#like i’m getting my degree. that’s non-negotiable. afterwards i still don’t really know what i’m doing

[mossflower]

like here’s the thing i don’t hate my job. icecream is a sensory nightmare and i can’t deal with heat whether that’s weather or the grill mounted at face level that’s hotter than the fucking sun. but i like doing coffees and drinks and nattering away to customers and when i’ve done a good job i’m genuinely quite happy with myself

[muji-boy]

a day in eating disorder inpatient treatment

tw food mention, ed recovery, hospital

my original plan for the summer semester was to take a course, leaving me with only one more semester of my degree. however, that plan had to be put on hold because i chose to further my recovery from my eating disorder and participate in the symptom interruption phase of inpatient treatment. while shorter than the full program, i still participated in all of the groups and meal supports for three weeks. i thought i would write a blog about a typical day in treatment in case anyone was curious, and to break down the stigma surrounding eating disorder treatment. note, i do mention what i would typically have for meals and snacks which is a totally personal thing! everyone is different. i was there only on weight maintenance, so my experience is much different than somebody on a weight restoration plan. please don’t continue if that is something that would trigger you.

my typical day started with being woken up to get weighed at around 7 am. then it was back to bed until 8 when bloodwork would wake me up a second time. after they finished i would get up, make my bed, and get dressed for the day. most people wore sweat pants and slippers but i tried to keep myself in a routine and would wear comfortable jeans and sneakers, the same as i would outside. my room, which just happened to be the biggest out of them all, was a private room with a bed, night table, desk, chair, bathroom, and sink. on my wall there were two posters, non negotiable rules and a dbt skills poster. i also had a whiteboard where i wrote an inspirational quote. i stuck pictures that meant a lot to me on the wall over my bed with sticky tack. i’d brush my teeth and by then the nurse would come in with my morning medication. then it was off to the group room to wait for breakfast. the group room consisted of a table with chairs and three couches we could sit or lie down on and watch tv or just hang out. at around 8:30 a staff member would come collect us from the group room and we’d make the long walk of shame down the hallway to the kitchen. breakfast would be laid out, ready for you. my best friend made the placemats during a previous admission we had together. they all have an inspiring quote on them.

for me, breakfast often consisted of coffee that tasted like bog water, scrambled eggs, a muffin with butter, plain oatmeal with brown sugar, and a banana. the room had a google home mini so we’d listen to music while we ate. we got 30 minutes to finish everything in front of us, 100% completion was a non negotiable rule. after we finished we went around the room sharing our check out of how the meal went, one thing we liked about the meal, and what our plans were afterwards. then we would be escorted back to the group room for our first group of the day. i’m going based on thursday, which means we had family relations first. we would talk about our relationship with family and friends and how the eating disorder influenced them. it was really cathartic, although it was common to be uncomfortable when the social worker asked for your participation.

after group we would go back to our rooms and wait for the doctor. she would sometimes pop in and go over your bloodwork with you and see if you needed anything. then the nurse would come in and let you know it’s time to lie down for vitals. you laid there for five minutes. some people would look at their phone during this time and play wordle, but i always stared and the ceiling and did square breathing. it felt like a good time for mindfulness. the nurse came in with the blood pressure machine and took it lying, then standing after two minutes. she also took my temperature and asked me some questions about mood and bowel movements. that’s one thing i don’t miss.

next we had morning snack at 10:30. we would reconvene in the group room and wait for the staff member to come collect us. although it is something i struggle with, i personally enjoyed this one the most. i even inspired some staff members to try peanut butter on their apples because that’s what i always had. while eating together as a group was a norm, part of the program is increasing independence. so i did a lot of morning snacks with just me and the staff member because of where the other patients were in their program. after we finished snack, which we had 15 minutes to complete, we played a game for 15 minutes. i usually chose skip bo.

after snack we would have another group such as dbt. if you’re not familiar with dbt, it stands for dialectical behaviour therapy. it’s a really helpful therapy that explores emotions, mindfulness, distress tolerance, and the connection between events and behaviours. for this group we were often assigned homework pages in a workbook to complete by the next session.

then another staff member would come get us for lunch at 12:30. everyone always ate lunch together no matter where they were in the program. a typical lunch would be an egg salad sandwich, salad with dressing, canned peaches, and water. again, we would have 30 minutes to complete it. then we would play a game for 30 minutes. the group of patients i was in with liked playing bananagrams. i had never liked the game before this admission.

from 1:30 pm to 2:30 pm we would have free time. this was also the time a staff member would open up the doors to the “patio” so we would hang out there. really, it was just some fenced in grass with a flower box and a couple of old lawn chairs on a concrete slab. but the fresh air was vital for our sanity. we would also mingle with the general psychiatry patients out there (as this program was separate, but still took place on a general psychiatry ward). then, another snack. my favourite was raisins and cheese. this snack was usually done by the nurse. again, 15 minutes to eat and 15 minutes to play a game afterwards. 

on thursdays we had weight review at 3 pm. the dietician would come find us and we’d go sit in private to discuss our weights and whether there needed to be changes made to our meal plan. for patients in weight restoration this was absolutely the most stressful and triggering part of the week. you also had the option of not knowing your weight but you would still have an idea of what was happening from the status of your meal plan. after our meeting we were free to do whatever until supper.

supper was supposed to be at 5pm but it was always more like 5:30 because the kitchen was always late. we’d be waiting in the group room, doing a puzzle to pass the time, a typical supper would consist of something like fish, mashed potato, vegetables, and cranberry juice. again, 30 minutes to eat and 30 to play a game. usually supper was supervised by a pca (personal care assistant). after supper we would have more free time, which was usually when we’d get visitors. when my mom was in town she visited, otherwise i hung out in the group room and watched movies while painting or studying for the mcat. night snack was at 9pm, and the pca would supervise that one as well. i loved ending off my day with something like cereal and soy milk. in the past you had to have a special reason to have soy milk, but now it’s more accepted as an alternative. i genuinely like the taste of soy better.

after that i would get a shower and read a book until my night nurse came in with my bedtime medication. then i’d go to sleep and do it all again the next day.

i am so thankful i had the opportunity to participate in this program. at first i felt like i wasn’t sick enough to be there, but then i realized that there was no “sick enough” and i deserved to be there. i gained a lot of insight and got back on my feet, which is what i needed. now i have the energy to focus on studying for the mcat! i hope writing about this experience takes away some of the stigma.

[johnkrrasinski]

𝐄𝐱𝐢𝐥𝐞

Chapter 4: Leaving Out the Side Door

full masterlist // series masterlist // commission open // support my work

Pairings: Dark!Steve Rogers (in future chapters) x Reader

Word Count: 2,325

Summary: Steve Rogers; a Hollywood A-lister and your clandestine occasional hookup. Best friends since childhood, but people change and friendships fall out. Now you were merely strangers with benefits. What happens when one day you stopped being his doormat to be a better man’s queen? The selfish Steve Rogers would not like it. How far is he willing to go to get his favorite possession back?

Warnings: smut, non-con/dub-con, dark Steve (in later chapter), angst, Steve Rogers is an asshole in this one, no redeeming qualities. (MUST BE 18+)

A/N: this series is dedicated to the lovely @belovedcherry​​​ who commissioned this story and developed the concept. thank you for being a friend when i truly needed it. i’m really glad that you trusted me to write this story for you. with all my heart, i sincerely hope you like it. this series will be updated every day.

You were on your knees with your hands tied behind your back as he vigorously thrust into you. Your heartbeat pounded in your rib cage and you began to feel numb from the hours he had fucked you. Steve was relentless when he was chasing his own climax, greedily used you as a tool; giving zero fucks about your pleasure or your discomfort, to dump his load in.

Steve didn’t need to see your face or hear your consent. He could go on and on for hours and still not feel satisfied. One thing that you had learned from this being in this dead-end friends with benefits thing with Steve Rogers is that his stamina was relentless. And he wouldn’t think twice about getting what he needed whenever he needed it.

Steve impaled you as your face was squeezed into the pillow, you could hear the squelching noises from the ceaseless cycle of disposing his semen in you and then pushed it back in when he was ready for the next round. Your head began to feel dizzy and your visions turned hazy. You’d tell him to stop because you couldn’t take it anymore, but you knew you didn’t have any strength left in your body to do so.

So you ascended from your body and let him take the wheel; allowing him to go as fast as he wished. He kept hammering until he felt your cunt clenching around him and his cock pulsated, then the line blurred as the coil inside you burst, withering every nerve in your body.

“Ah, fuck.” He grunted. He stayed still inside you until he felt himself softening and then he retreated.

Steve unbound your wrists and he threw himself on the other side of the bed. You knew better than turning to his side and cuddle on his chest unwarranted. He always expected you to get up and get out of his house instantly because he either had another place to attend and didn’t want to see you still here when he comes home or he was ready for another hookup.

Every now and then, you’d let him use you to fulfil his needs and you’d volunteer in cleaning his apartment afterwards. Even after those countless nights where you weren’t the one who made a mess of his sheets.

Ever since that night in your dorm; the first time you were reborn into a blossomed woman and the first time Steve paved the way of traversing to the electric piquancy of venereal act for you, you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t stop letting him through your door or drive to his place at three in the morning just so he could let off some steam.

Every time you try to say no, he’d always pay you a visit unannounced. He’d paralyze you with his words and freeze you with his unchaste touches. “Shh, let me make you feel good, baby. You just gotta surrender yourself to me.”

You’d try to push him away but your brittle tenacity was unavailing. Fast forward to five years later, when you finally got your degree and life vagabondized to unexpected places, your sex life was still staying still in one spot.

You were recruited by National Institute of Mental Health as their project manager. You were possibly the youngest candidate to occupy this position but they were very impressed by your resume and your interview that they didn’t have any better choice than giving you the job.

You loved it, you excelled at what you do. Helping people and tending for their mental health was the aim of your life. You had a clear vision of how you were going to initiate a concept, plan a strategy and execute the plan. You respected your colleagues and vice versa. It was a suitable environment for you to work in and you enjoyed every minute of it.

Your best friend aka your former roommate, Natasha was your rock. You still talked to her everyday and she’d always text you in case she couldn’t call. You’d exchange stories about how your days went and she’d always send you pictures or videos of her adorable cat, Liho. It always carved a smile on your face.

The same goes for Wanda, although with her busy schedule of graduate school and supervised experience made things a little difficult for you to stay in touch, she still updated every nugatory detail of her life. You loved her and you missed her excruciatingly. You had driven to New Haven during some weekends to see her and spend time with her, but when the weekend was over, you had to return to New York because your job was waiting for you.

They were your two most endeared girls and you couldn’t wait for the day you finally introduce them to each other. Natasha and Wanda had said hi to each other a few times back when you were still living in the same dorm but, you really wanted to spend time with the two of them at the same time. They would totally click.

But if anyone asks you about your love life? Well, how could you explain something that was nonexistent?

Unless “friends” with benefit counts for something…

A bell on your apartment dinged and you reached for the door. A man in black with purple nuances uniform showed up with a package in his hands. “Miss Y/L/N?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Here’s your delivery. Sign here please.” He handed you a piece of paper to draw your signature on and you accepted it without question, knowing full well it was another extravagant gift from Steve. Yep, that Steve.

The Steve Rogers.

A Brooklyn-born movie star of various blockbuster films, a remarkable singer and the face of Calvin Klein’s campaign this year… and Gucci Guilty’s last year.

The notorious womanizer but it was all good because he was the man. When you had starred alongside Leonardo DiCaprio and posed next to Oprah, who would give a shit if you never stopped playing the field, right?

And because he was The Steve Rogers, he could’ve spent his money on any lavish item and he could’ve put his dick wherever he wanted it. That included you, being the object of his wealthiness and his manliness.

How many times had you tried to reason with him when he constrained you to come over after a drunken hookup with a twenty-something model to clean up the mess and take out the trash? Perhaps just a few numbers exceeding the number of times he’d play the most charming man in the world only to forget your existence until he wanted you again.

So your feet innately transported you to your car, wearing the brand-new crimson red, bodycon dress with deep V-neck that displayed your cleavage, spaghetti straps baring your arms and a backless design that made you shiver due to the crisp air and drove to a place you had grown so accustomed to.

And this was the God knows how many times you were corrupted on his bed again. You had been so busy with your upcoming project that NIMH was ready to announce but you just couldn’t find it in yourself to resist the urge to come over to his place.

You stood on your wobbly feet, cleaned yourself up and see yourself out. Wouldn’t want to keep another mistress waiting in line…

Three weeks have passed since you last slept with Steve Rogers. Whispers on the streets chirped that he had been occupied with shooting a new film, erotic thriller slash mystery genre. Seems appropriate.

You yourself had been snowed under your work. The fundraiser event that NIMH was holding had been wearing you down but it was all worth it when the show was on. Negotiating with sponsorships, seeking donations and managing ticket sales were not easy, and it was all part of your responsibility because you were the boss, but you aced it anyway.

You were also responsible to hire professional entertainers and well, knowing that you got some connections to a well-known actor, of course, he was the first name on your list. But due to schedule conflicts, he couldn’t make it. It wasn’t a problem though, you still had a long list of names; film stars, movie producers, musicians, directors, moguls, etc.

You stood in your black sequin dress at the corner of the venue, inhaling all the sedulity and gumption you had invested in this event for the past couple of months. A part of you was secretly hoping that Steve would be here to see it, but you quickly eliminated those thoughts away.

9th-grade summer break. Upon the verdant hills overlooking the tranquil lake below; the moon’s faint glow ricochets on the water.

“What do you wanna be when you grow up, y/n?” his head reclined on his the palms of his hand, arms sprawled out like a butterfly’s wings.

“I wanna… Help people. My mom is a nurse and my whole life I watched her taking care of people she’d never met and I wanna have her big heart. I wanna do something that saves people.” you beheld the twinkling stars in the crepuscular sky, privily prayed that every word would come true.  

“You wanna be a nurse like her too?” His eyebrow raised.

“I don’t know… Maybe I’ll host a charity event or something and then I’ll use all the money for those who need it. It looks cool in the movies.”

“When I make it, I’ll come to your event and help raise the money too! People would be interested in giving money to celebrities, right?” the credence glinted in his eyes.

“But the money will not be for you, doofus.”

“Yeah, I know!” he chided. “I wouldn’t take a single cent even if I could. My mom taught me that if I were given the chance to put others first before me… I should and I will respect her legacy.”

You watched the host and your project leader, Tony Stark stood behind the acrylic podium and he greeted the crowd a good evening. He opened his speech, cajoling the guests with his words to share a little bit of their wealth as many as possible and closed it with a cordial adieu.

You made your way to one of the most respected guests; Benjamin Woods was sitting on the fifth table. Two times Oscar nominee and you were jittery to talk to him, but in this line of work, you were trained to be confident and act like one of the elites. So you weren’t going to freak out like an obsessive fan, you gotta keep it cool and classy. Plus, during the briefing, you were told to fraternize with as many of the guest as possible, persuade them to help us reach the goal.

You had your eyes set on the target until you bumped on a six-foot man, spilling the martini in his hand all over your dress. It caused a few heads turning but that was the last thing you cared about right now. “Shit!” you squawked.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry miss.” a British accent was hinted.

You grabbed a napkin from the nearest table to wipe away the stain but of course, it was futile. He offered a hand by saying “here, let me help.”

“No, no it’s fine, I’ll-” you looked up to see a handsome man with a pair of grey, slightly blue and green fused at the core. His dark brown hair matched the stubble covering his entire jaw and you were captivated by the work of art that was his face. Man, what a gorgeous creature. “…Manage.”

“I’m truly sorry, I must really stop reading through my emails while walking.”

“Don’t worry about it, sir. It happens.”

“Can I at least get you a drink? I’d feel really bad if I don’t do anything to compensate for my error.”

You averted your gaze from him to the person you really wanted to talk to but that could wait. You still got a few more hours to properly introduce yourself. “Yeah, why not?”

“Splendid.” You both walked toward the bar and sat on the stools. The next thing you knew, you had spent the last one hour talking and acquainting with this man. Apparently, he was the executive director of Filmmakers Without Borders where funding films and new media projects that aligned with themes of social justice, empowerment and cultural exchange was the prime focus of his job. He believed that if he could support ideas that would make the world a better place, he’d do it without a second thought.

He was also a big traveler. He loved seeing magical places in foreign countries, he was keen on exploring new cultures and learning new languages even if he could only recollect a few basic words. He claimed that he had traveled to nine countries in Asia and he planned to travel across Europe, his so-called home, once he had conquered the omnifarious continent.

And what enthralled your heart the most about him was that he was a proud father of two adorable dogs; a greyhound and a pomeranian and a benign Siberian cat. He spoke about them so fondly. He showed you pictures of them and he said that he’d love for you to meet them. Oh man, was that a subtle invitation to come over to his place soon in the future?

He was a real gentleman, courtesy and multifaceted were the proper words to describe this man, and you had only known him for one hour. Eventually, duty calls and you still had a role to play in this event, but before you could hop off the stool, he had asked you for your number and you gladly gave it to him. You had a feeling that this wasn’t farewell but rather, an incipience. The question is… What could it be of?

[cheatsheettobeingworthy]

The Only 3 Things I Need In A Partner My list is incredibly short. But it’s also incredibly non-negotiable. (by Kris Gage) Too many people — especially women my age — harbor ridiculous “check lists” of demands in a partner that don’t matter. Tall. High-income. Nice car. Nice apartment — and good decor. Attractive. Smart. Nice. Not crazy. Good family. Good hair. Good nose. Works out. Drinks what I drink. Likes the same music. Has the same hobbies. Travels. Does brunch on the weekend and trivia at night. Wants a golden retriever — and 2 kids… Shit goes on. Fam, I love you, but these lists are ridic. We’re just creating obscene demands to distract ourselves from the real work of discerning what’s important. I’m not going to tell you what you should want. But I will suggest that we define it better. When I think about what I want in a life partner, the questions I ask aren’t things like “what his earning potential?” but rather “what’s this guy gonna do when shit really hits the fan?” Because it will. And when it does, no amount of luxury vehicles or nice hair or good looks will do me much good. Don’t get me wrong — I definitely have a physical “type” that I go for, but looks don’t matter that much in the long run. I’ve dated tall, short, skinny, fat, older, younger, good hair, no hair, and various states of balding. (I’ve also dated high income, low income, same religion, different religion… dudes with luxury cars, beaters, and interests in all kinds of music and hobbies — I don’t care.) Because: There are only 3 things that I absolutely need I like the simplicity of “trifectas” — with “tall, dark and handsome” being the classic (albeit bad) example. I wanted to get my criteria down to three as well. And I didn’t really sit down and ponder over it as much as I simply realized and it emerged, quietly and clear: I need: “emotional stability, critical thought, and friendship.” “Looks” don’t even make the cut — and even if I was pushed to list more, “looks” wouldn’t even crest the top ten. Frankly, I’d just extrapolate my top three into specifics. Because all I care about are these. 1) Emotional Stability Self-sufficiency. Emotional health. Responsibility for our own emotions. Composure. And I should note: all healthy relationships require this of both partners. Without it, the relationship doesn’t have a chance in hell. At a bare minimum (non-negotiable): a partner who can make it through 99.9% of his days without having a meltdown. Someone who takes responsibility for his own emotions, first and foremost, and communicates his needs calmly and clearly. Someone who deals with everyday setbacks without flailing, follows through on what he says he’ll do, and, for the love of god, takes responsibility for his own mistakes. Someone who is both secure and emotionally self-sufficient; who doesn’t struggle with jealousy, clinginess, neediness, overreactions, toxicity, or crippling anxiety, and doesn’t whine, whimper, complain, cling, interrupt, get defensive, seek revenge, make excuses, or demand constant affirmation (and ideally, also doesn’t lie, cheat or steal.) Someone not governed by emotions, who makes decisions level-headed. Someone dependable, emotionally rugged, and solid AF. Ideally (not required, but nice to have): grit. Someone who not only endures everyday hardship, but prospers because of it; not just passively accepting setbacks, but excelling despite them. I compromised on this once (okay, twice) and I regretted it. The first time, I got a stage-five clinger. The second, a codependent. Both because I prioritized the other two things in my trifecta and let this slide. Never again. 2) Critical Thinking Too often people bastardize the idea of “smart” as “knowing a lot of facts,” “being good at trivia,” “having an advanced degree,” or “working a big job.” But real intelligence isn’t about what you know. It’s how you think. It’s problem solving — finding or figuring out the answer, not remembering it. At a bare minimum (non-negotiable): when he encounters a problem, he not only refrains from a meltdown (see above) — he solves it. Someone who’s got clean, accurate logic and knows what to do with it. Someone who loves a good challenge, never shies from a setback, and steps up to solve shit time and time again when the going gets tough. Someone who’s so intellectually rugged, I can’t not want him around. Ideally (not required, but nice to have): someone who’s successfully applied this (and his grit) in his work, and done or built something valuable. (Super extra bonus points: an engineer. Because, all this considered, I sure do fuckin love me an engineer.) These two are the only real requirements. But to round out the trifecta, here’s my third item: 3) Friendship — based on understanding I yearn deeply for friendship and intellectual understanding in love. It is deliciously nice to have, and a lack of it was a big part of the reason I left my longest relationship. At a bare minimum: I want someone who’s pickin up what I’m puttin down like 99.9% of the time — and making me laugh almost as often. Someone with whom I have an inside joke or two. Someone with whom there’s comfort and ease and play. Someone with whom I’m real and actual friends. Someone who “gets me” in my mentally “pajama’d” state, my thoughts sprawled out and talking abstract at the ceiling. Ideally (not required, but nice to have): someone who’s my best friend.I know people take sides on this, but having had it both ways I’m convinced there’s only one best option (and anyone who says otherwise just doesn’t have it.) I want a best friend. Having a great relationship is, of course, predominantly about putting in the effort and work. But first build your house on a solid foundation, and focus on just a few key things to get a good one. These are just a starting point — and everything that’s important comes afterwards, through commitment and attention and effort. But none of that work means anything (at least to me) without these three things first in place. ❤ And it’s totally prescriptive, but frankly I think more people could benefit from a highly-focused list of priorities, based on values — not just ignoring things, but filtering on higher quality things. Because it’s not about lowering standards — it’s about raising them. To focus solely on shit that actually matters and makes a good relationship. And then focus the rest of our attention on building it. Note: a few readers misinterpreted this piece to mean I was still looking for someone. I’m not. My current partner (arguably already the love of my life) has all three of these things in spades — and makes me ridic happy.

[hellssecretary-blog1]

Your obedient servant, asshole

File and King Dice duke it out like adults they are.

----

File picked up the small note tuckered between papers she collected on her table.

"Dear Folder,These were past due yesterday. If I found another more sloppy work I would have to talk to Boss, count yourself lucky I haven't done so. Consider this as show of my good will.

Best regards Your obedient servant Dice"

She crushed it in her hand, fully knowing these papers weren't nowhere in her vicinity whole week. That slimy sleazy cube. --

Dice stared at note Wheezy delivered to him. He could see retreating blue vest on other side of the room.

"Dearest Ki... Dice,

should I remind you, that if you want work done, you have to deliver it to the one who should do it? Your demands were met with satisfaction non the less. Also I would recommend buying more whiskey as my data shows spike in consumption. Just polite reminder.

Best regards Your obedient servant File"

He glared at the offending piece of paper and then turned to barman to talk about the whiskey consumption. -- Small paper plane landed before File as she was sitting at bar, talking with bartender and filling her employee information, that needed to be updated.

"Dear Folder,

no need to remind me on my duties, unlike some paper head I know. But I would like to remind you, that you have your work and I have mine. Don't try to take on too much, or should I remind you what happened the last time? That was quite amusing to see.

Best regards Your obedient servant KING Dice."

Only small twitch showed her rising irritation, before she returned to her previous task. Maybe her questions were bit more snappy than before, maybe not. Bartender just tried to hide his smile. -- Dice pulled out his handkerchief and small paper note fell from his pocket. When he picked it up, only his years of dealing with people saved him from swearing out loud.

"Dearest Dice <3,

I wasn't aware you know more paper headed people than me. Should I be jealous? Or should I draft new working contract for them, listing all their duties as you seem to be concerned by their lack of diligence. As for taking on too much work, should I remind you I was 25 and managed to last whole month, before completely shutting down from exhaustion. And I was finishing my academical degree on top. I'm sure it must have been hilarious to witness it. But should I remind you who came begging to take back my work afterwards? Even though I was still recovering from my sickness?

Best regards Your obedient servant secretary Folder File."

He stared at the mocking heart behind his name, wondering if punching her would be considered bad taste. He put it away, smiled at the guest he was scamming and pretended nothing happened. -- File fumed as she discovered paper flower at her table, everybody knew she hated when notes were handled to her folded in any shape or form.

"Dear Folder,

it's amazing how much you care for somebody unknown to you. Yet my concerns were aimed at you and you alone. Seems like your contract needs revision. Have to admit, you shutting down right in middle of meeting with Boss and faceplanting right in to fiery pit was best thing that happened in several years. It saddens me that I wasn't able to catch in on film. As for me begging you to take back your job, that was order from Boss. Don't read too much in to it, but given how much I know you, that is impossible. So enjoy your disillusions.

Best regards Your obedient servant Manager King Dice."

Folding it back in to flower shape, File set it on floor gently, before she crushed it with her feet. It felt so good imagining Dice's hand instead of the innocent paper. -- Dice looked up from his own paperwork, as the hellish secretary walked in, rather impressive stack of papers in her arms. He just shuddered at the amount that she most likely is going to dump on him. Instead she just put small piece of paper in front of him, turned on her heel and left without single word.

"Dearest Dice,

I assure you my contract doesn't need revision, update or anything else to be done to it. It's updated automatically since it was made by myself after negotiation with Boss all those years ago. Thank you for your concern, they were horribly misplaced though.Shame, truly a shame that you couldn't catch my shameful fall, yet I still have pictures of you in that lovely maid outfit Devil forced on you, due to some misfortune that managed to befall on you. If I remember correctly it was because some patrons managed to set several tables on fire before you could apprehend them. Wonder how could they get such fire power to do so. We should never know.

Best regards, Your obedient servant Devil's secretary Folder File."

He reread it several times. Did she indirectly admitted it was her who helped to set Casino on fire when he was watching. Was she that petty?

Squinting at the paper he noticed small arrow. Turned the paper to see PS. "PS: Don't read in to it too much. I was with Boss at the incriminating time. Love, File."

He torn the paper in to pieces. -- File was enjoying rare meal and humming to herself as she was reading book while forking down rice with some sort of sauce. Her tranquility was interrupted when Dice showed up, slammed something down and stormed away.

"Dear Folder,

so nice to know your contract is only in your head. That picture is going to meet swift end, or so I swear you will find your latest writing creation posted all over the Inkwell isles. Hopeful you know what I mean, it was rather funny read, given you don't have any imagination. Who knew that stoic old maid File likes fantasy novels?

Best regards Your obedient servant Devil's manager King Dice."

She stared at it and felt color darken her cheeks. That scoundrel! He found out her stash of stupid ideas, that needed to be taken out for her to be able to focus on anything else beside them. The note ended as bookmark. -- Later that same day Dice was having nice smoke outside, when File marched past him, leaving small paper flutter down in her wake for Dice to pick it up.

"Dearest Dice,

how long did it take for you to come up with that pun? Or did somebody else help you with it? It seems more elaborate than your normal quips. I really want to talk to the person who helped you with it.As for my writing, hope you got copies, since paper that was used for its creation came from my head. You really should come up with better hiding place. I'm going to have fun with burning it.

Best regards Your obedient servant Devil's hellish secretary Folder File.

PS: Left something for you to read in meantime."

When King Dice looked in his hiding place in unused piano, he found children's picture book about colors. -- File was just about to have a lunch when she noticed there was only piece of paper on her plate.

"Dear Folder,

I might come to you are a surprise but it was me who came up with that pun. But what comes to me as surprise is that you know what pun is and noticed one. Bravo, maybe your sense of humor was not amongs the causalities of your poisoning attempt.Shame, but what I read will never leave me. It was enlightening to see you know how o use magic of great proportions.

Best regards Your obedient servant Devil's charming manager King Dice."

Now the secretary was hungry and angry. Dice was about to get it. -- File stomped to Dice, wordlessly glaring at him over his desk, before she slid piece paper over to him and left his office.

"Dearest and beloved Ego Dice,

there is one thing to question my intelligence, social skills and even fashion. I know I'm average looking at best. Shut in and bad at talking to people. But when you mess with my food and leave me hungry for rest of the day, that is where I draw the line. There was only few things I was looking forward to eat and you took that away. Hope you will appreciate how big those pictures of you are.

Simply die Your obedient servant hungry Devil's hellish secretary Folder File."

Dice smirked to himself. And then it dawned on him. She had pictures of him? What kind of... he stopped when he heard laughter from Casino and briskly walked out. Patrons had rather large pictures of him in various embarrassing situations, outfits and in File's clothes, when he and her were tasked by Boss to do each others job for a week. In each others clothes. Worst was all those pictures were taken out of context, none was given, so everybody thought it was willingly taken.

That was low and blow to his pride. It would rook some time before he collected all pictures, only to discover she went all out and spread them over Inkwell as well. -- File was finally able to hunt down some food, enjoying the nibble when King Dice stormed over to her, slamming his hand down, snatching her granola bar and stormed away. She was stunned. On note he left on the table was written only few things.

"Dear Ego trip File,

that was low, even for you. From now on, you can buy your own food.

Best Regards Your obedient servant pissed Devil's charming manager King Dice."

When she peaked in kitchen cooks just shook their heads and shooed her out. She didn't have any other option than to go shopping. And talk to people while still hungry as entire Hell. -- They were both sitting before Devil on monthly meeting. File to record the meeting, Devil an Dice doing all the talking. But File was distracted by her hunger and Dice was still trying to live down the humiliation from all those pictures.

Both were glaring at each other, bile rising in their mouths at the mere presence of the other. It didn't take long for File to pull paper from her head and slip it to Dice, as Devil turned away from them, pulling out Deal from cabinet behind him.

"King Ego,

thanks to you I'm banned from every shop on Inkwell. Without money and food.

Go die Your obedient servant mad hungry Devil's hellish secretary Folder File"

Dice glared at her, before smirking. He tore the paper with shrug, he could care less about her struggles.

In retaliation File pulled another paper from her head, this one with dark smirk and put it on Devil's desk. It was clear it was a picture of Dice in King's regalia, sitting on Devils throne chair. Surely something that would make their boss angry.

"That's not fair, File." Dice hissed as he tried to snatch the picture away, but the secretary kept it pinned to the desk with her fingers. Both trying to not to make any ruckus, so they wouldn't alert Devil, who was taking his sweet time to find the Deal, he wanted to discuss.

If both were paying attention, they would notice that Devil was already watching them with huge grin on his face.

"All is fair when you play with my food, Dice." File hissed back with venom. "You are overly dramatic. You could take some from pantry!" Dice leaned closer, his fingers still tugging at the offending picture.

"I would, if somebody didn't put lock on it month prior and didn't have only key to it, dick." Snapping back, File too leaned closer to be hear over her growling stomach.

"Well I wouldn't put lock on it, if somebody didn't steal food from it. As you know, your numbers told us that!" Dice was furious, She was blaming him from something so idiotic.

"That still didn't change the thin, there is only one key!" She glared as hunger pain shoot though her body. Her grip was failing.

"Cry me a river. You bought this on yourself."

"You started this childish pass it note!"

"You continued!"

"Because I had no words how stupid it was!"

"And showing everybody my embarrassing photos was smart? File you are..."

"I dare you to finish that statement." Before Dice could finish, he had wooden sword in his face, with orange eyed File fuming and glaring at him.

"Stupid beyond belief." Dice himself took out his cards, ready to defend himself.

Both adults were ready to tear each other apart when laughter interrupted their escalating argument. Devil was having best day in long time and laughed at expense of his employees.

"Ya both stupid. Sit down and let wrap this up. As much as I enjoy your pissed squabbles and scuffles you are working. Finish it in your free time." He ordered.

Dice and File sat down, still hatefully glaring at each other. -- The meeting was wrapped quickly. The secretary and Manager disappeared quickly after it. Next day they showed with poorly hidden black eyes and bruises. File even had cracked glasses.

Both refused to talk about, talk to each other and it took almost a month before their anger simmered down enough to silently work with each other again.

Much to amusement of everybody around. unless you counted Mr Wheezy who was the one who was passing messages between the two.

Devil decided he needed to mess with his two employees more often as he shuffled through pictures of them two duking it out.