#now hiring delivery drivers

[hongism]

THIS WORLD. - k. hongjoong (m)

➼ genre; smut (some minor angst and fluff) ➼ pairing; hongjoong x fem!reader ➼ au; outlaw!hongjoong, dystopian futurism, lore accurate ateez ➼ warnings; explicit smut ➼ rating; m/18+ ➼ wc; 4.5k

What he’s given you is essentially one chance and night. Nothing more and nothing less.

part of the outlaw miniseries.

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➼ smut warnings; piv, unprotected sex, oral: f, creampie, light choking/asphyxiation, dirty talk, breast/nipple play

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Cool night air brushes across your cheeks as you set foot on the roof, eyes already scanning your surroundings in the hopes of finding what you’re looking for here. Of course, it doesn’t take much — Hongjoong is a hard man to miss unless the government officials are looking for him, in which case he has an uncanny ability to make himself totally invisible in a crowd.

There are no crowds up here though; just you, him, and the night to keep you company.

You see him clearly across the stretch of roof that’s accentuated by gaudy neon signs and other electrical components that keep the bar below powered.

“Closed up shop for the night,” you offer as a means of greeting the man. He’s donned his usual dramatic regalia tonight as well, complete with the patterned bandana pulled up over his nose and the ridiculous cowboy hat he fetched out of a dumpster several months back. It matches the vibe of the bar, he had told you and Mingi. While you weren’t on board, Mingi was more than a little eager to pull together a similar outfit for himself. “Everyone else went home.”

K-Hot Chilli Peppers. When you saw the job listing online, you had laughed at the name before realizing that it’s only half as ridiculous as many of the other bars in Night City, and you weren’t about to be picky given that you were desperate to find a place that lets you actually use your tender’s license on the daily. Upon being hired, you were promptly told to not ask questions when two rugged outlaws came through the doors and went up to the roof without pause. Answers came on their own, naturally and over time as you peeled back the seemingly endless layers to the two vigilantes who had set up shop in your new place of employment.

Whatever the circumstances and however the stars aligned that night you saw the job listing, it all boiled down to this: standing across from Hongjoong on the rooftop under the stars with this magnetic sort of pull towards the man. A pull you shouldn’t even think to entertain mostly because you’d like to keep your job and also a little bit because you’d like to keep your life.

Hongjoong got a message today. You know that much because you saw the small moped buzz by in front of the bar after all the customers left, and though you don’t know who that delivery driver is, you know he always brings something more than crappy takeout. The most convincing piece of evidence came in how Mingi promptly stormed out of the bar without so much as a goodbye twenty minutes later, and now here you stand up on the roof with the last man standing not long after. You aren’t here to ask questions as that wouldn’t be in your right (fairly so).

“I’m gonna close up and lock everything, if you’re done?” you continue pressing when Hongjoong fails to say anything back to you. He turns, gaze sharp as it finds you across the rooftop. The next moment, he pulls his bandana down to rest around his neck and exposes his handsome face to you.

“We’re not gonna be around much longer.”

You pull your lips together and do your best not to frown. “They won’t know you were ever here.”

“They’re gonna come looking here. And they’re gonna rip the place apart trying to find us.” Hongjoong takes slow steps in your direction as he speaks, tone low and quiet as though trying to either threaten or warn you. You don’t think he has a need for either. “When they come knocking, it’s not gonna matter what you do know or what you don’t know. Just being affiliated by name is enough of a crime.”

“Business is too good to be knocked down by a little police search.”

Hongjoong sinks his teeth into his lower lip. The light from the neon signs bounces off his face and casts crude little shadows across the roof. He looks far too worried for your liking, almost like there’s a semblance of care in the man, which was not part of the plan. You think you’re the one to blame for that, considering how you can’t simply leave well enough alone and have to express some modicum of care for those around you, including the vigilante outlaws that frequent your workplace and stay after hours. And well, all these months that have passed in this comfortable routine have made the heart grow fonder in many ways.

You’re quite fond of him, you think, and maybe those feelings are reciprocated to some extent.

The sky is clear tonight, free of clouds but the lights and pollution from the city obstruct the stars somewhat even now. Curfew is about to begin, but there’s no chance of you making it home before the drones start patrolling the streets. You could have left thirty minutes ago — should have most likely, but that chance is well and gone now.

“We leave tomorrow. I don’t know when we’ll be back.”

When is merely code for if, and you’re not dumb enough to think otherwise. If he survives whatever obscene plan he’s ready to deploy, you’re positive that Hongjoong won’t come back or set food near the bar again, even as a hideout. Men like him don’t stick to one place for long, especially not when their heads are full of grandiose plans of anarchy and destruction. You don’t blame him for it, but it does make your heart ache a little more than it should.

Your shoes skid across the stone of the roof as you cross the distance between you and him. It breaks the silence you’ve presented as an answer to him, and Hongjoong’s eyes grow wider as you turn the space into an afterthought. Shaky hands find their way around Hongjoong’s shoulders then come to clasp behind his neck.

“Tell me you’ll survive,” you plead to the night air between your lips.

“Of course I will,” he answers without hesitation, whether a lie or a truth he is willing to truly stand by and believe. You don’t ask that he tell you he’ll return here; some dreams are a bit too far-fetched.

When your hands begin to fall away from him, Hongjoong dips his chin and slots his lips over your parted ones. You scramble to regain your hold on him, fingers stretching up to tangle in the dark blue strands of hair on the back of his head just below where his hat sits. The pressure against your mouth is faint to begin with, something small and searching as he tests the waters and waits for your response. As though pulling him closer and nearly kissing him moments ago wasn’t enough of a confirmation for whatever this is.

“This is all I can give you,” he exhales into your mouth, and you press another heated kiss against his lips. I don’t need more than this. This is enough. This is all I could ask for from someone like you. It would be nice if you could ask for more but this is all the greed you can bear. His hands wander from your hips up to the hem of your shirt that sits against the loops of your jeans. The first contact of his fingertips on bare skin hits you like a bucket of ice water and sends goosebumps all across your body.

“Hongjoong,” you say against his mouth as he palms his way down to your thighs. He does well to quiet whatever thoughts are rushing through your head right now with his lips, breaking from yours to mouth along the line of your jaw. The force of his body moving against yours is enough to push you back, and you fall into step with him in an almost haphazard sort of way. Your back hits the wall soon after, right beside the door you just came out of minutes prior, and now Hongjoong has you pressed against the concrete with a knee slipping between your thighs. “Hongjoong.”

“You can’t stay here.” The blunt tips of his painted nails dig into the flesh above your jeans. A gasp tumbles from your lips as he licks over a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, and it makes your knees buckle in turn. “I can have two of my men transport you to a different area of the city in the morning. Earlier the better. We won’t be enacting any plans under the sun’s gone down.” You busy yourself with the buttons keeping his shirt around his body.

“No.”

He pauses where he is, halfway to removing your shirt from your torso, and looks you in the eye. You abandon his shirt in favor of clasping both hands around his cheeks.

“I’m not going anywhere because you’re going to come back to me and get me yourself.” Rather than denying your wistfulness, Hongjoong offers a half-smile and a breathy laugh, one you share in yourself before pulling his face back up to your own. You taste his lips again, but this time you pay more attention to it, the hint of spice on his tongue as he pushes past the seam of your mouth and explores you further. Your hands are busy with his shirt once more under the urging of your eagerness to have him. He responds in kind by hiking your shirt up over your chest and dragging the blunts of his nails down over the exposed skin on his path to your pants.

“Let me go down on you?” Your chest tightens at the proposition and at the way his voice sounds inexplicably strained from the mere thought of tasting you.

“Take this stupid shirt off first, for fuck’s sa—” Frustration wins the battle against his clothing, and Hongjoong leans away from you with a clear, resounding laugh that makes your stomach turn to mush. You ought to kick yourself in the side of the head for not acting on the blatant chemistry dancing between the two of you before now. Still, if this truly is a one-and-done thing, you’re going to do the absolute most to make it worth it. And maybe a bit unforgettable for both of you. Hooking your fingers under the handkerchief still tied about his neck, you pull Hongjoong close once again. He rushes to brace his hands on either side of you, his shirt still dangling from where it remains tucked into his ridiculous faux leather pants. His mouth goes straight for your neck, pulling the skin between his teeth and sucking so harshly at it that you feel tingles rush up to your skull. Your whine is music in the distant noise of the city, softly exhaled against the side of his head and disturbing the hair behind his ear. His hat is beginning to get in your way now too, especially as he kisses a path down to where he left your shirt. You catch the brim just before he goes lower, stripping it off his head with the hand you have draped around his shoulders. When he looks up at you from between your breasts, you smile, close-lipped but with an arched brow meant to tease further.

“The amount of filthy, heinous jokes on my mind right now,” he groans, head dipping forward to rest against your chest.

“If you make any sort of cowboy joke I’ll make sure you finish in your hand and nowhere else.” The threat is halfhearted of course, but it makes Hongjoong laugh in that obscenely pretty way again and you revel in the sound as he frees your breasts just enough to have access to them. Your nipples are already hardened peaks thanks to the simple touches from earlier, but the cool air stiffens them even further before Hongjoong has the chance to pull one into his mouth. Your back curls up off the wall, Hongjoong pinches your right nipple, and at the same moment, he pushes you back to the wall with enough force to punch a moan out of you.

“F-Fuck, Hongjoong.” You’re suddenly rather grateful to have something to hold onto because otherwise you would be digging your nails into your palms and making yourself bleed. As it is, you might run the risk of ruining Hongjoong’s treasured hat with how tight you’re gripping it at present. Your other hand sits on his bicep, atop the black-lettered inking that dances across his arm and reminds you that this man in your arms is one of a kind. You wonder, far and away in the back of your brain, how many have had the pleasure of being in your current position. He disperses those runaway thoughts mere seconds later; his hand sneaks down from its perch cupping your breast and locks onto the button keeping your pants together. The resulting lewd and wet pop! that comes from him pulling his lips away from your nipple makes your neck heat up.

“Bet I could make you cream your panties without even getting in your pants,” he quips as the button comes loose. Deftly, he works the zipper down in the same smooth movement.

“Who are you trying to impress, cowboy? You’ve already got me for the night.”

The muscles in his neck strain as he laughs and tilts his chin to the side, and your breath hitches watching him sink to his knees between your legs. Hongjoong folds his fingers around your wrist — the hand that currently holds his hat by the brim — and slowly, he guides you to place it back where it belongs atop his head.

“There. Now you can call me that again.” You can’t hide the unsteadiness of your breaths from him like this, even though he’s currently occupying his focus with stripping you of both jeans and underwear in one go. You brace a hand over your heart just to make sure it's still part of you despite racing like you’ve just run a marathon. Hongjoong’s lips skate against the inside of your knee when he lifts your ankle and carefully pulls the boot from your foot. Fabric follows suit quickly, then he commits to the same routine for your other leg — complete with the ghosting kisses and soft drags of his nails over the bare skin of your thighs. The growing pit of arousal in your stomach is so heavy that you think it might simply drip out of you the moment he touches your folds.

“Hongjoong,” you whisper. His kisses climb to the inside of your thighs, close enough to exhale heated breath across your pussy, but he doesn’t push further than that. Content to sit between your legs in the lewdest of positions and stare up at you through fluttering lashes.

“That’s not what you called me.” Hongjoong grins, cheek brushing against your thigh so close to your sex that your muscles twitch. “Maybe I’ll consider it—” he enunciates the word particularly harshly “—and do whatever you’d like?”

“You’re so — ugh, I want you to eat me out,” you mumble into the cradle of your hands, hardly able to look down at the man and be expected to speak like a normal functioning human being in this sort of predicament. He’s silent in return. “Cowboy.”

The veil of seriousness drops at that, and you’re the first to laugh at the sheer absurdity of calling him such a thing right now. Hongjoong can’t seem to keep himself together either, huffed laughter spilling out of him in turn.

“I wasn’t serious about you calling me that, y/n, I was just teasing. But I guess you want it pretty damn bad, huh?”

“Shut up!” Your tone contorts into a cracked gasp as Hongjoong wraps a hand back and around your thigh and spreads your legs over his face. Your hand flies to cover your mouth — something done out of pure instinct — and the man beneath you is quick to tut his disapproval.

“Let me hear you, pretty. I don’t want you covering anything up.”

“I-It’s the middle of the night,” you argue through your fingers.

“And? Wake the whole damn city if you have to, I want you to cry on my cock.”

You let your hand fall away and come to rest atop Hongjoong’s head (his hat, rather). Your view of what he’s doing is entirely obscured except for the slightest glint of his eyes when he tilts his chin against your cunt. You can’t seem to tear your gaze off of him regardless, lips parted and quivering as he presses his tongue between your folds and takes his first taste of you. The tension in your gut is wound into a knot so tight that your eyes burn and sting at the corners. Hongjoong takes you into his palm, onto his tongue, and into his deft fingers, and unravels you gloriously.

Two fingers dip lower and press against your entrance. He teases you with the pad of his middle finger only, toying with your hole and pushing into you ever so slightly before retracting to circle your clit with his tongue. He can’t run his mouth as he very much loves to in this position, but you’re finding that he makes use of his mouth in other more devilish ways, another talent he keeps tucked under his belt that you’re reaping the benefits from.

You can’t think of the last time you got laid, and trying to think of the last good fuck you had would be an even taller order. To imagine when a man last ate you out with actual passion and not simply as a means to an end might be impossible, or perhaps Hongjoong is simply keen on blowing every last sexual experience you’ve had out of the water in one go. When his fingers finally, at long last, stretch you open, you cry out with a moan so loud that it would be a miracle if no one heard it.

“Gonna make you taste yourself on my lips, pretty. Make your little cunt cream all over my cock until I fill you up with cum.” You jerk Hongjoong’s head almost violently, a sharp response to the way his fingers curl against your walls, but it doesn’t deter him in the slightest from the task at hand. He pulls your clit between his lips and sucks until your knees give out under you. It sends his fingers deeper into your cunt in the same motion, nearly making you come undone.

“T-Too much, too much, Hongjoong, it’s — fuck, fuck, ah!” You fold in on yourself, free hand moving to press against your stomach as the pressure in you reaches an unbearable degree. Hongjoong works his fingers in and out of you at a steadily increasing pace and almost seems to be making a game of the way he curls them each time he flicks his tongue against your clit just for another moan to climb out of your throat. Each sound is more broken than the last, sweat beads on your forehead, and you think there’s a euphoric end in sight just for him to pull away without warning. Your walls clench tight around nothing as his fingers are now gone from you and sucked between his own lips. Dazed and frustrated, you pass an incredulous stare his way just for him to grin back at you, tongue teasing the vee between his fingers.

“Hm? Did you want something?”

“I—” Hongjoong eases your body back against the stone wall and hoists one of your legs around his hips. Your cunt is still tense and pulsing to the rhythm he spent all that time building. “If you don’t get inside me right the fuck now, Kim Hongjoong, so help me—”

He makes good on his promise to have you taste yourself on his lips. His tongue shoves its way into your mouth as well, eager to tangle with yours and push your arousal onto your own taste buds. You delight in the fervor with which he kisses you, and in the sound of his belt jingling because it means more pleasure is on the horizon. You feel a hand against your hip, and that’s the only real warning you get before he’s pushing the length of his dick into your pussy and burying himself to the hilt in you. You scramble to grab hold of him somehow. It’s a slight miracle that you don’t bite both his and your own tongues in the process because you cry out into his mouth. Your moan remains unbroken even when he pulls your mouths apart and rushes to cradle the back of your head before you whack it harshly against the concrete behind you. There’s not a second to catch your breath in Hongjoong’s mind; his other hand is busy at work, and he presses the pad of his thumb into your clit. He rubs once, twice, three times before you unravel on his cock.

“You’re so tight, fuck, if you could feel yourself, your cunt is so tight.” There are stars behind your eyelids, clearer than the ones in the sky, and Hongjoong begins to rock his hips up into yours as the weight of your orgasm barrels down on you. “You feel so good on me, pretty. Fuckin’ made for my cock, yeah?”

“Yeah, y-yes, yes, yes.” Your voice cracks at the tail end of your agreement. It turns into something more akin to a sob than a moan. Hongjoong’s pace is relentless in every regard. The lack of pause doesn’t let your body come totally undone or relax, still wound tight around your previous orgasm to the point where it feels like it won’t end.

“Keep taking it, lovely, I won’t be able to pull out with you squeezing around me like this.”

Whining, you drop your head to the side, chin coming all the way down to your shoulder. Hongjoong snakes his hand around to your neck and braces his index finger and thumb on either side of your jaw. Your head lolls in tune with the way he moves you and without resistance — every ounce of strength in your muscles has melted into goo in his hands. When he presses you back to the wall, your breath hitches. The sensation of his fingers at your neck has you feeling floaty and a bit detached from your body in the most pleasant way imaginable. His thrusts jerk your body enough to offer more pressure against your neck every so often but it’s not as persistent as you wish for it to be.

When you reach between your bodies and clasp your fingers around his wrist, Hongjoong seems to think that you want him to pull away because his grip loosens instantly.

“More,” you grit out, yanking his hand harder into the column of your neck. The steady rhythm he’s found falters momentarily for him to resituate his grip, but once he’s settled back into it, each thrust comes with a delightful headiness as your breath becomes shorter.

“’m close,” he announces. He shifts a hair to look down between your bodies and watches his length disappear into you a few more times before pulling his focus back up to your face with a groan. “Gonna cum in you, pretty, you’re still so tight.”

“Wanna cum with you, t-touch me again,” you pant, licking your lips between each phrase, “please.”

Despite his own shaky hands, Hongjoong reaches down to where his cock pumps in and out of you. He finds your clit with ease and rolls two fingers over it in a similar rhythm to his thrusts, pace only growing as he races towards his finish with you in tow. His motions fail as he orgasms, but the sudden feeling of his cock twitching inside your walls and pumping you full of hot cum pushes you over the edge with him. You almost don’t even feel it with all the sensations hitting you at once, and Hongjoong’s body falls against yours so harshly that your moan is positively unholy.

His hands keep roaming — tracing every inch of skin he can reach like he wants to commit it all to memory, and you simply let him do as he pleases because it feels good and it feels damn good to be wanted by this man. He pulls you towards a different section of the rooftop with your pants and underwear in hand. When he tugs you down to the messy pile of blankets that he and Mingi leave up here for particularly cold nights, you don’t even complain either. He lays himself down atop you, easing between your legs and caging you in with elbows pressed to concrete on either side of your head.

Hongjoong kisses you softly, and you smile against his lips. He finally settles down beside you after a few more exchanged kisses. His hat gets put aside with the other stray pieces of clothing — including his shirt that he’s finally decided to rid himself of far after the fact. The aftermath is peaceful, if a bit hazy as your brain still feels a jumbled mess of putty, and the stars above are bright.

“I’ll have someone pick you up in the morning to take you over to my men. The bar won’t be safe for a few weeks minimum. They can give you some cash to help cut your losses in the meantime too.”

“Okay,” you answer quietly. Beside you, his hand searches the blankets for your own. You let his fingers tangle with yours and squeeze until it hurts.

“Just don’t let Wooyoung try to convince you to buy into any scheme he might come up with.”

“Who?”

“Trust me, he’ll let you know who he is.” Hongjoong laughs at his own comment but falls into silence when he glances at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Come back for me please.”

Hongjoong is quiet beside you for several lingering seconds, then he leans across the empty space and kisses your temple.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

You believe him.

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this work belongs to caly / hongism (2023). do not copy, repost, or plagiarize in any way.

[bunnyb34r]

Sunny but windy 👍

Pizza guy was high as fuck and the boxes smell weedy but the pizzas tasted fine and they didnt fuck up the order 🤙

Pizza ordered, let's hope the weather behaves til it gets here 😬

[marvelavengerspovs1]

Stress Relief

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!reader

Warnings: None, this is all fluff!

Length: 869

Summary: After deciding to go back to school for college you find that it is a lot more stressful than you imagined. Luckily, Bucky is there to help you.

A/N: Hi! This is my first-ever post, so any critiques are welcomed!

I do not give consent for my work to be translated, copied, or sold!

Bucky watches you from the couch. You’re sitting at the dining room table working on an assignment for your calculus class. When you decided you wanted to get a college degree, Bucky was supportive of you. You decided that while being a medical assistant was nice, you wanted to work to become a doctor. Part of the reason was that the Avengers agreed to hire you after graduation.

It’s the start of the 2nd semester and you’re only 2 weeks in but the stress is already getting to you. You want to stay on top of your grades and not burn out, but it is getting increasingly difficult. Now you’re using what used to be your free days as study days surrounded by printed assignments, textbooks, and your laptop. 

“Oh my god, this is so stupid!” You scream and throw your pencil down and cradle your head in your now empty hands.

“Are you ok doll?”  Bucky asks from the couch.

You just take a deep breath and rest your head on the cool surface of the table. Bucky takes that as a no and gets up from the couch to sit next to you.

He places his hand on the small of your back and rubs small slow circles. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shake your head and wince when the side of your head hits the corner of the textbook. “Maybe it was a mistake to go back to school.”

Bucky stares at your deflated figure. “Don’t say that doll. This is only right now, you’re not going to regret it once you walk that stage and start med school.”

You tilt your head and look at him. “I just hate calculus.”

Bucky laughs. “I’m glad I never had to take it. Here, let me look, it can’t possibly be that hard.”

You lift your head so that Bucky can look at your notebook with your notes and the scrap paper you used to solve the equation.

Bucky’s eyebrows quickly furrow. “What the fuck is that symbol?”

You look at the paper to see what he’s pointing at. The equation is a limit function.

You laugh. “Oh, that just means you have to find the limit as x approaches -2 of that equation.”

Bucky looks at you with a lost expression. “Doll, maybe you should just take a break.”

You shake your head. “I can’t. This is due next Wednesday and it’s already Tuesday.”

Bucky smiles at you. One of the many things he loves about you is how you like to get things done in advance.

“Doll, it won’t be long. You just need a little break to clear your mind. You’ve been working since 7:00 this morning and it’s already 6:00.” 

“Ok, but only for a little bit. I want to get this done.”

“I promise.” Bucky grabs your hands and helps you get up from the dining room.

Bucky gently guides you to the couch and makes you sit down. He goes and grabs a blanket for you and two beers from the fridge. Bucky lays the blanket on you and hands you one of the beers before going to the door.

“What are you doing?” You ask him.

“Just wait, doll,” Bucky says and there’s a knock on your door.

Bucky opens the door and you see a delivery driver hand him a bag of your favorite Chinese takeout. While most of the food is not authentic Chinese food, you couldn’t deny how delicious it was.

“When did you order this?” You ask once Bucky sits down next to you and places the food on the table in front of you.

“I ordered about half an hour ago. I knew you didn’t eat any lunch and were going to be hungry soon.” His point was made when you both heard your stomach growl.

You lean forward to kiss him and grab a box that’s filled with orange chicken. “Thank you Bucky, this is really sweet.”

Bucky smiles and kisses you again. “Anything for my doll.”

You and Bucky eat the takeout he ordered and watch trashy reality TV. You laugh as you see Bucky yelling at the TV that everyone is lying to each other and that they shouldn’t trust people so easily. But when you’re not looking, Bucky stares at you. He looks at the way your eyes crinkle when you smile and laugh, the way you blush when you catch him looking at you, and how hot you look while you’re wearing his sweater.

You look at your phone and realize that it is now 7:15. “Ok Buck, I have to get back to my work.”

Bucky pouts and grabs your wrist as you start to get up. “One more thing Doll.”

You smile down at him as he pulls you to straddle his lap. “And what is that?”

He puts his left hand on your hip and his other on the back of your neck. He pulls you in for a long kiss but lets you go once you start to melt into him. “Go finish your assignments before I have my way with you.”

[somefinn-g]

Hiii everyone, just now an idea for a Hermitcraft + Friends train based AU popped into my mind, I wrote down my first thoughts

now I'd like to know if anyone would be interested or not (I'm currently obsessing a bit over trains :'3)

have fun reading

Mumbo

train broken from redstone explosion

lives "temporarily" in one of his passenger wagon that survived

Grian

plagues everyone by being a blind passenger, clawing himself to the roof

never had an own train

"pesky civilian"

kinda lives with mumbo (guy doesn't care too much about the "annoying" nature of Grian, he got other problems)

Scar

Zoo train

often visited by Grian

jokes about Grian living in his train because of his avian features

Bdubs

Doesn't really have an actual train but rather a horse carriage

get yelled at a lot by Joel because of the horses

almost all other hermits find them the cutest

4 person max if you prefer comfort

"smelly" - Joel

Docm77

kinda DB (is the most punctual person, but can never arrive anywhere on time)

somehow the most advanced train but there always something breaking (only when ppl look, when he's alone everything works of course)

gets asked to build a tunnel system a lot - he always refuses

gets asked if his tunnel can be used for the train tracks - he refuses

gets asked if he can help with the tra-

lives very far away from everyone

amphibia train because the tracks to his place aren't in the best shape

has a rail leading to nowhere !?

Postal service (Pearl + Etho)

The post system

Tango helped them out a lot

Etho does the more technical stuff

Pearl does the delivery and take in of the packages

Etho is never really seen around (he works on a secret project ?)

Pearl doesn't own her own transportation vehicle, but loves to use the postal van for her own deeds (nobody minds, take it as a work benefit)

Z. I. T. S. train company (Zedaph, Impulse, Tango, Skizz, Joel, Jimmy, Cub, Cleo)

they got a thing going on

Tango and Impulse want to create the most technical advanced train the world has ever seen

Joel is a train conductor in their main line passenger Train

Jimmy is the engine driver tho he finds his job boring

Lizzie tho not officially hired loves to drive the train (she kicks Jimmy out which he happily obiges) while Joel is working (he sneaks to her into the driver's cabin on his "brakes")

Jimmy is the only one, except for Joel, who knows about Lizzie driving the train (or maybe not)

Jimmy and Joel tolerate somewhat of Grian visiting them at work, Joel says "it's less boring with this idiot here" Jimmy thinks alike (maybe not the idiot part, sometimes he thinks he's more of an idiot, at least his clumsiness makes him feel that way)

Grian definitely didn't blackmail Joel and Jim (no Tim) because he saw Lizzie in the driver's seat (but nobody would probably believe him anyway if he one day decides to tell on Lizzie, his reputation of being an annoying prankster has exceeded him by far)

Joel always yells at bdubs because he's scared of getting the train delayed and he hates horses

Zedaph works as an engine driver too (Lizzie always needs to be careful not to accidentally walk in on him, because he sometimes replaces Jimmy last minute)

Gem, tho not alway very enthusiastically, helps out when someone falls ill (the pay isn't shabby so "why not" she thinks)

Gem owns a small boat on which she sometimes sleeps, she can't live on it completely because it would be to isolating

Gem loves to poke fun of Joel at work because she knows he's been scolded for ruckus behaviour before and now he needs to swallow his pride to the amusement of Gem (Lizzie, tho not in front of others at work, loves to join in on these shenanigans)

Cub is responsible for the train schedule and signals

False

she has the most beautiful steam train on the whole server

for the nostalgic feels she offers tours of the server

false has a wagon refurnished to be her now called home

some other hermits have wagons they live in and false does transport them to other places from time to time

Stress and Iskall

they both own together 3 refurnished wagons

Stress is a true cat lady (we don't know how many cats live with her, the number seems rising every minute)

Iskall isn't very amused by all the fluffy creatures, he implemented the rule that no cat shall enter the shared wagon

Iskalls wagon is a chaos of unfinished projects

Stesses quarters are something every proud mother of 4 legged furr balls could only dream off (Lizzie would definitely want to move in if she ever visited, surely)

False does transport their home to other places when they want a change of scenery (Iskalls excuse for this is always "A new start brings new creative thoughts and a tone of energy" Stress already knows by now that this enthusiasm isn't very long lasting)

i probably rather draw than write if I'll continue with this

[bangtanhoneys]

GRACE TOUR DIARY: April 2nd 2025 - New York City

If there was one thing Big Hit was good at, it was backup plans. 

The news had arrived at their hotel an hour after the concert had finished and Grace had gone to bed. Weather warnings of heavy snow and wind across Chicago and New York meant there would be travel disruptions but nothing major as of yet. However, as the hour passed, more updates were coming through to say the weather was getting bad and flights had been cancelled.

There was no other way of getting to New York City in the time they needed to so the staff were looking at hiring another private plane, yet flights were banned from leaving or coming to Chicago so that was off the cards. Trains meant it was a 20-hour journey on one train and then there was logistics of it all, with staff, dancers, luggage, bodyguards and security. 

The only other option was to hire cars.

And so before 5am, ten black SUVS had been hired to carry their dancers, staff, luggage and Grace from Chicago to New York City. And that’s what Grace woke up to at 5 am. 

By 5:30 am, she was dressed, packed away and looking over the plans with Sejin who had been on the phone to the team in Korea. 

“So it’s going to take about 13 hours to drive, but that’s without stops so we’re going to change drivers around so everyone can get a rest. We have to take the longer route as the other route has major road works on it which could delay us even further. We’ve delayed the meeting with the Mayor until tomorrow as he already knows the issues and everyone else with schedules has been informed of what’s going on. I have no doubt tomorrow will continue as planned. Still, for today, we’re not taking any chances,” Sejin explained to the small team around him which included the drivers, the bodyguards, Grace’s female manager and Grace herself. 

“I can drive as well as I’ve got my international licence,” Grace mentioned and she could see everyone look uneasy. “If only to help people take a break because I don’t want anyone getting into trouble or feeling unwell because they're trying to get me to New York. If I can help, I will.”

Which is how Grace found herself with a set of keys for one SUV to start the leg of the journey out of Chicago and to Toledo, where someone else would take over the next leg of the journey for her.  It wasn’t too bad, it was a bit big the car but the radio was on and Sejin was next to her. Her female manager, Hana, behind Sejin and a bodyguard next to her. Her luggage had taken over the boot.

The American highways were easy and straight, massive trucks going past on deliveries and if they hadn’t been in somewhat of a rush, Grace might have enjoyed the drive a little bit more and enjoyed what scenery she could see. 

They pulled into Toledo four hours later and swapped drivers, with Grace now in the back with Hana and Sejin in the front still. It was 11 pm in Seoul and she sent a quick message to the group chat, knowing it wouldn’t probably be picked up by any of the boys until later on in the day.

‘Snow across Chicago and New York. Just drove for four hours to Ohio and now we’re on the way to New York. Wonder if we can stop for burgers somewhere.’

Hobi, surprisingly, was the first one to read it and answer.

‘Jin-hyung and I are out having dinner! We’re thinking of you and your burgers. Stay safe. Don’t drive like a maniac.’ Accompanying the message was a GIF of Stray Kids dancing to their song Maniac. 

There was nothing more she could do in the car other than catch up on sleep, check the weather, check the time, and talk to Hana about whatever popped into her head and by the time Grace opened her eyes again, she could see the Big Apple looming ahead.

“New York New York, it’s a hell of a town,” she sang under her breath but Sejin had heard her, causing him to laugh. It had been a long 9 hours from their break in Toledo to a small town outside of Pittsburg where they changed drivers and cars again and then another break in another small town just before they made the last part of the journey.

They rolled into the underground parking at 7 pm and they were all tired, sore, in need of stretching their legs and just in general need of a rest. Sejin had been managing their schedule with every mile of the journey and while the day had been a washout due to the weather, tomorrow’s schedule would go as planned. Up early to go for a meeting with the Mayor, a tour of the 9/11 Memorial and museum and then it would be onto Jimmy Fallon. 

Grace had never been more happy to see a hotel bed in her life and it didn’t take much for her to climb into the many layers of covers, fluff up the pillows and go straight to sleep without the usual nerves and worries at her heels. The trip across five states had worn everyone out and while the alarm was early, it wouldn’t be another wake-up call at 5 am. 

New York welcomed Grace when she opened her curtains to see the sun shining and the snow starting to melt, city workers were already out to clear up as much as they could and while the news had been reporting about the snowstorm, there were a couple of channels talking about the upcoming Grace concert. Thankfully no fans had been brave enough to try and camp outside in the horrible conditions for merchandise or catch a glimpse but there had been record sales of her two nights at Barclays Center in Brooklyn. 

The meeting with the Mayor was nothing more than a ‘welcome to New York’ and Grace posed with the Mayor and his staff, all showing finger hearts to the camera and the pictures were soon posted to social media not long after Grace had left. And with a police escort, it was off to the 9/11 memorial. There would be no BANGTAN BOMB filming for this one, this would just be a personal visit with one photographer to capture a couple of photos but it would be minimal. It was not something that Grace felt like it needed to be broadcasted.

However, that didn’t stop the news from spreading and articles soon appeared, especially online blogs, where they spoke briefly about her visit to the City Hall and then the 9/11 memorial but they more spoke about her Karen Millen belted dress that had been picked specially for the meeting and for the memorial. They talked about how it complimented the first day, how black was appropriate, and how her black heels made her look taller but they weren’t stilettos or stripper heels. 

“No one cares about anything other than fashion,” Grace sighed as she handed the phone back to Hana. 

“The dress has sold out as well,” Hana commented as she left the room as Sejin wandered in. 

“The Grace effect,” he chuckled as he took a seat at the table in the lavish hotel suite and helped himself to the small buffet the hotel had provided for lunch. 

The Grace in question snorted to herself and finished off her cup of tea, letting out a large yawn and stretching up her arms. “So,” she said once she finished trying to wake herself up. “Jimmy Fallon - they start filming at 5 pm, don’t they but we’re recording the performance at 3 pm.”

“They’ve got a selected audience ready for the performance recording, half are ARMY and half are regular people. And then at 5 pm, they start the actual recording for the interview and it should take about an hour and a half or maybe two, depending. So we’ll be back at the hotel by at least 7 pm,” Sejin confirmed as he finished off the selection of sandwiches he had picked.

“And rehearsals start tomorrow morning.”

“Rehearsals start at Barclays tomorrow and you’ve got a full day of them as we’re a bit behind but you’ve got that basketball tomorrow night. And then obviously the day of the concert, soundcheck, a couple of interviews mid-afternoon then the concert itself,” Sejin reeled off without having to look at his phone for the schedule since he knew it by heart. He had to know it off by heart so he could keep his team and everyone else in check. 

There were no nerves for Grace as they made their way to the studios to film Jimmy Fallon. He was one of the few interviews who got things right and didn’t make it awkward, didn’t treat them any differently, and respected them as a band and individually. She remembered meeting him the first time, how he had fallen in love with all of them but Jimin especially. And that had been clear when Jimin had done his solo trip there, how accommodating Jimmy was of a young man who was just finding his feet on his own. And the interview with Yoongi was another indication that Jimmy had done his research and had known his favourite group enough to ask the right questions, including basketball.  

Grace knew Jimmy wouldn’t be asking the awkward questions tonight. She hoped.

He was already there waiting for her and it surprised her as he walked over, hand out ready to shake hers. “Miss. Chu,” he said in a fake posh British accent which had her laughing. “Mr. Fallon,” she replied and shook his hand which made Jimmy grin and hug her instead.

“Welcome back to New York! We’re excited to have you here and I can’t wait to come to the first concert, I’ve got tickets with my family.”

“Oh really? Well, make sure you bring them backstage so I can meet them,” Grace said as she darted a glance towards Hana who nodded and made a note on her phone.

“Amazing! I’ll let you get to your rehearsal for your performance which I can’t wait for, I’ve been gushing about it forever and then I’ll see you later on for your interview. Nervous?”

“With you? Never,” she grinned.

A small rehearsal for her performance without her costume meant it was easy sailing. While it was harder to pull off a grand dance routine on such a small stage, the dancers adapted quickly and before anyone knew it, it was time to record the performance. It was like being in Korea, someone coming up and explaining what would happen, when to cheer, when to applaud, how long it would take, etc. 

She could see who was ARMY from the side of the stage. The merchandise they were wearing gave it away and while they didn’t have their ARMY BOMBS, she could see a glimpse of who their bias was with the BT21 characters on clothes or jewellery. So while she didn’t have the boys with her, she did have the next best thing. 

The performance of 7 Rings went off like a house on fire. The crowd were so responsive, especially to a remix of the track to make it different to any other performance and the purple outfit Grace had specifically worn in respect to her fans had caught the attention of people on Twitter. 

However, while the performance was regarded as one of the best across social media, the interview that came afterwards would gain millions of views and be talked about all the way up to Grace’s two concerts in Brooklyn.

Holding the vinyl cover of the ‘In My Head’ album and the cover of the ‘Here In My Arms’ mini album, Jimmy beamed at the camera. He went to open his mouth but the screams blocked out anything he had to say, causing him to pause for more than 10 minutes until the crowd calmed down enough so he could begin his introduction. 

“Our next guest,” he paused just in case the screams started again, “is an eight-time 

Grammy-nominated artist and won two Grammys only earlier this year! A global music icon, part of one of the biggest bands the world has ever seen which some of you know as BTS. Her debut album, In My Head, continues to break world records in streams and has been the Billboard Number 1 album for two months, and it shot back to the top of the charts again with her world tour, including the mini-album released only earlier this year - that broke records in its own right. She’s in New York for two sold-out concerts, which sold out in 10 seconds. 10 seconds! Ladies and gentlemen, it’s a pleasure to introduce you to Grace Chu!”

Grace took a deep breath and walked out to the stage, pausing only briefly to bow to the crowd who were so loud it took her breath away as she laughed and headed towards Jimmy. It was the usual hugs, pausing to show her off to the crowd, to marvel at her outfit which had been specifically chosen for the night - a vintage Alexander McQueen 1997 black dress, with two dragons that intertwined each other up to her chest. A pair of Louboutin heels and emerald earrings to match the emerald bracelet she received from Grace. To keep it simple and easy, her blonde hair was styled up into a sleek bun. 

“Now, before we start and before you say anything, I want to hear your accent because not many people know about this,” Jimmy started the interview. “So Grace, if you wouldn’t mind and turn to the camera there,” he pointed out the one in question, “and introduce yourself.”

Grace hid her smile and turned to the camera, bowing slightly. “Good evening, my name is Grace Chu and it’s a pleasure to be on the Jimmy Fallon show.” Her British accent made those watching at home later on pause, frantically Google her name so they could see why she had a British accent and wasn’t speaking Korean. 

“When I first met you and I heard you speak, I was blown away. I was expecting Namjoon’s American accent, but that’s a proper British accent you have. And obviously, most people expect you to speak Korean.”

“It is amusing when most people interviewing us, especially abroad, turn to look at the translator for my answer and then look at me weirdly as if I’ve started speaking another language that’s not English and not Korean,” Grace shrugged with her hands up as if to say ‘what can you do?’

“So you’re half British and half Korean, correct? And you were born in Manchester?”

“So my Dad is from South Korea and my Mum is from London. And they met while my Dad was working in London and he had to travel to Manchester, where I was born, for his job so obviously my Mum came with him. We lived there for seven years and then we had to move to Germany for Dad’s work. I think I was about ten when we officially moved to South Korea, to Suwon-si where my grandparents live. And then we moved to Seoul a year later.”

“You can speak German?” Jimmy asked, looking completely baffled as if this was complete news to him.

Grace grinned and nodded, asking him how he was in perfect German.

“Is there any language you can’t speak?”

“My Japanese is terrible. Namjoon is always on my case to take more lessons in Japanese.”

Jimmy snorted behind his hand as he brought up the most recent photo of BTS which was taken just after Hobi came home.

“BTS,” he started then paused when the screams started causing Grace to look startled as she stared at the crowd in amazement. ‘Wow,’ she mouthed with a laugh, giggling as she turned back to look at Jimmy.

“The group,” he said instead and playfully glared at the audience. “You’ve been with them since they first debuted and here you are now, on your own. Have they given you any advice? Or have they had any involvement in your album and tour?”

Grace paused, tilting her head. “The album was made without any input from them mostly because it was my first time where I had creative control over what songs, lyrics, music, videos, and outfits. That was all mine. But there were times when I went to Namjoon or Yoongi, Hobi, any of them and questioned every move that I made, wondering if I was doing the right thing or if this was even a good idea.”

“Good thing you did listen to them as you’ve won two Grammys and you’ve been on the Billboard for two months when the album first came out and back at the top since you landed in Los Angeles for your tour, which has broken Yoongi’s records.”

She bashfully smiled and hid her face when the crowd approved by clapping loudly.

“Has it been hard though?”

“It’s been quiet,” Grace started with a snort of laughter. “But it’s tough because it’s only me and the dancers but I’m on stage for 95% of the time and it’s not like Jungkook is going to appear and do his solo song to give me a break or six other members to take your place so it is tough but ARMY keep me going and their support means a lot.”

She turned towards those she could see in the crowd and saw their finger hearts which made her smile and return those affections.

“Now,” Jimmy grinned as he paused and held down the next card, ��since you're here.”

“Oh no,” Grace whispered as she covered her eyes.

“We have to talk about this.”

She didn’t need to know what picture Jimmy was showing because she knew by the noise that met said picture. 

A peek through her hands told her everything she needed to know. 

The most recent picture of Seokjin, where his hair had grown back to its usual length, had been taken from his Instagram and she was pretty sure she had taken that picture. Grace caught the teasing grin Jimmy sent her way and she sighed, bracing herself for what was coming next.

“You’ve been together for seven years and you released a mini-album on your anniversary, which also broke records. I just have to ask, are we going to be seeing him on your tour?”

It wasn’t the question she had expected if she was honest. She had been expecting something worse and something dirty, especially concerning the lyrics from her Here In My Arms album but it was a simple enough question that exposed more about their relationship than any other question could.

“Maybe,” Grace started and smirked at the cheers. “Maybe. Obviously, our schedules are planned nearly a year in advance and I’ve always said I never wanted to overshadow what the boys were doing in terms of their solo careers so we will have to see.”

“Is he here already?” Jimmy asked, leaning forward.

“As far as I’m aware,” Grace checked her watch, “it’s 6 am in Seoul. So I would imagine he’s currently sleeping off dinner.”

Jimmy pouted, obviously wanting the main exclusive that the power couple would be seen on stage in his hometown of New York but it seemed it just wasn’t going to happen. The rest of the interview flicked from funny to serious with questions ranging from any funny moments with the boys to life in England and she finished off her stint on Jimmy Fallon by doing the karaoke segment that Ariana Grande made famous with the Evanescence rendition. 

“Well done, that went perfectly,” Sejin greeted her after it was all said and done and she said her goodbyes to Jimmy, and to the staff and got in the car to head back to the hotel. 

The next morning, while it wasn’t too much of an early start, Grace woke up early enough to take a shower and do her skin routine. Breakfast was simple as to not give her a heavy stomach and by 10 am, the team were driving through the streets of New York - from the famous 5th Avenue, past the famous Flatiron Building, and onto the Manhattan Bridge and through Brooklyn until they came up to the Barclays Center which had advertisements for her tour all over the LED screens. 

The stage was already set up and the dancers were warming up on various parts of the stage or near the seats where 17,000 fans would be packed in over two nights. This stadium would mark the end of the American leg of the tour and the moment she was done, she’d be back on a plane again.

Rehearsals seemed to go quickly and by 5 pm, she was out of the stadium and dressed up to attend her first basketball game. While it hadn’t been a decision made by her, it was more promotional than anything, she found herself courtside where all the cameras were pointed to see who would be taking up the VIP seats. Sejin was next to her as was a bodyguard who sat just behind the two of them and she knew how Taylor Swift felt every time the camera panned to her instead of the players. 

It didn’t help that Yoongi’s Hageum song would play at intervals where her face would be plastered all over the screen. But it was a good game, she got some photos to send back to Yoongi when he would be awake to see them and of course, there were the usual photos with players.

The day of the concert, the sun was out and the hustle and bustle of New York City was well underway by the time Grace rolled out of bed. The day of the concert always had her somewhat nervous, the questions of what could happen would roll around in her head until she got to the stadium to do her soundcheck and run through whatever they had discussed the night before. 

Time passed quickly - shower, breakfast, interviews with local TV stations or magazines, then straight to the stadium to do soundcheck mid-afternoon, a quick run-through of two parts where they had to make some adjustments and finally, the time rolled around where she was under the stage, hearing the fans explode into excitement as the VCR started to fade out. 

No matter how many times she did it, no matter how big of a crowd, no matter if it was abroad or in South Korea - just the noise of the crowd, the ARMY BOMBS, the costumes some people were wearing when her eyes would catch sight of them, everyone singing along, knowing the words or even some of the dance moves, all of it made her hairs stand up and the worries of the tour wash away within the first half an hour. 

The New York crowd was so responsive, especially when she welcomed them to the In My Head tour, standing there for 10 minutes and letting the noise of every person in the stands wash over her like it was the first time. 

When the opening chords of Save Me started to play, Grace could see everyone doing Jimin’s signature dance move that had been openly mocked by the group themselves. Catching one of the dancer’s eyes, she grinned and nodded and soon followed, sweeping her arm in front of her as she got to the chorus and without much encouragement, the seven other dancers followed and swiftly executed the choreography after a bit more teasing. 

“New York City,” Grace paused as she stood on the stage for the final part where she would finish off the concert with Dangerous Woman. “Thank you so much for spending your night with us. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for breaking your own records by selling out both nights in 10 seconds, you’ve been one of the best crowds so far and I can’t wait to come back with the boys. Love you all.”

ARMY was still singing as Grace was lowered back down to underneath the stage, the ending chords of Dangerous Woman still playing as she reached the bottom where staff were on hand to take away her microphone and in-ears. And for the first time, Grace had to admit, she had left the stage on a high - there were no uncertain thoughts, no worries, no stress or anxiety. If there was going to be a concert that had been the turning point for Grace and what she was capable of, then this would be the concert to do that. 

Back at the hotel room, kicking off her shoes with a sigh as her tired feet met the carpet, her eyes caught a massive bouquet waiting for her on the coffee table in the living area of her suite. 50 red roses were sitting in a clear vase filled with water, and a teddy bear that was dressed in a t-shirt that said ‘I Love New York’ was sitting next to the bouquet with an envelope.

Grinning to herself, Grace opened the envelope to one simple note that read: ‘Two days to go - J.’

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#345

“Well look who has come back?  I thought you would eventually grovel for your job.  So you went to Daryl, hunh?  You said what you had to say, and he, being the owner, just shrugged it off and told you to get back to work?  It’s funny how shit like that happens, isn’t it?  Would it come as a surprise to you that while you were complaining about me to him that he had my load in his ass?... 

“Yeah he called me in before your appointment.  I told him everything, including that your life is fucked for having to register as a sex offender for having consensual sex with a seventeen-year-old only two weeks away from turning eighteen.  He doesn’t give a shit about all that.  He just knows that you can’t find a job elsewhere in this tight town.  So welcome back.  My demands are the same.  If you accept your role as my cunt employee, strip….

“…There you go.  Damn, you are diving right in with our new arrangement.  I like your enthusiasm.  OK.  So I am going to expect a lot more than the blowjob I initially asked of you last week.  A lot more.  Going forward, each day after the last delivery truck returns, you are to report to my office.  If I am there you are to strip naked in front of me.  If not, you are to strip and bend over my couch and wait for at least 15 minutes.  If I don’t return, go back to work at your desk naked. 

“If I recall, you were getting evicted because of your status.  Well, I talked to the Daryl, and he’s fine with you moving into the apartment over the office.  But he agreed on one condition, that he still has access to it to bring tricks back from the adult theater, Ruby’s bookstore, or the glory holes at the rest stop up the highway.  I said that was fine.  He, you, and I will all have keys.

“You are to always keep it clean, that includes the sex toys and the furniture.  You will be living there rent free, that’s the least you can do.  You will be making the same pay, but you will be expected to do more for me. 

“I can’t take it anymore.  Those titties are too soft.  They need to be worked over.  Hold still.  Fuck yeah.  There is a direct line from your titties through my fingers to my dick.  Mmmm fuck.  I promised Daryl that he could watch you get claimed by me.  

“He and I go way back.  I met him at Ruby’s and then at the rest area.  I told him that I was looking for a job and he hired me on the spot as long as I promised to regularly fuck him.  I’ve been here nine years since.  We go out, every once in a while, into the city.  He loves to see me cunt a fag.  So you are going to be the fag tonight.

“These nips will be bloody by the end of the night….  Shut up!  I’ll smack you again.  I have no problem doing that.  Look.  We are setting you up very well.  You have a rent free apartment and a well paying job.  The apartment is far enough away so that you don’t have to worry about proximity to children.  All you have to do is be my cunt bitch fag. 

“Don’t give me that look.  I know you can do it.  Despite your protests that you are straight, I found out, just last week, that the seventeen-year-old, that you went to prison over, was a boy you picked up outside Ruby’s when he was kicked out for being under age.

“So you can knock off the ‘I’m straight’ bit.  You can still fuck all the women you want, but you will submit to my cock whenever I demand.  Thing is, I don’t ever want to hear about your escapades with women, you got that?  I told Daryl the same thing. 

“You will be required to tell me all the men you hook up with.  That will include any of the drivers.  Not all drivers we hire are in the know.  Some are.  This is a privilege I am extending to you.  You can be the top if you want.  But know that I own this pecker here.  Shut up.  If I want to squeeze so hard your balls pop I will, and it would be my right.  So don’t do anything stupid, or I’ll lock this thing up.

“You understand our agreement?...  You good with it?...  I said, ‘you good with it?’…  Good!  Glad to hear.  Now get on your knees.  I got to take a piss. 

“…Damn you must love being face slapped.  You think our thing is just tit torture and fucking?  Oh hell no.  You are going to drink my piss for starters.  I am going to do a lot of shit to you.  If you think you were getting cunted in the apartment with Daryl looking on, you would be mistaken.  After I finish pissing in your stomach, I’m going to tie you up naked in one of those delivery trucks and then we are going to this sex party in the city where you are secured in a sling.  I will be the first of a long line of men to gang bang you.  Daryl doesn’t know it yet, but he will be tied under you in a way that any ass slop that comes dripping out of your gape will go in his mouth.

“Now put my cock in your mouth and drink.”

[capybaracorn]

Israel promised ‘limited’ operation. Two months on, Rafah turned to rubble

The Israeli military invites reporters into Rafah, the first time international media visit the city since it was invaded.

Israeli army vehicles transport a group of soldiers and journalists inside southern Gaza. [Ohad Zwigenberg/AP Photo]

(July 8th 2024)

Israel invaded Rafah on May 6 promising a “limited” operation against Hamas fighters, but two months on, the southern-most city has been turned into a dust-covered ghost town.

The Associated Press photojournalist was among the first foreign journalists allowed into the Palestinian city, which sheltered most of Gaza’s more than two million people displaced by Israel’s devastating war. Israel has barred international journalists from entering Gaza independently.

More than 150 Palestinian journalists, who have been reporting from the ground, have been killed in Israeli attacks, making it one of the deadliest conflicts for journalists.

Abandoned, bullet-ridden apartment buildings have blasted out walls and shattered windows. Bedrooms and kitchens are visible from roads dotted with rubble piles that tower over the Israeli military vehicles passing by. Very few civilians remain.

Israel, which has been accused of disproportionate use of force in Gaza, says it aimed for a complete defeat of Hamas. More than 70 percent of the enclave’s houses have been destroyed in Israeli air and ground offensive since October 7, 2023.

In the last week of May, the International Court of Justice (ICJ) ordered Israel to “immediately” halt its military assault on Rafah, which faced a humanitarian crisis due to the blocking of aid. In January, the top UN court had ordered Israel to prevent acts of genocide.

Nearly 40,000 people have been killed, half of them children and women.

Rafah, an area of about 65sq km (25sq miles) bordering Egypt, was considered a safe zone where most Palestinians fleeing from Israeli bombardment took shelter. But Israel invaded the southern city despite international concerns, saying Hamas fighters had moved to the area. It provided no proof for its claims. Israel has repeatedly targeted areas designated as safe zones since the war began nine months ago.

An estimated 1.4 million Palestinians crammed into Rafah after fleeing Israeli bombardment elsewhere in Gaza. The UN estimates that about 50,000 remain in Rafah, which had a pre-war population of about 275,000. Last week, the United Nations said most of Gaza’s 2.4 million people are now displaced.

Most people are clustering in squalid tent camps along the beach with scant access to clean water, food, toilets and medical care.

Efforts to bring aid into southern Gaza have stalled as Israel closed down Rafah, one of two important crossings into the south of Gaza. The UN says little aid can enter from the other main crossing – Karem Abu Salem (Kerem Shalom) – because Israeli settlers have attacked aid trucks.

On Wednesday, a line of trucks on the Gaza side of Karem Abu Salem was visible, but the trucks were hardly moving – a sign of how Israel’s pledge to keep the route safe to facilitate the delivery of aid inside Gaza has fallen flat.

UN officials say some commercial trucks have braved the route into Rafah, but not without hired armed guards riding atop their convoys.

Israel says it is close to dismantling the group as an organised military force in Rafah. In a reflection of that confidence, soldiers brought journalists in open-air military vehicles down the road that leads into the heart of the city.

Along the way, debris lying by the side of the road made clear the perils of aid delivery: carcasses of trucks baking in the hot sun; dashboards covered in fencing meant to protect drivers; and aid pallets lying empty.

The longer the aid delivery is frozen, humanitarian groups say, the closer Gaza comes to running out of fuel, which is needed for hospitals, water desalination plants and vehicles. Most of the hospitals have been crippled by repeated Israeli attacks.

“The hospitals are once again short on fuel, risking disruption of critical services,” said Dr Hanan Balkhy, the World Health Organization’s regional director for the Eastern Mediterranean. “Injured people are dying because the ambulance services are facing delays due to fuel shortages.”

As the humanitarian situation worsens, Israel is pushing ahead with its offensive. Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has reiterated that any potential ceasefire deal should allow Israel to resume its operation in Gaza. The Hamas group wants an end to the war as part of any deal.

After journalists heard nearby gunshots on Wednesday, the soldiers told the group they would not be visiting the beach as planned.

The group departed the city soon after, with clouds of dust kicked up by vehicles temporarily obscuring the mass of destruction behind them.

The Israeli military invited reporters for a tour of Rafah, which has witnessed widespread destruction since the invasion on May 6. [Ohad Zwigenberg/AP Photo]

Before invading Rafah, Israel said Hamas fighters had retreated there, though it provided no proof for its claims. [Ohad Zwigenberg/AP Photo]

Israel says it has nearly defeated Hamas in Rafah. But most of the city's population is displaced. [Ohad Zwigenberg/AP Photo]

Israeli tanks are seen next to destroyed buildings. [Ohad Zwigenberg/AP Photo]

Israeli army vehicles transport a group of soldiers and journalists. It has barred international journalists from entering Gaza independently. [Ohad Zwigenberg/AP Photo]

Israel says it is close to dismantling Hamas as an organised military force in Rafah. [Ohad Zwigenberg/AP Photo]

Soldiers brought journalists in open-air military vehicles down the road that leads into the heart of Rafah. [Ohad Zwigenberg/AP Photo]

The UN estimates that about 50,000 Palestinians remain in Rafah, which sheltered more than 1.5 people displaced in the earlier phase of the war. [Ohad Zwigenberg/AP Photo]

As the humanitarian situation worsens, Israel is pushing ahead with its attacks. Combat in Rafah is ongoing. [Ohad Zwigenberg/AP Photo]

[kaaaaaaarf]

fic recs!!!!!!!!!! fic recs!!!!!

my unashamedly smutty fic rec is one i forget the name of where i think it’s 7th year watford and simon walks in on baz with a dildo up his arse and then (blushes for an eternity, obviously and then) asks baz to show him about it and it escalates and by the end they’re in love 😍

hahah why hello there anon!!! What an entrance. Welcome to the blog.

You know, I think I have read that fic!! I also can't remember the name of it but 🥵

For you and all the people I have co-opted into reading these books, I will list some of my favourite Snowbaz fics...this is by no means a complete list, but I think about these all the time and have the epubs saved.

Restoration Ecology by @captain-aralias - this is a post-Carry On canon divergent fic and it is EVERYTHING. [Simon has never forgiven Baz for ruining his life at the start of eighth year. He’d hoped never to see Baz again. Ever. But when Baz applies for a position on the Coven, it’s impossible not to hire him. So – now, they’re working together. And as much as Simon wants to continue hating Baz, the dead spots between them are starting to heal …]

This Will All Go Down In Flames by @facewithoutheart - BAND AU! BAND AU! After the fall of the Watford Goats, the two stars get back together to re-record their last album, but they haven't spoken in 10 years...takes place in Austin, TX. I love it. I think about it twice a week.

The Mirrors That Hold Us by @artsyunderstudy - My favourite Simon Snow fic. Honestly anything that Ashton writes is fucking amazing, but this one is Carry On divergent and broke my heart and then put it back together. They are also writing Someone Wicked at the moment and it is SO GOOD. Recommend everything they do.

Rebel Rebel by BasicBathsheba - The rebelverse series is everything to me. It tells the story of what happened in the early years at Watford and then is canon divergent. Sequel Golden Years is just as amazing. For Marauders fans, it's sort of like the ATYD of the Simon Snow series. Sort of.

Hang The Moon by @captain-aralias - Arranged marriage! There is also a sequel. [when the Old Families offer the Mage a deal that will put an end to their conflict, he accepts. Simon hates everything about the deal. (And his life. And he definitely hates Baz.) He’s only going along with his part in it because he’s the Mage’s Heir and he has to. There definitely aren’t any other reasons.]

network connectivity problems by BasicBathsheba - TEXTING FIC! Simon texts a number he thinks is IT. It is not.

Local Hero by BasicBathsheba & breadofgod - football (soccer) au! Baz is a world famous footy star, Simon runs the fan pub in his home town and is his biggest fan. Baz is suddenly back in town, trying to keep a low profile. Enemies (sort of) to Lovers. READ IT.

We Still Bloom by @artsyunderstudy - I couldn't post this list without including this absolutely perfect Hanahaki disease fic!! The art for this is absolutely stunning (as is all the art for Ashton's fics).

Slings and Eros by palmimpressed - This is a WIP but it's so good. It's a loose interpretation of the Eros and Psyche myth.

Unintended by @captain-aralias - Fake relationship trope! They are just best friends pretending to be engaged and are definitely not in love with each other....

Four Funereal Weddings and An American Stag Do by @captain-aralias - AWTWB au. Simon walks out in chapter 10 and doesn't come back. Nine months later, Baz sees him at a wedding. Another one that breaks my heart and puts it together again.

Large Black Coffee by BasicBathsheba - Coffee shop au. Every day Baz comes in to get coffee, and every day he finds a new insult on his cup.

Let My Love Open The Door by tbazzsnow - This is a quarantine fic, but please don't let that deter you. It's so lovely. Baz is a teacher stuck at home, Simon is the delivery driver from the local pub he orders from. They become friends and then some, all through the door of Baz's house.

Paperback Writer by BasicBathsheba - Publishing au! If you haven't figured it out yet, this author never misses. Baz is a junior editor, Simon is an author. [Sir Scone is the bane of Baz’s life. Trite children’s fantasy with a golden hero and ferocious dragons and intrepid princesses. They’re wildly popular, and Baz hates editing them almost as much as he hates the man who writes them: Simon Salisbury, Mage’s pet project author, and also maybe, possibly, the most handsome man Baz has ever met.]

Bite Me by TheWeatherBee - [When Simon’s magic makes a spell out of “bite me” during a fight, Baz finds he can’t eat anything until he’s bitten Simon. Which he won’t do. No matter how much Simon wants him to.] Hot.

5 Days, 5 Nights, All-Inclusive by RooBadly - [Simon Snow (29, single, and working for the Coven) finds himself press-ganged into covering for the usual guide on the Coven's yearly tour of magickal Britain. All he has to do is read from the cards and make sure the same number of mages gets back on the coach as got off. Doable. Until he sees the guest list. And then it's time to sow some chaos.]

This Must Be The Place by BasicBathsheba - This one made me cry, what of it. [Simon is stuck in juvenile care over the summer. He's lonely, disillusioned, and desperate to talk to Penny. But when he makes a Snapchat to try to contact her, he ends up talking to the most unlikely person.]

[klbwriting]

Broken Prism

Chapter 5

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Toddxfemale!Reader

Warnings: violence

Summary: Jason takes a joyride in a chopper

That conversation had gone about as well as Jason thought it would. He frowned; guess he knew her name now. He didn’t hate knowing but was disappointed all the same. But he was used to disappointment, used to being a disappointment on top of it. He was surprised to realize that she was so angry about what had happened. They’d never even met but the venom in her voice, throwing something at Batman despite the fear he inspired in most people, was impressive. He felt a bit of heat in his chest at that, warmth that he hadn’t felt in years. It was nice someone thought he was worth enough to be pissed about his death. He waited for over an hour after Batman left, watching her pace the apartment. Once he figured she wasn’t going anywhere for the night he took off, he had business with Black Mask to attend to.

Black Mask had been able to take control of the city, first time in a long time someone had that much power and well, Jason wanted that to end. He knew the Mask had a delivery that night, some high-powered weapons and explosives, stuff that Jason could use and store up. He would need supplies to give to his friends for what came next. He knew the shipment was being exchanged on a rooftop in New Gotham, one of the buildings Mask had bought up a few weeks ago, the perfect place for a quick drop and dispersal to all his goons in the city. Jason got there early, tying up and staging Mask’s men so they looked ready to take shipment. Then he waited in his own Black Mask approved uniform.

The helicopter set down right on time and Jason approached. The pilot was annoyed, knowing that all of the guys should have been moving, but Jason made quick work of them, leaving the unconscious but alive pilots on the roof. He was feeling generous. Maybe seeing his soulmate made him nicer. Either way he left them there, noticing Batman and Robin arrive just as he was flying away. He had expected this, what he hadn’t expected was for Batman to shoot the harpoon at the helicopter and miss. He must really have been thrown by YN’s questions about Robin. Jason was away before either of the two vigilantes could catch up. He landed by one of his safehouses on the docks, getting the hired guys he had to unload the goods and get rid of the chopper. This was a waypoint for him, and he needed to get moving before Black Mask sent his own guys to take back what he’d taken.

Jason moved through the weapons, selecting the ones he wanted most, loading them into a duffle and leaving the rest for the mercenaries. He was just speeding out of the warehouse on his bike when several cars sped past him, the last one turning to follow him. He manuvered in and out of cars on the road, hearing them getting sideswiped or crashing behind you as Mask’s guys tried to catch up. He needed a place he could turn and shoot, a clear sight of the tires. He had a map in his head, remembering the on ramp that was coming up, get on the ramp, sharp left to turn on the bridge, the bike could handle it with speed, the car would need to slow. Perfect. He shifted gears and zig-zagged between a couple cars at the red light, moving up the ramp. The car behind him plowed through the stopped vehicles, tearing metal screeching behind him. Jason shivered involuntarily, the bike doing the same and he almost lost control. He took a deep breath and refocused, hitting the top of the ramp at a good speed, wrenching the handlebars to turn left. Once he was in place, he pulled his gun and looked at the car that was just getting to the top of the ramp. He fired; his aim true as always. The cars front tire exploded, sending the drivers side down to the pavement, startling the driver enough that he swerved the wheel, hitting the gas instead of the brake, and crashing in the barrier that separated the lanes. The passenger was sent through the windshield completely, landing in oncoming traffic. Jason heard the honking and the tires squealing as he drove off to his farthest safehouse in the Bowery, wanting to put as much distance between Black Mask and himself.

The gear he had stolen had trackers he figured so he dumped them into the river before going to his humble little apartment. It was completely off the books, no landlord, just an old forgotten building that he could squat in for a few weeks before moving on. He sorted and catalogued the new weapons, guns, some grenades, a very nice machete he hoped he could use soon, maybe on Joker. The thought stopped him, and he smiled. Ya, Joker, Jason really wanted to go give him a visit. He stood, but stumbled because the next thought after Joker was off the crowbar hitting his side, tearing flesh so deep he swore he had seen his intestines starting to leak out. He bent double as another vision, his head, smacking on the cement and the distinct feeling of something breaking in there, his brain bleeding. An iron, metallic taste in his mouth as he coughed up red. He closed his eyes, grabbing his helmet. He didn’t know what he was thinking, what he was doing, but he was back on his bike, then he was in front of her apartment. Then he was knocking on her front door. He heard the lock click and came to his senses, turning and taking off down the hallway. He heard her yell after him, her footsteps following him down the stairs. He was outside and on his bike again. A hand grabbed his arm, but not quick enough, he was gone again. What was he thinking? He couldn’t bring her into this. She would be in danger. What right did he have to a soulmate if he was only going to get her killed? He didn’t stop until he reached another safehouse, this one in the East End. He climbed the stairs to his parents’ apartment; laid in the old bed he had slept in as a child and for the first time since he returned Jason Todd cried. He mourned his parents, he mourned the relationship he couldn’t have, what he knew his pesky heart wanted, and then he mourned himself. The child he was that he never got to see grow up.

You had no idea what had just happened. It was nearly 2AM and you heard banging on your door. It was an idiotic move to open the door to a stranger at this time of night in Gotham but even in your sleepy daze you had needed to open it, knowing that someone important was on the other side. You had seen the helmet, the leather jacket. You didn’t even get a word out and he was running. Your feet were bare, and you had no jacket, but you didn’t care, chasing him down the stairs in your pajamas. You thought you had him at the curb, touching his arm, but he took off, making you fall to the sidewalk, catching yourself just before you broke your nose on the pavement. He had come to find you. Red Hood, maybe Robin, maybe your soulmate whose name started with J. Why? Why had he come and just ran like that? You climbed the stairs back to your apartment considering all of this, but honestly, you had no idea.

Did he want to see you? Did he not? Was he in trouble? O for fuck’s sake, why couldn’t your soulmate be just a regular person? Why did they have to be a vigilante that died and came back to life? There weren’t support groups for things like that. Therapy didn’t cover that shit, not that you had insurance to cover therapy. You groaned, climbing back into bed and staring at your ceiling. Tomorrow, you needed to find Bruce Wayne again. You needed more answers.

[fuck-customers]

Strap in, this is a longish one.

My dad has been the general manager at his pizzaria for a few years. He has a workplace rivalry with another manager, a man we'll call Jim.

Now, Jim has Problems. He's been battling leukemia for 10 years, he has chronic joint pains, he's an alcoholic, and he's addicted to narcotics. So, and excuse my language, he's slowly become more and more of a Cunt over time.

When my dad was first hired as a delivery driver, he walked in on Jim having an affair with another driver. Nothing Super Scandelous, he was just resting his hand on her thigh as they were talking. My dad had a tendency to not think abt the things he says, and so he offhandedly mentioned it to the owner, their boss.

You can imagine that this PR fiasco triggered a businessman panic. Jim and the driver were fired pretty much immediately, but they were eventually hired back on.

Ever since dad got promoted to general manager, Jim has been on the warpath. The boss's mom in Iran is dying, so he takes frequent trips over to be with her and help in the death care and preparations, and leaves dad Fully in charge as an extension of himself. Whenever the boss is overseas, Jim activates. It started small, with general defiance and attitude, whenever dad asked him to do things. But eventually, it got worse.

Jim, altho a manager, enjoys doing waitstaff activities because he makes bank in tips. So he's often the one running the floor. One day, dad decided to check on and help a table as he was making his rounds, taking a break from the office. And that's when the pattern started.

Whenever he sees dad at one of His tables, Jim will waltz over and yell at dad for "messing with his tables", undermining him in front of the customer. At first, dad was chill. He obliged, and then pulled Jim aside to be like, "If you have something to say to me, never say it in front of the customer. It's embarrassing." Dad reported it to the boss and continued. The boss reprimanded Jim as soon as he got back, and things were mostly back to how they were.

The exact same scenario happened once more sometime later and went about the same way. But the other day, it was a new level. A woman flags down dad, and says how the waiter brought out everybody else's salads and her dressing, so she assumed he forgot her salad and she'd like to eat it alongside her friends. Dad gets her salad and hands it to her when Jim appears.

"Don't mess with my tables! Her salad was coming out with her sandwich!" Jim grabbed hold of the plate in the woman's hands and began trying to pull it away. The customer was in shock and disbelief as she firmly held on to her plate. Eventually, she let go. Dad calmly took the plate back and walked away, getting to hear the woman tell Jim, in a timid and still shocked voice, "Um, actually, I asked him to get that for me."

Dad now refuses to help Jim with anything or clean up after him. He's gonna play the stupid game, he's gonna win the stupid prize of his job being 10x harder.

We're currently waiting for the boss's trip to be over so he and dad can have a Real conversation about Jim's abhorrent behavior and his future at the restaurants.

[p3nisbutterandjelly]

im interested in how much service labor has just disappeared with the vanishing of the middle class, the gig economy, and a general squeeze on everyone’s life. hotels don’t employ shoeshiners, for instance. restaurants don’t employ delivery drivers. most places have centralized or overseas customer service. department stores are dead, and so are the consultants who worked there. tailors and people who perform alterations are seen as special occasion workers at most, because we’ve done away with workwear for most people, and fashion is cheaper to replace than to repair!

these are now “premium” services that the rich hire specifically, while everyone else goes “there’s an expense I can cut!”

it’s not that these jobs have been replaced by automation, or even really replaced by the gig economy. these are just services that people *do without* or never know they needed. it sucks lol

if anyone has a book or smth about this kind of labor, or a smarter name for this phenomenon, lmk.

[beardedmrbean]

An Alabama family has hired an attorney after one of their dogs was shot and injured Sunday by an Amazon driver attempting to deliver a package to their home outside of Birmingham.

Police in Hueytown, located about 13 miles southwest of Birmingham, declined to charge the driver after determining that he shot the dog in self-defense. But the Kirk family claims that the dog was chained on the porch and that the driver had no reason to be on their property since they had not ordered a package.

“If you notice dogs, why are you steadily walking toward the dog if they’re a threat to you?” Rose Kirk, the homeowner, told WLBT. “If I don’t know a dog, I’m not going to go near it.”

Kirk told Birmingham news stations that she was inside her home with her children Sunday night when she saw the Amazon delivery truck parked outside her home.

Moments later, she said she heard a single gunshot.

In surveillance video released by the family to local news stations, the two smaller dogs, Solar and Lunar, can be seen lounging on the porch of the home as the driver slowly approaches. When he notices the dogs, he can be seen drawing a handgun and shooting Solar as both dogs run off the porch toward him.

"He noticed them, but instead of backing off, he did not back off," Kirk told WLBT, adding that she hadn't even been expecting a package. "He had no reason to be on my property.”

Patrol officers with the Hueytown Police Department were dispatched to Kirk's home and interviewed the driver, who had fled down the road.

"It was reported that the dog was being very aggressive and charged at the delivery driver," the department said in a news release shared on Facebook. "The driver, who was armed, fired a single shot at the dog in an attempt to get away."

"Through the investigation by patrol officers on scene, it was determined that there was nothing more to this investigation rather than a delivery driver attempting to defend himself," the release said.

Kirk family hires attorney

The family rescued both dogs in 2017 from the Birmingham Humane Society, according to WLBT.

Solar survived the shooting, but now suffers from internal bleeding after the bullet entered his shoulder and exited his chest, according to the family. The family has set up a GoFundMe page seeking donations to cover the cost of Solar's veterinary expenses.

The Kirk family has also hired a Birmingham-based attorney "as legal counsel to investigate the matter," according to a statement provided to USA TODAY.

"At this time, the focus of the Kirk family is on the continued recovery of Solar and working to heal themselves emotionally after this tragedy," attorney Travis McCormick said in the statement. "Solar is still recovering at this time from his injuries and remains under the care of his veterinarian. However, the family remains hopeful that Solar will soon make a full recovery and return back to his loving family that misses him dearly."

Amazon said drivers prohibited from carrying guns

The shooting occurred around the same time that a woman in Georgia accused an Amazon driver of attempting to steal her family's puppy from their front yard.

Whether or employed by Amazon or a third party, the company's drivers are prohibited from carrying firearms regardless of state and local laws, Austin Stowe, an Amazon spokesperson told USA TODAY in a statement. Delivery drivers are, however, permitted to carry non-lethal deterrents for self-defense as long as they are legal.

“We are in touch with the customer and we’ve reached out to Hueytown Police Department as they investigate," Stowe said in the statement. "The driver involved is no longer delivering packages for Amazon.”

[apologetic-artist]

DHMIS AU IDEA INCOMING!!

Pizza Parlor Catastrophes AU

(Explanation of the idea under the concept images, it's a long one -_-")

Sketch, Tony, and Colin open up a small pizza parlor called "On Time Pizza Parlor", usually called the OTPP for short. They started the idea at a party, Colin asking people around what they wanted to eat, Tony cooking the food, and Sketch running around handing people the food. It was all an inside joke at first between friends but later became an actual business. They all do their jobs, trying to keep the small place nice, clean, and make sure no one steals anything. They never expected the place to blow up in their area. But, ever since Colin made some promotional stuff on social media platforms and when they opened up their delivery service (which Sketch was the one that usually does all the moving with the food), it got a bit overwhelming for the three. Who else would they hire?

I've had this idea for about 2 or 3 years ago, now I'm thinking about putting it into action, making art and stuff. This was mainly just gonna be something small with the song "Pizza Heros" by Lemon Demon. But, I thought it was a good idea to just make it a whole thing. Also, it's kinda funny, more of a comedy instead of something serious.

Other teachers will be added later on, but I think Larry is just that random friend they have that comes in and tries to take some food for a goof (don't worry, he pays after, it's a normal for him to do this)

(Roles: Sketch = waiter/delivery driver, Tony = chef, Colin = cashier/social media manager)

[sjsmith56]

Trouble, Chapter 7 - Eyes of the Father

Summary: Bucky sends a letter to Lacey via her publisher. Soon after, he is caught.

Length: 5.2 K

Characters: Bucky, Steve

Warnings: Lots of violence

Author notes: The events in this chapter happen from about a month prior to the action in Captain America: Civil War movie up to the flight to Siberia. I have tried to minimize using dialogue from the movie but that is easier said than done so have paraphrased many segments or substituted my own dialogue. There are also some segments spoken in Romanian and Russian. They are in bold case.

<<Chapter 6

✉️ 🏍️

One month previous, Bucharest.

"Iacob!" called the truck driver. "What are you looking at? These boxes won't shift themselves!"

Bucky pulled his attention back to the boxes in the truck and picked up several of them, stacking them on a dolly. He pushed the dolly into the book store while trying to figure out how a poster with Lacey's picture on it could be on full display in the book store window. There had been no time to read the blurb that went with the picture except for the name identifying her as L.C. Chapman. The driver followed him with his clipboard and together he and the book store manager went over the boxes. Satisfied at the count the manager signed the paper on the clipboard and the truck driver ordered Bucky to take the dolly back to the truck.

"You're distracted today," said the driver in Romanian as they both got into the cab of the truck. "I've never seen you this way. We have eight more stops this morning. Get your head on straight, Iacob."

Bucky nodded. "Sorry," he said. "I'll do better."

As the driver went on to their next delivery Bucky thought over the name. L.C. Chapman. Did she get married? Perhaps she chose a new pen name to keep her identity secret, especially if the Russians were still after her. Part of him still worried that he shouldn't have left her but he knew if he stayed the CIA or FBI would eventually catch him, or worse yet, HYDRA would. After work he would go to the book store and have a better look at the display, perhaps buy the book. Throughout the rest of the work day he kept his thoughts away from Lacey and just did the heavy lifting he was hired for. When the truck driver returned to his depot he handed Bucky his time slip and told him to go get paid. It was in cash, which was exactly how he wanted it.

As he jumped on the streetcar that would take him near the bookstore he kept his head down out of habit. His stop came up and he stepped off, walking towards the business, stopping to look closer at the poster now that he had the time to do it. The poster was in Romanian but at the bottom it did say they had English language copies for sale. He stepped inside and looked intently at the book display picking up one of the English copies. He looked at the author information page and was pleasantly relieved that nothing indicated she had married. It did say she suffered from agoraphobia and lived in rural Iowa. He went back to the front of the book and read the summary, smiling that the plot referred to Virginia Woolf. Then he looked at the dedication page and was startled to see the following:

To my brother Tom. I miss you all the time.

To B. Thank you for the inspiration.

        L.C.C. June 2015

He smiled and pulled out some of his cash, paying for the book and walking to the market with it in his arm. Waving at some of the vendors who knew him as a regular he stopped and picked up some vegetables, putting them into the string bag he always carried in his jacket pocket. He heard his name and turned to see the fish vendor. He had a fresh catch in so Bucky picked out a trout and paid for it. The vendor said his name again and handed him something, a picture of himself.

"My daughter was practicing her photography and she took this of you," said the vendor. "I apologize she didn't ask your permission first. Here, it is yours."

Bucky looked at it and nodded his thanks. He thought of asking about any negatives but decided against it. He had a good relationship with the fish vendor and didn't want to sour it over a negative that would likely be in the bottom of a box. Before leaving the market he checked his surroundings, ever on the alert for anyone watching him. Then he took a roundabout way back to the small flat that had been home for the past year and a half. It was still dreary in many ways but it was clean, dry, and so far no one had come looking for him. After preparing and eating his dinner he laid back on the mattress and started reading Lacey's new book. As he read it he remembered something and stopped reading, putting her picture inside the page to mark his spot. He pulled out a journal type book from under the mattress and put a colour coded sticky note on the edge of the page, marking it as a memory from a certain time in his life. It was a memory of him buying Orlando: A Biography at a college campus bookstore with a senior coed on his arm. Her name was ... Edna, and they had a pretty intense physical relationship for the two weeks it lasted. Then he said something critical about the book and she took offence, telling him she didn't want to see him again. He finished writing the memory down and closed the journal.

He had several such journals, full of scattered memories, kept in a backpack that he hid under the floorboards of the apartment. It had been one of the first things he made in that dingy apartment, a hiding place for those precious memory books. The idea for it had come from the hiding place in Lacey's grandfather's house, the one the flash drive had been hidden in. Picking up Lacey's book he kept reading until almost midnight then reluctantly put it away. Stripping down to his boxers and undershirt he laid back on the mattress under the thin blanket and thought of Lacey again, hoping she was alright. Gradually, he fell asleep.

For the next few days he showed up at the truck depot, getting hired on for the day to do all the heavy lifting, receiving his cash wages at the end of the shift and heading out to the market to pick up food to eat. Then after eating he would lay on the mattress and either read Lacey's book or write down more memories that rose through the still cloudy recesses of his mind. When he finished the book after the third day he looked at it.

"Good work, Lacey," he said out loud, smiling. "I hope this one is more successful."

On an impulse he tore a sheet of paper out of one of his journals and wrote her a letter.

Dear Lacey,

I had the surprise of my life when I saw a huge poster of your face in a bookstore window. I returned there after finishing work and bought your new book. Thank you for the dedication but I really did nothing except read some Virginia Woolf in 1941. You incorporated her writings into your story in a way that was brilliant. You persevered and you succeeded. I'm so proud of you.

Obviously, I can't tell you where I am as I am still living under the radar. Every day I find an odd job that pays cash. It's enough to keep me in food, and books. In the centre of the city there is this beautiful market, full of fresh vegetables, fruits and anything else that one needs. They all know me there and keep the best produce for me, knowing that I appreciate it. Of course, I help out there from time to time, as well.

Nights are different. I stay home and read, or write down the memories that keep appearing in my mind. There is no rhyme or reason to them so I have taken to colour coding them with sticky tabs. Red is for war memories, blue is for before the war memories, yellow is for everything else except for sexual or erotic memories, which are purple. The latter often show up at the strangest times but I won't go into that other than to say the memory of our encounter won't ever have to be written down for me to remember.

I still think of that night we spent together. Making love with you was special and I will never forget how you looked when we were giving each other pleasure. There hasn't been anyone since and I'm not looking. I don't expect you to wait for me as I think I made it clear that we likely wouldn't see each other again. If you have a chance for love with a good man take it, run with it, and live it. I want you to be happy.

This seems like the right time to end this letter. I hope you are able to enjoy some success with your new book. I hope you find someone worthy of your love. I hope you are happy. I hope you don't forget me because I will never forget you.

Bucky

Before he could change his mind he put the picture with it inside an envelope and wrote her name in care of the publisher on it. Pulling his clothes on he ran to the small corner store and bought enough stamps for the letter to go to the United States. Then he posted it, tapping the mailbox with his hand before heading back to his quiet and lonely flat.

Three weeks later Bucky went to the market early as it was Saturday, he wasn't working, and it would be busy. As he picked up some plums something didn't feel right, and he looked around wondering why it felt like someone was watching him. Walking away from the fruit vendor he stood for a moment, still feeling exposed and looked up to see a man in the newspaper kiosk staring at him. The man definitely looked spooked and as Bucky approached him the man ran out of the kiosk. On the counter of the small booth was a newspaper with a blaring headline that Bucky stared at, not believing what he was reading. It was his picture and it said he had bombed a UN meeting in Vienna killing 12 people, including King T'Chaka of Wakanda, and injuring 70. He dropped it and backed away, trying not to hyperventilate. Taking his usual roundabout route he made his way to the flat only to find someone inside it. The man, whose back was to him, turned around and Bucky took a sharp intake of breath when he saw it was Steve. He was looking through one of his memory books.

Steve asked if Bucky remembered him. Bucky replied that he had read about him in a museum but Steve wasn't buying it, knowing that Bucky knew exactly who he was and why he was there.  Thinking it had to do with the newspaper headline Bucky said he wasn't there and wasn't responsible for anything like that.  But Steve was insistent that the people coming for him wouldn't believe him and were ready to kill him.

"Can't say I blame them," replied Bucky.  "Knowing what I've done in the past it's a smart move."

He listened to the sound of heavy boots on the roof above him and started turning towards the door.  Steve moved at the same time, trying to convince Bucky not to fight.

"I have no choice," replied Bucky, resigned to what was about to happen.  "If I don't, they'll kill me for sure."

"You pulled me out of the river and left me on the riverbank," said Steve desperately, as Bucky pulled the glove off of his metal hand. "Why did you do that?"

Bucky shrugged not wanting to admit that it may have been an impulse because he wasn't sure if he had really remembered who Steve was at that time.  Steve wasn't buying it but before he could say anything more the GS9 task force started their attack and threw flash bombs inside the room. Almost as if no time had passed from when they last fought together the two men coordinated their response to the attack and neutralized the bombs. As two armed men jumped into the room from the windows Bucky hit one, knocking him across the room to land at the other wall. After Steve dealt with the other he yelled at Bucky to not kill anyone. In response he knocked Steve over, punched the floor next to his head and glared at the man who had been his friend.

"I wasn't planning to," he said grimly, then reached into the hole in the floor and brought out his backpack from its hiding place.

Stuffing his remaining books into it he tossed it out the window onto the roof of the building next door. As more of the task force entered firing away Bucky fought them off and entered the stairwell. Steve watched Bucky methodically fight off attacker after attacker working his way down the stairwell until he had no choice but to jump only to break his fall by reaching out with his metal hand and grabbing the stair railing. Hauling himself onto that floor he ran down the hallway and out the opening at the end jumping onto the roof of the next building, rolling, and grabbing his backpack immediately.

Out of nowhere a man dressed completely in black attacked Bucky and they fought desperately against each other. Steve jumped to the roof while alerting Sam to their location. A police helicopter approached and fired at them until Sam was able to divert it. Bucky continued running across the roof, jumping off down to the ground, followed by the man in black then Steve. From there Bucky jumped down an opening into an underground roadway, running as fast as the cars were being driven. It seemed like every police car in the area was following him as he ran.  Steve was able to commandeer one putting himself ahead of the others. He became aware the man in black had attached himself to his car and tried to shake him but the man didn't let go until he saw Sam approach and leaped into the air, grabbing Sam's feet. Bucky was able to take control of a motorcycle and raced through the tunnel until he came upon a row of police cars blocking his way. Switching to the opposite lanes he weaved through oncoming traffic until the man in black succeeded in jumping on him. They fought on the bike and Bucky was able to temporarily shake him off but he succeeded in catching Bucky again and both men went down, rolling hard against the pavement. Before the man in black could attack Bucky, Steve intervened and the three men faced off against each other as they were surrounded by police cars as the armed officers in them came out training their weapons on the three. Sam was forced down by Colonel Rhodes in his War Machine suit and all four men in the pursuit put their hands up in surrender. Then the man in black deactivated the suit he was wearing, removed his head covering, and revealed his identity, Prince T'Challa of Wakanda.

Bucky didn't resist, allowing himself to be cuffed and transported to a location where he was secured into a reinforced pod that restrained all of his limbs. They took everything from his pockets, even the crucifix that Eleni gave him, worried that he could use it as a weapon. The pod was loaded into an armoured truck where Bucky was accompanied by four armed guards. He never spoke on the trip to Germany, to the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre, but when they unloaded him in Berlin he saw Steve, Prince T'Challa and another man, who he recognized as the one who had searched for him in Canada, exit a police van. Steve made eye contact with him, not looking happy at how Bucky had been restrained but the former Winter Soldier was resigned to his fate. He had eluded the authorities for two years but deep in his heart he knew eventually he would be caught. At least he was alive and for that he had to thank Steve.

As he sat in the pod a man with glasses came in, introducing himself as Dr. Broussard, a UN appointed psychiatrist who was to assess him. There was something not right about Broussard, especially when he began asking Bucky questions.  For the most part Bucky ignored the man until suddenly the power went out and Dr. Broussard took a book out of his briefcase that brought up the metallic taste of fear into Bucky's mouth.  He recognized it as the red book that his Russian HYDRA handler had used and it contained the activation words that would bring out the Winter Soldier.

"No," he whispered, as the man began to recite the activation words that would activate the Winter Soldier, then he began yelling at the man to stop.

The man kept saying the words and Bucky began screaming as he tried to break out of the restraints wanting to stop the man from saying the words. He broke the restraints and kept punching the glass on the pod, desperately trying to break free before the man finished the last word but he was too late.  As he felt his own personality sink down deep into blackness, the personality of the Winter Soldier stepped forth when he finally broke through the door of the pod.

"Soldier?" asked the man in Russian as Bucky rose from the floor.

"Ready to comply," replied the Winter Soldier, also in Russian, his face impassive.

"Mission report," said the man, switching to English. "Tell me about December 16, 1991."

The Soldier made his report and waited for his next orders.  The man told him to hide and wait for Captain America to arrive, then stop him from following. Broussard laid on the floor pretending to be injured. Steve and Sam arrived within moments to the sight of the destroyed pod. Looking at the bodies of the guards on the floor Steve knew the psychiatrist had used the activation words, just like Lacey had warned him. The man sneered at Steve when he was hauled up from the floor, saying he wanted to see an empire fall. Suddenly behind him Steve heard the sounds of Sam being attacked.  Turning he saw Bucky in the persona of the Winter Soldier picking Sam up and throwing him across the room. Advancing towards the Soldier the two men fought, punching each other as the Soldier forced him backwards to the elevator door where he pushed Steve through, making him fall to the bottom of the shaft. As Sam and Steve regained their senses the fake psychiatrist escaped while the Soldier made his way to the main floor atrium where anyone who tried to stop him was brutally beaten back.

T'Challa fought him and even he was thrown to the floor as the Soldier went up the stairs towards the roof. A helicopter strapped into a set of secure locks was unclipped by the Soldier, then he opened the door to the cockpit and started it up. As the aircraft began to rise into the air Steve burst through the door to the roof and approached the helicopter, grabbing its landing skids and forcing it down. Increasing the thrust to take off forced Steve to hold on to a welded steel frame on the edge of the building.  With all of his strength Steve held it with one hand and braced his feet while grasping on to one of the skids with the other hand. Unable to take off the Soldier grimly directed the helicopter towards Steve, attempting to kill him with the rotors. Steve avoided injury by dropping and the rotors were destroyed when they hit the roof, grounding the helicopter. As Steve rose to look inside the cockpit a titanium fist came through the glass and fastened itself around his throat with the determined face of the Soldier trying to complete his mission glaring at him the whole time. Leaning into the destroyed helicopter Steve was able to force it off the building and into a canal beside the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre. The impact jarred loose the Soldier's hand and Steve watched as the Soldier was knocked unconscious. Reaching inside, he unstrapped Bucky and swam underwater with him to rise to the surface in a different location.

When Bucky came to he felt terrible. His head rang like a bell but when he moved he found his titanium arm clamped in a large industrial vise. Looking around he realized he was inside an abandoned warehouse and wondered if HYDRA had succeeded in getting their hands on him. The black man who he recognized earlier called out to Steve and they both came into the space where Bucky was confined. He murmured Steve's name and his friend looked at him carefully wondering out loud if he was still the soldier.

Bucky told Steve his mother's name was Sarah, then grinned when he recounted the memory of Steve filling his shoes with folded pieces of newspapers in a desperate attempt to appear taller.  It brought a smile from Steve's face, as it was something that wouldn't be in a museum.  It was a memory only they shared.  Sam, wasn't quite convinced but took Steve's word for it that the Soldier was gone, for now.  It got serious when Bucky looked anxiously at Steve and asked what happened. By the look on Steve's face Bucky realized that the activation code had been used on him to bring out the Winter Soldier.

"The words are still there inside my head," agonized Bucky. "Anyone could say them and I would have no choice but to obey."

Steve asked about the doctor who had activated him but Bucky had no idea who he was. Steve chastised him which Bucky remembered him doing growing up when he thought Bucky was trying to pass the buck. Bucky tried to remember then it came to him.

"Siberia," he stated. "He asked about Siberia, when I was kept there."

He felt almost sick as he remembered what was in Siberia and he told the two men there were more Winter Soldiers, more dangerous than him, kept in a cold storage facility, waiting for the day when they could be awakened and unleashed on the world. Steve released him from the clamp of the vice and Bucky told them everything he remembered about the other Winter Soldiers, comprised of a highly trained Russian death squad. Sam, who Steve had finally introduced properly, realized they were unlikely to get anyone to believe them about the others. But he and Steve knew they were going to need some help. As Steve and Bucky listened Sam made a couple of phone calls. Help was on the way.

After laying low overnight they found an older Volkswagen Beetle and Steve hot wired it, to the amusement of the other two. Steve drove them to an underpass where a government issued vehicle waited for them and he got out of the Volkswagen. A blond lady exited the other vehicle and opened the trunk, revealing Sam's Falcon suit and Captain America's gear.

"That's Sharon Carter," said Sam, sitting in the front seat. "She's related to Peggy Carter. You knew her, right?"

"Yeah," replied Bucky. "She wouldn't give me the time of day. Only had eyes for Steve. Can you move the seat up?"

Sam glanced back. "Not happening," he replied bluntly.

Bucky reluctantly moved to the other side of the back seat. He wasn't sure he liked this guy, Sam. Steve and Sharon kept talking and he suddenly pulled her towards him, kissing her tenderly. Then they pulled apart and Steve began taking the gear out of the trunk. He looked back at Sam and Bucky who both just smiled and nodded their approval at him. From there they drove to an airport parking structure, going up to where a large white van was parked. Steve pulled up next to it and an older man, identified as Clint, got out of the driver's seat. He looked sharply at Bucky but Steve shook his head slightly and Clint said nothing to him. A young woman, Wanda, came out of the passenger seat then Clint opened the back of the van revealing a stranger to all except Sam. The stranger sleepily sat up and saw Steve, coming forward and shaking his hand eagerly before he saw Sam. They greeted each other and Bucky figured they knew each other. At that moment an announcement in German was broadcast across the airport. Bucky listened and turned to them.

"They're ordering the evacuation of the airport," he translated.

"Get ready," ordered Steve.

Shortly after they were at the tarmac where a helicopter arranged by Clint waited for them. Steve ran to it but was intercepted by two men in metal flying suits, Iron Man and War Machine, realized Bucky, remembering them from HYDRA briefings, as he watched from the terminal with Sam. As Black Panther, a red headed woman, and a kid in a spider costume also appeared Steve explained that it was the psychiatrist who triggered Bucky. He tried to tell them about the super soldiers still in Russia but they weren't going to listen and he knew it would come to a fight. In his comms Sam told Steve where the quinjet was and the battle lines were drawn. Bucky stayed with Sam in the terminal but the kid in the spider costume kept them busy, surprising Bucky with his strength when they briefly fought one on one. Eventually everyone squared off against each other outside and Sam realized that a sacrifice had to be made, making it known to the others on their comms. The goal was to get Steve and Bucky to the quinjet. Everyone else was expendable. Clint agreed with Sam and they changed their tactics, resulting in Steve and Bucky making it to the hangar where they were confronted by Natasha, the red headed woman, who looked vaguely familiar to Bucky. Like Clint she also looked sharply at him.

"Promise you'll tell him," she said to Steve. "Promise, or I won't help you."

"I promise," said Steve. "I'll tell him everything."

She aimed her taser weapon at them then shifted it to hit an approaching Black Panther repeatedly and disable him long enough for Steve and Bucky to get into the quinjet and get it started. T'Challa tried to grasp hold of the landing gear but they were able to take off and he fell to the ground. Steve set the course and turned on the autopilot before looking steadily at Bucky.

"What was she talking about?" demanded Bucky. "What do you have to tell me?"

"There's no easy way to tell you any of it," said Steve, "so I'll start with a name. Lacey Williams or as she is known now, Lacey Chapman."

Bucky looked pointedly at Steve. "How do you know about her?" he asked anxiously. "Is she alright? Did the Russians...?"

"She's alright," said Steve, putting his hands out to calm Bucky. "She lives on Clint's farm with his family. Her and her son."

Bucky said nothing at first but as he realized Steve mentioned a son he looked stunned. "Her son?" he asked. "When did she have a baby?"

"About nine months after you left her," said Steve. "He's your son, eight months old, has your blue eyes and looks just like you."

"No, that's not possible," protested Bucky. "She was on a pill. I'm sterile from all the shit HYDRA pumped into me."

"Not as sterile as you think," said Steve. "It must have worn off because she found me a month after you left and asked for our protection to keep her and the baby secret from the CIA and HYDRA. She lived with us in Stark Tower until we were attacked there. Long story. Clint's family lives on a farm that doesn't legally exist. He offered her his protection and she took him up on it. I was with her when Tommy was born."

"Tommy?" repeated Bucky, still not completely convinced.

"She named him Thomas James, after her murdered brother and you," replied Steve. "I'm the one who called him Tommy. As soon as he was born I knew he was your son."

Steve reached inside his uniform and pulled out a flip phone. He opened the photo gallery and brought up a small photograph of Lacey and Tommy from a couple of weeks previous. Then he handed it to Bucky. The dark haired man sat back, peering at small pictures of a baby who had his eyes and the blond woman who found herself pregnant after he left her. Flipping through the gallery of pictures he looked at all the images Steve had taken of the baby from the day he was born to the most recent. He handed the phone back to Steve looking at him steadily.

"I have to make this right," he said. "As soon as we get that doctor you have to take me to the States so I can make it right with her."

"It's not the 1940s anymore, Buck," replied Steve. "She made the choice to have the baby, to keep it and to raise it herself. She wants you to get right for yourself first. Get the arm replaced, get the activation words out of your head, and get treatment for all the torture you suffered. I think she's right on this one. She's a strong woman and she'll wait for you."

"That's not how we were brought up," replied Bucky, raising his voice. "You know that. How can I leave her on her own while she raises my son?"

"She's a successful novelist," replied Steve, "and she has more money than you or I have. She'll be okay, I promise. She wants you to be well before you're together again. I'm pretty sure she wants a future with you, if you want the same."

Bucky sat there, contemplating everything then looked at Steve with resignation on his face. "Alright," he declared. "We get the doctor and then we find someone who can take this thing off. I'll go for treatment. Once I'm better, I'll see if she still wants me."

"Do you want her?" pressed Steve, trying to gauge how Bucky felt about her.

"Yeah," he replied after a pause. "If I had met her before the war I would have married her. She's the one."

Steve grinned and patted Bucky on the shoulder. When Lacey had first told him about being with Bucky he had been concerned that she was just a one-night stand but Bucky's admission that she was the one gladdened him. Not only for Bucky's sake but for Lacey's. She was worth the commitment and he would do all that he could to make sure they were reunited.

Chapter 8>>

Series Masterlist

[unjest]

since im in a 'reviving my old oc storylines' kick shout out to the mad max-adjacent post apocalypse caravan storyline i developed and abandoned and probably WONT be reviving ever but i still think about sometimes as my first ever Big Major Story that i actually tried developing.

so the conceit was that at some point theres this collection of genetically engineered creatures that were made to be able to adapt to any enviornment on deployment to act as like. bioweapons. but the world sort of ended before they could be really utilized.

so now that things have settled down a bit theres a handful of scattered communities that are managing to get a foothold, but theyre so spread out that they need to have delivery drivers between the different settlements. So theres a bunch of trading caravans that consist of gangs of people in old cars. And they need protection because the roads between the settlements are pretty lawless and theres roming bands of people specifically looking to raid these trading caravans.

at some point the genetically engineered creatures i mentioned before (i used to have a name for them but i forgor) were recovered and deployed. And there are these extremely durable and dangerous creatures around, but since they were MADE to work with people they can bond with a handler. So it makes it realllly desireable for both trader and pilot caravans to have handlers in their crews because these things ARE in fact capable of taking down cars single handedly.

so the actual storyline follows a handler whos animal is like. A tiny lizard he found. Like its DEFINITELY one of the freaky experimental animals but its teeny tiny and the guy has no fucking clue why its Like That. and theres a caravan who had a handler die and left their animal handler-less. So circumstances happen and the guy accidentally ends up bonding with the caravan's animal despite ALREADY being bonded with the lizard. so now he has two bonded animals and the caravan wants to hire him as their new handler.

And so the guy takes the offer and hes hiding his lizard both because he kinda accidentally on purpose implied that he used to have a big impressive animal that died in a freak accident or some shit and doesnt want the caravan to know that his animal is both still alive and also a tiny lizard. And as things go on hes kind of an outsider to the caravan and everyone is treating him like a stranger but theres Another Guy who doesnt look like he fits in (like. hes wearing a nicely tailored suit in the middle of a mad max apocalypse road trip) but everyone inexplicably respects and admires, and this Other Guy takes the first guy under his wing and is like his first real friend. And they go through things and the guy ends up bonding with the caravan as a whole and a bunch of shit goes down

and as the Big Reveal the other guy gets extremely badly wounded but then just Is Fine and it turns out. that the other guy was secretly The Same Thing as the freaky strong engeneered animals. and this is obviously a Big Deal and also very awkward because by that point theres significant romantic tension between the main guy and the other guy. And the main guy has a crisis of like. am i just some sort of freaky animal whisperer. Is this why he likes me. Would it be weird if i dated something thats the same species as my pet lizard. And theres some bullshit science explanations of why a thing could become either a tiny lizard or a car-killing superdog or just a Normal Guy and wether this makes things weird. And i dont think i ever figured out how it ended

[mellohirust]

yknow i'll forever be pissed that you're basically fucked in america if you can't drive. no way to get money if you cant drive to work. cant live without money. most of the jobs hiring are delivery drivers anyways. you want to schedule an interview and you now have no way to get there. if you carpool then it still wont matter because jobs want flexibility and reliable transport and unfortunately you dont have that and you wont. medical issue that prevents you from ever driving? damn! sorry. get fucked boy. uber? what are you gonna pay them with? you have no job because you cant drive, idiot! i hate it here