.

The trio of Belli, Luctan and Mournimar awake alongside Morgan and the elf baby with notably Amelia, Archie, Burk and Rimefang missing. Luctan does elaborate where Amelia had gone, though it gets missed in the confusion when everyone wonders what happened with Burk.

Thinking quickly on her feet, Belli sends a message to Burk to check where he is. But all he answers with is that  Rimefang’s fine, don’t know where Amelia is.”

As Luctan fixes the baby up for the day, packing him like a little baby burrito (a babitto, if you will), the remaining bunch go upstairs, while Belli gives a call to Amelia. Amelia, who had been having the most wonderful of sleeps she has had since a long while.

“No.”

Belli sends her a message again with a whistle.

“No. Just no.”

Luctan has to repeat himself on where Amelia actually is, much to the amusement of the adopted duo.

As they climb up the stairs, everything seems normal and as expected from the previous night, people coming and going, welcomed and- And the party for some reason get approached by a very confused human, wearing the robes of the temple of Keemis.

Brunette, with an undercut, in his 30′s, scars on his arms and face, the kind man delivers a letter to the bunch, asking if they’re the Cultbusters.

“Are you the Cultbusters?”

“Depends on who’s asking?”- Belli.

“3 of them!”- Mournimar.

After a brief sibling argument about just up and telling people their identities, the man elaborates that the letter is written by Burk. Or. Well, he helped Burk write that letter for the party.

Mournimar is the one to read it to everyone else. All lower case, a lot of the words are misspelled.

“ hi. this is from burk. i am leaving now. ive been thinking and i think i do not need to be here anymore. i found one of the guys i was looking for and it was really easy and no ofense but i was hoping for cold hard killers and u r not. but you were all realy nice to me, nicer than any one has before so i am going to miss all of u very much. rimefang is coming with me because hes too cool for u. also i think hes geting bigger cause he started sheding or some thing i dont know. i left some scales for u, and ur share of the gold. there is a lot of stuff i wana go do and i feel bad draging u guys with me so i gotta go do it my self. but i want u all to know im not just going to kill people for me. i am doing stuff for u. For amelia and luc i am going to come back and we are gona have the best fight ever and learn a lot. For beli i am going to steal the biggest shinyest kazoo i can find. For morni i will stop punching wolfs and also be nicer to weird animals i find in the forest. u were all very nice and good with peeple and not good at vilence, and thats a good thing. but i dont fit in. bye for a while

 burk “

The trio are devastated. Belli is the most vocal, with Mournimar having to calm her down, while Luctan stands stoically, with the baby in his arm.

Burk left.

It’s heart breaking.

It’s heart breaking and the cleric tries to cast Calm Emotions on the lot of them to try and soothe their woes. Mournimar fails his save, Luctan doesn’t even try and Belli tanks that and starts shouting at him for imposing his magic on them, without their consent.

“Don’t you fucking dare try and tell me what to fucking feel.” -  She is emotion personified.

When things calm down, Luctan apologizes and asks for the messenger’s name.

“ My name is Malak. I am a Devotee of Keemis. I’ve been living here in this temple for a few years.” He had heard of the Cultbusters’ reputation and found interest and want to join them on their questing, seeing as they’ve stirred some cults out of their comfort.

Thrown them out of their rhythm, if you will.

He is accepted, Belli referring to him as their “intern” for now and, with introductions made, and Malak gathering his equipment, the bunch of them take to the last tavern they had gone to for breakfast and meeting back up with Amelia.

Amelia waits for them there. Nel had spoken to her about how she managed to get her mother to agree on leaving town for a while with the help of a family friend. And she had made some sort of offer to Amelia.

The group are again together at the tavern and introduce Malak. Amelia and Malak shake hands as a distraught Belli pays the tavern keeper to go and work the kitchen for a while.

Amelia encourages her. “The fact he wrote us a letter means he cared about The Cultbusters.” She gently holds Belli’s arm, ‘cause Belli’s abandonment issues have kicked in hard.

There’s stress baking and then there’s stress cooking. And Belli does this handily. And she makes... so much food! 1st, second, third Breakfasts, if those were actual things, of course.

“It’ll be alright. He had to do what he had to do.”

As Belli comes and goes with increasingly more and more plates of food, we end up talking about the baby and his future. The little elven boy keeps tugging at Luctan’s hair, fussing at him and getting fussed at.

A few suggestions get made. From Malak’s suggestion to raise the child in the orphanage, to the talk with Nel the other day, involving handing him over to a rich family.

The decision is hard to make. Whether he likes it or not, Luctan’s attached himself to the little one, but he knows he can’t keep him with the party as dangers keep increasing on their journey. He had been having waking flashes back to every incident since the child was with them and how scared he was from the screams and roars and hurts and aches.

He couldn’t let the baby travel with them further. He knew what he was going to do, regardless of where the baby went, but still.

Amelia catches up with Malak on his Keemis Clergy work.

 He’s been at this for 5-6 years or so. He heard about the party after the CB helped arrest the local cultists. He’s fascinated by souls and how they transition, based on their alignment. He’s searching for an answer to this question. Basically, he’s looking for research.

Amelia asks where he’s from.

“I’m from Lian. It is not a good place to raise a kid and I left home, got a lot of people from my home town killed. We wanted to leave, thought we’d make our own band of soldiers to fight in the war and I’m the only one left. And so I try to find some meaning in the senseless death and resurrection and ended up meeting some Keemis priests. Fell in with them and came up here.”

The gang try to cheer him up about his backstory woes and some end up sharing their own troubles. Mournimar does so. Luctan gives away the shocker that his family owned slaves and that triggered his sense of aiding those in need, freeing the captive ones and fleeing via teleport scroll.  And lastly Belli tells the tragic story of her family.

Doting on the baby commences, while Mournimar gives Malak some pointers on the shenanigans he is up for with Belli, now that he is part of the group.

Following their hefty meal, Mournimar gets his new armor. Better fitted than his previous one. Since he found it in the barracks??? This one is more custom. Studded Leather, which raises his AC + 1

Going back on forth on where to go next, during this tragic shopping episode, Belli shares Burk’s treasures with the cleric, seeing as he had left them for the rest.

Before anything can be really bought, though, aside of the meals, we go for the payment on the Serial Kilelr job.

As the party draw closer to the dungeons, Mournimar suggests Belli let Luctan talk, which offends Belli, who gets encouragement from Luck and Malak that she’ll do great. Malak ingretiating himself by casting Guidance and Enhance Ability on the Half-Orc Bard, right before she approaches the receptionists, an older Half-Elf man and a yellow tiefling.

“Now is the time to prove them wrong.”

The conversation is quick and Belli shines during this process. We are thanked, the lot of us, for the work we did and are pointed to the office of the Captain in charge.

While walking, we get a few pointers on places to visit around town.

Generally South-West of the city is a good night’s time.” the HElf answers Amelia. Though, uh,  he wouldn’t know personally. Definitely.

We walk down to the office, knock on the door before walking in.

We are welcomed in by the Halfling woman inside. She’s dressed well for her job. Not exactly the outfit one would expect for prison duty, but then again, they didn’t have a good idea on that, themselves. Blue eyes observe us warmly and kindly, through a wavy bob haircut, while she fiddles with the cuff of one of her sleeves. Her office is bare, maybe she’s new, maybe it’s how she likes it.

She kind of looks everyone up and down. “I’m guessing you’re the folks we’ve been expecting, huh?”

The party apologize as they didn’t have a proper schedule in mind and the thought is shared vice-versa as it just... Really was like that sometimes? Often times?! A lot. It happened a lot.

For finding the hide out of the slayer of cityfolk, for convincing his husband to give himself up and testify about his beloved, the ‘busters gain a monetary reward. As she pulls out a big chest on the table, Belli tries to convince her to unionise. To some possible success? She certainly seems curious about the suggestion itself.

Ames kinda looks her up and down and gives a smol little thumbs up

She’s a valuable worker, she’s worth more.

On behalf of the city of Crystalgate, thank you for all of your efforst in intervening with the issue. The culprits have been dealt with.” Much to the four original members’ surprise, the husband has been released, having promissedto turn over a new leaf.

Luctan would later ask the captain, who introduced herself to the five as River Blackbrace (Just River), where he could find the husband and, after ensuring her that he planned no ill will towards the man, she guesses he’d be back in town or at one of the temples.

The woman feels like rewarding us with more, since this isn’t her gold, yeah? Lots of paperwork time prevented. The five are given suggestions on places to go and spend our money. Between " Neladrie's Rarities” and “Snipper’s Hall’, the clothing store of Grinella, they have some good options on their way.

Grinella is the best at her work, as far as River’s concerned.

Before they go, we mention to River that we plan on participating in the Spring Festival’s tournament.

River mentions that it was originally created as a celebration of the heroes Septum Sabata. It’s a series of trials re-creating what they went through to save everyone. Malak has watched it a few times and things happening around the arena a few good times. He’s the local CG expert.

And if they really feel down, there’s also a place... a-a-

Café where they summon fae animals.

And should they need a good book,  there’s a library in the north east. “The Lady Stormweaver National Library.” The conversation about books prompts Luctan to show off the “Handerstaad” he got from Sa Doma.

And River spills the tea that Kheyha is a local. And has spent some time in the dungeons for her alcoholism antics. (Never meet your heroes, kids.)

They are suggested to stay away from the Ebryosis followers. Best leave those kinky fellas to their own “dungeons”.

As they walk walk to the clothes and magical trinkets shops, Mournimar has a heart to heart with Belli, apologizing for his behavior. While Luctan checks the money with Malak. The sibs hug it out, while the money is counted and distributed amongst all of them, even as Malak protests some.

There’s a faint tingle of wind chimes as the five go to one of the most eclectic collections of goods of various kinds we’ve ever seen. Sort of an order to it, anyways. A rainbow pattern across the show. Vaguely arranged in no particular order. Pretty much everything’s in a different size and shape.

A high elven woman, Neladrie, sits in a tall stool behind a desk, very long hair. She glances vaguely at us and has a monocular on.

Good morning. Feel free to look around. Please be aware you’re being watched, so don’t get any funny ideas. And Welcome.”  She points at her watchful little pseudodragon, watching from the rafters.

Belli uses mage hand to pat the dragon.

She knows she’s a good gorl.

The search commences as each member of the party search foritems with some help of the shopkeeper.

Malak gains supplies for his Divination magic, including dragon bones.

Mournimar tries and fails to find anything that could enhance his wisdom.

Amelia gets her hands on some lovely sea shells.

Luctan gets helped with finding a focus for his recently developed magical abilities. A small purple crystal.

All the while Belli takes her pick, between some wild musical instruments.

There is an holy banjo with all the gods’ symbols.

There’s a great axe with a wider handle. A didgerydeath, if you will.

And also, what appears to be a kazoo 2. One sort of kazoo entrance and branches out into different sights. It’s like if a kazoo had different pitches.

There’s also a set of bagpipes.

And last, but not least, an ukulele of sorts. Upon testing it, the ukulute sounds like a spannish guitar, almost.

Ostentatious is her brand and after testing all the instruments, she agrees to buy the ukulute.

With purchases made, the gang take the next step of their journey, going to the “Snipper’s Hall”, where they meet the one and only  Grindelia Snipper. A Goblin Woman, standing atop a 7ft tall step ladder, measuring a tall model with her arm tattoo.

“OH! Welcome!” 

"Snipper’s Hall” is a long building, like a miniature Viking lounge house, with elements of stone to keep it stable. There is a wide variety of different sort of premade outfits, models of different heights going from 4.5 to 8ft tall... And. There’s a jewelry section.

After a greeting, the party make their requests and orders in a friendly sort of manner. Mournimar buys a jacket and a stag brooch, Belli gets herself a new, lovely outfit, a dress of blue and pink, as well as a canine bracelet. Malak’s fine as he is and Amelia is left uncertain with what to purchase.

Upon Luctan’s request... A custom outfit which’ll take a few days to put together, the poor secret Tieflingman gets handled with amazing strength and tenacity by the spunky and overly friendly goblin woman, who measures him nice and well with her arm and finger, taking his numbers with keen eyes, even with his armor still on.

He can’t be sure why, but the very suggestion she’s sent people to get treatment over the roughhousing sends a chill down his spine. The elf baby just has a blast during the entire developement.

Business transaction made, the next stop is “Peppery Pete’s Pile of Potions.”

Belli is still angry with the old gnome, over his potions involving Orcish strength, given the negative stereotype about Orcish intelligence lowering the user’s titular stat.

A stern talking to is to be had, before any dealings get made there.

Along the way to the shop, Luctan asks Malak if he knows anything about the tournament, beyond what the party had heard and he shares his knowledge with the gang:

“The Tournament is divided into three trials The Trial of the Elemental Lords, the Trial of the Beast and the Trial of the Betrayed.

The Trial of the Elemental Lords involves the blending of the elements being worked into a challenge that teams must overcome together.

The Trial of the Beast involves fighting a mighty beast that establishes victors as a cut above the rest.

The Trial of the Betrayed is the grand finale, the remaining 2 groups battle it out. But there are clerics on standby. You cannot aim to kill, just to knock unconscious. Any deliberate murder would be acted upon as such in a court of lawAfter the tournament, a party is held for all groups within the Echosmith Hall and the champions are presented with their rewards.”

Luctan’s mind wanders. Things to be re-worked in his goals.

The lot of them soon reach the shop and, upon summoning Pete inside, welcomes are had. Arguing commences between the Half-Orc and the Gnome as Pete ultimately admits that he stopped producing the particualr offending potion, much to the losses in his product.

Ideas are being thrown around on potions Pete could work on in turn, before any business could be had, involving the party’s wants and needs.

Aside from getting a Greater Health Potion and a new Potion of Wizard’s Folly (after giving his first one to Danton back in Sa Doma), the party have... particular requests.

Belli takes note of the “ Basilisk Tears “ potion. For 200 gold, she most definitely buys that and makes plans. Fast plans on the use.

On Luctan’s end, with the deal being made for Peter sponsoring the adventurers for the tournament to come, Luctan gives in to the support of the full party, now that they are all in the shop, as opposed to only half there. With the price for his sword’s modification being brought down to 1,000 gold and the helping hand of Mournimar, Amelia and Malak, who didn’t even want the share of money given to him, Luctan accets.

And hands his greatsword over to the gnome for the specific enchantments he requested.

Belli has that moment of realization, you know? The one, where you just know that you have to move, while the moving is available and contacts Ficus about the Potion of Basilisk Tears, a concoction that might JUST bring her family back to their old selves!

With the party’s blessings, she runs off towards the Crusty Challice, where Ficus will wait for her.

But she doesn’t go alone as Mournimar tails her, just to make sure she doesn’t get messed with, before getting to her older brother. All the while the rest of the group are welcomed to the back of the shop by Pete for training.

As the work out commences, Mournimar follows. And as he follows, he keeps an eye out for anyone shady that might be watching Belli on her way out of the walls of the city.

He doesn’t see anyone. But gets the feeling that he is watched. He investigates that feeling. He notices that someone in the crowd is watching him. Seems to be, looks like a bald older man, stocky built, little bit tall and for a second the tiefling swears there's the faint glimmer of horns in his shadow, but then they disappear. As does he as Mournimar tries to find him in the crowd. To no avail.

Regardless, he continues on the path to the tavern.

There’s a bit of a smog in the tavern as people’ve lit cigarettes and pipes. Belli and Ficus have a good long talk as she shows him the potion of Basilisk tears. They are shaken, misty eyed and anxious to see if it works. This horror that befell their family... It could end in the next couple of days!

By the time she hugs Ficus, Mournimar has entered the tavern and commenced watching over the shadyness that may be observed from the patrons.

Which is to say, he’s basically looking through a sea of shade.

He does notice, though, one of the bartenders has a sort of, finely shaped jaw and stood up black hair, a bit of stubble and seems to be watching Mournimar a bit more intently than normal.

Mournimar tries to stealth closer to the guy, even though he’s aware. He tries to figure out who the guy is, but he has no idea.

Eye contact is made between the two as the guy slides a glass with Brandy over to Mournimar and just continues with his work behind the bar.

Mourni has a leetl sip to make sure everything’s Gucci. Tastes like some of the brandy from around Bavorum. Nostalgic.

Through some small talk, Mournimar learns that the man’s name is “Joe”. Just a working Joe, you know?

It’s less of a talk and more of an interrogation as they don’t break eye contact.

“The brandy’s on the house, Mournimar.” the man answers with the name that the tiefling hadn’t given him. Like. At all.

No answer given on how he knows that.

He backs out the back door with a wink and Mournimar follows after her.

There’s no way the Half-Orcs don’t see this by now and they dash and jump on after the digitigrade ranger, who finds himself and Morgan out in the back alley, with no sign of the mystery man, named Joe.

He tries everything he can, from following tracks, to Hunter’s Mark, to Morgan’s snoofer, but nothing works. The man is just... gone.

With the Narahs catching up to him, he explains what happened and has to be talked down from pointlessly searching for a man, or whoever, who is just “GONE”.

It is then that Belli must explain to him that she has to leave Crystalgate with Ficus. To try the potion on her family. It’s hard on Mournimar, but the frazzled tiefling understands.

Belli hands him Orion and states that, if anything is to happen, she’ll call the others. They then agree to meet up with the others for a proper goodbye.

The others, by the way, doing pretty well for themselves in this new enviroment.

A deal has been made that every time Amelia does good in the training, Archie gets a treat.

Given that the chunky kitty is on his back, getting pats on his big belly from the baby, she’s killed this training.

The entire development has left the running quartet staggering back to the rest of the party. Mournimar doesn’t spot anything off on the way back. 

As everyone reconvenes, Mournimar gives them an update on the respective situations, giving in detail a description of this “Joe” character. He worries it could be related to Lazarus, his ex. Or Kahlia. Or Potencia herself. He gets calmed by Luctan’s wording on the subject.

“We’re a bunch of famous and attractive people. Let’s face it. we have fans.”

As the party splits up, with Belli making her goodbyes with the rest of the gang, Luctan Blesses her and Ficus, which catches Malak’s attention. Thinking about the type of magic being used, he can tell that, though holy, it is not one of the Five that has given Luctan his abilities.

With Belli and Ficus taking Kevin and Killer, the rest of the party opt to go to the circus on the outskirts of town.

“The Voluptani Mystique “, a big tent circus in the north-west part of town’s outskirts. It’s fabulous on the outside.

They pay and notice at the entrance, a red skinned tiefling woman with a long, ball gown dress, leaning against the booth she stood inside and she waves a hand over and leaves a small mark with Prestidigitation.

Lead inside,  it’s basically how you imagine a circus. An arena with seats around the circle. The four and their animal companions take a seat at the front as the Dancing Lights Cantrip flies around the tent, lighting and highlighting everything and everyone gathered, people of many walks of life. Just here for a little show to end the evening.

A cloud of smoke emits from the middle and the huge entrance of the tent swings shut.

Inside the cloud the lights start hovering, we can see the lights start changing color and go in different directions, erratic and suddenly there are hops from around the room where everyone’s sitting. And back in the middle, when they look, they see a high elf woman with pitch black hair falling long and wavy towards the bottom.

She stands with one hand in the air and one hand spread outwards towards the side. She pauses, looks around the audience and she whistles three high pitched notes. She snaps with her pointing up hand and the lights skatter, going right towards the audience. The cloud disappears and in the time it was there, the original woman is gone and there are two halflings, a man and a woman and they start doing all sorts of contortions. They entwine and roll in a ball. Throughout the whole show there is this almost hypnotic flute music. Pyrotechnic displays and after each one, there is a set of three elven dancer,s almost dangerously close as they maneuver around. Really fucking weird. A whole lot of illusion magic is happening here.

At one point the elven dancers starts flying around and Mallak, being a local, has seen this before.

After 3 hours of this weird bewhildering performance the entire room lights up and it’s completely clear and the original high elf woman, who’s actually an eladrin, is still in that same pose as when things started.

And she says “Thank you all once again, as always, please leave your tips with faith on the way out and thank you. She snaps with fingers and purple energy surrounds her as she leaves.

Bewhildered and amazed, Mournimar kinda wants to give this a go. Run away and joy the circus? Follow your dream, bud!

Having been in Crystalgate for a few years now, Malak had abided in a few viewings of the spectacle and, though it’s often with some modifications, it’s generlaly been the same good experience over time. He’s happy.

Amelia shares with the gang about the possibility of hanging out at Nel’s for a few days. As though there was any question on whether they would say “no” to such an offer.

 As the night covers the sky above Crystalgate, the party find themselves again at the rich sector of town, being watched by a guard.  Nel arrives at the gate, red faced after messaging Amelia. She forgot to give her a badge and was now paying the price with the run she had to make.

Sadly, though a talented bard,  Nel has the muscle content of a slug.

The party soon make it back to Shadowspire Manner, lead by Nel, after introducing Mal to the Half-Elven woman and sharing of Burk’s departure.

They are shown around. the rooms, the kitchen, everything they’d need, before she takes Amelia’s hand and leads her to her room. Nel’s room. She is the body guard and she must guard that body.

Mournimar and Malak opt to crash in Luctan’s room for the evening, deciding not to split the party any further than this.

Luctan watches out of a window for about an hour, while humming to the baby, before going to bed.

As Mournimar and Malak sleep, Mournimar has some kind of dream...

But Luctan doesn’t sleep.

No.

Instead, once he’s sure the others have fallen in rem sleep, he sneaks outside and goes for a short walk around the neighbourhood, doing whatever it is that he does at this time.

After coming back in, 5-10-20-to-30 minutes later, he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and notices a shadow close to Mournimar, with no one casting it.

Then it disappears.

After investigating out the window, Luctan goes to bed and meditates... on something else.....

Day 2 comes to an end.

Previous Episode / Halloween Episode / Next Episode

[taevcngs-blog]

best mistake - taeyong

Genre: Short Series; Fluff. [bad boy, thief, taeyong au!]

Word Count: 2K

Summary: You lived in a world full of books, while he lived in a world full of you.

While you worked in your towns local bookstore, you meet with a thief. He attempts his mischievous ways until you catch him. Sparing his life from the police, you two make a deal, but what you both don’t know is that the deal ends with a plot twist that you’ve only ever read about in books. 

A/N: welcome to my first story! i didn’t expect this to be a series but somehow when writing i just had a lot more ideas and details to add in for later. anyways pls stick around soon for part two!

part one | part two 

Who would've thought a worker at a local bookstore would have such rough hours? You definitely didn’t. As much as you loved reading, your whole life has been surrounded by books. Everyone knew you as the bookworm, the poet, the soon to be J.K Rowling. Okay, maybe not J.K Rowling, but a really successful author. It’s practically in your blood. Your mother was known for her late night poem readings at a small diner a few streets away during the weekends, while being retired as a English professor. Only, you ever found it as your hobby. It never occurred to you, the many paths reading and writing can unlock for you.

Currently, you were behind the register, totaling up a bunch of books for a few college students on the line. It was that time again where school was starting, which meant you would get a lot more customers than what you would get. You see, with technology being a thing nowadays with iBooks, Audibles and all that online stuff, it’s rare for you guys to even have a full line at register. If it weren’t for a few local sponsors and schools, this store would of been gone a long time ago.

You hadn’t realized your hours until your coworker side bumped you to get your attention. He chuckled at your sudden reaction, “you’ve been working with the cash all afternoon Y/N, I got it from here. You can just fix up the shelves in the back to relax a bit.”

Your dull face lit up and nodded, “thanks Johnny! You’re a real one!” You switched places with him, leaving the front to the back of the store.

As boring as people think it is, reading was one of your escapes from reality. You found it to be a world where you can use your mind, build images for your favorite characters, be in a world that was different from the one you wake up to. As for writing, it was even better. You were allowed to build your own world. A world where you were in control for once, and because of that you’ve always been attached.

Lately, you’ve been noticing a strange pattern in your current works. The journal where you currently write ideas in, is suddenly repeating itself. You notice most ideas you jot down deal with the concept of love. You find it strange, you don’t think you’ve felt love, been in love. You’ve heard of love, you’ve read about it plenty of times, yet it’s still a stranger to you. Its something you’ve been craving, but something you don’t want rushed. Out of all the horror and thriller books you’ve came across, nothing scares you more than facing the fact you have fallen in love with someone. It was a day you were dreading, because that day could come any time. Through novels you have learned that the greatest love there could be comes unexpectedly.

So as you find yourself rearranging the books in the back of the store, your thoughts snap once you finally hear what seems to be a table full of heavy books fall on the floor. Being curious, you make your way towards the noise to find the textbook section a mess. The table display had been completely knocked down, textbooks everywhere. Some of them were damaged from the fall, pages bent in every other direction they were supposed to be in. With this mess came with what seems to be a young man with a oversized hoodie, gasping at the mess that just took place a few seconds ago.

“Oh no! How the heck did this happen? Sir, did you see anyone do this or was this an accident? Uh, we’re going to need money to replace the ones that have gotten damaged or else-“ you attempt to clean up the mess by picking up the fallen textbooks, only to be pushed back onto the floor by the young man hidden with his hoodie. He snatched the textbook from your hand, picking up what he could before you could get up.

“HEY! THIEF! COME BACK HERE!” You run after him, following him as he ran for his life through the back exit.

This thief was more skilled than you thought, because you managed to lose him within a few minutes of the chase. He could possibly be near so you yelled, letting him know you’re calling the cops when you get back

If only you caught his face behind that damn hoodie.

“Y/N I’m so sorry for not being any help to you when this happened. I should of stayed in the back, but I saw how tired you looked I just wanted to help-“

“Don’t worry Johnny it’s okay,” you chime in. “Its my fault for being slow and letting him get away,” you sigh, looking down at the paperwork you were filling in you started when you got back from chasing the thief.

“If it makes you feel better, I managed to clean the display. I told Mr Park it was my fault so you wouldn’t get in trouble,” he smiled.

“Johnny! That’s not fair to you!” You whined.

“Ah! Don’t worry about it! He let me off the hook since he’s friends with my mom. Just finish filling out the report then go home, you could use the break,” he patted your back before clocking out.

With a nod and a sigh, you finished whatever you had left of the form. Whoever the man was from today, he just made your day ten times more stressful and you were itching to find out who he was. If he ever came back, you vowed to catch him this time. You just had to catch him by yourself and you truly didn’t know why.

The next day at work was pretty normal. This time Johnny worked the back while you stayed behind the register, cashing out another group of college students. Your mind kept flashing back to yesterday of the man with the hoodie. You remembered it was black, oversized and you remember him being pale. You cursed at yourself for not being able to spot the mans face. Assuming you’ve been zoning out as your thoughts got wiped away when another customer was ready to check out.

“Hello sir! Would this be all?” You smile at him, looking down at the book he placed on the counter.

You took a better look at him, brows raising at his appearance. He was taller than you, slender. He wore a black hood, oversized, only to be topped with a blue vest. He paired them with regular black skinny jeans and a random pair of black shoes. His hair was red, not many could pull it off but he did extremely well. It was styled up while earrings dangled from his ear. He had one of those trendy eyebrow slits to complete his aesthetic. His skin was clear, smooth and pale. His lips were a bit chapped, but tinted red, most likely from the cold weather that has been creeping upon us now.

His hands were stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, emotions a bit unclear. He puckered his lips as he took a moment to think about it. He looked behind you, eyeing the display behind the counter. His eyes landed upon laptop cases you held.

“Actually, may I look at your laptop cases?” He smiled, a smile that seemed a bit too forced.

“Oh! Yes! Is there any particular one catching your eye?” You quickly turn around for barely a second, turning back to see the man stuffing the iPad pens you sold at the counter, into the pocket of his vest.

His eyes widened in fear as yours widen as well. He froze, not knowing what to do, what to say.

“YOU!” You run around the counter, ready to trap the man that made your day a living hell.

His instinct was to forget his items, and to run out the store. What he didn’t know is that this time you had a head start and were practically inches away from him. You grabbed onto his hood, yanking him back. This caused him to almost slip on his ass, all the pens falling out his vest.

“Are you kidding me? Were you really stupid enough to come back here after yesterday? Did you think I wouldn’t remember? You’re coming back to pay for everything you stole, everything you damaged and if you won’t then you can just tell the cops why,” you tighten your grip, creating a scene outside a store a block away from yours.

“C-Chill! Okay, okay… Listen, I know this looks bad, but I have my reasons. Just please don’t call the police!” He begs.

“And if I don’t?” You look him eye to eye.

“I’ll give you the money by the end of this week! I promise!” His sentences get faster.

“Bullshit, I don’t believe your stealing ass,” you scoff.

“No! I promise! I’ll give you my address, my number, where I go to school! Look, if I don’t pay up you can tell the cops my name! I’m Lee Taeyong and I go to the uni twenty minutes away from here. I live in the apartment complex next to the sports center and the deli! Just let go of me, damn it!” He attempts to let go of your strong grasp.

You huff, slowly letting him go. He sighs in relief, turning around to face you. He takes in the way you’re glaring at him up and down. He felt guilty, he really did, but this was his only way. He could of ran again, he could of given you a fake name, a fake address but he didn’t. He stayed and listened to what you had to say.

“Why’d you do it, mister Lee Taeyong?” You fold your arms.

He sighs, looking down at his dirty shoes, “I needed textbooks for school and I don’t have any money from being fired. Before you ask, my parents laid me off and don’t wanna talk to me if it’s about money. The money I currently have is going towards rent and food so I decided to… steal what I could from your store…”

Your face slowly softens up, “what about the pens?”

“I was hoping if I gifted my advisors with them, they could help me get out of a few classes they forced me in before school starts back up,” he frowns.

Silence had been present for a while between the two of you. While his mind was racing with thoughts of his punishments, you came up with an idea.

“Okay fine, I won’t call the police-“

“REALLY?” His face lights up.

“BUT…” you continue your sentence. “Only if you start working at the bookstore. That way you can pay off for the damages you made, be employed and get some extra cash for school. This way it can be a win-win situation for the both of us. I don’t have to deal with anymore late night paper work and school work, while you won’t be behind bars. You can come in tomorrow, and can give me your number so that way I can talk to my boss and recommend you, deal?”

Taeyong looks at you defeated. He had so much to deal with, that was the reason why he got fired in the first place. He thought about working again to get his parents off his back, but he was only concerned with school. He had no other choice then to swap numbers and agree. His eyes squinted as he took a glance at your name tag pinned on your shirt.

“I’ll text you the details tonight. You better be here or else the cops will,” you glare at him again.

Slowly nodding, and backing away, he sighs, “looks like you won’t go easy on me, is that right, Y/N?”

“Not until you pay for the mistakes you made, Taeyong,” and with that you turned away from him, heading back to work.

You finally caught the thief, mentally cursing at yourself at what you’ve just done, again. Little did you know that your life was about to become one of those stories you only ever imagined being fantasy.

[crownbeed]

No-Kill Shelters

[edit: admittedly i got a bit offended at the response to my semi-offhand comment (b/c idk what Delaware’s method of action is)....and then this happened. ¯\_(͡ ͡° ͜ つ ͡͡°)_/¯ ]

For context, on a post where someone posted a picture saying that Delaware is the first no-kill state for shelter animals in the US, i said:

Me, a person who recognizes that a no kill shelter will inevitably run out of room and be unable to take in strays resulting in more animals on the streets, will keep animals in closures for potentially their entire life (it’s just cruelty imo), will go into debt real fast when they have animals with an illness that requires regular medicine (like diabeetus): is it tho?

to which @the-most-homo-sapian​ replied with:

@crownbeed sources? the shelter i work at is “no-kill” and we transfer to other shelters and take transfers from full shelters we NEVER turn down an animal. We also have a vet on site (one day a week, but a phone call away for emergencies) and we have multiple animals on meds like insulin (spensive!) and trazadone (sleeping aide/behavioral aide at a low dose aka a not completely necessary med that we still provide) & @crownbeed also my coworkers and i do EVERYTHING in our power to make there (as temporary as possible) stay as home like and enriching as possible. we even have a behavioral specialist that not only works with our more temperamental cases but helps staff like myself keep our animals busy, stimulated and happy as possible.

but i don’t want to flood that post with a bunch of bs so im making this post to address it. So without further ado:

Firstly, I don’t feel like i need a source, this isn't some scientific debate. it is primarily a matter of opinion and personal ethics. But what might be relevant is what i am basing my opinion on, so here we are, my source: I went to college to be a veterinary technician, the things i learned include (but are not limited to) veterinary illnesses/disorders, husbandry,  behaviour & behavioural issues, and idk...husbandry is the most relevant thing in this convo tbh. Not only did I get an education in the area but my school worked very closely with the local SPCA and a TNR group (along with a few other comparatively minor rescue organizations). My school runs a veterinary clinic, so we had 2 veterinarian’s (1 was large animal and 1 was small animal focused) as instructors & also husbandry and behaviour were two separate year-long classes. In addition my classmates (30 of us) came from all over Canada to take this course, we had various levels of experience in various types of shelters and veterinary rehabilitation centres etc. We talked and shared our experiences.

I know a fair bit about shelters and how they function behind the scenes. You work at a shelter that sounds like it isn’t under-funded and overworked, and that's great! However nothing you listed about your shelter is unique to your shelter or no-kill shelters in general. idk. i get the impression that you think that these are things your shelter should be lauded for, when that is just not the case, that is something all shelters do regardless of whether they euthanize or not. I get the impression you may not know the methodology behind why a shelter might euthanize an animal, or you’ve bought into the idea that shelters that euthanize animals do so ambivalently and without restraint. A good reputable shelter is good and reputable because they are humane, they care, and it shows. 

A no-kill shelter functions because it doesn’t function in a vacuum. It is typically in an area with a shelter that euthanizes, or a vet clinic that will. Having an entire state of no-kill shelters is unsustainable, imo, in the long term because there will be no shelters to pick up that slack. Some animals cannot be saved, some animals will always be feral, some are not feral but will never be safe as a pet. I do not know that an entire state can possibly house all these stray animals, i cannot conceive of what kind of money these shelters would require to feed, do surgery on, treat, etc the amount of animals that would end up in these shelters. And how much would they have to put aside to pay workers and professionals etc. How much is it going to cost to adopt from a shelter if the entire state is run by no-kill shelters and they need money? (shelter always need money. if your shelter doesn't need money then it prob has a sponsor....in which case its a privately owned shelter and that's honestly something i have no familiarity with).

You didn’t actually share any information with me about how your shelter functions financially, so i cant really ...argue or debate with anything related to that. I also don't know where you live and i am not familiar with whatever laws are in place there or how they are enforced. Your very specific example of a no kill shelter isn’t really....helpful in this discussion tbh, so idk how else to address it.

Honestly, for me, what it comes down to is simple. It is irrelevant how much enrichment you give an animal if you are simultaneously forcing that animal to live in a cage. Even if you rotated it between shelters, it's still in a cage, and rotating it too much can damage the animals ability to feel safe or loved because it doesn't get to form any meaningful connections with other living creatures.

I just feel like the amount of money that is going to be poured into these shelters would be better split between TNR (trap neuter return) organizations and groups that help impoverished families to get their animals neutered, as well as with shelters that already exist. TNR is a heavily underutilized type of organization.