#maybe they would if you actually offered full-time employment

[neurantics-theythem]

Not me being interviewed for a job that I was lead to believe was a full-time benefited position, only to find out *during* the interview is part-time and nonbenefited, when the district manager who’s doing the interviewing says straight to my face

“No one wants to work. No one applies. And when they do apply they don’t care about the job.”

[hannieehaee]

ENDLESSLY (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: despite not having a large audience, jungkook's camboy career prevailed with the hopes that someday he'd make enough money to finally leave his dead-end job. what happens when one of his admirers offers to make that dream come true?

content: camboy!jungkook x trustfundbaby!reader, jungkook is shy, jungkook is a faceless camboy with a very small audience, reader is younger than jk, kind of pathetic!jungkook, reader is rich and very confident, slowburn (kind of), afab reader, smut, camming, masturbation (m receiving), oral (f receiving), dry humping, penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 2126 (teaser); 12.7k (full fic)

RELEASE DATE: june 28th

or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!

a/n: this took me forever to finish lol i hope its any good at all</3

masterlist | kofi/patreon

"Well, that's it for today guys, thanks for watching."

With an awkward chuckle, Jungkook reached out to his computer screen and shut the laptop closed, groaning just as he stopped being out of earshot.

233 viewers.

It wasn't much, but it was enough to give Jungkook the hope that maybe someday he'd be able to find pride in the number. Maybe his streams would blow up in views overnight one of these days – the hope prevailed. It had been a month since he hit the 200's, now garnering an average of 250 viewers per stream.

It was quite embarrassing to him sometimes. There were instances in which he'd finish a stream and regain full consciousness of his actions, becoming embarrassed at the knowledge of strangers watching him cum — of them hearing his voice and his whimpers as he played it up for their entertainment — and of him not even being able to make a living out of it.

He had to stay creative, sometimes finding scripts online that he'd read out to his viewers while he jerked off, playing the role of a subby coworker or a dominant childhood friend in order to keep his audience engaged (and maybe incite one or two to send money his way). Other times, he'd simply ramble about his life (but never get too specific) whilst he let himself lose control on camera.

Jungkook never once showed his face, only ever giving people glimpses at the tattoos decorating his arm and of his cock as it stood against his abs. The most he'd ever shown had been a small view of his lips before the camera's frame cut off.

He liked it this way.

In reality, he was too shy to ever be outspoken about doing such a thing, which was why no one in his life knew about it. He didn't judge anyone who enjoyed camming, but he was simply too self-conscious to do such a thing. Despite being aware of how handsome people thought him to be, he had never been too forward when it came to sex, much less this.

This had all started a little over a year ago, when he'd come across a few cammers on Twitter late into the night. Going on their accounts out of sheer curiosity, he realized that they each had a large following, not only on Twitter, but also on camming websites. Some of them even had their Patreons and PayPal accounts linked to their accounts, amassing even more revenue from these third party websites on top of their income from the camming sites. This was what mainly caught his attention.

Part of him felt bad about being on it solely for the money, but he was beyond desperate. And so he held the false hope that he'd somehow have the same luck as them and create an income out of this.

As someone who had only recently graduated university, having found no luck in his field, Jungkook had to resort to applying to jobs he felt were below his level of expertise. Having no connections in his field and no call-backs from employers, he found himself working a part time at a gas station accompanied by a part time at a grocery store. Both jobs were miserable to him.

The jobs themselves were not horrible, but attempting to manage both schedules and both sets of responsibilities was slowly weighing down on him. His coworkers were also not the best to be around. And did he mention the commute to each establishment? That part ate up at his days drastically, leaving him with almost no time for rest.

Jungkook knew that he should've given up on camming a long time ago. Hell, he'd made a grand total of $876 dollars in the past year he'd been at it. That would be a laughable amount to all the cammers that had inspired him into taking such a profession. But he didn't have any other prospects. Even as he worked his two jobs and cammed, he continued to search for more fulfilling (and better paying) employment, but was unable to ever even get any callbacks.

And so now he found himself doing about three streams per week, getting more and more discouraged each time he'd end a stream with the same low number of viewers.

With yet another sigh, Jungkook got up to go clean himself up, lethargic in his movements due to both the physical and mental exhaustion of having worked all day, only to come back home for a lowly appreciated stream.

Coming back from a much needed hot shower, he did his usual skin care before heading back to bed, where he had been recording just now. For a moment he pondered whether he should go to sleep now in order to get ready for work early next morning or to indulge in watching some anime as a reward for the tiring day.

Going for the latter, he opened his computer back up, sighing again when he remembered he hadn't closed the tab in which he'd been camming.

But before he could actually tap out of it, something caught his attention, making his eyes widen more than he thought possible.

burner98 donated $1,000

This must've been some sort of mistake. Right? Maybe they mistyped? No one in their right mind would donate such an amount to a faceless cammer ranking up to less than a thousand weekly views.

All his prior donations had been in the lower numbers, usually only ever amounting up to $20. Never had he ever gotten someone to donate anything in the triple digits, much less going into the quadruples.

The name of the donor also caught his attention. Babystarcandy. It was a frequent watcher who had been in attendance to every single stream of his starting a few months back — which was when they'd first made an appearance in his audience.

He had never noticed this viewer in particular, though they were one of the only people to ever grant him donations. They'd usually donate whilst he was off stream, which he found slightly strange but never questioned. Checking through his donation history, he saw this name listed three times prior, with donations of $5, $15 and $20 respectively. They'd happened throughout the months, with no pattern in particular. It made no sense for them to donate such a high amount to Jungkook out of nowhere, especially not while he wasn't actively on stream.

With a heavy heart and half a mind to simply keep the money, he decided to message the donor to inform them of their mistake and follow through with a refund.

So much for his anime binge before bed.

babystarcandy - Hey, burner98. Thank you so much for the kind donation, but I think you made a mistake. I'll refund you.

He decided to go with something kind of formal. After all, he'd never spoken to this person before.

Surprisingly, the response came within minutes. Being three in the morning, he assumed you'd wait til the following day to reply, but maybe you were in a different time zone.

burner98 - omg hiii !! did i make a mistake ?? im sorry !! i meant to send 1k. did it not go through correctly ?

Had that not been an accident? One thousand dollars?

This made no sense. Why would you send him such a large amount out of nowhere? That was more than he'd made in the entire past year. Hell, that was half his rent.

Jungkook had no idea how to respond to you.

As much as he wanted to accept it, it felt like robbing you of a fortune.

babystarcandy - Gosh, hi! No, the thousand came through, it's just ... Are you sure this is correct? This is a lot of money ... I'd feel terrible taking so much from you

Once again, you responded almost immediately.

burner98 - haha ur so cute

burner98 donated $2,000

burner98 - is that better ? ;)

Holy fucking shit.

Jungkook's hands were shaking at this point. His eyes couldn't believe what was right in front of him.

Quickly, he took out his phone to check his baking app, checking to see if the deposits were legitimate. Upon opening it, he found that his balance had in fact gone up $3,000. This was far more money than he'd ever had in his bank account.

He stared blankly at it for a few moments without so much as breathing. A reminder to snap out of his trance arrived in the form of another chime coming from his computer — a new message from you.

burner98 - did i scare u off :((

burner98 - just wanna help u out :(((

Immediately, he rushed to respond, not even thinking before typing anymore.

babystarcandy - no! not at all! this is just so much money. i dont want you getting yourself into financial trouble for me

Within seconds, you responded.

burner98 - haha it's okay i can afford it dont worry <3

He furrowed his brows worriedly, typing up yet another message.

babystarcandy - i really dont mean to sound ungrateful, but why ? it's so much money ... this is life-altering type of money for me (as made up as that may sound) my content isn't even that good. why are you giving me this?

He knew he was shooting himself in the foot by questioning it so much and not simply accepting it, but he'd learned through his life that good things don't just come out of nowhere. He needed more details. At least for his peace of mind.

burner98 - i adoooore ur content. u've helped me so much u have noooo idea !!! u deserve it !! u mentioned in ur live a week ago u were struggling with money, so ofc id wanna help u out pretty <3

Fuck. You actually liked his content? His content was worth $3,000 to you?

Jungkook was almost sure he had accidentally fallen asleep before he even opened his computer. Pinching himself a few times proved for this to be actually real.

babystarcandy - thank you so much. you have no idea how much this means to me.

babystarcandy - there has to be some way i can repay you.

Was he propositioning himself to you?

Not even Jungkook was sure. He had no idea what he was offering to you, but it was the middle of the night and he was extremely grateful. He couldn't help himself as he typed up that message and sent it.

burner98 - oh ? what would u suggest ?

Oh, fuck. You were agreeing. Okay ... Now what? Jungkook had nothing to offer. He was an amateur cammer with nothing to his name. What could some random person on the internet with tons of disposable income possibly want from him?

babystarcandy - maybe i could give you a call to thank you ? you know, one on one ?

He mentally kicked himself as soon as he sent that message.

What the hell was he thinking, offering up a personal call to some random person online? This could be a friendless creep for all he knew. He had no identifying information about you, other than knowing you apparently had a vast disposable income. I mean, hell, your account name was burner98, you clearly did not want to leave any traceable information about you.

Before he could backtrack (not that he would actually have the balls to), the three dots on your side of the conversation popped up, followed by another message from you.

burner98 - really ??? :00 that'd be amazing omg ... are you free tomorrow ? i'll make it worth your while <3

Staring at the $3,000 sitting cozy on his bank account, he didn't even let himself think before agreeing, sending a quick message in confirmation. He had work tomorrow, but maybe calling off would be worth it considering you were hinting at even more money.

Jungkook felt dirty for some reason, despite knowing what camming truly entailed. However, he also knew that there was nothing morally wrong with what he was doing, so he pushed that shyness to the back of his mind and began drafting up some sort of goodbye message that encapsulated your plans to call tomorrow and a few more thank you's for your donations.

burner98 donated $5,000

burner98 - just a little thank u for ur kindness ;) see u tomorrow baby ~

Jungkook had to swallow the gasp that was about to leave his body. Five thousand dollars??

You'd managed to drop eight thousand dollars on him within an hour's time. This was four months of his rent. Jungkook had never had this much money lying in his bank account. Its mere presence was making him nervous.

Not only that, but the thought of talking to someone who had this much money to give without a second thought scared him shitless.

There was no way he'd sleep tonight.

...

you can check it out today on my ko-fi or patreon by subscribing to either one!

[mariaxxxxx]

The love you offer me (Zemo x Female Reader One-Shot)

Summary: Short stories of how Helmut J. Zemo destroyed his heart.

Warnings: 18+ sex, anal sex, vaginal sex, pussy eating, anguish, depression, separation, unprotected sex, cream pie, pregnancy, loss of a child, manipulation, abusive relationship.

A/N: English is not my mother tongue. I apologize for any errors.

Work count: 9.352

🟣 🟣🟣🟣🟣🟣🟣🟣 🟣🟣🟣🟣🟣🟣🟣 🟣🟣🟣🟣🟣🟣🟣

Helmut J. Zemo was like no one You had ever met before. Although he is a very vindictive man, he is actually the ultimate embodiment of manipulation, as he is able to carefully plan and execute every step necessary to accomplish his goals. Despite his intense behavior and capacity for extreme violence and destruction, Helmut possessed a more pleasant side to his personality. He was a family man, a loving companion, with a passion for collecting art and high-value cars, and even dancing in a nightclub.

Maybe it was his pleasant personality that led you to him in the first place. The charismatic, respectful and passionate Helmut Zemo who would never hurt You. Helmut is good, but not in the way everyone thinks. He's good at wooing you with expensive trips and gifts, good at making you scream his name on his private plane. He's good at taking you out of reality, destroying your mind when you're under him. He's good at making You beg to be ruined. He is good at adorning your neck and wrists with precious jewelry; he is good at kissing you and telling you how much he loves you. Zemo is everything.

Unfortunately, he was also good at breaking your heart into tiny pieces without any chance of concert. He was good, excellent and perfect in reducing You to nothing more than a broken doll.

(…)

You still remember the first time you saw him. You were a simple, new waitress at a nightclub in Madripoor. On your first day on the job, you were already cleaning tables, serving drinks and keeping the cash register full, even if it meant losing precious nights of sleep. You were more than grateful for that. Staying in Madripoor, in the upper city, was really expensive and after his father's death things really got difficult for his side. Unfortunately for him, his damned father had wiped out his bank accounts with gambling and drinking, leaving nothing but negative accounts. After burying them the bills arrived; rent electricity, food, and hospital and burial bills. You wouldn't be able to maintain everything with a simple part-time job and, to your delight, your colleague Nathan offered you the chance at employment.

It was a dangerous place indeed. With rude men, women of dubious reputation and corrupt foreigners, but the money at the end of the night made it all worth it. There was also protection exercised over site workers; it wasn't uncommon for a funny guy to try his luck by touching you under your skirt. You were a pretty and delicate little thing for the place and that attracted curious people as to why a pretty girl like You stopped in a place like that. Countless times Mark, the security guard, had to chase away mean men and jealous women to keep you alive.

One night, like any other, the most bizarre version of Charles' little angels you've ever seen appeared; the damned winter soldier, the smiling tiger and a man in a big fur coat. You thought it was fun. But confusion soon ensued at the scene when the Winter Soldier attacked some men, causing a general fight. You were hiding behind the counter when his gaze met yours. Maybe, if You weren't so enchanted by those damn eyes, you would have noticed the pain behind it. In an almost supernatural way, You struggled to keep your balance as he continued to stare in your direction.

The moment was interrupted with the departure of the three men and the news that the club would be closed for the rest of the night. The way home was strange, not to mention funny. His gaze never left your idle mind, sending shivers down your spine and contractions in your stomach. You remember finding him handsome and old, older than you, but that didn't matter after all he was beautiful. You slept that night with him in your head like a teenager discovering her first love.

A week later You found him while walking through the streets of the upper city carrying bags; You had received payment and decided to stock up on supplies at home by going to the market. You were distracted watching the ships parked at the pier that you didn't notice someone going in the same direction, they collided quickly and you didn't have time to stop it. You struggled to keep your balance, failing to fall to the floor with your bags. You opened your eyes, fighting the embarrassment, and saw some of your purchases scattered across the floor.

"Are you well?" A voice with a thick accent. You moved your head quickly ready to trash talk the man, but something stopped you.

There he was, the man from the nightclub, the one who would rip your heart out of your chest, at that time You didn't know. For some reason, you bit your tongue to avoid the curses and opened your mouth to show the most beautiful smile.

“I’m fine” You said as you stood up.

"He is sure? I am really sorry." He apologized again. You thought the attempt to alleviate all the embarrassment was cute.

With his help, you gathered up the fallen products on the floor, trying to ignore how his touch made your heart flutter as he handed you a can of peas. After making sure everything was collected, You turned on your heel about to leave. His hand held your forearm keeping you in place. The heat that came from his touch took you to heaven for a few brief minutes only to be replaced by a slight disappointment when he took it away.

You looked at him, trying to say something funny about the situation, anything that would make you seem less clumsy, but you couldn't. The brown eyes were looking at You. No, they were marking You. You couldn't move or speak.

"Everything is fine." You said after a long minute of silence. "Thank you for helping me."

“Let me do something to make up for this misfortune.” He said. “I can take her home. My car is parked right there.”

His cheeks heated at the tempting but dangerous proposition. Madripoor was a den of outlaws and fugitives. You wouldn't risk your safety with a stranger no matter how handsome he was.

“I prefer to walk.” You were definitely being petulant and he seemed amused by it.

“Stop being stubborn.” You didn't miss the authoritative tone in his voice. “You’re full of bags and you just got hurt. I just want to take care of You.”

“My parents taught me not to trust strangers.” You said amusingly. “But if it pleases you You can walk home with me.”

It wouldn't hurt to flirt a little; after all, you were young and single in front of a handsome man. Sometimes, you blamed your naivety for allowing yourself to be carried away so easily by him, being at the height of your youth and ready to experience all the good things in the world. You allowed yourself to be swept away with a simple bump into the curb. As you sunk into his smile, his hand brought you back to reality. A comforting touch on your arm and a friendly expression on your face.

"Let's go."

He walked you home and offered to even carry your bags. The path was filled with conversations.

“Are you from Madripoor?” You questioned.

"No." He said. “I'm here on business.”

“I saw you at the club the night the Winter Soldier showed up, but you looked different. You wore a funny coat.”

He let out a little laugh. Cute.

"Oh yeah." You rounded a corner. “I was helping an old friend.”

“You guys made a mess. We had to clean everything up the next morning.”

“Do you work at that place?” There was a hint of mockery in his voice and it bothered you briefly. It wasn't one of the best jobs in the world, but it was still a job and it paid all the bills.

"Yes." You said with a firm voice. “I work waiting tables, sometimes making drinks, sometimes cleaning and sometimes taking care of the cash register. I do everything."

“Do your parents allow you to work there?”

You looked at him, in disbelief to hear something so silly. You were young, but not too young to ask your parents for permission – if You still had them.

“My mother left when I was little and my father died.” You said. “But that doesn’t matter since I wouldn’t need their permission to work.”

"Of course not. You’re a big girl now and you can take care of yourself.”

If you were a little smarter at that time you would have been able to capture the tone of eroticism in his voice when he said those words, but at that moment you thought it was funny. The conversation was interrupted when you arrived at your residence. You stopped in front of your building and looked at it.

“Thanks for following along.”

“I must be grateful for allowing me to accompany you. It’s been so long since I’ve had a pretty girl by my side.” He winked and you smiled, feeling your cheeks heat up once again.

"You are very kind." His words came out as a whisper, even though it wasn't his intention.

He reached into his back pocket, took out a black cell phone and handed it to You.

“Write down your number.” He instructed. “I would like to talk to you more.”

You put your number on his cell phone, convincing yourself that this was all just a quick flirt with an older man. How wrong you were.

(...)

You underestimated how flirtatious and charming Helmut would be. You thought he would just take you to bed and disappear before dawn, but that wasn't what happened. You spent hours sharing text messages that would evolve into phone calls and, later, romantic dates. Days with him turned into weeks and, without warning, into months. He wasn't at all interested in fucking you and leaving, no, Helmut was different; he spoiled her with expensive dates and exorbitant gifts. Before you knew it, you were falling for him.

You had been dating for four months when he took you to bed for the first time. It was good, but clumsy and quick. Helmut made her cum that night, but he himself had finished quickly with just a few thrusts. You didn't mind finishing quickly since the man had brought a beautiful orgasm out of you with his fingers and tongue. In the eighth month, you and he made your relationship official. Helmut took you to a restaurant in the upper city. The food was good, the waiters were polite and the atmosphere was pleasant. He gave her a simple and delicate necklace; with a gold chain and a pendant with a design that resembled an H. You thought the H symbolized the initial of his name. He placed the necklace around your neck and stood in front of you to admire it. At that moment, you noticed emotions passing through your face, love, longing and sadness. He covered it up with a smile.

“Wear it always, my dear.” He said as he played with the pendant. “It would break my heart if You took it away.”

You wore that necklace without ever taking it off your neck. You were in love and would do anything to make him happy. What you didn't expect was to be fired from your job. When You demanded an explanation, your former boss just gave a disinterested shrug.

“Orders from above.”

Of course, the bastard wouldn't say anything more than that. In Madripoor, loudmouths didn't have happy endings. You returned home frustrated that night, wondering how you were going to support yourself now. You had no family or studies to guarantee you a good job, all that was left were part-time jobs and bars with a dubious reputation. Still, you needed to find something quickly, as the month would soon end and new bills would arrive.

When he got home, his cell phone beeped in his pocket with a new message from Helmut; the man who won a place in your heart in just a few weeks. The message only said that he would pick her up that night for a date. So authoritative You thought. Your current state didn't allow you to have fun, but you swallowed all your anguish to be with him. You might not have fallen in love so quickly if he was just attractive; a pretty European faces to look at on a sunny afternoon. Something superficial, like the designer handbags in the window that you wanted but would never have. Deep down, deep down, You knew there was something wrong with falling in love so quickly, but who could blame You? The man was simply perfect.

After reflecting for a moment, you walked to the bedroom to improve your swollen face from crying and look pretty for him. He showed up in his luxury car at the appointed time, Helmut was always so punctual. You sat down next to him and gave him a small peck.

"Where are we going?" You asked as you fastened your seatbelt.

"A surprise." He whispered with a false air of mystery.

Helmut took you to the pier that night where a huge white yacht was waiting for you.

“My god” You sighed as you came across the grandeur of the yacht. Helmut stood beside you, his hand on your waist guiding you inside.

“Come, I want to show you everything.”

He introduced you to the deck, the captain's cabin, the crew, the room you would share for the night. After the short tour You sat at a table set on the deck with exquisite dishes under the starlight.

“What a great surprise.” You said with a big smile. “I’ve never been on a boat before.”

“It saddens my heart. A girl like you deserves everything the world has to offer.”

When he tells you this your heart jumps out of your chest. After all, no one had ever loved you like this to the point of spoiling you with such beautiful things. The moment of joy was replaced with sudden distress as You, for the first time, realized the vast difference in social class between You. Helmut was a fit, cultured and rich man. You were just a young thing without a family, education or job.

“Helmut.” You started talking. “What will happen to us?”

“What do you mean, darling?” He asked with a slight tilt of his head.

“It’s just…” You took a deep breath. “...we've been dating for a few months and I...it's just...We're so different.”

“Oh, my dear I know I'm too old for You.”

You scolded yourself for not being good with words and causing that misunderstanding. You didn't want to hurt him, so you recanted as quickly as you could.

"It's not that." You said it too loudly. “It’s just that you’re so rich and I’m me. I don’t even have my job anymore.”

"I know." He raised the glass of white wine to his lips. “I asked them to fire you, I didn’t want you working in that dangerous place with men of ill repute.”

“Helmut!” You exclaimed indignantly. “I needed that job. How will I support myself?”

"I will take care of you." There was a wild gleam in his eyes as he said this.

Maybe it was passion speaking too loudly, but you didn't question him any further and just allowed yourself to be taken care of by him. You talk that night, there was no room for silence at that table. He told him his story; about Sokovia, the Avengers, the prison, about Sam and Bucky and how he was now an international fugitive. In normal situations, an abrupt reaction would be expected, but you didn't do it. At that point, You were sure that you loved this man and that he loved you to the point of trusting You so much to tell him all his problems. You comforted him as he told you about his family buried in the rubble of New Gadi after the Avengers battle and the killer robot, Ultron, created by them.

You smiled beside him as he recounted the antics of his son, Carl. You comforted him when he shared a close bond with his father. When he started talking about his late wife with so much love and devotion a spark lit in You because of the way he spoke; Helmut exercised such devotion over the woman that she could be his own private goddess. You saw the sadness, longing and love run through his eyes. You ignored the jealousy and resentment by convincing yourself that she was dead.

“So, you’re telling me to run away alongside you?” You ask in disbelief. You were sitting on the deck floor, your legs spread across his lap, his hands lightly brushing your skin.

"Yes." He says with a mischievous smile. “There is nothing for You here. Come with me and I will give you everything.”

You accepted the invitation as there was nothing for You in Madripoor.

You guys spent a week or two, you're not sure, on the yacht going from place to place across the ocean. You and him talked a lot, drank a lot and fucked a lot. To his surprise, Helmut took her to Germany. You disembarked from the yacht on a Sunday night. On the way to the hotel You tried not to show all your perplexity at being in a completely new place. You had never left Madripoor before. The biggest surprise was the hotel he chose. With a huge reception, golden pillars and employees who guided you to your hotel room.

"Did you like it?" Helmut asked.

You didn't make a point of answering right away, you were too busy, impressed by the large windows with a privileged view of the city.

“I loved it” You shouted while jumping up and down with joy. Helmut laughed behind You at your excitement.

“I’m going to draw a bath. Then let's get some sleep. Tomorrow we need to buy clothes for You.”

“Uhm.” You murmured, still impressed by the grandeur of that room.

With your crazy and sudden impulse to go after one of the most wanted men in the world You didn't have time to grab clothes. Helmut assured You that your belongings in the old apartment would be well taken care of and that the expenses left by You would be paid. Although you were sad to leave some gifts he gave you in his old apartment, he assured you that he would give you others. During the yacht trip, You didn't miss his clothes, preferring to wear his shirts; Helmut had a lot of fun with your lack of underwear and it allowed him to fuck you everywhere on that yacht.

“The bath is ready.” Helmut announced from the bathroom.

With a burst of joy, you went to the bathroom, which turned out to be even more elegant and sophisticated than the large windows. You liked it and quickly got used to that life.

(...)

The time with Helmut was funny, everything seemed to move so slowly. You stayed in Germany for a year and six months, settling in the city of Munich in a small village far from the big center surrounded by trees and stone roads. Helmut was kind to you and taught you to speak fluent German, to dance and differentiate between the different forks that were on the table. He instructed you to go back to studying, although it wasn't his wish, he enrolled you in a semester-long fine arts course at the University of Munich. You didn't hate art, but you didn't identify with it enough to study the subject.

In the end, despite yourself, you took the course and finished it with honors and letters of recommendation for internships in galleries. Helmut was proud and to congratulate you he presented you with a new wardrobe of haute couture clothes. Your stay in Germany ended with the authorities discovering your existence in the country. You and Helmut fled in the early hours of the morning, heading straight to the airport where his private jet was waiting for you.

“We’ll be fine, my dear.” He said while hugging You.

Leaving Germany was difficult, as you left behind a few friendships and opportunities for a bright future. But You consoled yourself by remembering that you were with him, by his side, and wherever Helmut took you You would be okay.

The next stop was in Spain, on one of the Balearic Islands, where a small but luxurious house was waiting for you. You settled in quickly and to your surprise Helmut introduced you to the Oeznik family butler, an old man with a great sense of humor and loyalty.

“We can have pizza today, Oeznik.” You said as you walked around the kitchen with bare feet carrying dishes from one place to another.

“You should eat something healthier, my lady. You young people love to eat junk.” Oeznik said, watching You walk from one side to the other. “You won’t like your choice.”

“He will like it.” You guaranteed it. “I’m going to order a pizza.”

Oeznik was right that Helmut wouldn't like the pizza.

“You don’t like that kind of thing.” Said Helmut with clear mockery in his voice as You placed the slice in front of him.

"I love pizza." You said, trying to hide your discomfort. “We eat a lot of that in Madripoor.”

“Well, I took you for pizza in Venice and you hated it.” Helmut said with nostalgia in his voice. “You said mixing tomato sauce and pasta was a crime against nature.”

It was the first time Helmut looked at You with dazed eyes. As if he was not seeing You, but seeing someone else.

“We never went to Italy, Helm.” You mutter.

Helmut blinks rapidly as if trying to get something out of his mind and smiles in your direction.

“Let’s eat the pizza, little dove.”

The nickname was new, You noticed. That night you ate the pizza reluctantly, because with each bite a bitter taste formed in your mouth.

In the following months, Helmut was a very generous man towards You. He gave you a luxury apartment in Ibiza, created a bank account with $3,000,000 so that You could have a good life in case he was arrested again and enrolled you, again, in another semester arts course. You took the course reluctantly, because you didn't identify with it, but it made you happy so you were happy, and you had the advantage of learning a new language; Helmut joked about how smart You were at learning new languages in such a short time. To his delight, the course ended in exactly four months. You and he celebrated with a candlelit dinner by the sea.

"Marry me?" Helmut asked with his knees on the floor and a diamond ring in his hand.

"Yes." You said in one breath.

“Baroness Zemo.” He said as he put the ring on her finger. “I will make you very happy, little dove.”

You hugged him, kissed him and swore your eternal love to him. After dinner he dragged you back home; you walked through the door holding each other without separating your lips from each other. One moment you were on the stairs and the next you were in the bedroom. In bed, with a shirtless Helmut on top of you. His clothes disappeared. His panties and bra were the only things covering his body. His hands were touching you, exploring his skin while his lips devoured yours. Helmut knew what he was doing. He was reducing you to dust.

His hand grabs your panties, his finger trailing down your covered slit. A wet spot made him smile proudly.

“Always so wet for me, my little dove.” He whispered in her ear. You tried not to think about how much that nickname bothered you, but to your delight his fingers began to trace circles around your clit. Erasing everything from your mind. “Do you like this, little dove? Do you like how I make you feel?”

The lack of response made him accelerate his movements. His head spun at the sensation. He was torturing You; The moisture in her panties increased, creating a slight discomfort with the contact between the wet fabric and the hot flesh.

"Answer me. Use the damn words, little dove.” His voice was deep, his accent stronger and more authoritative.

“Yes, Helmut.” You said. He kissed you, his tongue finding its way to his.

He pulled away, kissing his way down to her covered breasts where he nibbled on her right nipple through the lacy fabric. You moaned loudly at the stimulation. He bent down completely, with his head between his legs, freed himself from her completely soaked panties. He brought his face closer to her wet pussy, inhaling her scent. He traced a line between her folds, playing with her pussy. Lick after lick, Helmut placed his lips on her folds and began to suck her clit.

You screamed at the quick action and pleasure. His fingers teased your entrance, slowly massaging your arousal until he finally slipped one of them inside and then another. Helmut had deliciously large fingers, bigger than his own, and he reached the g-spot with flying colors. The way he moved them, with such agility, was breathtaking. The established rhythm was specular. His fingers pumped in and out of You while his tongue stimulated your clit, making You feel better than ever.

Suddenly, he lifted his face away from You, but his fingers kept moving inside. His lips glistened with a mixture of his own saliva and his arousal. That and the damn smile on his face made her belly tighten.

“Enjoy little dove.”

The tightness in his stomach intensified, a tingling started from the tips of his toes, went up his legs, going to his stomach causing an explosion of pure ecstasy. You felt his soul leave his body for a few seconds and return. You were stuck in your little world of satisfaction as Helmut got rid of his pants and underwear. He placed himself on top of you, both hands rested on the sides of his face. The feeling of his dick, dripping with pre-cum, made You look down.

Helmut had a dick that was large in length and thickness, half tilted to the right, white and with a reddish head with a drop of pre-cum leaking out. You reached out to his arm and touched him. His breath hitched as his palm closed around his member to stroke it. His thumb slipped on the tip, making his dick twitch in circles in his hand.

"Little Dove." He groaned,

Her hand trailed up and down, down and up, pumping him as he grew harder and wetter. It was gentle touches, but it was driving him crazy. After some more stimulation, Helmut moved his hand away and positioned himself at her entrance. He spread her legs, with his right hand guided his cock between her slit. A brief lapse of consciousness appeared in his brain as he remembered the lack of protection. You didn't use contraceptives, as Helmut thought they were a poison bomb, always preferring to use condoms.

“Helmut.” You said between moans. “The condom...”

“We don’t need her.” He said come in and cuddles.

You moaned loudly when you felt him inside you. The feeling of having him without the latex was simply sublime. With quick movements, the head of his dick reached her spongy spot. The sensation of it made your eyes roll back, electricity course through your body aware of what his cock was doing. His legs opened wider for him. You felt it everywhere. The deeper he went, the more pleasure you felt. His hands grab his hair, pulling it lightly into fists.

Like the popping of a bottle You have, once again, reached climax. You have never been so satisfied in your life. Helmut fucked you like there was no tomorrow. You felt him go faster, riding out his own release, and when he finally did, releasing all of his semen inside of You a name escaped his lips.

“Heike.” He said between whispers and moans.

Helmut pulled out of You and rolled onto his side, falling asleep. You remain in bed, rubbing your face with your hands, hurt from hearing him cry out for the dead woman as he spilled himself inside you. It was an unraveling feeling, as if strong waves flooded your heart with sadness and disappointment. You even tried to convince yourself that you heard wrong. It wasn't her name, You thought. Maybe, it was something in his mother tongue that resembled his name, maybe he just blurted it out in his frenzy, maybe he didn't love you that much and thought about his wife every time You shared a bed.

At that moment, You found yourself crying yourself to sleep at the possibility of Helmut thinking about his late wife every time he was with You.

(...)

Things were great for a while. Helmut spoiled you, your stay in Spain increased, the preparations for the wedding were almost ready and sex became constant. You memorized the things Helmut loved during sex. The way he moaned when You were on your knees with his dick in your mouth, massaging his balls. The way his eyebrows do when You ride him. You even noticed how quickly he finished when You let him eat his anus. So things were great, but there was still growing discomfort.

Helmut still moaned for Heike every time he came. You decide to pretend not to notice his late wife's name slip past his lips every time. You just hid in the bathroom, with the shower running and burst into tears. You never imagined that being by his side would have you competing for affection with a dead woman. After all, she was rotting underground, while You were there in the prime of your youth with all the love and affection to give. You just suppressed all those feelings and pretended everything was fine, pushing all those thoughts away and convincing yourself that he loved you. When you were convinced of this, you would take a long shower to hide your swollen face and leave the bathroom with a big smile.

The wedding took place in mid-July, the seventeenth to be exact. You exchanged your vows in a minimalist ceremony with the presence of Oeznik, a priest and a justice of the peace to establish the prenuptial agreements.

“I promise to love, respect you and make you happy for the rest of our lives.” Helmut recited the vows while placing the ring on her finger.

“I promise to love you, respect you and yours until death do us part.” You recited your vows when you put the ring on his finger.

“You can kiss the night.” Said the priest.

Helmut kissed you with so much passion that you truly believed again that he loved you. The party was held at home, a dinner between the two of you, just to celebrate the union of two souls. Due to his fugitive status, he was not allowed more than that.

Married life was easy. You instructed the servants how to take care of the house, you often went to the beauty salon to look beautiful and you had sex with your husband whenever asked. You could live like this for the rest of your life next to him if it weren't for Heike's growing presence in your lives. After being married for a while, being called Heike didn't just extend to bed, but to everyday life. The first time was during a walk through the streets of Barcelona.

“I love this coat.” You pointed to a window where a mannequin was dressed in a cloth coat with colorful abstract designs.

“It’s so messy.” He said. “I thought you liked more minimalist clothes.”

“Helmy.” You groaned. “I love messy clothes. What would our lives be without neon clothes and red boots?”

He laughed at your words and said something that would break your heart forever.

“You look so different, Heike.”

Your eyes burned into his dark ones, anger welled up inside You, ready to explode like a volcano. You let out a nervous sigh as you feel tears start to well up in your eyes. You try to swallow the solutions that reached your throat.

“I...” He starts to say, taking a step forward to take you in his arms, but you move away, shaking your head.

“No, don’t you dare apologize.”

You leave him standing on the sidewalk and run in the opposite direction, blending into the crowd. You spent the whole day on the streets trying to forget the humiliation and pain caused in your heart. After a long period of walking and reflection, you convince him that everything is fine and that he loved you for who you were. You came home at night and found him in the living room. Helmut walked up to You hoping to apologize.

"Everything is fine." You said.

You took one more look at him before going up to the bathroom and locking yourself in there. You turned on the shower and burst into tears and sobs. Deep down, you knew, you always knew. He didn't love you. He tried to turn You into his dead wife; with the art courses, the language classes, the new clothes, the strange nicknames. You were just a substitute, an object to replace what he had lost.

You took a long shower, got dressed in comfy pajamas, and did your nightly skin care routine. When going down the stairs that led to the room You found Helmut walking with a pizza box in his hand towards the stairs. He stopped and smiled when he saw you.

“I ordered pizza, my favorite.”

Oh! That nickname. It had been so long since he called you that.

"I like pizza." You whispered.

"I know." He responded equally in a whisper. “I want to spoil you tonight. I’ll start with the food.”

You smiled at his gesture. You sat by the fireplace where you ate pizza and wine, talked banal things and laughed at silly things. When they finished, Helmut took you to the bedroom where he mounted you and fucked you hard. When he came it was his name that left your lips, You were happy about that. It was his name he said and not hers, but his happiness was short-lived. For in his sleep Helmut cried out to her. By Heike.

You got up and walked to the bathroom where you cried through the night, returning to bed before sunrise. When the day started, You just went downstairs, smiled and shared breakfast next to him. He didn't bring it up and you pretended everything was fine. He still said her name at inopportune moments where you pretended not to hear. His trips to the bathroom at night were becoming more and more frequent.

(...)

You and Helmut migrated to another country. You didn't know the exact location, but according to Oeznik, you were close to what would have once been Sokovia. You have settled into an immense residence, with several bedrooms, bathrooms and living rooms worthy of the title of Baron. The property was large; surrounded by trees and high walls with large silver gates.

"It's so big!" You exclaimed as you got out of the car and came across the mansion. “I’ve never seen a house as big as this one.”

“It’s been in my family for generations.” Helmut said. “I had to rebuild it after the fall of Sokovia, but here we are. You need to see your new home, Baroness.”

Helmut guided you inside where a line of employees waited for you. He introduced you one by one and indicated their services.

“They are here to serve your Baroness.” He whispered in her ear. “I know you will be a great lady for this property.”

“Yes” You mumbled. “I’m going to be a good lady.”

You really were a good lady; The employees tolerated you and things went reasonably well. However, the comparisons with the old lady still echoed between the walls, although Oeznik tried to hold the servants' tongues, it was not uncommon. You heard whispers among them about how Mrs. Heike had more class, how Mrs. Heike knew the Baron's tastes, how Mrs. Heike was beautiful, just as Mrs. Heike had given birth to a healthy boy. You tried to persuade Helmut to fire them, but he disapproved saying how difficult it was to find trustworthy people with his current fugitive status, he said that the former employees were trustworthy and Sokovia's last legacy. You just accepted your situation by hiding in the bathroom every time you heard her name echo.

“What was she like?” You questioned Oeznik one day as you walked through the estate. You felt trapped inside the house and decided to walk a little, Oeznik offered to keep you company.

“Madam...” said the old man with a clear sign of reprimand.

“Everyone loved her.” A bitter taste formed in his mouth. “Please tell me about him.”

“She was pretty.” He started to say. “She had noble blood in her veins and class in her feet. Their marriage was arranged, like all Sokovian royal marriages, but it worked. The young Baron loved her as soon as he saw her.”

You felt your throat close and your stomach tighten with the jealousy that formed.

“Did Helmut love her?”

"Yes."

You felt her eyes burn. You didn't know why she felt this way now, You knew how important she had been, the most important in Helmut's life, and there You were, wallowing in her insecure questions. His body shuddered in the icy breeze.

“Do I look like her?”

You needed to sink even deeper with your damned questions, which you knew the answer to, but you needed to hear it from someone else to torture yourself even more.

“A little, ma’am.” Oeznik seemed hesitant to continue. “You have similar trajectories, I would say. The courses taken in Germany and Spain, the way he dresses and even the necklace around his neck, it was the same necklace that the young Baron of Heike wore when he made their courtship official. He also called her his little dove.”

You let out a nervous sigh, barely holding back the tears. You turn and walk quickly towards the house, leaving the old butler behind. You feel your heart slowly submerge under the waves of pain. Your nimble feet guide you to a familiar place, the bathroom. You pass through the long corridors and the employees who whisper about your deplorable state. Reaching the bathroom door was a relief, because as soon as you reached the door, tears fell from your eyes.

Your mind reflects on how, little by little, Helmut turned you into her. He instructed you to dress like her, to study like her, to be like her. You were just a clay doll in the hands of the skilled sculptor to be sculpted to his whim. You wanted to leave, get as far away from him as possible, but as you stood there, feeling your heart breaking, you realized you couldn't leave. The love you felt for him kept you together, even the mention of leaving him could open a wound in your soul that You were fighting to stop.

After the tears dried, You performed your usual ritual; shower, cleanse and go downstairs as if nothing was happening. As if your soul wasn't broken, your bones aching and your heart stabbed. You found Helmut in his office carrying papers back and forth. He smiled when he saw you and patted your thigh indicating for you to sit there. You sat up and snuggled in, placing your face in his neck, inhaling the scent of his expensive cologne.

“Helmut.” You mumbled. "You love me?"

“Of course I love dove.” He kissed her forehead and turned his attention back to the papers.

Little dove, little dove, little dove, little dove, little dove. That word echoed in your ears and you bit your tongue to avoid crying.

The days passed quickly when You established a routine. You alternated between instructing the employees and paying attention to Helmut. Comparisons with the former lady seemed to have diminished drastically; Helmut no longer cried out to her in his dream, and the servants no longer whispered. You knew that there was a finger of the old butler behind this, but you chose to believe that it wasn't that. You preferred to believe that you had finally achieved your rightful place in Helmut's heart and the full respect of the employees. His trips to the bathroom no longer existed, that is, more or less. You no longer went to the bathroom to cry, but you often went to the bathroom to vomit.

It happened on a Saturday morning. You woke up early and left Helmut sleeping in bed, you walked to the kitchen to eat something since your stomach demanded food. You found a loaf of bread on the counter, when you put it in your mouth a wave of nausea came and you ran to the bathroom. After that morning you vomited for any nonsense.

"Enough." Helmut exclaimed when he saw you kneeling on the toilet putting out all the dinner. “We’re going to the doctor now.”

"It is not necessary." You said. "I am..."

You were interrupted by another wave of nausea where you let it all out again. The next day, the doctor came and diagnosed you with severe food poisoning; He recommended drinking plenty of fluids, avoiding heavy foods and using lactobacilli. You followed all the recommendations, but the nausea continued and with it came other symptoms; her blood pressure plummeted with every movement, her breasts felt like they wanted to explode, her period didn't start, the cramps kicked her ass and the fatigue was constant.

You spent half the day sleeping and the other half vomiting. It wasn't uncommon for Helmut to find you dozing in some corner of the house; You once dozed off while eating dinner. Helmut called the doctor again, this time; he diagnosed you with a virus. You constantly took anti-flu medications, drank lots of water and ate foods rich in fiber and vitamins. But the symptoms didn't go away at all. Helmut was visibly irritated by the doctor's incompetence in curing you.

On a Monday morning, you were in the kitchen devouring bread filled with ketchup and peanut butter; You had woken up that morning with a strange desire and decided to fulfill it, the crazy mixture proved to be delicious. A maid, named Jenna, found you in the kitchen eating your strange food.

"Madam." Greeted Jenna. “Can I help you with something?”

"Don't worry." You said with your mouth full. “I just felt like eating bread with ketchup and peanut butter. I must be going crazy, but this feels so good.”

“Are you having cravings?” The maid asked.

"Yes. Cravings, nausea, sleepiness and sore nipples. The doctor said it has a virus, but nothing is helping.”

You took a generous bite of your bread as Jenna seemed to ponder something.

“Did you take a pregnancy test?”

Her throat closed and you choked on a piece of bread stuck in your throat. Jenna ran to help you. You coughed, watered, and sniffled as you choked on the piece of dough. After the feeling passed, you looked at the maid in disbelief that she would suggest something so absurd.

"Do not say silly things. I can’t be pregnant.”

"Why not? She is a married woman. I'm sure the Baroness has been fulfilling her duties as a wife.”

Sex in your marriage was one thing You couldn't complain about. Helmut fucked you often and always ejaculated inside you; the use of condoms was no longer necessary. It wasn't in her plans to be a mother one day, but the idea of carrying a part of her and Helmut in her womb caused good feelings.

“Jenna.” You started talking. “I could go into town and buy some pregnancy tests.”

“Of course, my lady.”

Jenna brought five pregnancy tests from different brands. You used them all and to her surprise, all five gave a positive signal. You look down, moved by what you see and convinced yourself that you wanted this. With the tests in hand, You want this more than you could ever imagine. Your smile is dulled by the tears that fall silently on your features, You needed to tell him.

He loved you, the life you built together and he loved children. The loss of his son broke a part of him that he could never get over. Now, You had the chance to make him happy again, rebuild a new family. For hours, trapped in the bathroom, you try to gather the courage to tell him. Every time the time approached, you found excuses not to leave. But his plans were thwarted by a knock on the door.

“Little dove, are you there?” It was Helmut's voice behind the door. “Are you sick again? I will call the doctor.”

"No." You screamed, feeling despair flood your senses.

You didn't want him to find out like this, it wasn't fair. You would prepare a space moment where the news would be given and celebrated with kisses. You hide the pregnancy tests in a drawer full of towels and open the door to find him.

"Everything is fine?" He questioned worriedly.

“It’s okay” You reassured him. “Only one got sick quickly.”

“Come on, let’s get something to eat.” You followed him, dinner went well with conversations and jokes between you.

Keeping the secret proved difficult since every time you saw him you wanted to shout from the rooftops about your pregnancy. With Oeznik's help, you prepared a special night for you, complete with typical Sokovian food. It would be simple, Helmut would arrive at home at night where you would have dinner and then you would tell him the news. You took the day to take care of yourself, wanting to look pretty for him, you prepared your hair, did your nails and wore a beautiful purple dress, Helmut's favorite color.

You turned around to admire your appearance in the mirror, it looked beautiful. Her hands caressed her still unchanging stomach, feeling a mix of emotions for generating life in her womb. A silly smile formed on his lips as he imagined how good it would be to have a little boy or girl running down these long corridors with black hair and brown eyes like Helmut's. The feeling was interrupted by knocking on the door.

“Madam, the Baron has already arrived and is in his office.” It was Jenna. “Should I serve dinner?”

"Yes. Serve dinner and release other employees. I want to be alone with my husband today.”

Jenna left leaving You alone in the room. One last look at your reflection, You left the room heading towards the stairs. Your intention was to go to the dining room, but somehow You ended up passing through a door. Behind her were pictures, books and a large Persian rug. Adornments that probably dated back to the medieval age. The house was big and even after so long You hadn't seen all the rooms, it was not uncommon to get lost between the different doors that led to uninhabitable rooms.

Before You have the chance to turn around, voices reach your ears. The nature of the noises was obvious and, from the sounds, they were both having a serious conversation. You recognized Oeznik's soft voice followed by Helmut's Eastern European accented voice. You tried to find the source of the voice and came across a false wall with a vast view of Helmut's office, he and Oeznik seemed immersed in conversation.

"This is not right." Oeznik exclaimed.

You froze in your spot. The old butler never got excited, he always kept a soft and friendly voice. You decided to listen to more of the conversation.

“She is my wife.” Helmut said. “I will do whatever I want.”

“Turn her into the late Mrs. Zemo? For God's sake Helmut. This isn’t doing her any good, the employees comment on her constant trips to the bathroom to cry.”

You wanted to leave, get as far away from them as possible. But as you lay there, holding a piece of your heart, You realized you couldn't move.

“She is not Heike. She never will be.”

Every word that came out of his mouth was meant to hurt you whether intentionally or not. You held firm as you wanted to see where this would lead. You hear Helmut sigh and the echoing words break you forever.

“You have no idea how many times I imagined it was Heike next to me. How many times have I called for her. I almost asked if I could call her that, but instead I did it without permission. I never wanted her, not really. I just thought I would have another chance and I actually did; They are so similar physically and it was easy to compel her to do things that pleased me.”

Helmut was cruel. Helmut never loved You. He played with your heart for his own benefit. Deep down, you always knew, preferring to deceive yourself with small gestures of apology and accepting to play the role of the dead woman. He molded her like a little doll so she wouldn't be alone. He never saw you as a companion, a mind or a human being. You were just a substitute and the child You carried in your womb would soon play the role of the lost son.

A sudden pain hit his chest; his heart was no longer in place. The other times he broke your heart were nothing compared to this. The more his words stuck in her mind, the more intense the pain became. Waves of shock and grief hit his chest as You tried to process what was happening.

His feet retreat, your shaky legs failing as you try to move. One wrong move causes you to fall against a dresser that falls to the floor, causing a loud noise. You hear a surprised gasp from Helmut and, unfortunately for You, he emerges through a false door. With all the strength you have left, you turn to see him.

“Baby” You heard him whisper.

His eyes connect; he knew You had heard every word. His expression reflected the one You had when you heard them. The shock, the surprise and the sadness. He saw the pain on his face, the way you held on to a piece of furniture to keep from collapsing. A flash of regret ran through his eyes when he saw how you grabbed the necklace around his neck. The necklace that belonged to her, the damned Heike. The necklace that, even though he knew what it meant, never left his neck so as not to hurt him.

You lost yourself over the years to make him happy. You allowed yourself to have your heart crushed multiple times just to satisfy you and receive nothing but disappointment in return. He never cared about you and he would never care about the child that was forming in your womb.

“Let’s talk.” You heard him beg. “Let’s order pizza and talk about it.”

You didn't let out a tear when you heard his apology. You also didn't cry when you ripped the necklace from your neck and threw it towards him. You didn't cry when you went upstairs and locked yourself in your room. You didn't cry when Helmut desperately banged on the door clamoring for your attention. You didn't cry, not even when you made the decision to leave, packing all your clothes, shoes and jewelry in your suitcases ready to leave forever; You no longer cried for Helmut J. Zemo. He could go fuck himself for everything he caused you.

(…)

Waking up the next day was relatively easy. You got up, brushed your teeth, skin care routine, passport, suitcases and handbag with intimate items. Everything was in its right place. You closed your bags and left them next to the door. A quick look at the clock you had on your dresser indicating that it was not long before you left that place and never came back. You opened the bedroom door and allowed two servants to enter who took your bags.

“Put them in the car, boys.” You instructed.

"Yes ma'am." They said together leaving the room with their bags.

One last look at the room, You walked out the door heading towards the stairs. You found the bastard at the foot of the stairs waiting for you. He had a swollen face, indicative of a bad night's sleep, with messy hair, something so unusual for him. A part of You liked seeing him so broken. Helmut was selfish and evil. You put an end to his selfishness and evil.

"Let me pass." You demanded the moment he stood in front of you, blocking your exit.

“Please let me...”

“Whatever You have to say, I don’t want to hear it. Get out of my way let me go, stop being such an idiot.”

His own words surprised him. You never had the strength to face him, not really, nor to release the anguish you felt for so long. Your words were met with silence, none of You dared to speak. His breathing became heavy, after a few minutes, Helmut finally gave in and broke the silence.

"Sorry." He whispers.

“That doesn’t solve anything.” You snort.

"I know." he says. "Where are you going?"

Maybe it would be better to just turn around and walk away, before the conversation gets worse. That would have been the right thing to do. Unfortunately, the sadness was not motivated by reason.

“You are a patient and persistent man, I know you will figure it out on your own.”

"Do not go, please." He begged. "Please, do not go. Do not leave me alone. Stay. I will improve how I treat myself and I will never hurt you again. I love you dear."

On a normal day you'd go back to him for a lot less. A few days ago, you would have given him everything, without a doubt. But now, the devotion You had for him was buried. A high wall was built around his heart and not even the warmest words could break it down.

"Stay." He begged again. “It will be different.”

Helmut's love was strange. He appeared to be generous, but he was destructive and cruel. He never had anything to give you other than scraps; it was easy to let yourself be fooled with good charisma. A part, deep in his head, begged you to come back to him. But it wasn't fair to You to allow yourself to live all of this once again and it wouldn't be fair to the child You were carrying. Helmut was not worthy of You, he was not worthy of his son, he was not worthy of anything. You had to save yourself, You had to save what little was left of your heart.

"No."

With the final word You left without looking back. Carrying with him a son that Zemo wouldn't live with, he didn't deserve this, he didn't deserve anything that came from You. One day, with persistence, he would discover the existence of a child conceived by you, but it wouldn't be You who would tell. As the car drives, you lean your head against the window, caress your stomach and allow yourself to dream of a day that would open your heart again.

[drawingdroid]

Count Dooku x Dressmaker Fem Reader

One shot | 3368 words | Smut & Romance | Age Gap

A/N: Bestie @dookuswifey has a lot of big feelings about the Old Man, so I had to write here a little treat using The Prompt List.

Prompts:

11. "Spend the night with me." 28. "Each of my thoughts about you are important." 34. "I'm afraid I can no longer remain professional." 38. "I'll let you do anything if you just touch me now."

It'd been some time since you arrived in Serenno to work as a tailor. Fresh out from the University of Naboo, you caught the eye of the person in charge of looking for new personnel for the palace. They noticed the love and care you put into each of your designs and your attention to detail and immediately contacted your teacher about an open position in the palace. You didn't expect an offer like that at all, humble as you were about your craft. But the last thing you thought was that you would be serving the one and only Count Dooku.

He had been a Jedi and was a respected politician and aristocrat. Those were the things you knew about him before flying to your new planet.  In his public appearances, he was always elegant and well-spoken, and maybe you thought he was actually a very attractive man. But from what you knew, you would be just one of the numerous tailors and seamstresses working for him. You probably won't meet him ever.

At your arrival, your anxiety about fitting in with the other personnel of the palace spiked, but everyone was so nice to you. Being the youngest on the staff, soon you felt welcomed and everyone tried to help you. The palace was indeed beautiful and your quarters were quite decent for a servant, with lots of natural light and a soft bed. You wondered how your working day would look while unpacking your belongings.

The next day, a protocol droid showed up at your door to walk you to your workshop. It was a huge room with lots of sewing machines. Some of your coworkers were already starting with the sewing projects they had in hand. Then the droid showed you where everything you needed was, and you could admire the fine materials you would be working with. In the centre of the room, there was a circular platform surrounded by ornate mirrors to make the fittings. Everything looked classy and expensive there, from the wood flooring to the chandelier. Finally, you were shown to your personal workstation, and the droid went through every tool there and the sewing patterns that were most used. You also noticed a huge sewing mannequin that was obviously custom-made, since it wasn't the standard men’s one. The droid gave you a notebook with a thorough compilation of measurements and sketches from the previous dressmaker. It told you they had to retire due to arthritis and you felt bad for them since they looked like an organised person who had put a lot of thought into their craft.

The droid bowed to you and excused itself after explaining everything everything you asked, and shortly you were left on your own. You introduced yourself to the seamstresses and explored a bit on your own until a different droid came to you.

"Master Dooku requests your presence in the breakfast room." Your blood froze inside your veins, absolutely not expecting that. Checking your hair in one of the mirrors, you rapidly gathered pins, measuring tape and the notebook the previous tailor left for you. But for your confusion, the droid said that such tools won't be needed. You felt like throwing up while you followed it through the quiet corridors under the morning light.

The holos didn't do him justice, it was your first thought entering the room. The was sitting with a display of various choices of breakfast, the place service being the most delicate you had ever seen. His gorgeous side profile looked godly illuminated by the morning, and you had to actively hide your admiration for your new employer. He left the holopad he was reading when he noticed you, and stood up to his full height to receive you.

"Good morning young lady, it's a pleasure to have someone of your skill joining my team." His voice was deep and he had constant eye contact with you. You thought you'd break under his gaze like one of the delicate glasses on the table.

"The pleasure is mine, Count Dooku. I'm honoured to have joined the palace staff." You didn't know how you had put together so many words, but he nodded satisfied with your answer.

"Please, sit with me and serve yourself." He indicated with a broad hand. "Coffee or tea?" 

"I actually prefer hot cocoa, thank you." Your brain must had glitched, because how the hell you were commenting on your personal preferences to an aristocrat who happened to be your boss? You started to panic, but he surprised you with a belly laugh.

"Our new dressmaker has a sweet tooth." And someone in the way he said it made you feel things you shouldn't about your boss. A droid appeared with a actual pot of fresh hot cocoa for you and you thanked it thoroughly, enjoying the warm beverage in silence while your heart was beating like a crazy horse.

"Now that we've eaten, let's talk about your job requirements." He said after finishing his breakfast, cleaning his moustache with a cloth napkin. You listened attentively while he communicated to you his main preferences and necessities regarding his wardrobe. You couldn't stop wondering about why his valet wasn't the person meeting you for this, but maybe Count Dooku was the kind of man that wanted to attend to all his business personally. He definitely looked like that.

He needed a new cape, three tunics and a special outfit for the upcoming Life Day gala, so you will be busy. He told you that he trusted your fabric choices and that you would be able to comment with his valet his preferred silhouettes and the dress code of the gala.

"Let me walk you to the workshop." He offered after both of you were down commenting on the specifics of your job. In your stroll until there, he commented on some architectural facts that you found really interesting. 

"Again, it's a pleasure to have such a skilled young woman as my personal dressmaker." You had been guessing it by now, but he had made it clear. Anyone had told you before accepting the job there you'll be his personal tailor. Maybe they thought that you could be intimidated by it, you couldn't know. 

"The pleasure is mine sir, I hope my work fulfils your likes and needs." You responded politely in a small voice. Then to your surprise, Count Dooku kissed your hand as a farewell, and left you at the door in a twirl of his cape.

What had just happened? and why was your heart beating that fast?

The first fitting

You had busted your ass to create something incredible to Count Dooku and now the first fiting was here. You haven't seen him since your breakfast together, but maybe it was for the better. The man had the capacity to make you feel weak on the knees and you needed a cold head to fulfil this project. The reality was that you recalled that first encounter every day, sighing like a teenager and imagining the big mannequin was him. Pathetic, you thought.

But the day arrived and he was there in his full glory. The other tailors and seamstress were on their time off and it was just the two of you. He smiled widely at your sight and then stepped on the room. You first showed him the cape and the tunics, the less complicated projects, and he was delighted with your progress. 

"You're working at an amazing pace young lady, I hope you're not overdoing it though." He commented, a frown of worry adorning his forehead. You laughed tired, it was true you had been working extra hard.

"Don't worry about me sir, my only goal is to have your suit in time, the rest is important."

"Each of my thoughts about you are important," he responded in a commanding, but gentle voice. You stopped what you were doing absolutely stunned. You knew you shouldn't be looking at him like that but you had turned to stone. He then cleared his throat. "What I mean is that I care for your well-being and I wouldn't want you overworking yourself." His clarification didn't make much to stop your crazy heart and you didn't know how to act now.

"That's very kind of you, sir." You responded submissively, not looking at him in the eye. His presence was everywhere, but it was only going to get worse. Your throat was dry. "Could you try your suit now sir?" Your petition came in the smallest voice, but he nodded and went up the fitting platform obediently.

You were actively trying not to touch him too much, but Maker, you were his tailor. From the expanse of his chest to his strong arms you started to learn every part of his clothed body so well. You could see your reflection and your cheekbones were burning. He now was silent and observed you working around. The platform made you even tinier next to him, and that was exactly how you felt.

"Do you like it, sir?" You asked shyly after the full suit was finally on display over his broad body. 

"Is perfect dear," he responded turning around to admire your design. By now all your face was a violent red, but it became even worse "Good job." Just the two words of praise made you melt and you were sure right now he had noticed.

"I'm happy to serve you in any way I can, sir," you responded, and you'd swear you saw his gaze darkening for a moment.

"I'll just need you to adjust the design to be able to hang my sabre, if that is okay." He asked with a deeper voice than before.

"Of course! Just tell me where." You responded, eager to improve your design to his needs. To fulfil the strong need you felt to please this man. 

What happened next just made your brain glitch. Dooku grabbed your hand and slowly, positioned it in the part of his hip where he preferred his lightsaber to be. Your mouth went dry. 

"There." He indicated, and you nodded flustered, running to make annotations to position the holster. Your hand burnt.

While you did so, he redressed and your firing session was over.

"I can have the design change in one week."

"Don't overwork yourself though." He was adjusting his cape but wasn't getting it well so you helped with it standing on your tippy toes.

"Thanks, dear," his gaze was fixated on you, between his lashes his pupils won't stop registering your little hands going over the cape clasp.

Ready to go sir, is there something more you need?" Your big doe eyes are so eager to help that you have been messing with Count Dookz that's the only explanation to his petition.

"Spend the night with me," he blurted and you opened your mouth in disbelief. Had you heard wrong?  "I mean, the gala, would you accompany me, miss?" He clarified, and you sighed in relief because it couldn't be what you first thought.

"I can't see how you would want to be accompanied by a plain dressmaker sir, even though I'll accompany you if that's your wish." You responded in your most diplomatic way, trying to not scream internally. "Nevertheless, I don't have a gown to wear to such an event." Your pout made Dooku's heart shiver and that's the only explanation for why he caressed your cheek next for a brief moment.

"Don't worry about that, darling." And after kissing your hand like he did the first time, he disappeared followed by his cape.

You had to take the rest of your day free to assimilate what had just happened between both of you.

The second fitting

To say you were nervous was the understatement of the cycle. As expected, you didn’t listen to him and busted your ass to create the perfect suit. That day, you even did your hair in a fancier updo and put your favourite dress on. Both of you had been coinciding briefly here and there, but in the end, you were staff so your routines were so different. He’d always smile at you during those encounters and even stop a moment even though he had important meetings to attend.  

You were daydreaming looking through your room’s window, thinking about your next fitting session with him, when you saw it. You knew he had been a Jedi and you talked about his sabre, but you didn’t actually think he engaged in combat. That was until that day, your jaw dropped at the sight of Count Dooku training in the gardens with the sabre. The vision was magnetic. He looked so agile and strong going through the different feints he was practising. You noticed he was wearing one of the tunics you had designed for him. The garment fit him like a glove. You were mesmerized by the sight until you noticed he had stopped working out. And he was looking in your direction. It was impossible that he could see you in this distance but you felt weird, like he was just there with you. With your heartbeat spiking, you moved away from the window and continued preparing yourself for the day.

It was still soon in the morning when the protocol droid announced that Coun Dooku would be coming for his second fitting session that afternoon. You swallowed hard, eager to have a private moment with him again and even realized your perfume. A part of you felt silly because why an aristocrat would want to mess with you? But on the other hand, under his gaze, it was the first time you had felt truly seen. And then it was that strange moment this morning. You didn’t want to give it more thought, but it had felt weirdly intimate.

The afternoon arrived and your coworkers left and you started getting more and more nervous until the door finally opened.

“It’s nice to see you again young lady.” He had changed from the tunic you saw him with this morning and smelled incredible. You stood immediately and bowed in respect, but your hands were already trembling slightly.

“Welcome to the workshop sir. Shall we start the fitting?” He then eyed you from head to toe lazily, not moving an inch from where he was standing. The thing was that you were eager to have your hands all over him, even though it was supposed to be in a professional way.

“I can’t wait,” he responded in a raspy voice, and you wondered for one second if he was waiting for you to touch him too, but rapidly discarded that thought. This was strictly a professional physical touch and Count Dooku was just being nice. He went up the round platform and you rushed to get the suit and the pins. But this time, he wasn’t undressing and you looked at him quizically for a moment. 

“Would you allow me, sir?” You asked, pointing at his cape, and he nodded. On your tiptoes, you found the clasp, and with the corner of your eye, you saw the reflection of you both and thought how good you looked together.

“Have you thought about my invitation, dear?” He asked as if he could read your mind. Moving away, you folded carefully the heavy cape and put it on a chair.

“I don’t have anything to wear to an event like that,” you responded carefully, turning again to face him. 

“I’ll have the most beautiful dress crafted for you, sweet girl.” 

Your eyes opened widely and your head started spiralling. Did he really want to bring you to the Gala as his companion? Why? You were a girl from a good Nabooian family, but nothing worthy of an aristocrat like him. While your brain was working on overdrive, he had been removing his tunic and was now only in a high-neck undershirt. You swallowed hard and it took all the self-restraint in yourself to not look at him like the eye candy he was.

“Why me?” You asked finally, your gaze fixated on your task of helping him with his new tunic. It fitted him perfectly, and you would be proud if it wasn't for the incessant pounding of your heart. Next, you went to grab the new belt to close his tunic and hang the lightsaber, trying to remain professional at all times. You offered it to him, but he just lifted his arms, indicating that he wanted you to put it. 

“You have caught my eye, little lady.” You blushed incapable of looking at him. It wasn’t anything you already knew, but hearing it was a different deal.

“Can I put your belt now, sir?” You asked approximating him, feeling hotter and hotter. Count Dooku leaned over your shoulder and you felt his hot breath when he spoke.

"I'll let you do anything if you just touch me now." You actually squeaked at his words. Your eyes finally met his and they were dark and inviting, but you had a job to do. Putting your arms around his waist, you adjusted the new belt, but this time you didn’t avoid touching him but the contrary. Then, with trembling hands, you adjusted the tunic around it. Your hands started to travel to his ample chest and you looked at him in search of reassurance. He was looking at you with his mouth agape, eyes semi-opened and the most adoring look. It was the yes you needed before letting your hands roam through the expanse of his chest and shoulders. It was adorable how he let a deep sigh leave his lips as if he had been waiting for this as much as you. His desire fueled yours and made you feel bold, hands travelling south to the new belt again.

“I think everything fits well sir, do you feel comfortable?” You asked, keeping the illusion of professionalism. “Is the belt appropriate for your lightsaber?” With doe eyes, you looked at him while tugging at the belt casually, when you noticed how hard he was and your jaw dropped.

“To be honest, my pants are feeling a bit tight miss.” He purred and your mouth went completely dry. 

“Let me fix that for you, sir,” and you actually put the little act of pretending you were adjusting his pants, even dropping to your knees. You could see his Adam’s apple move when he swallowed, his gaze not leaving yours for a moment. “I think I’ve found the problem,” you cooed and slowly stood up again caressing his outer thighs while doing it.

“Oh, yeah? And was is it dearn?”

You tilted your head and looked through your long lashes coquettish. Your little hands travelled again to find the waistband of his pants. Maker, he was even harder.

“The problem is…” You started tracing patterns with your thumbs over his hipbones. "I'm afraid I can no longer remain professional, Mr Dooku."

Your boss groaned and all hell broke loose. In a moment, he had manhandled you into the ample pattern table. He was nestled between your tights, your skirt hiked up and he looked so manly while needy over you.

“Is this what you want, little one?” He asked while kissing that soft spot behind your ear.

“Yes, oh yes, sir.·

Thanks to the Maker, the old piece of furniture was sturdy enough to endure the rest of the passionate fitting session.

You ended up accompanying Count Dooku to the Life Day gala, both of you looking radiant together in your tailor-made garments. All the eyes were on you, but you only could see the gorgeous man who was holding your arm the entire soiree. When the first notes of music started, he was fast to bow and ask you a dance, and you complied happily. That was only the first of the many events you would attend together. For every one of them, you would design the most amazing suit and he would gift you the prettiest gown. Everyone would talk behind your back, but the thing was you only had eyes for each other.

[campbell-rose]

Helluva Fucking Rant: S2 E6 

OKay I’m a big fat liar and my pants are burning my ass rn, I know I said I’d do Rwby designs next but then the whole leaked episode drama happened and now it’s out and I need to complain. 

*Off the bat, I’m not going to talk pacing mainly because I have little experience with dealing with pacing (having never written anything more than comic strips lol). The episode didn’t feel too fast but anyway 

I’m going to organize this based on gripes I have per character. 

Fizzarolli: He is my baby. He's like kind of babygirl if that makes any sense. “Maybe I could burn the milk this time” 

I adore Fizz as a character. He’s not babified or infantilized like a lot of Viv’s other gay men. So far. Who knows, the writers have proven how adept they are at contradicting and retconning characters. But uhhhh what the fuck was he doing in Greed? Am I stupid? Like, it’s never spelled out. Is it for pr? Is it a deal with Mammon type thing? Is he promoting something? If he had somewhere to be why did he let his dogs run him all over creation??? Like, bit of an issue there as it’s only vaguely mentioned that he was practicing something. 

His backstory is like... acceptable I suppose. Not what I was expecting. I was expecting like, what we got, and a combination of some other theories I had personally. See, my issue is the fire and how imps have been shown in previous episodes to be, ya know, IMMUNE TO FIRE. Imagine if, and bear with me here huge stretch I know, imps are immune to fire and hellfire – but not holy fire. Like, shit straight from the angel’s burning halo type fire. That would make sense, since hellfire is a thing in pop culture and biblically accurate angels are all gold and flames! 

I do like the idea that fizz’s entire body is white from scars, however I think his scars need texture for the idea to sell. Maybe in full costume it’s covered with makeup, but come on people he was lit on fire, you ever seen a healed burn? Fizz being scared of the flames legit made me sad, I love him so much. However they’re trying to show he’s got like ptsd (maybe not exactly but still) from it, but it feels inconsistent to me for some reason. On a final note, he never should’ve forgiven Blitzo in any way, shape or form tbh, I would’ve preferred what Barbie did just straight up, I don’t like you, I can’t forgive you please leave me alone.  

Asmodeus: This cemented for me how much I fucking hate his design. His stupid head is so tiny and his body is built like a brick shithouse like, it’s so unbalanced and weird looking. I like his character here I suppose. No noticeable inconsistencies from his first appearance. His va is killing it tbh, love him so much what a king. 

I’m fine with his character, what I’m not fine with is the weird consent angle their going with. Like... he is the SIN of LUST??? Valentino is more of what I’d expect as the sin of Lust compared to Asmodeus. Also, the WEAKEST and most NON THREATENING SIN??? KESHADOG IS RIGHT THERE 

Crimson: He should’ve been hired by Mammon to get back at Asmodeus. Maybe Asmodeus has an unpaid debt with Mammon and has been shirking him so Mammon is like ‘i have your fucktoy now, give me my money or you won’t get him back’ 

Like his little video chat could’ve been context, like “You don’t know me, but you may know my employer – Mammon?” 

The paperwork would make sense then, Mammon is sending over contracts and bullshit Asmodeus has to sign. The importance of reading the fine print would be even more present because Asmodeus is dealing with someone on his level who can actually fuck him up, not some nobody imp he could kill with a glance! Crimson’s motive could be that Mammon offered him a share of Ozzie’s stock and would let him run some shit because Crimson has become a prominent member of higher society despite being an imp, which is the only reason Striker is partnered with him. 

Striker: Striker baby doll, please just fucking kill Fizz. Like, stop fucking standing there, kill the fucker. Omg I was so annoyed with his lack of action this episode. Both Fizz and Striker are incredible agile and snake like characters, this whole distraction song should’ve been a mix of striker trying to kill Fizz/Fizz avoiding him and Crim’s gang being just flabbergasted by the bullshit they’re witnessing. It’s been shown before that Crimson ony ever sits on the sidelines while his goons get killed so like????  

Anyway, Viv can try as hard as she wants to paint Striker as in the wrong and a bigot, but it won’t work on me. He’s completely in the right because imps are literally the slave/working class in this caste system. Fizz is (to imps in the slums and less fortunate) probably the epitome of a pampered lapdog plaything of the upper class. ANd that could’ve been something interesting to explore. Why not show the perspective of other imps that think like Striker, maybe have them be antagonistic to Fizz because he’s Asmodeus and Mammon’s pet, or maybe Fizz finds out that’s what people think of him and he’s horrified and that’s why he’s mad Blitzo calls him a whore. But no, because Striker is an evil bigot who sides with the evil woman Stella so nobody else thinks like he does. 

Also, his new va has the sexiest voice i've heard since live action Buggy or sub Crocodile so I'm not complaining about him taking up screen time

Him all disheveled is straight up working for me

Blitzo: Once again he gets away with being shitty and stupid and awful because he’s a woobie. Why the fuck was the crux of their hatred based on a birthday cake and the miscommunication trope??? I hate this so much.  

Was Blitzo in love with Fizz? Is that what that blink and you’ll miss it letter was? I’m getting very tired of this show having blink and you’ll miss it plot beats. That isn’t showing not telling, it’s like sweeping shit under a rug. Its like they think just because it was on screen for a frame the audience will catch it and be like ‘omg it happened’ or feel smart for catching something. Stolitz making up through text shouldn’t be a pause the video and read moment for fuckssake. 

I’m finding it very ahrd to tolerate Blitzo. On the topic of him though, I saw the leaked episode. WHY was Barbie taken out of the final flashback???

What the actual fuck???? Like... once again the women in this show are just shoved away and forgotten this is like Naruto level female character writing guys. Naruto had one good female character and she was still sidelined half the damn time. 

Also i fucking hate how this show can't be serious for more than five seconds like when Fizz and Blitzo hug and Blitzo is like 'haha wanna make out' i hate this but it isn't as egregious as having dildos during an abuse scene

Conclusion: Animation was amazing (also one of my fav animators KittenSneeze is an animator for Spindlehorse now like i love them so good for them), plot was whatever, characters are where the story falls, this won and I can’t anymore. 

Actually no, not conclusion. You know what really makes me hate Helluva Boss? It isn’t fair. I know that sounds childish and stupid, but who cares I’m childish and I’m stupid. Why is it that someone like Viv, who consistently doesn’t take criticism and is just a shit person all around gets rewarded for doing dogshit all the time. Yeah it’s a bit step for indie animation or whatever but she literally has Alex Brightman in her fucking pocket I don’t wanna hear it. Lackadaisy has earned it’s time in the goddamn spotlight, not Viv and her stupid creations. It’s so unfair. She got popular off of happenstance for her kesha sparkledogs and now she’s off bastardizing demonology and writing borderline backwards gay and female characters and she’s getting praised as the patron saint of queer rep and indie animation. Like, she doesn’t deserve it. Genuinely. I wish I could just post my demon story and people would just flock to it like flies to shit and shower me in praise and protect me from any criticism. But that’s not how real life works, but for some reason it is for Viv. Its just... I hate it. 

Anyway, baby rant over. This episode was like 7/10 tbh. It wasn't amazing but for Helluva Boss it was good. Sarcastic Chorus made a video about it that I'm gonna watch because honestly his takes could convince me this show is on Arcane's level lmao. Bye bye <3 

[dyedcomrade]

jack krauser x reader having a panic attack/depressive episode

he definitely doesn't understand half of the things you talk about. it my be special expressions you use in work, or for a hobby, maybe you switch languages as you speak

but he encourages you to tell him about all the things that are on your mind. it's better to talk it out, and he wants to know what's eating you up so you are not alone in it

he will tell you how you have the right to be upset and feel yoir feelings, that they are valid.

he knows how your trust is heard-earned and fragile. for good reasons, but he still has to be careful not to worsen your mental state and trust issues with anything he might would want to tell you. he knows, how you feel like, if you lose him, there is nothing left for you. in these triggering topics, even if he'd have a different approach or reaction, he doesn't push it.

he will listen to you vent even at 2 am and yes, you can wake him up with matters like this. it's better to let it out in the moment you get into a bad state, than spiralling further down or hurting yourself. he especially hates when you destroy something you made because you feel unlovable and talentless or if you fall into fantasizing about suicide. - he sees your internet history and he thinks it's disturbing how you, as you told 'feel like you sre too incompetent to even end it all'

if this happens at night he will offer you to watch a little bit of your comfort show - he probably needs to get up early for work, so not too much, but he reminds you he still loves you and the time spent with you in this scenario is not a measure of his love. he will make you some tea and get you some plushies to choose from to hold onto for comfort. he tells you you can take the aggression out on it or on him - not like you could actually do him any harm. if you want to he will make you your comfort food or if he has an uocoming day off, he will drive you to a fast food restaurant. yes, you can bring your plushie

cuddles you sooo tight. feel his love, it's important for him to get it across. tells you so many times that he has still got you, even if the whole world is against you - he is used to it, in military, arguing back and forth with higher-ups for his men's safety; being a double agent in spain while somewhat covering for leon as well, not to let him succeed with recovering plaga samples, but to at least let him make it out alive, not to mention dealing with the trend of treachery in umbrella's barracks as well. if he chose someone to protect, it's for life.

and after leon in comradery, wesker out of respect and gratitude, he chose you. why? answers may vary from time to time. to tell the truth, everything you are, you do enamours him. he secretly believes that the strong people he talked leon's ears off about in spain, are tasked with helping and guarding the weak. leading, yes maybe, but that's not important. he may work for wesker but he still is a gun for hire and his employer won't dictate his ideals or where he really lies his loyalty. with that said, he is fully prepared to fight even wesker or the whole uroboros infected world if that plan succeeds and they'd mean danger for you.

even if you don't believe him, he tells you these frequently as well. he knows after everything you went through, he can't expect full trust and unonditional love too soon if ever. he stands unvavering beside you still.

he has a list of quotes from books and poems he reads that he will show or read outloud for you whenever xou feel out of touvh eith reality, sad, angry or miserable about anything. these are mainly from love poems or from parts where the speaker expresses his unvavering friendship and compassion towards the other. sometimes it's just something that he thinks captures a scene well, from nature to just everyday life things.

his reason for this is that he may not be the best with words but he still can collect the ones that perfectly show what's in his heart.

[sundasystems]

3. Up in the Air

I booked a flight to Charlotte for the following week. A part of me wondered if I was taking the right tack with this. I didn't necessarily want to expose myself so early, but Sunda was a legal monstrosity. Any litigation other than the Lotus affair was settled out of court, records sealed. I didn't see much if a way forward without actually seeing the compound itself.

But it was okay. They didn't know who I was. I would just be a simple tech blogger who had come to see his favorite multinational conglomerate.

Tickets were expensive but I felt I needed to get there quickly to really get into this. I needed a lead and Sunda was the only place I could get one.

I could feel an unnatural pull toward the place. I hadn't felt this strongly about the thrill of chasing a story in... Maybe forever. This one could be big. I could feel it. I found it difficult to focus on anything else that week. The name Sunda just kept playing in my head over and over.

Finally, the day arrived and I woke up extra early to get to the airport. Check in went quickly. Security was smooth. And before long, I was boarded and seated. The flight attendants did their safety demonstration and then we were in the air.

However, I got my first surprise when I opened up my phone.

It seemed impossible to avoid them, these days, even for those people who weren't embarking on an investigative quest with them at the center. I clicked the button to join the wifi and smiles widely. Almost giggled. It was very funny to me that I'd be using their own service to forward my plan to bring them down.

I spent some time re-reading my notes. I wanted to compile a list of players in this little story:

Dominic Rey, CEO of Sunda Systems Bethann Johnson, CFO of Sunda Systems Christian Hopkins, COO of Sunda Systems

Then there were the people I'd either interacted with directly or had done research on:

Emily Voss, Administrative Assistant, ORD Reggie (last name unknown), Employment Recruiter James Pepper, Fmr. CEO of Lotus Clinical, Executive CRD John Delphine, Fmr. COO of Lotus Clinical, Executive CRD

I also received a follow up email to my "Helen" email that I'd applied to the Behavioral Psychology position with. I will provide the body of the email here:

Good afternoon Helen! This is Reggie from Sunda Systems. We spoke on the phone about a week ago regarding the Behavioral Psychology position advertised on Karear. It was wonderful to speak with you and I just wanted to follow up to see if you'd given the application any more thought. The position is still available, and we are keenly interested in seeing your resume. Provided that you fit our criteria we are willing to give you a competitive offer. Please Sleep on it and let us know your decision. Connected in Harmony, Reggie

After that I must have drifted off. I remember reading the email and thinking that I really hooked them. I was planning on spending the rest of the flight drafting a fake CV to submit to them so that I could get access to their campus as many ways as possible. But my eyes were heavy. I had gotten up early to catch my flight, after all.

Without closing the laptop, I let my eyes rest for just a moment.

The flight attendant woke me with a light tap. She told me that we were beginning our descent into Charlotte and that I needed to stow my computer.

I'd slept for four hours.

I guess I must have needed it. My mind has been working hard on this project. I deserved a little break. I stretched as much as I could in a small plane seat and packed up my stuff. We touched down and taxied to the gate.

Charlotte International Airport was full to bursting with advertisements for Sunda. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. This was the closest major city to their headquarters in Eden Springs. I guess it also made sense then why planes flying in and out of this hub would have Sunda wifi on them.

By the time I was picking up my rental car, I was positively buzzing with excitement. I was wearing a constant smile. There was a spring in my step. I knew this was going to be a good trip.

The rental agent gave me my keys and I got into the car.

The touch screen in the center came to life with the logo of the company that made it. I recognized it immediate as one of the Sunda subsidiaries. It really was impossible not to get wrapped up in their web somehow.

They had hands so much of our daily lives and we didn't even know it. We just go about our days, completely unaware of the level of control they had over us.

I turned on the radio and began my drive to Eden Springs.

[lady-wallace]

Whumptober Day 11: Seeing Double

Some pre-series Vampire Hunter AU for today's @whumptober prompt

Prompt: Seeing double, (alt. survivor's guilt) Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Part 5 (Vampire Hunter AU) Character: Abbacchio

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Read on Ao3

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Men of Worth

Vampire Hunter AU – Abbacchio is having a hard time forgetting his past, but Bucciarati is ready to help him move toward the future.

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It was the kind of late that could technically be called early. Not that this was an odd time for a Hunter to be out, but Bucciarati wasn’t on a hunt that night.

At least not the usual kind.

He’d gotten back from a meeting with Polpo only for Fugo to tell him that their new recruit, Leone Abbacchio had run off again.

It had, regrettably, become a bit of a reoccurring thing. Bruno knew he was still drinking despite his orders against it, but Abbacchio usually managed to stagger back to the mansion sometime before dawn and sleep enough to be mostly coherent when he needed him again.

He had been worried about their new recruit over the last couple of days though. He had looked like he was getting less and less sleep and his disappearances had only been increasing.

When Bruno had caught him coming back to the mansion the morning prior, he had made it clear that he didn’t want Abbacchio doing that again. Despite the guilt on his face, Bruno was sure that order would be disobeyed, and therefore, he was going to go after him this time and actually confront the man about what was going on.

He headed to the only public house on the street that was open all night long, “Hunter’s Rest”, and stepped inside.

The bartender nodded to him, but Bruno wasn’t here for a drink.

He was here for the man who sat slumped at the shadowed table in the back corner.

He strode directly over and sat, taking his hat off and setting it on the table. “Evening, Abbacchio.”

The other man didn’t even look up at him, one hand held limply around the neck of a bottle, every line in his body sullen and exhausted.

“I thought we talked about you drinking.”

“We did,” Abbacchio replied gruffly, and as if in defiance, pulled the bottle up to his lips for another long drink.

Bruno pressed his lips together, trying to think of the best way to approach this. “This is becoming more and more frequent. I’m worried you’re falling back into bad habits.”

Abbacchio sighed and finally released the bottle, slumping back against the wall, his exhausted body finding support in the corner. “Maybe your problem was having too much faith in me to begin with.”

“I think we can both agree that I’m not the one with the problem here,” Bucciarati said firmly. “I need to trust the members of my team to be somewhere when I need them and at full capacity for whatever we will inevitably face. If you continue to go on missions hung over, you are not only putting yourself at risk, but your comrades too, as well as citizens that could potentially be caught in the crossfire.”

“I understand,” Abbacchio snapped at him. “You know I do. Why do you think I’m reluctant to go on hunts?”

“I didn’t hire you as a clerk, Abbacchio,” Bruno snapped. “I hired you because despite the unfortunate end of your prior job, your employers all said that you were an exemplary officer and—”

“And what?” Abbacchio cut in, slamming a fist down on the table. “It was an accident? I did all I could? I handled the situation appropriately? They didn’t have to tell his mother and his fiancé, they didn’t have to take the iron rod and—” he trailed off, teeth bared as he looked away, reaching for the bottle again. “I made a mistake accepting your job offer. I don’t think I can work in this kind of environment. It’s…perhaps a little too soon.”

Bruno stared at him for a long moment, trying to figure out how best to go about this. “Would you not feel better making sure those kinds of things don’t happen to anyone else?”

Abbacchio snorted. “Enough of the idealistic bullshit. The world isn’t kind to good people. It’s just the rotten ones who get left behind.”

“Is that what you think of yourself then?” Bucciarati asked, genuinely surprised.

Abbacchio cast him a baleful look and took another drink. “You don’t?”

“No,” Bruno replied. “Let me try putting it into perspective for you another way: Hunters operate under true justice. Nothing we do is black or white. We are here as the mediators between the human and supernatural communities. We are unprejudiced to the workings of natural society. How would you feel, Abbacchio, if you had let your partner live and he had gone on to kill others? If you had done that then you truly would have been a coward, and he would never have forgiven you on top of that—or himself if he had been the one to kill you. What you are is a man who made the right choice and suffers for it because you have a conscious. It’s not something to be ashamed of, Leone. Compassion is as much a part of this job as killing. And even when we are forced to kill, that doesn’t mean we still cannot have compassion for the victim.” He cocked his head to one side. “It’s not having fangs or drinking blood that separates humans from the supernatural—humanity is a choice that we all have to make.”

Abbacchio stared at him, eyes blinking to focus before he looked away, silent.

Bruno leaned over the table. “So tell me, Leone—are you drinking because of the guilt, or to avoid the inevitable decision you’ll have to make to move on?”

Leone shut his eyes. “It’s the only way I can sleep,” he admitted and his voice was so exhausted that it pulled at Bruno’s sympathy.

He hadn’t been expecting such a direct answer. “You can only sleep by drinking yourself into a stupor then, is what you’re saying.”

Abbacchio rubbed his eyes, smearing some of the kohl he wore, darkening the circles under his eyes. He looked up, his expression now haunted. “I…I see him, Bucciarati. I think my partner comes to haunt me at night.”

Bruno watched him carefully. There was a sincerity in Abbacchio’s voice that led the Hunter to think he actually believed that to be true.

“Abbacchio…vampires don’t become ghosts,” he said simply.

Abbacchio huffed a wry laugh. “So you’re saying I’m going mad, then?”

“No.” Bruno shook his head and took a deep breath. “I…I also saw my father for a while after I lost him. I don’t think it’s an uncommon thing. Maybe in part there is something in them that lingers by us. Or something in our minds that keeps them there. But I promise you that if you are truly haunted, Prosciutto will be able to offer a better exorcism than a bottle of cheap wine.”

Abbacchio watched him for a long moment, but made no move to pick up the bottle again, and Bruno counted that as progress.

“This doesn’t have to be a lonely job, Leone,” he said, folding his arms on the table. “We build teams for a reason. I don’t want to see you distancing yourself because you feel unworthy of the position. This is a firm reminder that I do not see you as unworthy—I never would have recruited you otherwise.”

Abbacchio had the grace to look chastened. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

Bruno gave a small smile. “None taken, as long as you put in an effort.”

He stood, taking the bottle and putting the cork back into it. “I would suggest finding a better cure for sleeping. Fugo prefers chamomile tea, while I tend to prefer sparring in the gym. With my odd hours, I’m sure you could find me if you’re ever interested in trying it out.”

Abbacchio looked grateful. He tried to push himself up, swaying slightly. Bruno reached out to take his elbow and steady him.

“If you’re able to get enough sleep, there’s a job I want you and Fugo to look into tomorrow afternoon—or rather this afternoon, I should say.”

Abbacchio nodded. “I’ll be there.”

The two made their way back to the mansion at a sedate pace, the cool night air straightening Abbacchio’s steps as they went.

Bruno saw him to his room back at the mansion and went to make him a cup of tea.

By the time he got back, he was satisfied to see that his new recruit was passed out on the bed, seeming to be sleeping deeply.

Bruno kindly removed his boots and settled a blanket over him before setting the tea on the bedside table.

He had every faith that Leone Abbacchio would become an incredibly adept Hunter and an invaluable part of the team.

[realm-sweet-realm]

Cog in the Machine, chapter 1: Buying Time

After flunking out of college, Hunter feels like his life is over. Galactic Corps is the biggest employer in town, so a job offer from them is just what he needs to buy him the time to turn things around. Or so he thinks, anyway.

I thought this would be an easy one-off to give me some time to plan for the next (and last) chapter of N's Journey, but it looks like this one will be multi-chapter, too. I'll write the end of N's Journey next and then finish this story. After that, I have two fun shipping one-offs planned- one taking place in Hisui, and the other in Unova with the Blueberry Academy characters.

---

The bus was only going to my hometown, but to me, it may as well have been headed to a hard, cold cell. How was I going to tell everyone what I’d done?

“Something wrong?” came a woman’s voice. Dark as it was and with my head full of thoughts, I hadn’t noticed her approaching the bus stop. It was the purple-haired woman I’d seen sometimes at my gym. I’d wanted to get one last workout done before I left Veilstone, and I was also hoping that if I came back late enough, my mom would be asleep by the time I made it.

“You could say that,” I replied.

She took a long drag on her cigarette and regarded me with piercing eyes. “Feel like telling a stranger about it?” she asked, almost sympathetically.

I took a deep breath. I wasn’t likely to live in this city again anytime soon, so why not?

“I flunked out of college,” I said bitterly. “I know that sounds like it’s not much to be upset about, but… I really like Veilstone, and living on my own, and all my new friends are here, and all my high school friends have moved out of Sandgem, and…” I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice from breaking. “And it’s gonna break my mom’s heart. She only has a few years left where she can work, and after that, she was going to rely on me. She’s not gonna know what we’ll do.”

“Hm,” the mysterious woman said. “Y’know, I might have something that could help you. Galactic Corps is looking for temp workers. It’s six months. You wouldn’t have to apply or anything, you just get the job. It would give you an excuse to hang around Veilstone for a little longer. And who knows? Maybe it’ll lead you to bigger things.”

The bus pulled up beside me, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the woman even as the others headed for Sandgem began to line up and get on the bus. She pulled out a business card with a golden “G” logo and a phone number on it. I took it, thanked her, gathered my bags, rushed onboard the bus, and took one of the last available seats.

The opportunity I’d been given seemed too good to be true. I opened up my pokétch to do a smidge of research, see if “Galactic Corps” was the name of some sort of known scam or pyramid scheme. As it turned out, it was an energy company, it did have a lot of six-month temp positions open, and they paid a lot considering the menial stuff they’d have us do. It took a second for it to sink in that this opportunity was actually an opportunity.

This was amazing. Once I got home, I wouldn’t be telling my mom that I flunked out. I’d be telling her that an amazing job opportunity came my way, and I was going to take a semester off to do the whole six months of it. That was plenty of time to get off academic probation or find another path in life, and so my mom would never have to know how I drank and partied my last opportunity away.

-

I got home sometime in the early morning hours and let myself in with my key. The house was dark and silent, and smelled like she hadn’t cleaned up in a while. That was to be expected- work really tired her out these days. I woke up around ten the next morning and did some dishes, threw out some of the old takeout boxes on the table, and put on some tinned soup before she got up around lunchtime. 

“Hey, Hunter,” my mom greeted me, staggering into a chair. “Thanks for cleaning up here. What time did you get home last night? I wasn’t in bed that early.”

“Uh, I’m not sure,” I said.

“Fair enough. How were finals? Did you get your grades back yet?”

“Uh, yeah. They were good. Let’s see… I got a 70 in English literature, a 73 in statistics, a 62 in astronomy…”

My mom laughed. “How did you manage to score that low in a basket-weaving course like astronomy?”

“Uh… I don’t know,” I said, stirring the pot faster. I’d been picking believable-sounding numbers from a hat. I should have chosen more believable ones, I guess.

“So, did you figure out what major you’re going to declare? A general studies degree never kept anyone warm at night.”

I turned around to face her, the pot in my hand with a potholder held under it. “Uh, about that, Mom. I found a job in Veilstone. It’s with an energy company. It’s a six-month position. I’m thinking of taking next semester off so I can do the whole thing. It pays well, so if I could save money, I wouldn’t have to rely on student loans as much, and… I kind of already contacted the university about it, so…”

“Oh,” my mom said, clearly surprised. “Well, I wish you’d asked me about it first. But what’s done is done. I guess now you’ll need an apartment in Veilstone. You can’t live in student dorms if you’re not a student. I’ll help you to sort that out. But Hunter- sometime during this, I need you to make a plan for what degree you’ll get and how you’ll use it. My MS is advancing. I don’t know how much longer I can support us. Alright?”

I agreed to it. And she did help me find an apartment. Sometimes I wonder if Mom helps me so much because she thinks I can’t take care of myself, or if she does it because she knows she might only have a few years left where she can. Regardless, I know she does it because she loves me.

-

“There you go, Evie. Home sweet home,” I said, putting down my middle-aged eevee once I’d unpacked. She looked around like she was appraising the place, then skittered over for her pet bed and curled up, head on fluffy tail. I sat down next to her on the floor and stroked her. “Yeah, this is gonna be a nice place for us, isn’t it? No roommates to keep you up at night, no one to look out for but ourselves… it’ll be great.” In a crazy way, even though the place was practically unfurnished, it felt almost like I was more mature than the guys who were still living in pre-furnished dorms.

My first day at Galactic Corps was unusual but not concerning. I met up at its entrance with about twenty other temp workers, mostly people my age with some teenagers and late twenties mixed in. A few of them were from out of town and were talking about the weirdly-placed spikes on the building or staring at the secretary through the glass door and asking why she was in some space-age costume, but as a Veilstone resident, I was used to that. I didn’t know that this building was Galactic Corps, but I did know that we had a weird spiked building looming over us, and I’d seen the weird little space dudes running around on occasion. Never thought I’d end up working here, but hey, it was a job.

At 8 AM, The secretary unlocked the door for us and told us that the person responsible for training us was out sick that day, and showed us to the cleaning supplies.

“Think of it as a way to get to know the place, find out where everything is,” she said. “Try to make yourselves useful in the meantime.” 

“Seriously?” one of the female temp workers said, arms crossed. “We don’t even know our way around, and you want us to clean with no instructions because one guy called in sick? This place is too weird, and too unprofessional. I’m out.”

Two others left with her. The female grunt shrugged her shoulders and left us to our devices. I heard someone say something to the effect of “She’s right, but I need this job,” while we were grabbing supplies, but honestly I didn’t get what the big deal was. Our trainer was out sick, what was she supposed to do?

I’d never thought of what an energy company’s headquarters would be like, but this wasn’t what I expected. Even rooms that seemed to have no unusual purpose- just their weird little space dudes (and girls, there were girls, too) tapping away at computers and whatnot- made me feel like I was in some sort of space vessel, with those metal automatic doors that opened and closed like mouths swallowing us up. A lot of the doors wouldn’t open. I counted six locked doors in the chemistry department, ten in the biology department, and four in engineering before I ended up in a hallway leading to a dead end. While I was sweeping it, a permanent worker carrying a box walked past me with a sense of purpose, like she was heading somewhere. She stepped on a weird circular tile at the end of the hallway, and seemed to disappear into thin air like an abra teleporting. Driven by unthinking curiosity, I dropped my broom and stepped on the strange tile, too.

My whole body seemed to tingle, and the ground shook beneath my feet. Then, a second later, I was in some sort of break room. Two space dudes were sitting at a table, chatting and playing cards. For a moment, I was too stunned to do much of anything. The female space dude walked past them and left through a door.

I didn’t know anything except that I didn’t know where I was, so I stepped off the orange tile and stepped back on, hoping for a ride back. Nothing happened. “Uh, a little help here?” I asked the workers.

Suddenly, two pairs of eyes were on me, and one of them looked angry. “Hey! You’re not supposed to be here. This section is for grunts only,” the shorter space dude snapped, springing up. “You must’ve took someone’s keycard. Give it here or else!” 

The little man took out a pokéball and stepped towards me. I put up my hands and stepped back. The taller space dude stood up and pulled the smaller one back by his shoulder. “Cool it,” he said in a calm, authoritative tone. “Keycards let the teleportation panels open, but they stay open for a few seconds after.” He held his keycard over the panel, making it light up. Then he looked to me. “You just wandered in because you were curious, right?”

“Uh, yeah…?” I said.

He chuckled. “Don’t worry, we’ll deal with that. Why don’t I meet you down at the lobby at quitting time so you can go out with me and some buddies?”

“Sure,” I said. It didn’t seem like a good idea to say no to someone who knew I’d fucked up.

“Sounds good. I’m Titan A3, by the way,” he said, gently pushing me to face the other way and step onto the teleporter. A second later, I was back in the empty hallway. All day, I had just the broom and my thoughts, so I wondered a lot about what was going to happen. Hopefully, it was as it seemed and I had a friend. But it wouldn’t surprise me if I was walking into a hazing ritual or worse.

As Titan asked, I showed up to the lobby after I got off work. Titan came to get me a few minutes after that. He told me to follow him, and he took me through a keycard-requiring door and a couple portals.

“Don’t worry, it’s okay since you’re with me,” he assured me.

One more portal, and I was in a room full of bunk beds, many of which were occupied by… well, I guess they call themselves grunts, like Team Rocket grunts in TV shows.

“Who wants to go out to the Crafty Flask?” Titan asked. Several grunts dropped what they were doing to join him. Some of them were raising their hands like kids in a classroom. Two even had temp workers with them, so some had clearly known the plan beforehand.

“Meet us outside in ten minutes,” Titan said, turning on his heel, “If you’re late, you’re left.”

Once I got to the lobby, the grunts had shed their uniforms and some of them had shed their weird hair. As we walked to the bar, there were a lot of whispered conversations between grunts. They seemed to be having a good time, giggling away and all that, but they also seemed to be hiding their conversations from me. I looked for the other temp workers, but it looked like the two of them were planning to hook up. So I went to the front of the pack with Titan.

With a whole bunch of them, Titan stuck out even more. He was fit, he was confident, and he had an air of admirability to him that the other grunts just didn’t.

“So, you guys live in the headquarters?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Titan answered. “You take a cut in pay once you become a grunt, but since you get room and board and don’t have to worry about bills and whatnot, all your money is fun money, so it kind of evens out. And you get to be with your favourite people all the time. It’s great.”

“Yeah, sounds nice,” I said, thinking about how I still had to figure out where to pay my bills and utilities for the new apartment, and figure how much money I should spend furnishing the place. I had a lot of adulting-type stuff to figure out in a hurry.

Once we got within a couple blocks of the bar, Titan turned back to the others.

“Alright, you guys know the drill. Low ranks pull back so the rest of us don’t look like weirdos,” he said to the crowd. Then he turned to me. “You can come with us, newbie,” he said. The grunts without the weird hair kept walking as the ones with it stayed behind, and soon we were at the bar.

“I am so glad I got to A rank,” one of the male grunts said as soon as we were seated. “Pulling non-Galactic girls is impossible when you have to wear your freak flag wherever you go.”

The female grunt next to him playfully punched him. “And what exactly is the point of fucking outside people again?” She said the word ‘outside’ like it was some kind of slur.

“Variety!” he shot back. “And thrill of the chase. You Galactic girls are too easy.”

“Wait,” I cut in, “Are lower ranks not allowed to take off the bowlcuts, or…?”

“Yeah, basically,” Titan explained. “Only the higher ranks are allowed to go back to being normal people at the end of the day because we’ve proven ourselves loyal. For the rest of them, well, it’s their actual hair. But you climb the ranks pretty quick if you’re halfway competent.”

I nodded.

“And for the record? He wasn’t lying about Galactic girls being easy. You know how I offered the bar and a bunch of people sprung up? Well, the same works for, say, a game of Scrabble, someone to watch the game with, and yeah, sex. Have you seen the ‘Make sure the bed is unoccupied before getting in’ sign in the-”

My eyes had been getting wider and wider until he’d mentioned that sign and taken me out of it. “Oh my God, that’s what that’s for!?” I’d seen that sign in the Team Galactic nap room, and I’d thought the same dirty thoughts anyone would, but I hadn’t thought I was right about it.

Titan laughed. “Yep.”

The rest of the night was great. I played beer pong with a team of three grunts and the two temp workers and I learned a little more about their lives. Apparently, the grunts learn to battle as a part of their job training, and dang, who wouldn’t want that? I’d take up hobbyist battling if I didn’t have to be the one actually taking care of six pets I don’t have time for. It seemed like a fun life, and one of the grunts even invited me to visit their training center later in the week.

I woke up the next morning to a throbbing head and Evie’s rough tongue scraping against my cheek. She whined softly as I opened my eyes, eager to be fed. I picked her up and rolled over to check my digital clock.

Shit. It was 8:15, and I was already late. I returned Evie to her ball and went through the familiar routine of throwing on some clothes, throwing my toothbrush and a baggie of Evie’s food into my bag, and moving as quickly as my dehydrated body would let me. Usually a morning like this meant feeding Evie and brushing my teeth between classes. Today I’d do it on my break. I was supposed to learn the Galactic Corps methods of encryption today, I remembered as I double-timed it to the headquarters. Hopefully the lateness, plus my appearance and probably my performance today wouldn’t count too much against me. I needed this job.

I showed up about ten minutes before 9 AM, got myself to the right room, and plunked myself into the correct chair. All the other plain-clothes workers were already there. The grunt next to me greeted me professionally and began explaining stuff, but I could barely absorb any of what he was saying.

“Hey, drink this,” a passing grunt offered, handing me a disposable water bottle filled with sludge that looked like pond scum. “It’ll help with your hangover.” He handed one to my instructor as well, who thanked him. They both uncapped their bottles and started drinking.

I eyed the bottle hesitantly. The stuff had to be edible if the others were drinking it. But it looked disgusting, and my stomach wasn’t exactly in the mood for a challenge.

“It’s not as gross as it looks, I promise,” said my instructor before taking another sip.

I uncapped the bottle and drank. The murky drink tasted like if someone had blended Gatorade, energy drinks, and protein shakes, and given its texture, it wouldn’t surprise me if that’s what it was. Nasty. But the other grunts handled them with a stiff upper lip, so I kept chugging. And my headache did go away. My stomach stopped hurting. My heart rate picked up. I felt legitimately as good as new- no, better- before I’d even finished it.

From there, the morning went smoother. My mentor demonstrated the code to me one time and I picked it up immediately. I was honestly pretty surprised at myself for learning so quickly. Within an hour, he’d left me to my devices, interpreting and translating the encrypted messages. It was repetitive, mindless work, and normally I’d have daydreamed while doing it. For some reason though, when I tried to, I just couldn’t. It was like those thoughts were out of reach. I didn’t get bored with the work, either, so I didn’t mind much. It was kind of unsettling how focused I was.

“Hey, lunchtime,” one of the grunts said to me. It felt like I’d only been working an hour, but sure enough, the day was already half over. I followed the crowd of grunts and temps to what must have been their lunchroom. After I fed Evie, brushed my teeth, and straightened out my hair, I decided to try out the trick Titan had taught me last night.

“Hey,” I asked the crowd of grunts, getting some of their attention. I wasn’t exactly sure what to ask them. Sex was obviously out. I was willing to risk looking weird, but not crazy. My eyes caught on two grunts playing cards. “Anyone want to play some poker?”

A few of them shot up.

“Sure,” one of the female grunts said to me. Two others, a guy and a girl, were behind her. I couldn’t help but smile. It really was that easy, huh?

It didn’t occur to me until the next day to ask why an energy company was doing encryption. And once I took another murky drink, that question faded away.

[knickynoo]

hi, i love your posts a lot and hope you're doing well!

you may have covered it before, but do you have any headcanons about the early years of doc and marty's friendship? i always find myself wondering how they went from a awkward employer and employee relationship, to the close bond we see them share in the films. i would love to know your thoughts!

Hello! Thank you; I hope you're also doing well :)

This kind of connects to an ask I had gotten a while ago about how long I thought it took Marty to fully trust Doc. My answer was: immediately, lol.

Basically, I don't think there was much (if any!) of an awkward period between them. In my head, it essentially went like this:

Doc *upon finding 14-year-old Marty had broken into his garage*: "Um. Hello, there. My name is Doctor Emmett Brown."

Marty: "Hey, I'm Marty."

Doc and Marty: *exchanging friendship bracelets*

I mean, in the comic book depiction of their initial meeting, Marty doesn't even care about discussing the pay Doc offers him. He says, "I'll be happy just to be the guy who knows Doctor Emmett L. Brown!" And. And! Doc's journals in the DeLorean Time Machine manual contain an entry written the day he meets Marty, where he writes, "I have a good feeling about the lad, and feel confident I can trust him." They are literally only hours post-meeting, and Doc has already put his full trust into this kid who snuck in through his window earlier that afternoon. Love it. Now for headcanons.

Obviously, Marty likes Doc from the get-go simply because he thinks he's really interesting and cool and smart, but I think--for Twin Pines Marty, at least--a lot of that initial connection comes from him being sort of starved for attention from a caring, adult figure. Every grown-up around Marty is dysfunctional. His father is oblivious and discouraging, his mother is a sad alcoholic, Biff is an abusive bully, and Strickland thinks Marty is a punk kid destined for a life of failure.

^^ I feel like this meme is fitting

Anyway, Marty then suddenly has this adult in his life who...likes him? Thinks he's smart and has potential? Doesn't talk to him like he's an idiot? I absolutely think that Marty was instantly like, "I am going to spend every possible waking moment here." Doc goes ahead and slaps the Flex Tape right over Marty's damaged self-esteem.

Those early first few months are filled with Doc slipping mini science lessons into all the time they spend together. Marty goes into the whole assistant gig with very limited knowledge, but he's eager to learn. Doc quickly figures out the best way Marty learns and absorbs information, and he gives him a lot of the basic facts and skills that he needs to be able to help around the lab.

I think it actually takes a while for Marty to open up about his family life. Doc has an inkling that home isn't such a great place, but he has no clue how to approach the subject and wonders if it's even appropriate to do so. They both dance around the topic for a long while until it all comes tumbling out of Marty one evening. Doc, having had his own unhappy relationship with his father, empathizes with his new friend, though I don't see Doc as being quick to share any stories of his own. He mostly avoids the subject when Marty tries to ask about his childhood (maybe just sharing stories of his mother). He does eventually talk about his father, but it's a tough thing to do.

Related to the above, I think Marty's little cot was an addition to the lab in those early few months of friendship. There were nights they were either working late, or Marty just didn't seem to want to go home, and Doc didn't want him having to sleep slouched in a chair or on top of a table. Marty walked into the garage one day, and there was suddenly a bed for him.

Contrary to the comics, I DO NOT headcanon that Doc gave that nickname to himself. Marty did, and it probably happened on day one or two of them knowing each other. He just went, "Yo, Doc," and Doc momentarily paused in brief confusion before going, "Huh, guess that's my name now." But Doc loves it because it's the first kind nickname he's ever been given.

From the moment Doc finds out Marty's a musician, he tells Marty he'd like to hear him play. Marty wants to be able to share his music with his new friend, but he's also really nervous. What if Doc thinks he stinks? Eventually, he builds up the courage and brings his guitar to the garage one night. He has Doc (and Einie's) full attention, and they both love his music. Doc is quite impressed with Marty's talent and encourages him to continue to build those skills and share his songs. Sometimes, Doc requests a certain song, and Marty does his best to learn to play it.

That's all I can think of at the moment! Thanks for the ask!

[colitisandme]

Larry

Firstly let me just say if Lyme disease was a place, it would be on fire, people would be running around looking for the sole fire extinguisher within 300 miles, everyone would be shouting at each other and yelling at their own reflections, windows in shops would be broken, puppies howling, babies crying, and all the residents would hear a loud alarm go off at 12 midday sharp, and upon that appointed hour, all who were outside would be chased by a very angry, hungry bear… for an hour…Oh, and none of the letterboxes would have house numbers on them, and every time you opened one it would fire a torrent of peas at you… I truly hate peas. In my opinion, they are the scourge of the vegetable kingdom and should be avoided at all costs.

I think Larry came to become my longstanding houseguest about 10 years ago. When I got bitten after bathing my now husbands dog. She had bounded joyfully into a dirty water lake and I had the honour of making her smell less like a gym sock. Whilst making sure Amy the dog got the best bath/spa treatment ever, I got bitten. By Larry. Hiding in Amy’s fur. Clearly he thought that residence de soggy dog fur was not upmarket or suitable for him, and he saw my uncovered pale leg as a step up in accommodation. Whatever the reason, he decided to bed in, take off his many shoes, and start unpacking his IKEA flat pack furniture whilst simultaneously calling up his buddies and organising a non stop house party from then on. I didn’t know it was Larry at the time, but what I did know with all certainty, is that I had 3 massive bullseyes on my leg, and my legs were starting to swell up like two overfilled sausages. The dog by the way was fine. Of course.

I hotfooted it to A&E after feeling like my legs were going to burst open. The only thing that would stop my legs exploding was a dose of IV hydrocortisone. I felt awful as well. Like I had caught flu and someone was using my body as their own personal thermostat. I think I had a few days antibiotics, I also know that I came out of A&E and went to a job interview a few hours later… after being pumped full of hydrocortisone and enough painkillers to stun a rhino. I can’t tell you anything about what happened during that interview, but for some inexplicable reason I got the job. Maybe they appreciated the wide eyed, dragged through a bush look. Maybe that’s the way to go for all future employment opportunities.

I actually asked to be tested for Lyme disease during my last hospital stay. My spine had decided it no longer wanted to be inside my body, and in my opinion was trying to forcibly escape. It had gone into a permanent spasm, and even though I thought I could massage my way through the pain, I ended up curled up in a ball, swearing, writhing on the floor and cursing the fact my door keys were in a place which was not sadly floor level. After I was admitted to hospital taking every single painkiller they offered me, and coming with new and fun exciting swear words to describe my pain level during ward rounds, my beloved husband and equally beloved and savvy mother had done their research and decided that I may have Lyme. At this point I had almost shouted house on the ‘Chronic illness’ bingo card, and I got the feeling that if they could, they would push my ‘please sit here and tell me what’s going on swivel chair’ through the door and out of the ward into the mouth of an awaiting dragon. They almost certainly viewed me with a mixture of exasperation, perspiration and furrowed expert brows. “It’s Fibro” they would tell me confidently. “It’s not” I would respond with my head in my hands… “course it is” nodded Doctor number 5…. “So you erm you know, keep doing what you’re doing and we will refer you to our head guy” only to find out it’s a broom in a cupboard. So I was apparently tested… begrudgingly… I can only imagine by Dr broom handle because when they discharged me, still gritting my teeth and unable to stand properly or move my neck, they basically yelled after me “it’s not Lyme byeeeeeee.”

Spoiler alert yes. Yes it bloody was. 10 years after this sodding Larry came to stay and continuing to decorate my insides with vibrant colours and exotic furs. Someone finally helped. By this point I was struggling. Now I deal with pain fairly stoically. I also deal with any of my many chronic illnesses with humour and positivity. It’s my coping mechanism. But I had points where I would be inwardly and outwardly cursing the b**ard who invented stairs because I would be losing my balance and turning into a human vibrator because my hands would shake. It also appeared that the entire bloomin internal Jess body orchestra had started off their winter season by playing flight of the bumblebee, using every single nerve point in my body as piano keys. They must have got rave reviews, because they have continued their repertoire to include brain fog concerto, and the hibernation symphony in C. And immune system knock out piano solo in D minor. Thank goodness for German labs, thank goodness for my wonderful Lyme specialist, thank goodness for my tenacious Mum and stubborn husband, for getting all the research together, for fairly sternly encouraging me to make the appointment and finally making me get tested.

I was so sure it wasn’t lyme. So,so sure. In fact when I got my super positive results for Larry, (who has now branched into his singing career singing all the hits along side his back up singers; co infections Bartonella, Babesia and Borrelia), I was in my friends car, going to dinner blissfully unaware everything was going to change. I remember vividly getting the email, and then subsequently going into a garbled expletive filled rant explaining to my startled friend why previous Drs have all the nouse and common sense of a grilled aubergine. I then looked at my report and my blood cells looked like furry creatures. Misshapen, fuzzy, furry looking alien blobs. I don’t know anything about what blood cells are supposed to look like under the microscope, but I can safely say they are not supposed to look like they are alive. Larry and his trio had had a field day over the past 10 or so years, it looked like he had grabbed my blood cells and then proceeded to try and sculpt them into another shape with all of his feet. It was horrifying. Truly horrifying. How the hell could they have missed it?

I am now acutely aware that Lyme is completely overlooked in the UK, and also in other parts of the world. It is misdiagnosed, mistreated, misunderstood. Research is underfunded and drs are woefully ignorant of the symptoms. Mine were and I am now a passenger in Larry’s super fun happy rollercoaster ride of pain, brain fog, gut issues, hyperactive or completely catatonic immune system, skin issues, joint issues, pain and fatigue. And there’s no sodding toffee apple at the end of the ride as a reward. It goes on and on until I am completely nauseous, confused, full of rage, tears and vertigo. It effects every cell, every muscle, nerve, neuron, and because it wasn’t picked up and treated, it’s now in the chronic stage, which is an absolute minefield to treat.

So nearly 6 months post diagnosis, here I am fighting. My ‘friendly drugs cabinet’ looks like a pharmaceutical wonderland. My schedule is bananas in regards to what to take, what to eat, what to bathe, soak, marinade, brush, rub, drain… I am on a concoction of functional medicine to try and will Larry and his trio into submission, I drink funky teas, I watch what I eat, what I drink, how I sleep… it’s hard work. The routine is hard work. I am tired, I get fed up and sick and Ill and sick of being ill. It is hard. It is relentless. But I will defeat that crafty son of a b**** and banish him out of my body. Because the choice otherwise is too much to bear. I refuse to lose. I refuse to let them have their own way for any longer. So yes it is exhausting and expensive (because Larry and his trio are not treated on the NHS) and yes my treatment cabinet is bursting at the seems, and yes the results from mould exposure means there is more to do, but I am officially serving Larry and his friends with their eviction notice. They are not welcome anymore and I urge anyone who may think their symptoms don’t fit the usual ‘diagnosis mould’ then please stand up for yourself, follow your gut, seek a second opinion, third opinion even. Be your own advocate. You are not alone. We are in this battle together. Don’t give up. I will draw up the eviction notices and you can bring snacks and placards. Let’s do this. After all our our disease may be invisible but we sure as hell are not.

[katzenschlafs]

And all Scrooge needed to become more compassionate and caring toward himself and others was.... being forced to actually see things as they are. To have the blinders pulled off.

Scrooge is essentially dissociated from his own memories, from his own current experiences, and from all the people around him. It's a protective mechanism. "If I don't look, it can't hurt me." And - "I have to do things this way to protect myself from poverty and neglect and rejection - so I can't consider the ways that my behavior creates poverty and neglect and rejection for myself and others."

Scrooge is operating from a wounded inner child. Being forced to look at that child as he really existed in the past is one of the first steps the ghosts take to help Scrooge confront who he has become. Step 1 is to become acquainted with the past selves whose pain is running the show. But not simply to become acquainted with their pain - also to become acquainted with their joys and delights, as signposts for what's missing from his adult life. What he's cut himself off from in his desperate quest to protect himself.

Honestly, Dickens was perhaps a more prescient psychologist than Freud or Jung. He's painting a picture of inner family systems work, before Jung even coined the phrase "inner child." Dickens draws the picture for us of how Scrooge's early sufferings created his adult behaviors and sufferings.

One thing I think Dickens gets right that our general psychological establishment doesn't talk about (as far as I've seen), is that being acquainted with actual children in the present can help a person understand and confront their inner child. This is part of Tiny Tim's significance, and the significance of Want and Ignorance. Witnessing the ways children bear suffering and joy can help us understand the ways we experienced those things as children ourselves. That's why parenting (or becoming an uncle, or babysitting for a friend, etc) can sometimes push people into doing work on their inner family systems.

(Tangential thought - we talk about people not being ready to raise children because they're not adulty enough yet - hell, that's the reason i didn't have kids in my 20s - but ime, spending time caring for children is the best way to realize the ways that you've grown up and finish the task of raising yourself into full adulthood. Still helps to be prepared for that work before you find yourself responsible for the development of tiny humans, but we underestimate how much parenting and/or care work can catalyze growth.)

Maybe Dickens is a bit optimistic though. Do we think if the Ghosts took Musk or Bezos or any of our modern ultrarich and forced them to stop looking away from the suffering they've endured and the suffering they create, they would do anything differently? Would they learn and heal and do better? Or would they just get pissed off that they're being asked to look at reality?

And is it sufficient to convince today's billionnaires to share part of their wealth? Bill Gates is probably the closest thing to a real-world Ebeneezer Scrooge that we can point to (at least as far as figures in the limelight). And while the Gates foundation has done a great deal of good in the world, it has done so by alleviating the effects of poverty, not by reforming systems to reduce the creation of poverty in the first place.

It's notable that Scrooge doesn't just buy the Cratchits a turkey or offer to help with Tiny Tim's medical bills. He actually raises Bob's salary, so that the Cratchits can have a better life overall and for a sustainable future. When was the last time we saw a CEO raise salaries across the board solely to create better futures for their employees? Let alone work toward a world where people are not dependent on their employer's good will to have food on the table.

imagine simping for capitalism this badly

[pursuingheavenonearth]

Is it time for a 'radical' change? Maybe not.

by 

David Lewis Brooks

My bare feet, photo taken June 2023 on the steps of Hostal Casa de Huespedes San Fernando, Playa del Ingles, Gran Canaria (Canary Islands), Spain

PREFACE:  This article was written over several weeks from August 18 until September 20, 2023, after I returned from my second overseas trip that summer.     

When one comes to end of his/her professional career, it is not always easy to decide what to do or where or how to find an avocation or a new vocation to keep oneself occupied productively in the last Third of One's (Current) Lifespan.  Over the approximately three and a half years since I officially retired from work (university teaching and research job), I have dabbled a bit in several possible Third Life career moves, but none of them has panned out into any satisfying work or job offers.  

Basically, I am staying at home and being the wise, but quiet, granddad to the Brooks-Yamaguchi family. Our older son, also an Associate Professor,but at Asia University (not too far from our home) lives with his Japanese wife and two daughters, aged 7 and 5 years old).  His wife, Yuki, works as a student affairs officer (foreign student admissions) at KUFS (Kanda University of Foreign Studies), located a short bicycle ride from our homes. I say 'homes' since we live just a block away from our son's and his family's residence. 

I had first joined the teaching staff at Kitasato’s Sagamihara campus in April, 1996, as an emergency teacher recruited by Prof. Yukio Seya in March of that year to fill a sudden part-time English teacher vacancy.  

Photo taken August 2023 at the circular roundabout road, about 400 meters from the East Side entrance to Tama Bochi Cemetery, Fuchu, Tokyo. These are crepe myrtle trees in full bloom from July to October annually. It's a bit rare to have two large crepe myrtle growing side-by-side in the cemetery, so they are a favorite sight on our daily dog walks into the Tama Bochi (cemetery). 

I was subsequently employed as a full-time teacher member of the English Language Unit a month into  the school following year, and has continued in the position of Associate Professor until my mandatory retirement in March 2019. Why a month later start? Actually, I was a part-time teacher with 6 weekly classes, which was the same as a full-time teacher's workload. By then asking that I be made a full-timer (once I was already employed), then they didn't have to open the 'new' position up to public applications from both presently employed part-timers as well as outsider. It was a strategic political employment move. I continue for three years as a contract (full-time) employee, before being made full-fledged faculty member (Assistant Professor), and eventually attained Associate Professorship in approximately 10 years further.  I never considered even asking to be a Full Professor because I considered that my Japanese language skills were not sufficient to complete all of the duties required a full professor.  However, I will never actually know if I was considered qualified to seek that promotion or not, because my own Department Head retired and I had several other colleagues that I would have had to compete with to become Professor Brooks.  More money, but more work and many ore headaches (if you ask me). Therefore, I happily remained an Associate Professor until I retired in March 2019.  Retirement became mandatory at the age of 65 year-of-age for all, but esteemed Professor Emeritus, of which there were one appointed every couple of years. 

After my official retirement, I was asked to teach one further year as an Adjunct Professor under a part-time teacher's salary for five courses on three days a week (Mondays - one class, Tuesday - 2 classes and Thursday - 2 classes). This arrangement, by the way, was how I started teaching part-time at Kitasato University first in the 1996-97 academic year.  

Photo taken at sunset in August 2022 Diamond Head Beach, Honolulu, Hawaii       

          After his retirement,  David L. Brooks had intended to remain as an adjunct professor at Kitasato University for one or two days a week,  he'd likely be teaching part-time as well at Aoyama Gakuin University for two graduate or undergraduate courses, and may also be working on a volunteer basis in the part-time position at the University’s Office of International Affairs from April, 2019, until the 2024.  In addition, Mr. Brooks would be managing director of a new travel company based in Hawaii that specializes in edutrekking, travel expeditions for small teams that combine travel with eco-tourism and humanitarian endeavors for potential customers in Japan, the USA, and Europe.   

The LAST PLANS in the above paragraph DID NOT actually  MATERIALIZE, and when COVID-19 hit the world, my Third Life Career is was then put on hold and is, therefore, being reconsidered. That is purpose of this entry: To review those three years of dormancy (rather like hibernation) would probably be a helpful move at this juncture of my existence.   I can either decide what I want/need to do next, or will come to some other kind of resolution.

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

Part I

January 2020 - June 2021

Photo taken February 2022 at the Diamond Head Road leading into Kapiolani Park, Honolulu, Hawaii

A)      From January 2020 until June 2021, I was involved in the Harvard Kennedy School of Government's Public Leadership Credential, where I completed six different six-week long graduate courses in an online coursework format that included weekly group work (for one of weeks of each course I was the group leader and completing a personally focused individualized weekly assignment, plus completing a challenging final written exam.  Along the way, I had three very distinguished, challenging, and interesting professors and got to work in detail with dozens of highly qualified and tenacious graduate students, who were also pursuing the same Harvard graduate credential.

Seated at the Jackie O's restaurant / bar at Super Paradise Beach on the Greek island of Mykonos. It was a warm afternoon in June, 2023, and I was one of just a few customers at 4:00pm that day.

          To be honest, taking the coursework (actually 2/5ths of a Master's Degree in Public Administration from Harvard's Kennedy School of Government) was the fulfillment of a personal challenge that I had envisioned pursuing more than a decade ago. At that time, after designating Harvard KSG as my first choice for a graduate institution at the time of taking the GRE, I received a letter of invitation from Harvard Kennedy School asking me to complete the necessary steps to apply for admission. Probably the main reason was because I had scored a perfect 6 on the then newly instigated GRE Writing Test, which had only just begun the very year that I had re-taken the GRE. There is no doubt that I found the six courses in the Public Leadership Credential at Harvard KSG to be academically challenging, but they were not impossible and I found the course content, the professors, and working with my fellow course-mates to be highly interesting, personally rewarding and a great learning experience (almost without exception). However, I believe that I came to realize that simply cooperating and competing with my other Harvard online classmates was not the activity that really excited my intellectual interests or challenged my internal soul-searching to find a meaningful post-retirement career.

A bee in the weeds: Photo taken May 2022 at the Tama River side park, not far from Tokyo Parkway Bridge at Inagi, Fuchu, Tokyo

Most of my own personally-meaningful assignments for those six courses were related to my current passion at the time: Finding or creating an organization (or group) that can assist impoverished families in Hawaii, particularly those living under stark economic realities of today's world (who can absolutely be categorized a 'poor' families and individuals who are economically disadvantaged, to find affordable housing (either by buying, renting, or sharing a portion of a group-owned lodging).

Eating at a nice (and expensive) restaurant near the Beach Boardwalk at Sitges, Spain in June, 2023

        Actually, that leads me to my July 2021 - January 2023 phase, which involved trying to set up both a non-profit, called Philantropical.org, and a for-profit travel-related business, called Rainbow Travel Network, Inc., both of which I have now closed.  

Let me explain more in the next section.

Part II

July 2021 - January 2023

B)  My Entrepreneurial Phase -- Starting Two Business that I closed even before they could actually start. 

Part II-A   From January 2021 through January 2023, I was busy trying to set up both a non-profit, called Philantropical.org, and also a for-profit travel-related business, called Rainbow Travel Network, Inc., both of which I subsequently have now closed. 

Photo taken June 2023 at the Old Windmills Strand located near the main port / harbor of Choros Town on Mykonos Island, Greece

Setting up Philantropical.org (a non-profit organization) was not too difficult. In fact, inside the State of Hawaii, it was painless and virtually easy-peasy-Japanesy (as we often say in the Brooks household). Even when I decided to make the non-profit be recognized nationwide (in the US), it was not very difficult to secure the paperwork and to get registered and verified as a US nationwide non-profit organization by the United States Internal Revenue Service (IRS). The difficulty arose when it came to the actual details of the non-profit tax designation and assigned levels of tax compliance as a non-profit organization.  While it was still recognized as a non-profit, for tax purposes, it was designated as a XXXXXX non-taxed organization and the paperwork and tax forms required were just too laborious and time-consuming to be acceptable (at least for me alone).  

I quickly realized that I could not sustain that level of complicated book-keeping and convoluted tax reporting that such a designation required. I subsequently decided to dissolve the non-profit organization, thus appearing to 'officially' abandon its mission:  helping disadvantaged and underprivileged families to cope with the regulations and restrictions needed in order to live in a house on the Big Island of Hawaii. 

To be continued.....

Part II-B Rainbow Travel Network, Inc.

Photo taken March 2012 at the Marine Park located near Arinaga Marine Preserve on the island of Gran Canaria, The Canary Islands, Spain (taken by my own underwater photography with my own camera).

The second part of my plan was to establish a travel services company that acted as an 'arranger' for travel services to be provided to small (3-7) or  medium-sized (8-24) people.  The 'trips' are not actually solely for the purpose of travel, but have the ultimate goal of providing 'free' assistance to people, organizations (such as non-profits and public corporations), to help animal and plant life in a specific region, and (or) to improve the environmental conditions in a specific locale in order to reach their fullest (and highest) potentials. The eco-trips or 'edutreking' sojourns would be in my current home country (Japan) or abroad; they could be free (if a sponsor will pay expenses) or their costs could be reduced by donations and payments from  the beneficiary groups, or they could be totally self-supported (paid for my the volunteers own monetary contributions). 

                Examples of such 'trips' could include any or a combination of the following eco-trips  or 'edutreking' experiences:a) Volunteer to teach life-skill English conversation to home healthcare workers who are assisting disaster relief for an Australian state;  b)Lead a workshop on polish one's job search and employer attractiveness skills for low-level, poorly educated individuals seeking jobs as migrant workers in a South American country;  

c) Conduct an environmental clean-up workday in specific area needing human labor of volunteers (in Florida after the last major hurricane damage), 

and 

d - z) there are countless more examples, etc... But hopefully, you get the idea:  human volunteers helping our planet and its environment, its peoples and the animal & plant livelihoods.

Photo taken  February 2022 at the Beach 67 not far from Spencer Beach, near Kawaihae, Big Island, Hawaii

Part III February 2023 - September 2023 C)   My own travels overseas

Photos were taken August 2023 at the Hellabrunn Zoo outside Munich, Germany. Of course, there are hundreds of species of birds, fish, reptiles, and other animals at the zoo, but the birds and fish are easiest to photograph because you're allowed to be so close to them in an enclosed cage  (bird cage in huge) or space (the aquarium). 

From January 2023 until the present (Sept 2023), I was mostly at my home in Tokyo, helping with the chores of grand-child minding, cooking and cleaning house.  I did find the time and resources (money) to travel abroad twice during that time. Both times,  I visited Europe; actually, I visited Spain and Germany twice as my favorite European cities are Munich and Barcelona. 

Many years ago, I practiced the art (martial) of Aikido. Once we held a public exhibition of our 'sensei's' students at a public hall in Gotanda, Tokyo. Here I am finishing a defensive move on my co-combattant.

So it is time for a radical change in my lifestyle or vocation (or avocation)? Well, after considering what's happening now in my world and in our societies, I'd have to say that things in my life will likely just remain as they are, without any huge changes. I'm enjoying what I'm doing now: being a partner to my wife, and a father and grandfather to my sons and spouses and offspring. Attempting to conflate my raison d'etre into some grand scheme of a new life is probably only my own wishful thinking as my mortality lies more concretely ahead of me. I'll most likely be happy to simply live my life as it is being played out now. I'm loved by family, and enjoy the hobbies and pastimes that 'apparently' keep me busy and productive as I enter my seventh decade of life. I can only hope that I will have at least two more decades to enjoy my life on Earth and hope to gain the satisfaction of having spent my remaining time alive in the best ways possible.

Thank for reading.

Playing with the Djohong Village children around New Year's Eve, 2000 in Cameroon, West Africa, while participating the one of EarthWatch.org research expeditions to assist Phyllis Jansyn, a former Peace Corps volunteer, who had stayed in rural Cameroon to help the villagers of Djohong find clean water, safeguard against disease, give birth, and learn healthy childcare to the women (and men) of the surrounding villages.

[void-galaxy-shenanigans]

United Statesian here, & this is something I care a lot about so I'm gonna ramble about it & how fucked it is/how fucked we all are.

Pretty much everything is private.

“Public” green spaces usually cost money to enter (daily/every entry costs, &/or monthly / yearly “passes” to go in) &/or to park (& usually not accessible via public transit, & difficult to access via walking or biking). Electricity, waste processing/collecting (trash, recycling, etc.), hospitals & urgent care facilities ((I just got turned away from 5 different urgent care facilities because I'm on state Medicaid because I can't afford private insurance & they care more about profit than my life)), property management, car insurance (which is legally required but still run privately for profit), health insurance (again, legally required but still run privately for profit)....even all the “good” schools/education systems are privatised, because public schools are underfunded as heck.

Universities & colleges are often for profit too - all the ones near me cost $10,000 to $150,000 per year, & they somehow expect you to dig yourself out of that much debt (there are scholarships but there are fewer and fewer as the years go by & they rarely cover all costs, you basically have to get really lucky to get a full ride) if you don't just have that lying around (or can't rely on your parents’ money). And even when you do finally get a degree, all the jobs available (a) pay less than minimum wage (my girlfriend got stuck in a job that pays $11/hr for 40hrs a week on a Bachelor's with tons of impressive extracurriculars on her résumé; of course she's seeking other employment but that brings us to point b), (b) are super competitive & high demand because a lot of people went to college/university just to get a degree so they can maybe get a livable wage, which means it takes hundreds of job applications to get one call back ((it took her a month to get even one interview, & longer to get a job offer, & that's with her working since before she turned 18 & having super impressive stuff on her résumé)), (c) pay a “living stipend” instead of a wage (which has to be payment specifically “in exchange for labor”, & apparently living stipends don't count) which means you can't get unemployment because you “weren't employed”, which is really dangerous if they decide to suddenly fire you, &/or (d) leave job listings up that aren't actually available so they can guilt trip their existing employees that they're “trying” not to be understaffed & to make the existing employees work harder. So having a degree isn't enough to survive either.

Our middle/working classes are shrinking, & our impoverished & homeless populations are growing alarmingly fast, because corporations would rather you work full time from a tent or car or on the streets somewhere than pay you a livable way and lose a tiny margin of profit.

The USA is a scary place to live if you're not ridiculously weathy.

Maine?? Hello?

[blackberryblueberry]

H, boundary pusher

H, 6'1", a few years older than me, who spent eight years of his twenties in a German art academy. After art school he traveled around the world with his collaborator making an art film. They exhibited pretty successfully for a while, and then he and his collaborator stopped working together (as he put it, they'd used themselves and each other up). They no longer spoke, although they weren't enemies, and he no longer made art. He claimed that he couldn't access the art-making part of himself; furthermore he was disenchanted with the art world and the art bubble (the surplus of talent and ability combined with a shortage of opportunities). He now worked odd administrative jobs. He was in a polyamorous relationship with a queer woman.

I met him a schnitzel place near Potsdamer Platz. He was attractive and slender and put together--much more attractive than I expected, and I regretted wearing glasses. The colors on his body were pleasingly curated. I'd thought he was actually younger than me; his skin was smooth and his eyes quite large and blue and open. His demeanor was understated. He'd laugh self-consciously every once in a while, and that was charming--so he liked me. I asked him if he believed in astrology. He didn't want to tell me his sign--he was worried what I would think of it. (Another self-conscious laugh.) "Are you a Scorpio?" I couldn't think of what could be worse. No, he was a Sagittarius. Ah, that was indeed worse. "They give me a lot of heartache," I explained. He replied, "We do it to ourselves, too."

We went to see a film at the Arsenal film institute. It was a two hour experimental film, Kira Muratowa's last--and it purposefully repeated a single short encounter that was Chekhovian in its economy of space and depth of drama, and ended with a frame narrative that felt (to me) like stuffing a Faberge egg in a Tupperware container. When we got out, our discussion of it was a little bland. We decided to get a beer, and biked to Kreuzberg (he helped me set up a NextBike account). We went into a Späti and I bought a Chimay for 5 euros, which was a great deal to me for a Trappist ale, although it's considered quite expensive in Berlin (H's beer was 2 euros). We walked along the Landwehrkanal. He told me about the end of his current contract. His employer had offered him an insultingly low full time position. He couldn't negotiate and couldn't accept, and after his employer learned that he was talking shit with his co-workers, he was told to stop coming to work, and they would simply pay out the rest of his contract. He didn't ask me many questions about myself.

We sat on an empty bench and he asked, "What do you think of making out?" I climbed into his lap and we kissed. His kissing was a little boring--a wide open mouth and rowdy tongue and not a lot of variation. He told me thought I was really sexy, and that he'd thought so from the jump. Then he suggested that I bring him home, and so we retrieved our bikes and went.

Maybe more than the making out, maybe more than the sex--it was the biking around town in the night that I liked and wanted to do again.

He carried a little linen satchel full of contraceptives: dental dams and condoms (lubricated and non-lubricated). I'd never seen such a level of commitment to safe sex, and I wondered if this was particular to him or true of all Germans. I asked about the use of condoms for oral sex, and he said that there were germs in the throat that could get into the penis. I had a dental dam used on me for the first time, and it blunted the sensation significantly and looked quite awkward, but I thought I should try to normalize it in my mind the way it was for condoms.

His dick was long and slender, and didn't bring me any pain on penetration, although I could feel it reaching deeper than I was used to. He wanted me to tell him what to do and to tell him what I liked, which I wasn't good at, because I don't quite know how to verbalize what I like. I am not sure that what I like can even be given to me by someone I am hooking up with for the first time. I like when the person I'm having sex with is obsessed with me. He, on the other hand, could give very specific and brief instructions on how to get him off.

I thought this exchange of tips and preferences made sex seem like a pretty tedious transaction between two people to do things to each other's bodies. And also the artifice of it: that we'd put on a persona, or mock up a specific kind of dynamic, in order to get someone to orgasm. Which would all come down after the sex was over.

In the middle of hooking up, I asked him if he was going to stay the night, or if he wanted to leave afterwards. I thought the answer was going to be readily available, but his composure seemed disturbed by the question. "I usually go," he said. "But it's not something we have to decide now."

Eventually he did stay over. I thought I wanted this--I thought we'd cuddle up and sleep soundly. The opposite was true; he was a fussy sleeper (he said normally he'd wear ear plugs and an eye mask and a nightguard) and every small movement of mine would produce a reaction--he'd laugh, a little meanly, I though--and I in turn was stressed out sleeping next to him. Repeatedly I suggested alternatives to him: he could go home, or he could go sleep in another room. But he didn't leave the bed. Neither of us slept well. In the morning I rose and hoped he would leave quickly. I didn't feel attracted to him anymore. He'd been a lousy bedmate: self-absorbed and not at all a comfort. I remembered my eternal vow to stop hooking up with white men. They were always more attractive at arms length and fully clothed. Up close there was something pinched and hard about the eyes and the set of the mouth. It's unpleasant to gaze into.

We ended up having sex again. While we were fucking I asked him to talk to me.

"What do you want me to say?"

I didn't have an answer. But he was thinking about it. "Would you like domination play?" he asked. I nodded. He was fucking me on our sides, pinning my arms against him, twisting my torso so that he could make out with me at the same time (which I do like--the feeling of being twisted or pinned). "You're mine," he said. "And you're going to do exactly as I tell you." I liked that. "I'm going to fuck you as long as I want." Not too long afterwards I came, which was rare for a first time hookup. His matter-of-factness had helped; I didn't feel so self-conscious. But it didn't feel so special; it was like we were checking something off a to-do list.

Later, I was giving him head (with the condom still on) and when I came up he cradled me and said, "good girl," and I again felt a little flutter of interest.

I ran out of stamina, asked for a break. H backed off without saying anything. A few minutes later he said, "When will your break be over?" Given that, it would never be over. Eventually he asked me to give him a hand job. It took an incredibly long time for him to come. My wrists deserved an award. I marveled at his lack of self-consciousness, or perhaps entitlement. He clearly didn't expect the sex to end before he'd gotten his own orgasm. His cum got on both of us, but mostly him. He washed up and finally left.

[hexiva]

I have now read every single one of Ian Fleming’s James Bond novels, except for Live and Let Die, which I had to stop once I hit the chapter title which includes the N-word. Here’s a list of things you will encounter in these books:

James Bond throws up due to trauma at least once per book

Racism

No, really, more racism than you’re expecting

Yes, even for the 50s

At one point Bond writes a letter in his own pee

“All the real hep-cats smoke reefers!”

Many comments on the nature of American culture, including the “exotic pungency” of American road signs

Extended passages of James Bond being racist against various ethnicities you didn’t even know one COULD be racist towards

No seriously, James Bond inexplicably despises Bulgarians

A lengthy passage in which Bond shares his opinion that homosexuality is caused by giving women the right to vote

Bond gets tortured for the first time and immediately comes over all political and philosophical like, “Maybe communism is good actually, and also the Devil is a good guy?”

At one point Bond gets brainwashed by the KGB into trying to kill M

Bond is a grade-A Karen who delivers all of his restaurant orders with lengthy specifics as to how the food should be prepared, and gets pissy if it’s not up to his specifications.

“a gay, happy little crocodile” 

Bond is very excited to learn that in New York there are places where you can watch porn with sound AND color.

James Bond is The Most Boring Man in the World. His hobbies include golf and complaining about food.

Late in the books, Bond’s fiancee is killed right in front of him, and he starts showing PTSD symptoms and, instead of being all macho-man “I don’t need no help,” immediately starts going to every doctor available trying to get treatment

At one point the government tries to offer him a knighthood or some such and Bond messages back that he refuses the knighthood and that “My principal reason is that I don’t want to pay more at hotels and restaurants.” When told that this is too rude, he amends it to, “I am a Scottish peasant and I will always feel at home being a Scottish peasant.”

At one point the Bond girl is tied down by the villain of the book to await being eaten alive by crabs. Bond is terrified for her, but she, being something of an amateur zoologist, knows perfectly well that crabs aren’t gonna eat a living human, so she just chills there on the beach and waits for them to go away.

There is literally a damsel in distress tied to the actual train tracks, presented without irony

An MI6 agent speculates, in an official report to headquarters, that the target may be homosexual because he can’t whistle. Apparently men who can’t whistle are gay.

Bond is drafted to act as the villain’s secretary not once, but two separate times in two separate books. 

When Bond is at a boring party at a hotel conference room and is ordered by his employer to liven up the party, he accomplishes this by ORDERING THE HOTEL BAND, who were previously singing a censored version of some song, TO PERFORM A STRIP SHOW FOR HIM AND THE GUESTS WHILE SINGING THE DIRTY VERSION. This is his second idea, after he previously livened up the party by using one of the girls in the hotel band - the same one he wants to strip for him - as target practice by balancing a false pineapple on her head and shooting it. 

Bond exchanges a look with a fellow secret agent that is said to be “the recognition that exists between crooks, between homosexuals, between secret agents.”

“A hand-painted sign said ‘SNAX’ and, underneath, ‘Hot Cock Soup Fresh Daily’.”

The backstory of the villain of The Man with the Golden Gun is as follows: there was once a circus elephant who got REALLY HORNY and then went on a rampage and was shot by the cops, and then came back to the circus to  pathetically and tragically attempt to perform its circus act one last time. The child who was supposed to ride the elephant in the circus act witnessed all of this, and when the cops shot the elephant dead while performing its tragic act, the boy grabbed a pistol and SHOT ONE OF THE COPS in revenge for HIS ELEPHANT DYING. And that boy grew up to be a deadly, womanizing, hired gun, with three nipples, whom MI6 speculates must be gay because he can’t whistle. And that’s the villain of the book.

These books will make you hate the British as much as every single villain seems to

Waaaayyy more casual drug use than you would expect

like, seriously, at one point Bond is AT DINNER WITH HIS BOSS in his boss’s fancy-ass club, and he orders an envelope full of benzedrine from HQ and just casually pours it into his glass to drink with his champagne.

M lives with the man who used to be M’s Chief Petty Officer on his last naval posting, and who had followed M into retirement, and I am pretty sure they are boyfriends.

When Bond sleeps with the Bond Girl of Dr. No, she orders him to “Take those off and come in” and “You owe me slave-time. Do as you’re told,” proving once and for all that James Bond is a switch, I rest my case your honor