#neither me nor the employer thought this through

[3-aem]

them: to get ur cat u have to fly on a plane

me: ya sure whatever fine

them: to get this job u desperately need u must leave the country and re enter, this requires a flight

me: ……….could it not? please.

[ov105]

Nighthawk

This took a lot longer to write, again, Though it just made the deadline for OEC’s (re)debut(?) so that counts as a win. Probably one of the more difficult ones to write for some reason, despite the simple premise. Maybe I’m just a bit burnt out, so I’m very glad it finished itself. Just on time, just on time...

2,125 words of Jeong Jinsol. Enjoy!

Seoul. Thursday. The banks of the Han were a reminder of an average existence. After filling ourselves to the brim with samgyeopsal and two bottles of soju, we were neither drunk nor fully sober. I didn't see doubles, nor was she, sans the headache, rubbing the side of my forehead, and maybe the more sluggish pace of walking. Time also seemed to go by quickly but much slower if it indicated being genuinely drunk. Steering clear of needing hangover drinks when we brought our snacks. We just laid out our jackets, having not needed to use them with how humid it was, instead using them in unorthodox employment.

So we sat far from the populated spots where many people were, but not exactly secluded to become another statistic; A trough alongside the usual path, not too steep for anybody with a mat to lay down on. Fingers jammed halfway deep in a snack bag of whatever flavor to wash out the taste of alcohol, chatting about what looking far along the breadth of the Han gave us to talk about.

In any case, it was a proper waste of time for either of us. 

One thing she had a knack for when she was intoxicated—doing something stupid. Chuckling at the mention of me not wanting to venture into the woods at night, she asked. 

"Hey, wanna go into those?" 

Jinsol, with a naughty smile, pointed to the grove, a small one that an elevated highway passed above through. 

"You're not gonna find anything there," I asked. 

"I know." 

Moving closer, she reached for something, placing her hand on my thigh. Her breathing slowed, and her eyes, looking around, signaled a pursuit, a need for pleasure, so much for treasure hunting, as she leaned closer. I did the same and kissed her, so much as an agreement, her hand slipping between my thighs. Mine came to her neck and slid into her shirt, groping her as she deepened her kiss before sliding it out and pulling her by her thighs, making her slide closer as she grabbed my crotch, with my hands squeezing at her tits. Tucking our hands away when we thought we heard a bike coming, she told me. 

"Fuck, now I want to go home."

I didn't want to wait for home. Jinsol did too. It was too late now. Though nobody wanted to say it first, I remembered the grove she wanted to go to. One glance and the bushes and tree trunks seemed thick enough to hide behind. 

"Psst, wanna do a quickie over there?" 

"Do you?"

I just huffed and stood up, walking up the crest and not more than five steps later. 

"Ya, wait up."

Briskly matching my pace, she grabbed onto my shoulders. I was looking around, trying to be confident in our quick hideaway. I told her to dart into the brush, following as I broke into a jog and charged behind the bush.

Quickly finding a tree, she pushed me up against it, putting her lips on me again though now with much the same shamelessness she displayed in the bedroom. Barely seeing anything, it was a guessing game of touch, rummaging amongst ourselves. Our hands found their way on our crotches again, lightly grabbing where we could as we aroused ourselves. 

Though I was the one pushed, I knew where to touch Jinsol, feeling herself becoming much warmer as her flesh slid past my fingers—cursing myself for being unable to take off her shirt and suck on her nipples, which she always liked since I tugged at it so gently. My case was more straightforward. I liked the way they felt in my mouth. Not wanting to dwell on what couldn't be, I slid my hand out of her shirt and onto her ass, grabbing and squeezing it, and for the first time, she pulled away, shakily breathing as we reversed our positions.

Kissing deeper this time, I was already hardening on her grip, sliding her fingers along its length. Whispering into my ear as she teased me, though I tried not to be too distracted. Giving myself some reassurance that this would be worth it, I gave a few more smooches, pressing my fingers on her pussy, drawing a small circle, before pulling away, whispering. 

"Take your pants off."

Taking her hands off me, Jinsol did so, following after her zipper as now I pressed against her panties. Feeling her warmth through my fingers as her body relaxed, she sighed as her palm let go of my neck and landed on my shoulder. Pulling back, I saw where my lips were due next, putting them low on her neck as I sucked hard. Her jacket's collar always rose higher than where I struck. 

The only thing worth listening to by then was her to stifle her moans. Rubbing on her clit, damning foreplay as I just needed to get her wet. Thinking that was enough, I slipped into her panties, feeling her folds getting wet as I slid my finger over them, going through all the motions as I played to her tune. I closed my eyes as we kissed, letting our guard down as she writhed, her legs shaking, hips even bucking when I pressed my finger between her folds—all while trying to keep quiet and not give us away. I almost forgot we were supposed to be quick. But after one close brush with breaking our silence, I stopped. 

"Your turn?" Jinsoul asked. 

"No need for that," I replied as I undid my zipper.

"Why's that?" 

Reaching her hand forward, she then slid it into my pants. Seeing her smile through the dark as she felt my stiff shaft waiting, that curious chuckle as she turned around and slid her panties down. I undid mine in turn, sliding my boxers off my cock. I knew what was in front of me. Every time, I simply couldn't help myself with her bare fat ass just left alone—slap!—Jinsol snapped her neck at me. Tsk! Shrugging, I put my hands on her hips and put my tip against that soft opening to push past. 

Deep breath, hips forward, I slide into Jinsol, clenching my ass as her tightness beckoned me further inside. Departing from the usual ruse de guerre of slow, short thrusts, I bucked my hips forward. I gritted my teeth, a wave of pleasure rolling me over. Seeing her turn her head as my second thrust made her whimper, the squelch of her walls making me stop for a second. 

Pressing my fingers in, I continued to thrust. If it was already difficult to keep herself hush earlier, it was near impossible now. Almost feeling Jinsol's weight shift as she began to shudder. Her legs shook, and I knew I could stay still, but she was always easy to take down with a few thrusts. Feeling so much tighter with her legs closed that it felt like I was pushing with my hip, not just merely thrusting. 

"Fuck," she huffed, mouthing a cuss I couldn't make out, following with a muted order. 

"Deeper." 

Then I remembered how I was fucking her. She wasn't bent down all the way, sliding a palm forward and pressing just below her tummy as I complied. That did the trick. She slipped a moan between her lips, shooting back at me as she put her fingers over it. Unfortunately, my eyes failed to catch hers, but I felt her stare all the same. I just knew the look on her face as I grabbed her ass and kept going.

By now, if we'd taken our time, she would've been moaning loudly, making a mess on the sheets, and starting to talk it up until she'd cum. I was losing myself inside her, as I always did. Watching myself plunge into the deep warmth that left me wanting for more, leaving me throbbing, wanting every time I pulled. Velvety is how I always described it. The only thing not obscured was her fingers on the wood, which were a bit bent, and with her moaning earlier, I knew I was doing alright.

Pulling her a little closer to me, the shuffle of her steps gave me a better view of her ass, bouncing lightly even when my pace wasn't that fast, a perfect angle for us to lead things to the end. 

I just knew Jinsol's body enough by now. I should've, really, her slim torso that spread out onto her wide hips and plump ass. Giving me the leverage and pleasure we both wanted every time we fucked one another—never a one-time event—but always ending as a messy affair. She was tall enough, her legs long to wrap me around when she didn't want to let me go and always tighter when she closed her legs and squeezed me. Right now, it made for an easy fuck. 

"Faster."

She whispered. Keeping up with her as I tightened my grip and sped up, letting out another moan with how quickly I sped up, which until then, I thought she disliked. Listening to her, she was whimpering and biting her lip as she moaned through her teeth. Picturing her face, that lewd expression of her eyes shut, her breath shaking, and her lips doing all they could to keep her quiet. 

Being almost bent flat, she had put herself in a tough spot. There was no bed to plop her face down on, no pillows to scream or moan into, nor four walls to bounce back whatever expression of moan she had in her throat. She was on her own, out in public, being fucked, ever closer to orgasm behind a tree, forced to keep quiet as an echo spelled doom. What was constant, however, was that she was being railed deep.

Feeling her legs weaken, I needed to turn it up just by a notch. The sliding action of her wet pussy grinding against my shaft lets me know we're close. So I pushed her forward with my hips, telling her to raise where her hand had been as my left hand slipped back into her shirt, grabbing me by my wrists as I sped up, with shorter and quicker thrusts as I twitched. Returning to the closer position we had been when we started. Stopping to catch my breath, I leaned in and whispered. 

"You're close?"

Jinsol was too tired to talk, nodding as she leaned to kiss me.

"You too?"

I nodded in reply before starting to move again. Hearing a whine as Jinsol turned her head away, I felt that numbing sensation, a tensioned string, build within my hips, my shaft becoming as sensitive as hers. Giving it my all, I thrust where she shuddered the most, repeatedly rubbing the spot as it did with me, biting my lip as I was becoming overrun by my orgasm. Gripping her harder as she was beginning to tighten around me, threatening to squeeze me before her, moans rising in pitch, legs becoming weaker as she tried to stand and keep herself shushed with whatever she had left. A breathy voice came from Jinsol, near inaudible, though I knew what it meant.

So then again, sex was never the same twice with Jinsol.

Going first, she suddenly tightened, throwing her ass back with a jiggle onto my crotch as she spilled over herself. At the same time, thrusting her forward as I came, spilling freely into Jinsol as the first shot deep inside, with it the only moan from me, releasing a load that had been waiting for a while so freely and without as much regret. We reduced into squirming bodies holding each other as we finished. Both of us had little idea of how quick, or if we were even fast enough, inside the grove—collapsing into an embrace as we caught our breath. Sharing a kiss with me, she always had something to say. 

"That was nice." 

I couldn't think of a reply, dead tired, so I kissed her. 

Pulling out of her, my cum spilled, both of us giggling as it dripped out onto the grass. She could not wipe it. The tissues were back in our makeshift blanket, so thinking she'd spilled enough, she pulled her underwear back up while I fixed myself. But the sweat on our foreheads didn't hide anything, though that was much easier to write off. Sneaking back into the path, two scans of the horizon lent us nothing. We walked back with hands linked as we sat down, wiped ourselves off, and grabbed whatever drink we had.

I wasn't even two sips in when Jinsol stepped in.

"So, another round at your place?"

Always more than twice, but never once.

[exceptionimagines]

Falling in love with Walter would include~

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- The Covenant crew is made up of couples, a fact which was made perfectly clear to you long before you were actually hired onto it. You knew from the beginning that you were going to be the odd one out; having neither a romantic nor a work partner to turn to while stationed on board, but there was no one else around to do your job and you'd never had much of a need for company anyway so you accepted the position and braced yourself for a long couple of months.

- You're almost entirely certain that your solitude is the reason why you and Walter end up growing so close. It's in his programming to be extraordinarily attentive and since you are extraordinarily alone, it's no surprise that he's a bit more attentive towards you compared to everyone else. Honestly, you'd bet money on the fact that your employers had calibrated him that way when preparing the synthetic for this particular mission.

- Nevertheless, your solitude is also, undoubtedly, part of the reason why you treat Walter the same way you would any regular human being. You doubt that you'd treat him any differently anyway, but the loneliness does give a bit more incentive to overlook the more artificial parts of his personality. Which is arguably part of what makes Walter end up falling in love with you....

- Walter isn't used to being mistreated, but he tends not to question it when he is spoken to or treated in a less than courteous way. People have a tendency to forego manners and gentleness when interacting with him: seeing him as more than a machine but less than a human, prompting them act rather unceremoniously when dealing with him. But you never do....

- If there was one word to describe the way you act towards him, the word would be indulgent. The rest of the crew accept him but you embrace him: you treat him sweetly, you answer all his inquiries, you care for and confide in him. There's a patience to your actions and your words that prompt him to turn to you whenever he wants to learn more about something; whenever he wants clarification or to understand something from a more human angle. He wonders if this expansion of his understanding of the world is what prompts him to fall down the rabbit hole of thoughts and feelings that he knows should be impossible for him to have.

- For the first time in his artificial life, Walter finds himself truly contemplating the bounds and the limitations of his programming. It starts off small but it's the equivalent of knocking over a single domino in a mile long line of them.

- It all starts with an impulse. A compulsion to do something that goes against his usual programming. In the beginning it's an urge to simply spend time with you, something he can explain away by reasoning that it's a normal part of his routine: going to see you and seeing if you need any assistance. But when he does so and finds that you're not in need of any help and that there's nothing for him to do, he still finds himself wanting to be in your company.

"Would it be alright for me to remain here?" He manages to ask you one day, unable to force himself out of the room and make more work for himself like he usually would.

"Of course." You answer, a small smile gracing your lips, one that makes his insides feel all staticky and strange.

- Then comes the far less logical urges. The urge to tie your hair back or brush it from your face; even when it doesn't seem to be bothering you in the slightest. The urge to hold your hand whenever your fingers brush against each others. The urge to knock on your door; and your door alone, whenever he's walking through the ships corridors without an actual objective. You might notice him falter from time to time, trying to understand where these "intrusive thoughts" are coming from, but they're 'blink and you'll miss it' sorts of moments and you're soon be distracted by something else.

- Nevertheless, Walter finds himself wondering if he's malfunctioning: running tests on himself while the rest of the crew are asleep in order to see if he can locate whatever issue seems to be plaguing him. No scan he performs on himself yields any helpful result and "mother" can't seem to find anything wrong with him either. So it all must be normal, right? Part of his internal programming?

- Though he begins to accept these newfound "feelings" of his, he still comprehends the fact that they shouldn't be possible. He wasn't built to "feel", and he certainly wasn't built to grow fond of any one particular person. He's curious about his newfound level of sentience, yet he's also riddled with denial and insecurity. He allows himself to explore but he never lets himself cross any significant boundary. He entertains the idea of being capable of loving you, yet he also reasons that he'd never be able to give you what you actually needed....

- The interesting thing about your romance with Walter is that the two of you likely begin to develop feelings for each other at around the same time, yet you both try to hide these feelings for very similar reasons/variations of the same reason. You both know that a relationship between the two of you would not only be incredibly unrealistic, but also incredibly taboo. You're not even sure if Walter is capable of "feeling" anything; at least not in the same way that a regular human being can, so you obviously can't expect him to be able to navigate an actual romantic relationship, right?

- Nevertheless, you fall for each other anyway....

- To love is to be known and nobody knows you better than Walter does. Though most of his knowledge is acquired through observation rather than inherent empathy, you can learn a lot about a person by appearance alone. He's the first to recognize whenever your mood changes, picking up on every little cue that you subconsciously drop: the way your expression shifts or the way you start to perform one of your nervous ticks. He memorizes all of your habits, your preferences, your likes and dislikes. He notices when you change your hair or when you cut your finger, when your pens are beginning to run out of ink or if you've forgotten your sweatshirt somewhere on board.

- He's always pays close attention to you, especially if you have any sort of preexisting medical condition; regardless of how serious or unserious it may be. He doesn't baby you, but he does watch over you: taking notice of any signs of illness, making sure that you're eating well, sleeping well, taking your meds, etc.

- You can't get away with hiding any injuries or holding your tongue without Walter taking notice. He'll contemplate whether it's appropriate for him to "meddle in your private life", but he'll ultimately use the excuse of trying to do what's best for the team. Your injuries may hinder your work, it's important that your opinions are represented in group discussions, yada, yada, yada. He sometimes even tries his hand at a bit of reassurance, telling you that "[he] for one cares very much" whenever you insinuate that something isn't important or that whatever you were thinking doesn't matter. It's partially his programming but you'll never catch him "meddling" quite as much when it comes to the other members of the team.

- He frequently finds himself checking up on you during cryosleep: checking your vitals, admiring your face, memorizing your features, etc. He always lingers by your side whenever he's tasked with waking everyone up or putting them back to sleep, needing to see the steady rise and fall of your chest before he can settle down and continue on with all of his duties.

- He's used to being depended on by everyone on the Covenant, but nothing brings him quite the same satisfaction as being able to help you. He finds it ...cute watching you troubleshoot an issue, and he likes the way that you smile at him shyly and silently plead for help whenever you finally accept that you're not gonna be able to do something: like opening a tightly sealed jar or grabbing something out of your reach. You'll usually catch him lingering nearby whenever you take on a challenge, giving you your space yet being ready to step in the minute you decide that you want him to; unless he's worried that you'll hurt yourself.

- He's always offering his services and trying to help you however he can: volunteering to assist you with different jobs/chores, tidying things up in your workspace, fetching things that you need from across the ship, etc. On one hand, he simply enjoys spending time with you, but on the other hand, it's his way of being there for and taking care of you; oftentimes in a way that borders on domestic.

- While Walter can objectively recognize the things that a person does when falling in love with someone, the behavior doesn't come naturally to him. The only things that really come naturally to him are the things that he was programmed to do: which is why so much of this post revolves around him taking care of and/or looking after you. He's confident in his ability to be attentive and work efficiently, confidence that doesn't exist when trying to navigate his feelings for you in a way that others would describe as being more conventional: things like flirting or otherwise behaving charmingly.

- He likes bringing you things, partially because he can use it as an excuse to visit you, and partially because he knows it makes you happy.

- Walter was created to carry out acts of necessity, so the concept of having hobbies is something that's somewhat foreign to him. It's not in his nature to indulge in things outside of his own work, so he finds it incredibly interesting to hear about all of your personal interests. Not only does it make him feel closer to you, but it also allows him to indulge in things and learn from a different perspective; seeing art and/or other activities from an emotional standpoint rather than just an analytical one.

- He loves when you get excited about something and eagerly explain it to him, gushing about this and that while he watches you with a genuine smile. He's a very good listener and he cherishes the fact that you're comfortable enough to share things with him, whether good or bad.

- A lot of his contributions to your conversations have to do with random facts or trivia. He doesn't have opinions or memories the same way you do, so explaining different stories from history or sharing little tidbits of information is oftentimes the best that he can do. He also asks you a lot of different questions in order to try and connect with and/or learn more about you.

- That being said: he also occasionally tries his hand at humor and makes little jokes with you. They're typically a little stunted, but usually so unexpected that they manage to make you chuckle anyway.

- It's impossible for you to be lost in a crowd whenever Walter's involved. No matter how out of place or ignored you may feel, all it takes is one little glance towards the synthetic and you'll catch him keeping an eye on you, offering a comforting smile and a silent invitation for you to come and stay by his side.

- On that same note: whenever the two of you are with your other crew members, he can't help but steal glances at you whenever something happens, finding your reactions addicting; especially when they're reactions to him.

- There's something incredibly charming and flustering about the way that he focuses in on you. While he may be incapable of actually flirting with you, the way that he pins you down with his eyes elicits the same feelings of bashful nervousness. His intense focus and genuine sincerity is both comforting and intimidating all at the same time.

- "I'm here to serve" is your "As you wish" and I will not elaborate any further.

- A part of him feels guilty for liking you as much as he does, thinking it's unfair of him to subconsciously prioritize you and that he's going against his intended purpose by doing so. Nevertheless, he just can't help himself.

- The logical side of him disappears whenever you're involved. He views you as something irreplaceable, and he views his ability to serve and protect you; and the rest of the crew, as the very thing that gives him worth. On top of that, quite frankly, he doesn't see a point in living if you're not alive alongside him. The minute you die is the minute he's left alone, destined to suffer with no guaranteed expiration date. He'd rather be decommissioned than to live without you.

- The closer Walter comes to confessing, the more he weighs the similarities and the differences between the two of you. When you're alone, he can almost convince himself that he, too, is human, and that you view him as such. He wonders if you feel the same way he does, and if his creators placed him on board with you for reason: if things between you were meant to be.

- I can see two different confessions being possible in your relationship: one where Walter isn't ready to accept his feelings for you and another where he is. I'll delve further into both of them below....

- Scenario one: you confess to him.

- I think an insecure or perhaps a more logical part of Walter will try to convince you not to love him back, not because he isn't overjoyed by your confession; regardless of how small or open ended it may be, but because he doesn't know if he'll be able to give you what you deserve. Walter wants you to be happy more than anything, so he'll swallow down his grief and tell you that it isn't possible; it might not even be legal.

- Though you'll probably try to deny his excuses, refusing to accept that it's "just his programming" that makes him act the way he does with you, you'll eventually give up. You can't force someone to love you and though you don't truly believe it, you begin to question whether or not you've been imagining all of the chemistry between the two of you.

- One of you recommends that it's best to give each other some space and that's exactly what you do. You keep to yourself for awhile and he eventually approaches you to apologize, insisting that he wasn't trying to hurt you or cause you any distress. You accept his apology but things don't change between the two of you, not until he just can't take it anymore and decides that he finally needs to come clean.

"I am ashamed to admit that I haven't been entirely truthful with you," he informs you solemnly one night, having just knocked on your door and asked to enter your room. The earnest conflict on his face catches you off guard, your heart skipping a beat as you take a seat on your bed. "When you confessed your feelings to me, I was not being honest with you when I insisted that I did not reciprocate. Truthfully, I believe that I feel the same way you do, but I am unsure as to how that is possible. From my understanding, I should not be capable of harboring such emotions, and yet...."

"I would like to seek your forgiveness and perhaps, if you were still willing ...you may allow me to finally reciprocate?"

- Scenario two: he confesses to you.

- Though this scenario might occur very early on in your friendship; making it so that you're aware of his supposed feelings the entire time that he begins to fall in love with you, it can also occur towards the beginning of your actual relationship.

- I can see him coming to you for advice; particularly if you're an engineer, explaining the things that he's begun to experience and inquiring if they're normal for an artificial person like himself. He might even ask you if he should report himself for repairs or if you're able to fix him, if something inside of him is broken and making him feel this way.

- You simply tell him that if he's broken then you are too, watching as he processes what you're saying, his eyes softening the more he begins to understand....

[pyramidsoul]

Oxford apartments neighbor speaking about Jeffrey Dahmer

One evening in June of 1990, I held my first conversation with our neighbor who lived across the hall. I introduced myself to him as Vern and he introduced himself to me as Jeff.

He appeared to be very polite as he and I stood in the hall in front of our apartments. He stated he was leaving to go to the corner store to buy a pack of cigarettes and when he saw I had a pack in my shirt pocket he asked if I had a cigarette I could spare.

Of all the times I had seen this guy he was always casually dressed in faded jeans, a flannel shirt and casual shoes. He wore glasses and his hair was cut medium length always looking well groomed. He had the appearance of a college student or someone who had been to college. He was clean shaven and had boyish look.

I guess the word I would choose to describe my impression of him is intelligent, highly intelligent. He had a slim built appearing to be 6 feet tall, weighing maybe 165 pounds. I'd guess his age to be 30 or 31 years old.

Through the times that I'd see him our conversations would mainly be small talk about my car, my job, the weather, his job and the building or something of that nature. He always appeared to be soft spoken as we would stop in the hall on his way in or out of his apartment.

Never did he give me any impression that he had hang ups about living in a dominantly black building or living in the neighborhood which also was dominantly black. As time went on Pam also had begun to have small conversations with him. She also thought that he was pretty pleasant to talk to. We were neighborly with all the tenants living in the building.

Being that I was the only black man at my place of employment and Pam being raised in Madison where blacks were few, neither she nor I had a problem with him being white. Our typical conversations went something like this whenever we would talk to each other in the hall.

"What's happening?"

"Hey Vern, not much."

He would notice that I would be just getting in from work most of the evenings when we'd see each other...

"How was your day?"

"Not too bad," I'd reply. From earlier conversations in our passing, I had informed him that I was a Draftsman. He like-wise told me he worked 3rd shift at a chocolate factory downtown and that he's been employed there for a couple of years.

"Do you have to punch in tonight?"

"Yeah, got to pay rent."

"Talk to you later," I'd respond. His reply was... "yeah, take care."

There had been various other conversations and I must admit talking to him made me feel appreciative of our small conversations. I felt sad for the guy living alone, never seeing him associate with anyone or have friends visit him at his apartment.

Amongst all of the tenants in the building Jeff stood out the most, not only because he was white but to me because he never had visitors or a girlfriend which to me appeared strange but not the type of out of the way strange. He was always alone.

He didn't own a car therefore, his means of transportation was the city bus. After becoming acquainted with him, we'd see Jeff standing on the bus stop or getting off the bus walking towards the apartment building.

He appeared to be weird to the other tenants but I never thought of him as such because of the fact that the area where we lived was nothing but a danger zone and keeping to himself was a safe thing to do. It was not safe for anyone walking that didn't fit in.

It was no surprise to see Jeff wearing his light gray jacket walking at 9:00pm through someone's backyard or taking a short cut through the alley headed towards the Oxford Building. He'd walk among dope peddlers to have them approach him and ask him "you looking..?" "You straight..?"

Meaning do you want to buy drugs but He would either shake his head negatively or ignore the peddlers all together.

He would be approached by addicts trying to con him in any way possible for money and women working the streets would confront him with offers of sexual pleasures for money but he would ignore them all.

I recall once telling Pam that I thought he had a lot of heart to live in this area. He never showed any sign of being fearful, he didn't have a kick ass type of attitude. It was more of an "I don't bother you and you don't bother me" type of attitude.

In June there was a series of burglaries and apartments in our building were broken into. Everyone was on lookout for any strangers walking through the halls. The police were called and they questioned everyone that lived in the building to see if anyone may have seen anyone or knew anything. Two apartments were broken into and everyone in the Oxford Apartments had high concerns about the break-ins.

The tenants began to look out for each other's apartments when the tenant was away. I had two of my nearest neighbor's phone numbers and I had also given them our number to inform each other when we were going to be out of our apartments. Our neighbor Jeff had gotten a phone but said he had it for only a week or so because he couldn't afford the bill.

"Hey Jeff, we're starting to look out for each other's apartment due to the break-ins. Give me your telephone number so that we can call you to just let you know when we're not going to be in so that you can keep an eye on our apartment."

"Vern, my phone was turned off because I'm having a hard enough time paying my rent and feeding myself, so there's no reason to give me your phone number. I do however intend to get a burglar alarm for when I'm away at nights working. There's no way I can afford to have my stuff ripped off and there's no real security around here that I trust."

"Yeah, it's getting pretty tough around here." I said.

"Yeah Vern I know what you mean. Any news about the guys' stuff that was stolen?"

"None! You know how that goes."

"Well I'll talk to you later."

"Sure Jeff, later."

Extract from Vernell Bass’ book “Across the Hall”, chapter 2. If you’re interested to know more support the author and get the book!

[a-gal-with-taste]

Certainties & Mistletoe

Summary: Mistletoe, the only decoration the old bastard could bear to stand during the winter-months. You thought it harmless, simple and almost forgettable... but the event it causes, is anything-but.

Ebenezer Scrooge & F!Reader | 2469 Words | AO3

Part 2 | Part 3

Tags: Oneshot, mistletoe-troupe, humor, internal-thoughts, boss/employee relationship, pre-prelationship, first-kiss, pining (??), Scrooge being a grump (shocker), open-ended, haven't watched the movie, just think Scrooge is kinda-

A/N: I have. No excuse. But blame @sweatandwoe and Netflix anyways, because they had no rights, but caused this anyways.

Upmost in certainty, were these three facts:

One, that Ebenezer Scrooge was the richest man in this district of London.

Two, that Ebenezer Scrooge was the most miserable, selfish, cold-hearted miser in the district, possibly in the country, certainly within the distract.

And three, that Ebenezer Scrooge kissed sweetly enough, that one could nearly forget the prior two-facts.

Or, rather... the Master Ebenezer didn't exactly kiss you back. In fact he didn't little much of anything, and remaining-still as you pressed your own lips, delicate as the falling-flecks of white, to his.

Was it a mistake? Undoubtedly.

Foolish? Certainly, you could be out in a slum-house come tomorrow morning, dismissed in disgrace.

But, the mistletoe... oh, it was silly, but the it had looked so inviting! Berries casted soft glow in the nearby light of lanterns, spiked leaves untouched with frost.

The one-decoration the old bastard had enough paitence to withstand, and of course, it had been your demise. Like the temptation of the apple, like the god of hell-itself beckoning, you had almost been eager to lean-forth towards your doom.

Foolish, stupid, silly mistake, one that could ruin you.

And yet, you didn't pull back.

And neither did he.

From the moment you had spoken his name, soft as snow's first-fall on the porch, the sole movement Ebenezer managed, before you cupped a hand over a sturdy, well-trimmed cheek, stood high on the tip of your toes, and sealed your fate by pressing his lips to your own.

He had yet to pull back.

Yet to move entirely, speak, or... frankly, you feared he lost the ability to breathe.

Ironically, it was that fact that finally convinced you to retract from the man. Not the fact this was Master Scrooge, nor even that your future was as uncertain as a ship traversing through rock-laden waters onto certain doom...

But the fact that your simple kiss, had been enough to completely halt the miser entirely.

Heels kiss the ground in silence, as open your eyes to gaze at the looming man, who, indeed, was in some-sort of state of inanimation. More frozen than an hanging-icicle, your gaze flicked from an unrising-chest, tightly-pursed lips, eyes sightlessly staring-forth, and a distinct lack of pale-clouds emanating from mouth or nostrils.

One could almost fear the kiss had been enough to kill him.

You, however, always preferred being of the optimistic-sort, if a bit realistic.

Assuming the less-dire, you took another step back, and spoke as if Ebenezer was still residing well-into the land of conscious thought and reality, and not clearly miles-away in snowy clouds. "Forgive me, sir. That was a poor-choice, and you have my sincerest apology for my action, I... I have no excuse."

Well, there was one excuse. But you could hardly blame a decorative plant.

Speaking of it, though it was a bit of a strain, your fingers tugged the innocent, demonic little pest from the doorway free. The ribbon it was attached to fluttered simply to the ground, but you dared not stoop to pick it up - instead, placing the plant in the certain of your palm, you held it out between yourself and your employer.

A peace offering.

Though this was an event that was anything but peaceful, you still held out the offending object with a brief smile, one that wobbled at the corners. Not just with the shivers of your body, but with the slow-looming knowledge of what you had just done, and what it would cost you.

What was the price, of a simple kiss?

Scrooge, a most professional businessman, would surely be able to tell you. But he seemed rather strained with words, speech made entirely impossible even as life resumes within him, thank God...

He is able to blink. Twice, before his eyes dropped down to yours, than down to what was effectively, the murder-weapon of your current employment in your palm, before his mouth moved to form a single-word:

"What."

"I'm sorry," You said again, shaky smile fading, but the trembling of your lips moved instead to reside your voice. "I-i... there is no excuse. I can only offer an apology, which I do... I do so quite, quite heartily, Mister Scrooge."

Worrying at your bottom lip, your own eyes followed the same trajectory as his own. Darting from his unreadable, unblinking eyes, and those damning plump-red berries held aloft in your gloved-palm.

Something wet, almost burning in comparison to the winter's chill, began to prick at the back of your eyelids, before finally, large and dark-clad gloves decended down onto your hand.

Pinching the culprit between his fingers like a sixpence, when he raised it to eyelevel for inspection, you dropped your own gaze to settle down near the ground. You couldn't help noting how perfectly his boots gleamed in a somber-black, causing the snowflakes that fell upon it to be in a perfect outline.

A distraction. Welcomed, but you roused yourself from it to face reality, even if you kept your gaze well-averted.

"I shall pack upon the morrow, if it suits you," You whispered, words trapped on a small cloud of frigid air, and releasing near-silently between you both. "You shant see me again, Master Scrooge, if it is in your desire... I fear that is the minimal I can offer for my transgression. I'm sorry. P-please... please accept it, as my truest apology."

"... ahem."

You raised your gaze, now truly stinging with the weight of water at your lashes, but a singular blink was quick to ease them away. Despair faded, replaced by confusion at the... oddest expression on the face of Ebenezer Scrooge.

He had turned away from you, unsurprisingly. Perhaps he couldn't stomach the sight of such unruly behavior from an otherwise acceptable-maid, but had a rather fixated-attention on the small branch of green and red in his fingers.

And, apparently, on his collar.

He was adjusting it, clearing his throat periodically, as his attention remained averted from your own growing-bewilderment, and remained steadfast on loosening his tight-cravat.

"... Master?"

Another clearing of his throat. Without the guide of his facial-expression, you were unable to discern his exact emotions at this given-moment, but you deduced that it was a scoff of acknowledgement, and attempted to salvage yourself once-more.

"I... shall guess you will have me return-early, to do a days work before my final departure? Or shall I, perhaps, remain the evening so-as to prepare for my replacement on the morrow-"

Unlikely he would find-one willing enough to work for the miser, even with the steady-promise of coin, but it was a possibility quickly-forgotten with his sudden-snap, like a whip of words.

"What foolishness. You think I shall take-up the duster, the broom in your absence?"

You blinked. The dust had been nearly an inch-thick on your first day of working, you half-imagined the man didn't know such objects of cleaning existed. "I... I only thought-"

"-that I would discard a perfectly-suitable maid?  Bah, don't be absurd." You were not exempt from the trademark scorn that caused many in London to wince at the mere-mention of the name Scrooge, but it was... muted?

Certainly not softer, and lacking even the basics of kindness, but... you did not flinch. Only blinked, and quietly asked the man what he would like you to do now.

The dark, rich leather-gloves creaked as his pinched-fingers tightened sharply on the deep-emerald stalk. Silence reigned, in a muted-world where little existed, save for the soft-falling snow, the two of them, and the mistletoe in his grasp.

Then, after another strange clearing of his throat, Scrooge brought words into the small, trapped-reality the two of you shared.

"What would like, is for you to go home," He commanded sharply. "And ensure my coin is put to good use, by arriving back here on the morrow, on-time."

You blinked. "You... would like me to return? Even after-"

"Was it not what I said?" Ebenezer interrupted, voice even sharper than before... no. Now it bordered on shrill, something choked. "You certainly won't be if you were to catch a chill, a likely consequence if you were to remain-out any longer on this night."

It's a dismissal, but one that barely registers until he jerks his head back, briefly facing you with the gesture.

The sight of cheeks, dusted in a deep-pink besides his well-trimmed salt-and-pepper sideburns, is enough to make you blink. Certaiy, the chill is enough to coax a darker-shade onto one's skin, and you know that you have some frost-nipped skin of your own, but Scrooge's shade was enough to worry you.

Others might dance a jig at the thought of old Ebenezer Scrooge catching a chill, long-standing karma being served at last, but a burst of worry still resides within you.

The thought of ailment or illness befalling the gentleman, even if that gentleman was Scrooge, was enough to grant you concern at the sight of reddened-cheeks. Emotion outfitted sense, as you stepped forward. "Sir, are you quite well-?"

"Go home," He snapped, the sound harsh and reverberating through gritted teeth. More akin to a growl of a hunter than man, causing you, the prey, frozen in your steps with wide-eyes. "I hardly plan to pay you for remaining later-hours, and I will still expect you upon the morrow without delay. It would be, in your upmost best interest, to leave."

A dismissal.

Ebenezer Scrooge was... letting you off, with only a dismissal.A mere be-gone for the evening, no different than any other you have received in the days-past, if a little more scornful than the rest.

You'd be a fool not to take this gift, perhaps the only the old bastard could provide - absolution, an escape from this humiliation transgression.

You would be a fool not to take it. Yet, you're the kind of fool to hesitate.

Not long - you don't have a death-wish, despite recent actions may otherwise suggest - but after another moments' pause to study the man, you hesitated curstied in obedient politeness, gathering your skirts high-enough to step down the ice-slick porch-steps.

You had little fear of falling, having traversed this walk on the daily, but some part of you felt quite uncertain.

As if the axis of the world has shifted, in some form or the other, and you walked down the steps with uncertainty of what exactly it was.

And how different your world would look, come morning.

For the moment, longing to remain in normalcy, you turned and called back your quiet, routine salutations to the Master - or rather his back. He had yet to face you fully.

"Good-night, Mister Scrooge."

Stepping down the lane with a tug of your shawl tighter around you, the streetlamp you pass-by offers temporary warmth, refuge from the uncertainty and the unsteadiness beneath your feet...

"Good-night."

... which became only more unsturdy beneath your heels, at the sound of Ebenezer Scrooge, the most miserable man in town, wishing you a good night.

Unheard of.

Inconceivable.

The gentleman had never provided you with a pleasantry in all the time you've known him, and yet now, it's offered in a way that could almost be described, daresay, as soft.

A sharp turn, harsh pivot, that miraculously doesn't send you sprawling onto the ice-slick path, but it's too late. The click of the cane on cobble is enough to signal his retreat, and the sight of his back, shawl catching on a snowy-breeze, is enough to confirm his escape before you can question it.

Before you can question if it had even happened at all, or if the snow-filled wind carried words as well as ice.

Perhaps you had fallen into madness - surely, the only true explanation for your lapse in good-sense in the first-place.

It was a more pleasing thought, than whatever it could possible mean that Scrooge felt the urge to offer a nicety after such transgression, and one you worked-steadfast of to convincing yourself at, all the way to your small apartment several blocks over.

It was the one-comfort you found, once dressed and tucked beneath your sheets. The solace was well-suited for your buzzing mind, the delusion that his parting-words were merely something of illusion enough to send you into a restful-sleep.

So restful, that you quite nearly forgot the incident entirely upon return to the waking-world.

Certainly, the motification remained in regards to your own-actions, which you were certain had occurred in reality. There came moments when your lips seemed to recall a soft, unfamiliar presence when memories returned of the incident, ensuring you did not forget it.

Apology, one in daylight and well-rehearsed to display true remorse, was well in-order.

You also suspected such would put your mind to ease. While the gentleman had seemed keen to erase the moment in the minutes-following, you resigned to put the event of transgression well-out of your mind, as well as the impossibility of good-night that had followed, and an assurance that such behavior would never transpire-again.

Closing the chapter entirely, and forgetting it's contents.

Including the one where you imagined Ebenezer Scrooge, of all people, wishing you a good-night.

Absurdity!

Such fantasy was only liable and expected to be forgotten entirely, in order to move-forward in life. And when you stepped into his buisness the following-morning, you had intended to do just that. Begin to forget the fact that you had kissed Ebenezer Scrooge, and in response, he had bid you good-night.

That had been your plan.

Your first-step towards normalcy, the first stride back into stability, and you had taken it into his office with an optimistic smile hinting at your face, as you pushed open the door.

Your plan to move-past the incident was foiled immediately, when you opened the door to the man's office.

Catching sight of that same accursed sprig of spiked-green and perfect red-berries, atop Mister Ebenezer Scrooge's otherwise entirely plain-desk, and settle in a filled-glass of water.

Preserving the event with it's allowed continued existence.

And once-more shifting reality into realms uncertain, when steele-blue raise from endless inspection of the cut-plant, to entourage gaze in an examination of equal-intensity.

The gaze neutralized. Becoming safely familiar, even as the words that followed, were not.

"Good morning."

And you realized, it would not be so-easy to return to what reality had been. Before the night prior where you had taken the apple, the hand-to-hell, in the form of following the practice of mistletoe.

Because, there was now no possibility to return from when-once-you-came.

A fact solidified, when you opened your mouth, and whispered in-repeat words you never thought such a miserable man was capable of saying to you...

"Good morning."

... but the fact that he did, was a fact that confirmed that change was here, like the days' fresh-blanket of cool snow upon the city of London.

A change refreshing, despite the uncertainty it held for the winter ahead.

[after-witch]

messages

I got a lot of lovely messages about my back pain at my first day of work so I'm answering them all in one post!

thank you for the kind messages & logical responses, I really really really really truly appreciate it when people take the time out to send something thoughtful to me.

under a keep reading!

Anonymous asked:

I'm not sure if it'll help at all or if you could use one, but there's some companies that make cushions that are portable (or semi portable) for office work and truck driving and stuff, they can help with bad chairs and back pain (I got one for my mom years ago after an injury, she quite liked it) (I'm so sorry if this unsolicited advice is unwelcome)

no it's not unwelcome! I have one for strapping into chairs that I got last year, but tbh I found that a rolled up pillow was better for my back, at least with the chair I have.

Anonymous asked:

hello Theo! it's okay to feel the way you feel after your first day. a new job is a very stressful experience and there's an element of shock, because you rapidly enter a new environment and are required to adjust to it very promptly.

I'm more than sure that neither your boss, nor your colleagues will be against it if you bring yourself a pillow to support your back to work. you can start small with a pillow, if you feel awkward about more significant adjustments, and then later negotiate a question of bringing a more comfortable chair, if you have resources. you need to be a special sort of asshole to start picking on your employee for a back pillow.

this is an immediate health need that should be met and an absolutely valid reason to request making adjustments on your workplace, doctor note or not. 1) the more comfortable you make yourself the more chances are that it will improve your overall performance; 2) from the employers's POV accommodating to the needs of an already on-boarded employee is better than going through the hiring process all over again.

I wish you all the best and I am sure you will do great once you adjust! sending you a mental hug

"shock" definitely fits… it's all very fast and just, jarring I guess?

I brought a cushion today and no one said anything. I did find out what I need to do in terms of requesting accomodations via an online FAQ (I didn't want to ask my manager so early;;) but I will need a doctor to fill out a form, so I have to wait until next month when I have health insurance.

Thank you for the kind words and logical thought process. I sometimes just need people who are not me, currently in hysterical emotional frenzy, to be like no, this is not a big deal, only assholes will care about a pillow and employer's would rather complete an accommodation request then find & hire someone new.

--

Anonymous asked:

You absolutely should ask for accommodations this early. They hired you because they know you were right for the job, they want you there, so they will help make it easier for you. They are obviously nice people so ask.

You've been through alot of stress and anxiety recently so having that all build up on you after your first day is normal.

It's hard to not think negatively I know but don't let your brain spiral you until you have talked to them. We are always are own worse enemies!

It will be fine, you will be fine

It turns out I do need a physician to fill out a form so I will have to wait until next month when I have insurance. But thank you for the logical thoughts... I get so wrapped up when I feel negative emotions, I kind of lose myself in them. I brought a cushion today and no one said anything.

I have been really stressed & anxious and it's kind of like the Cherry on Top when something went wrong with my back. I'm always waiting for something bad to happen so to speak, when things go right... so when my back hurt so bad yesterday I was just like "Welp!! here it is!!!! right on cue!"

--

Anonymous asked:

First few times I took a flight I dealt with horrible muscular pains the days after, the first few days I could barely walk each time. The reason why that used to happen to me, even though I thought I was relaxed and just sitting, was because I was unconsciously straining my muscles due to stress I wasn’t aware of. Eventually the whole thing became casual to me, so the stress and the pain went away and these days I’m completely unaffected.

Of course a condition such as yours might further exacerbate the pain, but as you get used to the new climate and process I doubt you’ll have to deal with it for months or years. It’ll become like sitting at home.

I think for sure, I was straining when sitting at the chair, because it doesn't have the same type of back (nor is it as wide) as my chair at home... so I feel like my back muscles were straining for hours and I didn't think about it. But also the chair is rather awful (other people were complaining about them, especially with it hurting their thighs!) so I hope I can get an accommodation request.

[stiricidewrites]

The Damage You Do: ch 18, pt 1

Hello again. Onwards to chapter 18! Back to wwx's perspective.

Previously~

~

wwx grumbled quietly as he bounced in lwj’s arms. He wasn’t exactly sure how he had gotten into his dom’s arms—although he assumed it had happened during that always lovely blank space that filled his mind every time they had sex—but the feeling of being close to the man was comforting, or would have been, were the ride not so bumpy!

wwx turned his nose further into the other man’s neck, blearily realizing he had been sucking on the tender skin in his blankness, the skin popping soundly out of his mouth as he moved. He grumbled again as he reattached himself, a small note of embarrassment spreading through him before it disappeared into the depths of blankness that were still surrounding him.

“Don’t laugh at me,” he mumbled around the skin as he felt lwj’s chest shake slightly against him.

“I would never,” the man said softly, hissing quietly, his arms tightening slightly around wwx, when he redoubled his efforts to suck lwj’s soul out of his body through his neck.

He opened his eyes slightly—not completely sure he hadn’t fallen back into that nice, empty place—and peered around, finding them moving swiftly down the rough trail he had been running along. He couldn’t be sure where they were—every tree looked the same, as far as he was concerned—but he could hear the hum of traffic getting closer and closer and assumed they were heading towards wherever lwj had parked whatever car he had stolen in his attempts to get to his side so fast.

“How many traffic laws you break to get here?” he asked as the trees fell away and the world brightened and they stepped into one of the parking lots that led to the trail.

“A few,” lwj said nonchalantly, stepping towards two matching black vans.

wwx squinted at them in confusion, thoughts on why there would be two popping through his mind until he spotted an amused looking driver sitting in one and another, more annoyed looking man circling the other vehicle to open one of the back doors for them. “Your babysitters?” he asked as lwj effortlessly slide them into the van.

“Yes,” lwj said as the driver huffed.

wwx couldn’t see him, but as the man shut the door a bit too loudly, he couldn’t help but think the Lan bodyguard had a few choice words for his employer about his decision to rush out of an important meeting to race through the city to save his newest sub—although considering how quickly lwj had reached him, wwx couldn’t imagine their meeting place had been very far from here. “He doesn’t seem too happy,” wwx whispered conspiratorially to his dom, smiling up at him.

lwj blinked slowly at him. “He broke far more traffic laws than I did.”

wwx blinked back at the other man before bursting into a fit of giggles, his face easily finding its way back into the comfortable warmth of the silly man’s neck. Were mob bosses supposed to be funny? He didn’t think so. Neither Jiang Fengmian nor Nie Mingjue—nor the man’s late father, for that matter—had ever been particularly funny. He had known Wen Ruohan to make a joke or two over the years, but they had always held an edge of cruel intention within them, the room around him filling with simpering, nervous laughter that made wwx’s stomach roll over in dread.

~

A/N: I shall return Saturday~ Have a good end of the week!

[pen-and-umbra]

About FS characters, you said you thought they wound up hunted by shinra maybe. But the ever crisis trailer gave me an impression that Glen was sort of hunting for Seph?? Like a revenge or a grudge, that kinda thing? So maybe Seph wronged them, somehow.

Anything’s possible, although personally I don’t see Sephiroth doing something intentionally malicious at this point. Maybe it has to do with that Rhadoran boy. Then again, how do we know the hooded figure, presumably Glenn, has a grudge against Sephiroth? Glenn’s agenda may revolve around ShinRA rather than Sephiroth himself, in which case he represents the company vicariously as a member of the SOLDIER force.

Naturally, this is all speculative, but I believe the context of the fight is a little broader. The timeframe appears to be centered on the Wutai campaign, either before or during the early Crisis Core events, with Sephiroth’s attempts to contact Genesis and the familiar environment serving as clues. The crux of the matter is that the clash between Wutai and ShinRA represents former’s struggle for independence in face of corporate greed and expansionist policy. What’s peculiar is that by that time — by the start of Crisis Core — there’s no mention of passive-type SOLDIER members. Neither the remake nor Crisis Core acknowledge their existence. Aside from formal reasons, such as the FS concept being developed after the release of Remake, the in-game reasons for their absence are unknown; in other words the current lore so far holds no explanation as to why passive types don’t appear to be even acknowledged by main installment. My tentative guess is that ShinRA sacks the first batch of SOLDIER members after Sephiroth’s field deployment proves successful, with his combat figures likely outperforming those of non-modified members. Here’s an even scarier possibility: the company could have attempted to physically eliminate its ex-employees in order to protect corporate secrets, or it could have forced them to participate in further human modification experiments. The point is that ShinRA abandons them in some way as a result of Sephiroth’s success, which could coincide with the FS trio discovering some dirt on their former employer. So yes, Sephiroth indeed “wrongs” them in a way.

Glenn’s reappearance in Wutai, of all places, leads me to believe that they’ve joined forces with whoever has the potential to turn the tide against ShinRA. To be specific, the Wutai. Surprisingly, the OG declared that the war had been won by ShinRA. In the remake, however, the fighting appears to have ended in a stalemate/ceasefire. So, besides Avalanche meddling, what other factors could have influenced the outcome? Could some ex-SOLDIER members have joined their ranks, tipping the scales in Wutai's favor? It's not an outlandish scenario. Glenn's conflict with Sephiroth may take on political significance in this case; Glenn, and possibly the rest of the trio, fight ShinRA as a whole. A development like that also allows Glenn's initial animosity towards the modified "golden child" who stole his place to be justified, as evidenced by his "Because I'm a hero" remark. When he fights for Wutai against ShinRA, he is fighting for the "right cause"; he is a true hero who triumphs through his own strength.

On the other hand, the trio's defection, if it occurred, fits in nicely with Sephiroth's abandonment issues, as every significant figure (Lucrecia, Gast, Genesis, Angeal, and so on) eventually leaves him. Furthermore, if ShinRA pursued the deserters and Sephiroth saw how much effort the company put into apprehending or silencing rogue SOLDIER members, it could have served as a deterrent, making fleeing ShinRA an unappealing idea.

Some more random thoughts. If the hooded figure in Junon in FFVII Rebirth trailer is Glenn, which is unclear at this point, then his survival of the Wutai encounter indicates that either it ended in a stalemate somehow or that Sephiroth did not go for the kill and instead spared him. In turn it lampshades the lesson he gave the boy: be merciful. And the plotline comes a full circle.

[bytmm]

001

I’ve gotten fired before, multiple times, actually. Taught me a lot about myself. Taught me so much that I found the job I’m here to talk about.

2020 was a crazy time, COVID changed the world. That year I turned 30, spent it alone watching Man Utd play Leicester in my parents house, they won 2-0 but after the match, I knew things had to change. I couldn’t keep living the way I did.

A year later, I got THE job of a lifetime or so I thought. I got the opportunity to work in football, developing a major corporation’s voice and tone as they foraged into the crazy world of football. 3 and half years later, multi million followers later and a ton of viral moments, I’m on the outside looking in, again. I got laid off.

I love football/soccer, ask anyone who knows me, that sport means everything and then some. It’s all I’ve known aside from my family, it’s been with me since I could crawl.

I’m grateful for my previous employer. They gave me a look into something I never thought of doing but something I should’ve done in middle school, take steps to work in football.

Getting laid off, let’s go there. I’ll never forget February 13, 2024. Day before Valentine’s Day, I felt like Ralph Wigum when Lisa broke his heart. I knew something was off that day and getting that zoom invite that I was part of “budget cuts,” yeah that hurt.

My mind replays it daily, I constantly think what could I have done to keep my job, was I that bad, did I deserve it? Then the negativity starts to take over like Venom’s mask. 

This isn’t something that I ever thought I’d share. Just thoughts to myself and my friends. Throughout these few years, I’ve alienated and lost a few great ones partly because of my lack of communication, my ego, and my inability to express myself. I’m sorry to everyone and anyone who I have hurt in these last 4 years, I can only ask for forgiveness and try to be better than yesterday.

That’s neither here nor there. Getting laid off sucks. It comes in waves, 4 months in and I’m still reeling.

Applying for this job, that job, taking this project, that project and you’re still treading water. Barely surviving.

You try to network, you try to ask for help, you try to pray but nothing changes… in fact things are getting worse.

What does one do when you’ve reached your wits end? You don’t come from money but you need it, badly. 

I only wrote this because someone else might be going through something similar, on your 300th job app, your 1000th resume review, another cover letter, another recruiter ghosting, another LinkedIn message ignored.

I get it. Everyone has their own shit, you don’t want to burden anyone so you just stay silent.

I get it. I live it.

No words can ease the pain, stress and downright embarrassment of joblessness, despite all of your efforts to try and find work, find community, there's nothing and it sucks.

All I can say is, keep fighting. One footstep at a time, babies learn to walk by falling and hurting themselves. Keep trying to walk despite the pain.

I don’t know what the future holds for me, I want to work in football, I want to tell stories that matter for the liblack boys and girls who love football. I want to speak to and for a community that doesn’t see themselves in spaces other than the pitch.

Being a creative person is a gift and oftentimes it feels more like a curse. Maybe I should have gone to law school, maybe I should’ve studied tech and learned to code. Might’ve been miserable but at least the bills would’ve been paid.

I say this with love, whoever reads this, thank you for your time and reading my thoughts.

I wish the best for you and yours.

Keep fighting and chasing your dreams. ❤️

[lily-of-christ]

Why I love being a Catholic:

- One God in the Trinity, from which nothing should ever detach me, neither life nor death

- The Holy Catholic Church, its Apostolic Succession and its universality

- The Cross as the symbol of life and death

- The Real Presence and the Altar Lamp

- The Liturgy, the sweetest fragnance of worship here on earth

- Meeting Our Lord of Mercy in the Sacrament of Confession

- Meeting Our Lord of Love in the Sacrifice of the Holy Mass and the Sacrament of the Altar

- Blessed Mother in Heaven, Virgin Mary

- Sweet Holy Joseph, protector and guide of the Church

- The Saints and the Angels, praising God and aiding us

- The Scripture, the Catechism, all sweet thoughts of holy men and women

- Purgatory, the hopeful assurance of cleansing from any wordly stain

- The Liturgical Calendar

- The Papacy, the Petrine Keys and ex-cathedra dogmatic assurance

- Sanctification of suffering and sorrow

- Offering to God the biggest and smallest works

- The positivity of negative acts of solitude, penance and fasting

- Seeing our Lord in the miraculous works of the Saints

- Seeing our Lord in the conversion of sinners

-Seeing Our Lord in the transformation of the faithful who strive for virtues

- Seeing Our Lord in the loyalty of his servants

- Seeing Our Lord in the internal and external beauty all His creation

- The gift of my own body and soul

The beauty of my responsibilities lies in:

- loving God, serving God, getting to know God and thus, accepting all dogmatic teachings and disciplines of the Church

- fulfilling the duties of one's state of life (layperson, wife, husband, child, worker, employer, religious, priest...)

- loving God and doing him justice though proclaiming His personal, familial and social Kingship

- loving one's family as Christ loved His Holy Family on earth

- loving the neighbour, practicing works of love, mercy, patience and self-denial

- striving for one's own perfection through living the practice of virtues and deepening of faith

- practicing chastity, poverty and obedience according to your state in life

- seeing one's own imperfections and vices as they really are and accepting everything with humility

Ah beauty, ever ancient, ever new,

Little is the time to get to know you on earth.

[circusgoth-dotcom]

Rough Beginnings

Ship: Bill Fang x Sweeney Todd

Word Count: 1254

Summary: The day Bill and Sweeney met each other. A remastered fic, no clue where the original is on my old blog but either way this rewrite is probably leagues better. Ask to add CWs, I don't think anything is too bad in this fic but let me know. (Genuine)

Tag List: @canongf @futurewife @rexscanonwife @dudefrommywesterns

It was an early, grey, and foggy morning when Sweeney returned to his home city of London. It was just as he left it; disgusting and derelict, yet certainly far more lonely without the company of his dear wife Lucy and daughter Johanna. How he longed to return to them and make everything right once more. It was that longing that drove him forth down Fleet Street once he had left the piers, and his young saviour, behind. He stopped and stared outside of the building he once called home.

The top floor contained what used to be his apartment and the space in which he did business as a barber, well-liked by his regular customers. Below lived his neighbour and her pie shop. Dust and grime were caked onto the windows, even though there appeared to be some sort of effort to clean, and the building generally looked unpopular compared to other businesses on the street. He would’ve ignored this and pressed on if it weren’t for the fact an unfamiliar face was sitting on a bench outside of the pie shop, adding paint to a wind-weathered sign.

Cautiously, Sweeney approached. “Pardon me, sir, but you wouldn’t happen to know who owns this building, do you?”

The man looked up, showing a young but tired face, marked with porous scars. “Ah, yes sir, that would be my boss, Mrs. Lovett.” He frowned. “You’re not thinking of buying us out, are you?”

“What…? Oh, no, no,” he waved his hand dismissively, “that is far from the reason I’m here, don’t you worry about anything of that sort. Has anyone else resided here in your time?”

The man thought for a moment. “No, sir, just myself and Nellie… who are you?”

Sweeney cleared his throat. “I’m… no one, no one you need to worry about, anyhow. You?”

The man adjusted his newsboy cap. “Bill Fang. I’m Mrs. Lovett’s assistant.” He returned his attention to painting the sign. “Well, Mr. No-One, it would at least be appreciated if you stepped inside for a pie. We’re barely staying afloat. Nobody wants to come in because we use such cheap ingredients, but we can’t afford anything better because nobody’s coming in. That and people keep saying the shop upstairs is haunted. Tch, sir, I’ll tell you, I’ve slept up there myself and there isn’t a thing wrong with it, not a thing!”

��Have you, now?” Sweeney barred the defensive feelings rising in his chest. This stranger before him had slept in his own bed and neither Lucy nor Johanna seemed to be remembered, let alone still around. “I suppose that makes you a brave man. Lucky for both you and your employer, I haven’t had a proper meal yet.”

He nodded at the man and let himself in, the tingling of the bell overhead immediately giving away his presence. Once the door closed behind him, Bill set aside the sign on his lap and hopped up from the bench, peering through the dirty windows to catch a glimpse of how the stranger interacted with his boss. He watched him half-heartedly try one of the pies, shortly being instructed to spit it out. He watched as a lengthy, animated conversation took place. He watched as a thunderous rage came upon the stranger and he slammed his fist onto the counter, prompting Bill to rush inside.

“What’s going on??” He asked quickly, recklessly wanting to defend his employer with nothing on him but his bare hands.

“Don’t fret, William, it’s just…” Mrs. Lovett began before the both of them looked over at Sweeney as he released a great gasping sob, torn between being completely livid and utterly despaired. “Mr. Todd’s been dealt a great hand of bad luck. Wait here.”

Bewildered, Bill remained where he stood as Sweeney shakily sat at one of the dusty tables, burying his head in his hands. He looked far more miserable than when he had walked in. Before Bill could say anything more, Mrs. Lovett had returned with a handsome black case.

“Look, it doesn’t have to be the sewers or the plague hospital-- you can be a barber again!” She insisted, opening the case and setting it in front of the distraught man. The inner lining was rich, red velvet, cushioning a set of silver razors with intricate, chased handles, looking almost completely untouched. Even Bill had to gasp a little at the reveal.

“You had these all this time??” He asked, a bit outraged. “These would sell for good money, why would you…?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Mrs. Lovett insisted through clenched teeth, lightly swatting at him with a rag before waiting for Sweeney’s reaction as he examined the beautiful tools set out for him.

“My friends…” He muttered softly, holding one of the razors up to the light of the gas lamp on the table. He swallowed as he contemplated the familiarity of the tool in his hand, the sharpness of its blade. Where one door closes, another must open. He stood and set the razor back with the others, turning to Mrs. Lovett and Bill. “Yes. I’ll resume my work upstairs, however, this means I will need my room back.”

“William can bunk with me, I’m sure.” Mrs. Lovett flashed him a particular look- no arguments -before fishing a set of keys from her apron pocket and handing them to Sweeney. “Well, go on. We keep it locked up during the day to discourage vagrants.”

Without hesitation, Sweeney left the pieshop to get a proper look at the current state of his parlour and apartment, leaving Bill to stare at his employer.

“Nellie, do you know that man???” He asked, exasperated.

“Yes! Sit down, I’ll pour you some ale and tell you the whole story…”

When she finished, Bill was suddenly struck with the same nauseating outrage he knew Sweeney was feeling at that very moment.

“How do you suppose he’ll get his revenge?” He asked lowly. Mrs. Lovett regarded him silently for a moment.

“I suppose we’ll just have to see.”

It did not possibly cross Bill’s mind that Sweeney was prepared to kill due to the injustice thrust upon him as he tread upstairs. Sweeney startled as his own greeting bell rang, only to be relieved when it was just Bill.

“Something I can help you with?”

“Well, I thought you might appreciate it if I removed my belongings from your apartment.”

“Right…” Sweeney nodded, turning back toward the single window, slotted in the roof and showing a view of the terribly drab sky. Bill walked across the room and slipped into the tiny apartment, which consisted of nothing more than a bed, a dresser, and a kitchen. He pulled what little belongings he had out of the dresser, folded them neatly in his arms, and exited back into the parlour.

“Do you think it’s going to rain?”

Sweeney looked over his shoulder at him. “It tends to, in this city, if my memory serves me correctly. You know, you don’t need to make small talk with me, Fang.” He paused. “Though I do have to ask why Mrs. Lovett calls you…?”

“William? Yes, well, I made the mistake of giving her my full name and now she won’t drop it.” Bill shrugged. “As for the small talk, I’m only trying to be friendly. And just because I’m Mrs. Lovett’s assistant, don’t think I’m off limits. If you need help with anything once you get settled, just find me, alright?”

“Right.”

“Good day, Mr. Todd.”

“Good day, Fang.”

[aeipathys]

closed starter for @drvgonbvnny

location: dustin's home, beginning of december

Perhaps it hadn't been the brightest of decisions in the first place — moving without a second thought to a foreign country simply because her son's father resided there. With no family, friends, or any familiarity with American culture. Especially when said ex was flighty at best and untrustworthy at worst — as if that wasn't already abundantly obvious by the way he had skipped town without warning.

But returning to Japan was neither an attractive option nor a viable one; a country wherein she had a house that wasn't a home and a mother who had abandoned her the moment Mirai decided to take a step off the paved path the matriarch had dictated. Besides, she had made efforts to build a life here — having met a number of people she felt close to — especially the boss she was walking towards, her small feet taking her to the kitchen. Her employment under the Graves-Seong couple had been an unexpected surprise, and most days she considered them as friends first, business second.

The corners of her mouth lifted slightly as her gaze landed on Dustin, settling down the folder of paperwork on the countertop before humming slightly — a quiet indication of discomfort. "Do you think... that it's safe here?" Small frown, fingers fidgeting through stands of hair. "You've resided here longer than me. I know crime rates are rising everywhere, but all of this—" the murders; the sense of impending gloom; the townspeople seeming to be able to easily write it all off, "seems abnormal."

[carewyncromwell]

Lupin 🤝 Carewyn

The Second Wizarding War had plenty of martyrs. Two of the most famous ended up being Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin, both of whom fought bravely against Voldemort as part of the Order of the Phoenix, including at the infamous Battle of Hogwarts. Posthumously Remus Lupin in particular ended up becoming a symbol in the fight for werewolf rights, given that he fought for the protection of a World who frequently denied him employment and housing due to his condition. For Carewyn, however, when she challenged the former anti-werewolf laws in court again after the War, she saw Lupin not as a symbol, but as a lost friend. Someone who had been like family to one of her closest friends, Chiara Lobosca, and by extension had become special to her as well.

One memory in particular that always came back to Carewyn was in the midst of the Second Wizarding War. Not trusting Dumbledore to lead her in anything and being actively disinterested in any kind of warfare, Carewyn had chosen not to join the Order of the Phoenix, but had still offered select assistance on her own terms. And one of those types of assistance came about when Carewyn met Lupin at a corner table in a small London pub called the White Horse in the fall of 1995.

"I know you're all concerned about Yaxley, and for good reason," said Carewyn. "He has been giving Tonks the side-eye for a while, and from what I've sensed off of him...well, let's just say he has a less-than-pleasant aura."

Lupin cocked his eyebrows amusedly. "'Less-than-pleasant?' Is that a polite way of saying that Corban Yaxley is just as vile on the inside as he appears on the outside?"

"If you'd prefer me to come straight out and say sensing Yaxley's thoughts makes me feel like I'm wading through manure, then I will," Carewyn shot back coolly.

Lupin spared a short chuckle, and Carewyn pressed on.

"Regardless...Yaxley might not be the Death Eaters' only source of information about the inner workings of the Ministry. There could very easily be Ministry employees who are unknowingly providing them information just by sharing a workspace with them. And don't forget, Lucius Malfoy has ingratiated himself to Fudge, the same way my grandfather did before he was arrested with the rest of R. My uncle Blaise even gave Lucius Malfoy intelligence about the Order, in exchange for some protection for the Cromwell Clan."

Lupin frowned deeply.

"That is true," he granted. "Neither your uncle nor Malfoy is part of the Ministry, but Fudge does trust their counsel...and value their patronage. It isn't improbable that he could've discussed Ministry matters with them, and that they likewise could've passed that information on..."

His eyebrows knit together thoughtfully.

"I confess, I don't know much about Legilimency that doesn't come from published works," he said. "I don't suppose you could sense from Fudge any evidence of those such meetings? Just so that we'd know what your uncle or Malfoy might've gleaned from him?"

Carewyn shook her head. "Not unless Fudge was actively recalling it. Or unless I searched his mind by force, but he would know it immediately, if I were to do that. And I have no intention of losing my position at the Ministry taking that kind of unnecessary risk."

Lupin frowned a bit more, but did not press further. Instead he shifted gears.

"...Do you think your uncle could be this mole we've worried about? Your brother said he could see him joining up with people like the Death Eaters..."

Carewyn's eyes fell down to the cup of coffee in front of her.

"...I agree with Jacob that Blaise and the Death Eaters believe a lot of the same things," she said diplomatically.

"But?" prompted Lupin.

Carewyn put down her coffee cup with a sigh.

"Blaise is a terrible person...but for however horrid he is, his own priorities come first. And his top priority is asserting control over the Clan. Plus Jacob, Mum, and me," she added sourly. "Blaise joined R because he answered to my grandfather at the time, and because Grandfather intended to use R to force Mum, Jacob and me to return to the Cromwell estate. And even then, from what I gather, Blaise only ever engaged in R's criminal activity with the goal of forcing us back home, not for the sake of power or wealth. Blaise offered Malfoy help because he thinks the winds favor the Death Eaters and he wants to give them reason not to go after the Clan or its members, if things get worse. Yes, Blaise is a rampant blood purist who sees people like objects and looks down his nose on anyone he sees as inferior...but his motivations have never been about those beliefs. He wants Jacob and me back with the Clan even if we are the 'bastard children' of a 'filthy Muggle.' He doesn't care that Mum married a Muggle and is perfectly happy never marrying again -- he wants her back home regardless. And when Blaise learned Jacob was helping you, he did refrain from giving Lucius Malfoy the means to hurt him."

"So you think your uncle would only help Voldemort on his own terms," Lupin surmised, "not actively serve under him."

"Right."

"Hm," said Lupin. He looked rather pensive. Carewyn could sense a memory coming off of him as he took a sip of tea, of a conversation with him and Chiara --

"I must wonder if Carewyn responded the same way..."

Carewyn's red lips pursed slightly, but she didn't say anything. Instead she merely drank her coffee, turning her focus out the window in the far corner so as to distance herself from Lupin's thoughts.

The two were silent for a moment, before Lupin spoke again.

"...Carewyn...I hope this is not impertinent of me to ask...but what does it feel like, when you sense other people's thoughts?"

Carewyn blinked.

"You said that sensing Yaxley's thoughts was akin to wading through excrement," Lupin reminded him with a slight wry smile. "But surely tapping into everyone's thoughts doesn't feel like that?"

Carewyn couldn't help but snort. "Certainly not."

"Well, then," said Lupin, "what do other people's thoughts feel like? What do mine feel like? Your brother's?"

The image of Tonks's face danced on the inside of Carewyn's eyelids as she looked at Lupin.

Carewyn peered at him curiously.

"Well," she said slowly, "your thoughts are...quiet, mostly. Controlled, but warm -- like the heat that comes off a Coldfire enchantment."

Carewyn could feel some sparks of interest coming off of Lupin's eyes, hearing this.

"Really?" he said, intrigued.

"Yes," said Carewyn, grinning a bit. "Right now, even, it feels like there are little fireworks coming off of you. It's kind of like how Chiara feels, when she gets excited -- like Fizz Wiz candies. As for Jacob...well, that's a bit complicated. We've always been able to read each other pretty well, even before we knew we had Legilimency or how to use it -- and since he's sensing my thoughts just as much as I'm sensing his, I don't have to try as hard to connect with him. So feeling his thoughts, I barely have to think about. They're just there, crystal clear, as soon as we're anywhere near each other. It's like instinct."

"Like gravity," presumed Lupin, and Carewyn nodded.

"Truly, though, everyone's a little different," she said. "Especially if they're particularly emotional. Like Tonks, for instance. Normally her thoughts are very light and warm -- like clouds. But if she's determined, they become hotter, more intense -- like those clouds have become a sweltering, humid heat. And if she's happy, it's more like walking into a pool of sunshine through the closest window."

Her red lips spread into a slightly wryer smile.

"Her thoughts have felt like that a lot more lately," she added with a twinkle in her eye. "Especially when she talks about getting to spend time with you and Sirius Black."

Lupin's pale face actually betrayed a very slight flush as he turned away.

"Is...that so?" he mumbled.

Carewyn smiled wryly, seeing how much Lupin avoided her eye. Even though he wasn't looking at her, though, his whisper-like feelings were loud enough that she could sense his heart beating a bit faster and the warmth he felt, knowing that Tonks was happy spending time with him and his best friend.

"Well," Lupin said at last, clearing his throat, "Sirius was...also very pleased, that she joined up. Andromeda was always his favorite cousin, from what I understand."

Images of a family tree labeled with the heading the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black -- several burn holes, one of which had the name "Sirius" over it -- flitted over Carewyn's mind.

"I don't know much about the Blacks," said Carewyn, "but Mum has told Jacob and me stories about Phineas Nigellus Black. I think Jacob said his portrait even hangs at Grimmauld Place, doesn't it?"

Lupin snorted with muted amusement. "Oh, yes. And I must confess, I stopped wondering how such a man could be Hogwarts' least popular Headmaster, after encountering that portrait. It was quite a treat to overhear your brother grilling him on his view of Muggles -- questioning how, if he's so superior in blood, talent, and knowledge, he can be so blissfully unaware that all of the planets we monitor in Astronomy, analyze the positions of in Divination, and use as guidance while brewing certain Potions were named by and named for gods originally worshiped by Muggles."

Carewyn covered her mouth with her hand to hold in her laughter. "I think Jacob probably had just as much fun dressing Phineas down as you did listening to him."

Lupin was smiling as he nodded. "I daresay so. It's a noble thing, that you and your brother have turned your backs on the notions of blood superiority, despite your family backgrounds...the way Sirius did."

Another face -- one bespectacled with messy hair and hazel eyes -- also danced across Lupin's thoughts as he said this.

"And Prongs did?" Carwyn asked gently.

Lupin was a bit startled by this. Then his expression softened.

"...Yes," he said at last. "Prongs also put his friends and his morals well over his blood status or family wealth."

He smiled a bit more fondly.

"It's something...I was grateful to see in you as well, when you first befriended Chiara," he admitted. "That love of your friends and family, above all else."

Despite the warmth of the words, Carewyn could feel the faint chill too -- something longing, wistful...hungry for something Lupin hadn't known in years...

Memories of Rowan swirled over Carewyn's mind and heart as her eyes softened. She reached out to take Lupin's hand resting on the table and gave it a light squeeze.

Lupin gave her a small grateful smile.

"You have always reminded me of Prongs," he said. "That's why it's still so strange for me, that you won't join the Order."

Carewyn frowned. "I'm not a soldier, Lupin, nor do I want to be. And even if someday I have to be...it will only ever be to protect the ones I love. I don't need to follow anything or anyone but my own heart, to do that."

"No, I suppose not."

Lupin's golden-brown eyes twinkled a bit as he took some money out, placing it down on the table by his empty tea cup, and then got to his feet.

"Soldier or not, Carewyn, your help has always been invaluable," he said seriously. "And I hope you know how much it's appreciated."

This meeting would come back to Carewyn's mind often, after Lupin's death at the Battle of Hogwarts. Every time she felt shame and guilt about not being there -- about not being able to overthrow the Death Eaters at the Ministry sooner, or prevent Lupin and Tonks's deaths -- she found herself revisiting Lupin's words to her that day, in a weak attempt to counsel herself through that grief.

Lupin had appreciated the efforts she put in. She knew that the Order had as well. Even if it ultimately wasn't enough -- even if it was just a drop in the bucket, in the face of all the pain the War had wrought...they did know she'd worked hard for them. And they had appreciated that she'd cared.

Friendship Drabble Prompt!

[thekatebridgerton]

I just finished A Night Like This from the Smythe-Smith quartet. It gives off major AOFAG vibes, but it isn’t as good. Even though Benedict and Sophie fell in love at first sight, it was believable, while with Daniel and Anne, I just kept wondering why did they like each other in the first place. And why did Anne trust Daniel so fast after everything she went through? It’s nice that Daniel didn’t want her to be his mistress, but at the same time it’s weird that he never gave a thought about what their class difference would mean for their relationship. And it annoyed the hell out of me how he didn’t really seem to care that he was risking her job through his actions.

given that my favorite comfort movie continues to be the sound of music I think I should mention that I have a particular weakness for the Governess x Master trope in historical romance. (Which usually turns into new stepmother & lord of the mannor romance but we're not here to talk about Philoise)

Which is why I did like A night like this. The Smythe-Smith girls are a riot and poor Anne has to do her best at the job. It's hard not to fall a little bit for Daniel, admit it, especially because he's so.. (dashing)

But now that you bring it up. Yeah, why was Anne so trusting?

Although I'd like to clarify that The whole part about class difference with a governess is that the job was usually filled by someone either raised or born into means. And was seen as an acceptable form of employment for ladies fallen on hard times. Which kind of blurred the lines a little bit as far as class difference was concerned. Because a governess was neither a servant nor a lady. She was essentially a teacher and a tutor. So it was seen as less scandalous to marry a governess than to marry a maid

Sorry if I got off tangent. Anne and Daniel aren't necessarily my favorite in the SS quartet but they do fill a trope that I absolutely enjoy so I def recommend the read.

[nulltune]

' there's no point if i tell you every story myself, is there? hearing everything from one person gets boring. it loses its mystique. ' ho lounges on a loveseat, setting his cheek into the palm of his hand as he absentmindedly flips through a magazine. how long had it been since she had grown curious over this sort of thing? fantastical tales, things that the human world called 'fiction.' having her as as maid and paying for her air trips to make up for her juice-spilling transgressions wasn't worth it if she was going to be so nosy all the time, but he still entertains her. ' the life of a tiger is as unique as a human being's. some have an evil, malicious spirit, and some are protective instead. what never changes is the way the world fears and respects them. '

or so it should have been, until his kin had been hunted into near extinction. the thought brings him to a soft sigh, but he remarks on nothing of his own feelings. the magazine too is set aside for a steady gaze out the window. ' mountains have always been considered dangerous. not just for reasons like landslides, but because in myth, tigers have been known to mimic humans. not just their voices to lure others, but human appearance, as well. monks, kings, wives and children... ' the carmine of his gaze settles upon her, and he can only wonder whether or not she suspected anything - well, not that he would ever tell or admit to any wild, apex secret. ' are you listening to me? why don't you go read a few books on the topic, and maybe you'll come out a wiser and more educated person . ' ( @gwisintal )

unprompted, always accepting ! @gwisintal 🐯

hazel eyes look up at him in turn, and beneath the still waters of the girl's stoic expression is a fascination in the depths of the warm hues; they appeared to be particularly striking as she listened with utmost concentration ( as she always did ) .

there was a slight worry that it was her lack of a reaction that may might've bothered him / she herself was bothered by the lack of vitality in her person; why she would remain utterly dull and hollow while others donned colorful faces and emotions. it was for that reason that perhaps not many would have indulged in the kishinami's seemingly insatiable hunger for tales and stories — all kinds, any kinds ( an attempt to fill in the blank pages of her life with that of others, maybe ) — perceiving the stillness of her expression as something more negative when such was hardly the case at all. in that regard, she supposed she ought to have a gratitude towards h... her contractor ( the exact details of her employment is still something she doesn't fully understand, really ).

it is a thing unsaid, but very much apparent in the vague details —— the way she'd turn face him in an unconscious way of showing full attention, the way the hazel eyes sparkled with a silent curiosity.

❛ i fail to see why you would think that. ❜ she says in reply, with the complete honesty typical of hakuno kishinami, and with just a dash of a mild shock. perhaps... she'd expected a fault of hers to be the case, to be the thing brought up that'd end these storytelling sessions she came to look forward. ❛ it's not... boring. ❜ neither words nor reassurance were her strong suit, so what left the woman would be nothing less than her own clumsy attempts at letting her sincere feelings be told. ❛ rather, i believe that it adds a value to it. a value that is... well, ❜ just a slight pause, an almost frustrated purse of her lips. ❛ it has nothing to do with your net worth, that much i can say, but it is... precious to me. ❜

could it be perspective ? a kind of understanding that came from a special person telling that story, a unique perception of the stories that in it itself were special. there were concepts so different from hakuno kishinami ( lacking everything, not understanding anything ) , perhaps that was why she struggled to put it to words.

still, she sought to understand. noting the sigh that leaves him, hazel gaze flits to the view outside as well. it returns to him just as she leans into her seat. ❛ i wonder why. ❜ monks, kings, wives and children... there was no set pattern she was able to observe from this, save for them being human. human... ❛ maybe they just wanted company. ❜ hakuno muses, with an expression that seemed to have softened just a little. maybe the truth was it was much more violent— a deception ending in the death of a beast or a man, two beings so different from another. she prefers her interpretation of it much more, she thinks. and that even if that were not the case, it'd be nice to be able to be friends with a tiger.

before she could voice out those thoughts, she was promptly interrupted by seungho's very lovely advice.

❛ ...understoo~ood. ❜ it was rather uncanny to hear that drawl in her usual polite manner of talking ! he didn't say anything wrong, per se — but that delivery of his ... ! ( she is aware that she would be the pot calling the kettle black in this particular topic, and she finds that a pretty frustrating as well, believe her ! ) the suggestion felt more like a "polite" way of closing the conversation shut. though, she really does see his point; and would be eager to read and learn more herself. she can't keep relying on him, after all / can't keep on leaning on others for support, lest she wants to end up all useless and alone. ❛ you are quite knowledgeable on the topic. might you have any recommendations for your reader here ? ❜

the shine in her eyes that had faded for a moment returns again, revitalized with a clap of her hands. while her face remained stoic, that was how she would convey an excitement. ❛ we can discuss them afterwards, maybe. ❜ he'd unintentionally started off a duo - book club !

[theprayerfulword]

August 22

Proverbs 16:28 A perverse man sows strife, and a whisperer separates the best of friends.

Romans 8:39 nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing, will be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Numbers 6:24-26 The Lord bless you and keep you; 25 the Lord make His face to shine upon you, and be gracious to you; 26 the Lord lift up His countenance upon you, and give you peace.

Ecclesiastes 7:8 The end of a matter is better than its beginning, and patience is better than pride.

Galatians 6:9 Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.

Matthew 24:13 But he who endures to the end shall be saved.

May you support those who stumble in discouragement, in humility strengthening hands and knees that are weak, through wise instruction and words of compassion, for when trouble strikes and dismay comes in, your prayers will be heard and God will answer your cries. Job 4

May you always seek the wisdom of the Spirit through the truth of the Word that you will avoid the mistake of “discerning” or “judging” the cause of an affliction or the source of a problem from its symptoms and effects, but rather, offer the grace of the Lord to the hopeless and the mercy of the Comforter to the helpless, for we all fall short of His righteousness and we each stand in need of His love. Job 4

May you be blessed by the correction of God, not despising the discipline of the Almighty, for He wounds, but also binds up; He injures, but also heals. Job 5

May you be graced in your chastening to be drawn closer to the Lord, through the Word and in prayer, for as you humble yourself and turn to Him, you will gain wisdom and grace, in both your employments and your enjoyments, to manage your concerns and be kept from sin, so that you may finish your assignments with joy and honor. Job 5

May God grant the request that you hope for, your consolation and joy, that you will not deny the Words of the Holy One. Job 6

May you always have strength to hope in the prospect of God's promises, and patience when you have no power to help yourself. Job 6

May you always show gracious kindness to those in despair, knowing the fear of the Lord, that you may restore them, in humility, to full well-being before God. Job 6

May you be willing, as you see the shortness of time, to spend, and be spent, in service to your Redeemer, to bring glory to His name, that He Who neither sleeps nor slumbers may sustain you as you do His work, and then keep you when you rest. Job 7

Let the eyes of your spirit be opened, My child, to discern My rewards in your life. I have much to give you, even above the treasures I have already heaped upon you and liberally poured out within your existence. Where is the praise this should engender? Where is the thankful heart lifted up in worship? Where is the joy that strengthens your hands and straightens your back and lifts you to your feet, ready and confident in the work laid out before you? Do not allow My grace to become commonplace to you, My dear one. Stir up your heart, rekindle the fire within. Clear out the ashes and allow the breath of the Father to blow on the fire of the Spirit and ignite the truth of the Word in your life, bringing a renewed appreciation of what you have received from My hand. Enumerate it, My precious one, declare it before Me and name each blessing, gift, provision, favor, advantage, bonus, protection, benefit, profit, asset, and value that is in your life now because you name My name and confess Me as your Savior and Lord. You cannot remain downhearted or gloomy as My truth comes from your lips. The ache of your wounded heart and bruised spirit is eased as you declare the evidence of My eternal loving-kindness and bottomless compassion toward you. The heavy anxiety and pressing care you have labored under lightens and lifts when you turn your eyes toward Me and your thoughts are focused on what is excellent and praiseworthy. Do not overlook the prizes gained within your soul from the unpleasant experiences and the fiery trials you have walked through, My love. The bright and happy times are to be enjoyed, but the true treasure of Godly wisdom and refined faith only emerge from the stormy times that I walk through with you. Know that you are esteemed and valued, My close one, and never doubt My love for you. Speak of My hand in your life and My work in your heart often to others, for where two or more are gathered in My Name, I am there to unite you in the joyful strength of My Spirit.

May you share what the Spirit of God has given you, a hymn, a word of instruction, a revelation, a tongue, an interpretation, in order to strengthen and build each other up in faith and character. 1 Corinthians 14

May you be eager to speak what God has revealed, being earnestly ambitious to prophesy in turn, so that everyone may be instructed and encouraged by the expression of God's heart toward His children. 1 Corinthians 14

May the instruction of God be in your heart, that your mouth may utter wisdom and your tongue speak what is just, and your steps will be firm and ordered by God, for the Lord will not leave you in the power of the wicked. Psalm 37

May you wait for the Lord and keep His way, for He will exalt you to inherit the land, and you will see the wicked when they are cut off. Psalm 37

May you consider the future that God has made for the blameless, the upright, the man of peace, knowing that all sinners will be destroyed and the wicked cut off. Psalm 37

May you take refuge in the Lord, from Whom the salvation of the righteous comes, for He is your stronghold in time of trouble, helping and delivering you from the wicked. Psalm 37