#only worked half day at the cost of overtime

[katzenkarussell]

Today I’m having such a fucking good day 💖💕💞💗💖

[hidden-poet]

Commander Snow

Summary; Under the advice of Dr Gaul Coriolanus returns back to district 12 where without blinding light of lucy-grey he could see you.

Warnings; dead dove to do not eat, stalking, unrequited love, breeding kink, violence, possessive!Snow, unco/dubco, sexual content, she/her pronouns.

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Chapter 2

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The next day you move yourself and your mother to a friends house. Where you both sleep on the floor in the living room. It costs you half a panem a night but it was still a better living arrangement then laying awake until the yearly hours of the morning wondering if a peacekeeper would knock down your door.

You keep your head down. Going straight from work to the house. It seemed to pay off. Your neighbor had reported that the parcels had stopped after a peacekeeper had noticed it was the community and not the intended taking it.

You don't hear from Commander Snow. There was no summons or arrest order made for you.

It leads you to relax bit. He had probably moved on to another after realizing that you would not sell yourself for a pardon and a weekly box of food. You knew many others would, and you wished them the best of luck with their endeavor with Commander Snow. But your nature pushed away such opportunities. You couldn't even tell him you weren't interested to his face. Fear only played a part in that decision.

It was late now as you walked home from you job. Later then usual as your boss had offered you overtime to clean and organize the cold room. You gladly accepted with the added cost of your stay at your friends house.

Four shiny coins had been placed in your hand before you had even done the job. You couldn't believe she was willing to pay this much for such a simple job. You wondered if it was repayment for all your years of hard work for her.

You were never late, always made sure your jobs were done to a standard of excellence, you even stayed back to help train the new people.

All your hard work was finally being rewarded. You made sure to leave the space the best it had ever been.

The money was at least a month's work.

You hadn't written to your brother in so long due to the cost of the paper and shipping fees but now with your extra cash you could reach out.

You make the journey to the stationary store, getting in just before close and go around the back of the building. Using the flat wall as a writing pad.

Your brother had gone to district 8 after influenza swept through killing half their work force. They had asked for volunteers to relocate. Many young men offered. The pay was higher in district 8 as the Capital had a great need for the fabrics and manufacture that it produced. Your brother was picked being effortlessly strong and healthy.

The day he left was the worst day of your life. You miss him terribly, only communicating through letters which were expensive and took ages to find its way to its destination.

You tell him how much you miss him, and worry about him over at district 8. That your mother is well, and prays for him every night before bed. You thank him for the money he sends when he can. Telling him of your own good fortune with the coins, and how he was to spend his half on a cold drink if he could get one, and a night out on the town.

Your pen stills as your thoughts turn to Commander Snow. Should you tell your brother of the strange officer. He was always protective. Would he try and come back to district 12 for you. would they even let him.

You decide not to. It would only worry him, and in his worry he would make rash decisions. You would not be responisble for his harm.

Instead you reiterate how much you miss him, and warn him to write back soon.

You drop two of the coins and the pencil back into the envelope, sealing it shut and stuffing it in your pocket. It was too late to ship it off. You would have to wait until tomorrow.

You felt scared walking back to the house with the money as if people could sense it in your pocket.

You remind yourself your being silly as you walk through the road dividing the streets. There was no one else out at this time. Only you, and you were nearly to the safety of the house.

There was no street lamps in the districts. The only light coming from the houses you pass. You try to remain in the light but sway slightly into the shadows as you reach the steps of your accommodation.

You scream as you feel hands upon your skin. One going around your mouth to quiet you and the other pulling you back against the house.

"Sh sh, Its just me. It's just me. You're safe".

You feel your kness tremble as you pin the voice to a face. Commander snow stood before you, using his body to press you up against the side of the house. His chest pushed against your shoulders, his leg pushed between yours and melded to the wall behind. He kept his left hand on your right shoulder to keep you still and only removed his right hand from your mouth when you went mute. Who would you scream for that could do anything any way.

With his body pressed against yours in such a tight manner, he had free use of his hands.

You weren't getting out from under him, even you realized that. You looked for guns or knife on him but found nothing in the light the moon and surrounding houses offered. He didn't wear his official Capital issued Commander uniform. Instead he dressed down in high waisted black pants, and a long sleeved cotton shirt. He still wore his dog tags and army boots.

'So this is were you've been hiding, hm?". He ran his knuckles along your cheek bone, and you shuddered from his touch.

"No, Sir".

"yes, Sir. I left boxes at your house like a fool".

You could tell he was upset with you.

"It's fine. You'll be back there tomorrow to take the food in. Did you go through my first box i sent?"

You nod your head and a smile appears on his lips.

'What did you have first?". He pushes back a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"My mother had a apple" You torn it from her after her first bite.

"i asked what you had first". He pressed his body harder against you.

"We haven't touched the box otherwise, Sir. We can give it back to you. We can compensate for the veggies and the fru-"

He was not happy with your answer, cutting you off.

"Ungrateful brat".

"Sir, we never asked you for it and we don't have money to pay for it"

"You're welcome" his pointer runs along your nose, "I can't have my partner in crime going hungry. Now can I".

You shiver from the familiar way of speaking. You did not want the Commander of district 12 to have a nic-name for you.

"I ought to go inside. They are waiting for me".

You try and move away, thinking he would release you. His cover would be blown if they take to looking for you.

He does not, choosing to place his hands around your neck. Not showcasing his great strength but resting in warning. His thumbs press gently into your throat.

"i think they can wait a few more minutes. Don't you?".

You nod as much as his hold would allow you to. You felt as if he was all around you. With his body wedging you flat against the wall, you felt as if you were sharing the same breath.

"you're ok" He repeats, "i am not going to hurt you".

"Perhaps it would put me at ease if you stepped back a bit, sir"

He shakes his head, "You have a habit of running away".

"You have a habit of appearing out of no where".

You can see him grin under the dim light. That was intentional, He always wanted you to feel as if he was always watching and could turn up at any moment.

"Can you make me some more of those oat bars?"

"Ye-yes" you stutter.

"Do you have the ingredients?"

"yes" you repeat.

"Good. Bring them to my office the day after next".

"Yes, Sir. Can I go now?"

"I haven't seen you for nearly two weeks and you're so quick to run away?"

"'Sir, please I Have to get inside". away from you.

"Why were you so late getting home?" he ignored your plea completely.

His thumbs circles on your throat.

"I had to work back" you admit.

"And then?". He already knew that wasn't the full story so you confess you brought some paper and took some time to write a letter.

"A letter?" he asks, "A letter to who?".

"My brother. He went to district 8 for work".

You gasp as he releases you. Giving you a least two feet of space.

"Lets see it" he demands.

With shaky hands you pull the crumpled letter from your pocket. He grabs it before you could hold it out to him.

He rips it open, and pours the two silver coins into his hand, tossing them around.

"My coins".

"My coins" you state, taking a step forward, "For my over time"

Surely he wouldn't find it appealing to take your coins from you. He was commander Snow he didn't need any money in district 12. He could just take. There would be no one to stop him.

"And where do you think your boss got the coins to give you for your over time. Where's the rest of them".

It was a set up. Not hard work and luck that gave you a few extra coins. But an odd infatuation from the officer.

You pull the rest from your pocket showing them to him.

He scoffs, "i gave her eight , she gives you four. I expected her to take two, but four. Does your district know no limits to their greed".

He mentally leaves his sweet girl out of the picture. She had received four and was willingly giving 2 away. He was sure you would also give your mother one and spend the rest wisely. Tigress always brought him new clothes with her overtime. Using old curtains to fashion her own.

You hold out your hand for him to take the coins back.

Much like his tigress, You were giving what you had to him.

"If I had known" you start.

"The point was that you didn't know". He snaps.

You still hold out your hand for him to retrieve the coins.

"Keep them. You earnt them".

You pocket the change. You had really earnt them.

He balls your brothers coins in his fist and moves out more into the light to read your letter. You were so glad you decided to leave Commander Snow out of it.

he reads fast, flipping the page and going on to the next in a matter of seconds.

He nods satisfied that it was in fact a letter to your brother and not a lost lover, before he folds the letter back up and places the coins back in the envelop.

"I'll mail it for you" he offers but you protest at the thought.

'I'd prefer to do it, Commander".

"You don't trust me? After everything we've been through, and the secrets we share".

"No-I-" you were thankful he interrupted you again, unsure of your own sentence.

"We're friends, right?"

You nod having the feeling it wasn't truly a question.

"Friends do things for each other. Let me to this for you".

"It's too big of an ask" you try again. You reach for the letter but he pulls it back.

"You could", a step forward had you going back, " do something for me to ease your conscious".

He moves towards you again until you were once again pressed up against the wall.

"What?" you breathe.

His hand cups your face, and his body braces itself against yours before his lushes lips capture yours.

The kiss is deep and hard, Barely moving off before coming back for more. His tongue licks at the bottom of your lip, sucking gently when you don't let him in.

He repositions his head to a tilt, keeping his top lip pressed against your bottom as he does. He comes back with full force, your head knocking softly against the wall from the force.

"that" another small kiss presses against your lips. A quick peck to your sealed lips.

You turn your head in case of another one, and his hand on the side of your face follows.

He digs into his pocket, pulling out two coins and pressing them into your hand.

"Take the coins. Buy yourself a new dress"

"I don't want-"

He sh's you.

"take the coins, buy the dress and stop avoiding me".

"Thursday" you remind him, the day after next.

"Yes, Thursday. Don't forget. Tomorrow if you can".

The house across the track opens its door and an middle aged women appears throwing a bucket of dirty water over the terrace. Coriolanus shrinks into the shadows until she return back inside.

"Go inside" He demands, stepping back. You rush away from him not looking back as you run into the house. But you feel his stare upon your back.

The next morning two peacekeepers knocked on the door to drive you and your mother back to your house, leaving you with a large basket of food.

'What have you done?" Your mother asks you behind closed doors.

"I am not sure" you reply honestly.

-----------

You make the worst batch of oat meal bars you've ever made and deliver them to the compound.

You were almost sure you were going to be shot as you approached the gate but they must have been expecting you, opening the gate as you neared.

You had tried to just give the basket to the Peacekeeper but he demanded that you go inside with him. You follow him through the large estate.

Peacekeepers old and new were everywhere. Some without their uniform giving them an almost human look. They eyed you as you passed.

They thinned as you reached a stunning white building made of stone. Everything else was structured out of metal so you knew that the building only housed the most important people.

It wasn't any less busy as people ran about you with stacks of paper. It was loud inside the walls. People talking to each other as they walked, some yelling down a telephone. None of them even glance at you or the peacekeeper you followed.

He leads you to a large oak door, twice the length of you, and he knocks three times.

"Come in" you hear Commander Snow call.

The peacekeeper opens the door but makes no attempt to enter the threshold. You do, and the door is immediately closed behind you.

"You couldn't make it yesterday?" he asked crossing his desk to join you in the center. You hold your basket like a protective shield.

It kept you distanced as places his hands on your shoulders.

'i had to go to work" You explain and you push the basket to his chest, attempting to rid his hands from you.

He does take the basket with a small hmm before returning to his desk. He places the basket down and digs for a oat bar. As he bites down you could tell he could taste your lack of effort.

Still he eats it without complaint as he pours coffee from a tray into two mugs. He motions for you to sit down but you were itching to go.

"I should go" you state.

"Sit" his mouth was full with the oat bar.

You do sit but don't drink the coffee offered. You notice that he had better looking biscuits on his tray.

He leans against the desk next to you and takes another big bite of the bar. His eyes wonder down to you where you sat anxious twisting your ring.

"What's that?" he points with the oat bar down.

It was only a small metal ring. Thin pieces of twisted metal in a circle. So small most people never even noticed it.

Your brother had given it to you on your nineteenth birthday as a congratulations for not being selected for the hunger games.

He obviously knew it was a ring, and you obviously knew he was really asking who gave you that.

"A gift from my brother before he left". You stop twisting it to draw attention off it but it was too late.

He finished his oat bar, dusting his hands clean from the crumbs before standing up to full height.

"Give it to me".

You shake your head no. It was the last thing you had of him.

Still Coriolanus held his hand out expecting.

"It's very dear to me, Sir".

"I'll take very good care of it".

You look up at him with pleading eyes, his softens but he doesn't relent.

"You can give it to me or I can take it", he warns.

You almost cry as you twist it off your pointer finger and place it in his palm.

He flips it around his pinky finger, and wedges both hands between his knees.

"There's sugar there if you want it".

You stand up angry.

"I don't want it. I have to get to work".

You attempt to storm off but he catches you with a firm hold on your upper arm and a hand wrapped around the side of your face.

Under his strong fingers you remember your anger could get you killed.

"Don't be upset with me" he pleads.

"I ain't upset" you remark although you eyes brim with tears, "They dock my pay half if i am even a minute late. I have to go".

"I'll walk you to the gate". You wait for him to take the lead.

You find the walk back less busy as people avoid the Commanding officer. He twists the ring in the same anxious manner that you did. He wanted to say something. Offer something in return but could think of nothing that would compensate.

It's too late by the time the journey ends. He pulls open the gate and the Peacekeepers facing forward don't turn.

You could feel his hand on your back and it shoots you forward. He remains at the gate watching you flea from him.

No one asks you why you're crying at work. So long as you are doing your tasks they don't care.

----------

On Saturdays you have a stall in the markets selling your baked goods. Your friend helps you when she has the day off for a portion of the profits.

Today it was sunny. Hot but with a nice cool breeze. People flooded through the stalls. Your cakes sold great, even better with the fresher ingredients from Coriolanus box.

You could sell the oat bars with chocolate on top for nearly double. Chocolate was rare in the districts. Most people had never even tasted it before.

Coriolanus was doing his rounds letting a younger officer with great potential shadow him for the day. He freezes when he saw you.

He had walked these markets two or three times before, Had you always been there? He must have walked past you and your stall and never even noticed. Fate has a mysterious way of working. He was now certain that it pushed you into the compound due to his ignorance while on duty.

You looked beautiful in a white top and tight blue jeans. You had your hair covered in a bandana again and wore your normal work boots.

He put his helmet back on in case you looked over and saw him. He was sure you were still upset about Thursday, and he didn't want to spoil your good mood.

The young solider followed suit. Hiding from sight without question. He might survive district 12.

You laughed with your friend who sat on a milk crate to eat her apple. At her feet lay a brown sack filled food. She quickly closed it to avoid being robbed but Coriolanus had already seen it.

He tightened his hold on his rifle. No doubt it had come from you. from Coriolanus to be more correct. He agreed to feed you, even if that meant feeding your mother too, but he did not agree to feed your friends.

Your next box would be smaller.

A school group blocks his view of you as they pass, and Coriolanus refocus to his surroundings. He sees a young boy, no more then 6, dilly dallying behind the rest of the group. He goes up to each stall looking at what they had to offer before slowly making his way to his class.

He was going to be left behind at his current rate.

"you see the young boy in the red shirt?'' Coriolanus asks his soilder.

"Yes, Sir". The boy flexes his shoulders as if the child poses a threat.

''When he reaches that cake stand, I want you to push him over".

He pats the boys shoulder urging him to go. He looked confused but followed command going over to a nearby stall to yours and pretending to look at something.

The young boy skips two stalls to come directly over to yours. His eyes go round at the sight of the chocolate oat bar.

Your smile gets wipped off as the boy is knocked to the ground. You glare instead at the Peacekeeper who made a lap back to Coriolanus.

The boy screams and crys at his scrapped knee. Coriolanus ducks behind a large pillar as you round your table to pick him up.

You were talking to him, soothing him as you rocked side to side. He reacted positively wrapping his little arms around your neck.

Coriolanus bangs his head against the piler. That was the reaction he was hopping for. To see you in a nurturing state as you consoled the boy.

"is that what you wanted sir?" his solider stood in front of him, and he pushes the boy out of the way. He had blocked the view of you carrying the child and setting him on your table.

You reach behind the crying boy and offer him a chocolate oat bar. His crying almost immediately stops.

"yes. Good. Go back to base and have the rest of the afternoon off solider".

The solider is ecstatic at the news, and with a "thank you, sir" he was pushing himself back through the crowd.

You were talking but he wasn't sure if it was to the boy or to your friend. He wished he knew what you were saying.

You had taken off your bandana and wet it with you water bottle to wipe the blood off his knee.

It was so natural for you, he thought, to care for others. Once you got comfortable enough, how would you care for him, he wondered.

Would you baby him as you babied this child if he got hurt.

he shuffles back realsing that he had itched forwarrd as you picked up the child again. You gave him another bar to eat. He was certain you were talking to your friend this time, looking squarely at her before you took off after the school.

The primary school was located at top of a large hill. Away from the noise and violence of the district.

The young boy clung to you as you walked. His chocolate hands getting over your white top as he licked the icing off.

Coriolanus followed you out of the markets. he waits until you were away from the crowd before picking up his pace to you.

The young boy catches Coriolanus' eye and begins to struggle in your grip, pointing at him. The big scary peacekeeper was coming your way.

You tighten your hold and spin to face him.

You looked shocked to see him.

"Commander Snow, sir"

A formal greeting to someone who had you pinned to the side of a wall four night ago.

He smiles at you. Trying to distract you so he can move closer to you.

"I saw" he says, "and I've come to help you return the lost boy"

"I'll be fine on my own, sir"

"I insist. You never know who lurking around. My job to keep you safe".

Coriolanus was not speaking from his station as commander.

"Do you want me to carry him?" Coriolanus offered looking at the large hill.

"No, no" the boy begs, but Coriolanus reaches for him anyway.

You turn away, curling your body around the child.

"No. It's ok. I've got him".

Coriolanus was sure you were going to struggle getting up the hill with the extra weight. If the boy was only a sack of potatoes, he would have just yanked it from your grip. But you looked so good with a child on your hip.

You could always swap half way if you wanted.

"It's ok, darlin'" you rub soothing circles on the boys back, making Coriolanus jealous, "we're gonna get you back to class".

We're. we. us. The partners in crime.

He bucks his chest out with confidence.

You begin your journey up the hill, and Coriolanus was right. Not even half way up and you had to shift the child around to your front to distribute the weight. Coriolanus goes to take him but you reject his offer once again.

"He's alright" you insist.

The child rests his head on your chest, his eyes staring at Coriolanus as if to say ha ha.

He was about to suggest you perhaps just let the boy walk, but you beat him through the silence.

"Are you following me?"

"i was showing a new candidate the patrol routes. I just happened to have seen you with the boy, and wanted to help you get him back to class as per my duty".

Close enough to the truth.

"And lydia's? how did you know i was staying there?"

His unclips his helmet and attaches it to his rifle.

"I asked around". Threated your neighbors.

You fall into silence again and this time it was Coriolanus who brecks it,

"Are you going to share everything I give you with others?"

You scoff at his words, ''saw me with the child, hey?'".

He grabs your arm to turn you causing the boy to wail again.

'You might find I am a lot more closed fisted if I can't be certain it's actually going to you".

You tear free and bounce the boy in your arms.

"shhh baby. It's all ok'' You smooth his hair back, cradling him to you.

You step away from the scary peacekeeper as you and the boy talk. You soon compliance him back to a settled temperament, and Coriolanus steps back over to you.

He doesn't mention the sharing again. He would wait for the journey back. He found himself childishly annoyed when your attention went all to the small boy.

You huff as the boy gets heavier in your arms but Coriolanus doesn't offer to take him again. He'll let you struggle.

"Why do you feed people you don't know?" the boy sucks on the remainder of the oat bar, slopper getting all over your shoulder.

You don't answer. He calks it up to the physical labor.

"The prisoners, the boy" he pushes. He leaves himself out of the list. You both feed each other because you innately knew each other. You were partners in crime and partners in crime look after one another.

"Who's to say I don't know em".

"I assure you after I was done if the prisoners knew you they would have given you up. They didn't know".

He half regretted his sentence seeing you tense up. But he was sure he left a impression of a strong, powerful man. You just needed to get over your guilt first to see it.

"We look after each other in District 12. It may not seem like it to you but these are good people here".

You looked after people here, he wasn't so sure that they had the same loyalty back.

He had seen enough flips and crumbles to know that for the right price they would feed you to him.

He wanted to tell you this. To set you straight, and show that he was the only one looking out for you. But he knew the information would upset you and he had already done that once this week. He would save it for another time.

You struggle up the hill, puffing out gratefully as the small school house came into view. A large tree marked the boundary, upholding a wire fence around the small metal huts.

You turn to Coriolanus, "I think the gun might scare them".

He take his large rifle off his shoulder and leans it against the tree. Your face still read of your displeasure.

"it might just be best if i go on with him".

He looks to you and then back to the school. He could still see you if he stayed underneath the shade of the tree.

'' I'll wait for you here then''. The gun is slung over his shoulder and he takes its place against the tree.

The boy watches Coriolanus over your shoulder as you walk with him.

You call out to the teacher frantically recounting her children.

"hey, I think you're missing one!". You place the small boy on the ground and wave goodbye to him as he runs over to his teacher, complaints of his sore knee spilling from his mouth.

Turning back to Coriolanus, your smile disappears and your pace that was slow with the child picked up to a near sprint.

He straightened up as you came near but you walked straight past him without looking.

"Do you want children?" He matches your pace

"No" you spat, "never".

Maybe if you met the right man, he wanted to say. A man who could protect them.

But he swallowed the words. This situation was new to him too. He didn't want to make promises he would later not plan to keep.

"You should reconsider" he says instead, "I think you would make a good mother".

You were naturally a very warm and loving person. While others walked around the crying boy you picked him up and nurtured him.

Coriolanus remembered a time in the war he had gone out alone in search of food. He found only hungry dogs, who chased him through the ruined city.

"Help!" he cried, looking back at the fast approaching beasts.

His foot catches a large pothole in the ground and he is thrown upon his face. Sure he was going to get eaten he calls out for Tigress but it is a large man that appears at name.

He bangs the lids of trash cans together and shouts angrily at the dogs, scaring them off.

A savior, he thought. But dropping the lids and turning to Coriolanus, the man didn't cradle the boy to his chest as you had but reached for his axe under his coat and swung it down.

He had managed to roll out of its path and get to his feet just in time.

The man was slower than the dogs, overcome with starvation. Coriolanus could disappear between the buildings. He remembered as he hid in rubble while waiting for the man to pass, how sacred he was.

It was one of the core memories that haunted him to this day.

oh how he wished that someone like you had found him instead, but he wasn't sure people could be like that anymore. He wasn't sure how through all the misery and pain you could remain so soft. He wanted to sink his teeth into your flesh and have a taste.

"What would be the point. Loving someone only to watch them get killed in the hunger games".

You feet come down hard, channeling the anger you couldn't express.

"The chances are small. There are over 300 families in district 12".

He just wanted to hear you say you would like children. The picture of you big and round while rocking a boy the same age as the lost child seemed to be getting hazer as you resisted.

"You should ask Milly May, or Harrison Flint if their chances seemed small".

This years tributes to the Hunger Games. They both died the first day. Milly May the first hour.

"Motherhood looks good on you. Natural" he tries again.

You stop in your tracks, turning to face him.

“I can’t give you what you want. No matter how much you try and sweet talk me or buy me. It won’t be given”.

It didn't matter, was the first thought that appeared in his head.

"I don't want anything from you. In fact, it's been me that's been giving. Food. Protection. All to have it spat back in my face".

Your eyes float down the hill. The beginning of Town was still a little while away.

"I understand, sir. Perhaps your efforts would be appreciated more else where".

It was a gentle let down but resulted in a harsh strike.

His hand came down upon your cheek, almost knocking you to the ground. You stumble off balance, looking up at him.

The anger on his face morphs into disappointment. Before he could reach out for you, you take off running down the hill.

You might be beaten for your rejection.

You feel his hand brush against your shoulder as he tries to grab you but you avoid it.

Pushing yourself down the hill as fast as you could go. But it wasn't fast enough.

He tackles you to the ground, crawling on top of you and securing both your wrists with one hand.

"I am sorry, I am sorry" he holds the side of the face he stuck, smoothing it over, "I shouldn't have done that".

You trash under him, screaming.

His soft hand retracts from your face to take off the rifle from his shoulder, he sets it down next to you.

His dog tags had made their way from under his shirt and now dangle over your face. You can see he had added your ring to the chain.

''Let me see" his hand returns to your jaw, forcing it to the ground on the other side so he could inspect your cheek, "only a little bruise".

He lets your head go back to its normal position, and you're left looking in his eyes.

"What I do, I do for you. Okay? not your friends, and not for anyone else. Do you understand?".

His hand reaches up going to your palm and enclosing your curled hand with his. He held himself up with his hold on your wrists, and with the other now pressed over yours, all his weight bore down on you.

The weight upon your hands hurt.

"Yes, Sir".

"If I find out you've been sharing again. I'll hang them for thievery".

You give two little nods.

"I understand, Sir. It won't happen again. Please, let me get up".

He hops off you. choosing to crouch at your feet as you sit up. He notices your shoe lace untied and begins to pull the laces tight and loop the knot back up.

You sit there stunned as he picks up his gun and rises. Offering you a hand you take it and he pulls you up.

The journey down the hill begins again. His hand reaches out to keep you in pace with him when he feels you propelling down.

You reach the bottom in a comfortable silence and stop at the foot of the hill.

"We can't be seen going back together. It will put a target on my back".

You were right. The district scum might harm you if they thought it would get back at Coriolanus.

He nods in understanding.

"You go ahead. I'll follow". He gestures forward.

You go quickly back to your stall. He tries to keep focus on you but your short stature gets momentarily lost in the crowd.

You reach your stall and go straight back behind it. Your friend is standing next to you talking in a worried hush tone when Coriolanus reaches the table.

You don't look at him as he takes one of the chocolate oat bars and continues walking back to the compound.

It tasted dry in his mouth, he didn't like that you were still baking for others, you were going to have to shut down your stall.

-----------

Coriolanus stood upon the platform at the hanging tree, having it checked for bombs twice.

The gate was swung open for the public, and every available peacekeeper was present and armed.

The convicted all formed a line. Being hung one by one for dramatic effect. The families of the dead being forced to stand at the front of the audience so they could grab their sons/brothers/ cousins shoes as Peacekeepers dropped him and restrung the rope.

Coriolanus forbid traditional burial for traitors of the country. Families would have to settle for burying the shoes of their deceased love one while their bodies are cremated and sent to Dr Gaul's office as decoration.

"Phineas Hightower. Sentenced to death for consorting with rebels and making plans of an attack. Disturbing the peace of the district".

Coriolanus read into a microphone that fed through the town.

A young man approaches. 30 at the most. He didn't look scared as the others did. No tears or pleas of innocence. Coriolanus almost respected him.

The man kicks off his shoes as he steps upon the box, and a loud cry of grief overtook the space. The mockingjays echoed it out.

Peacekeepers were on the old women, presumably his mother, fast. Focus must be kept on the fate of the traitor, and not on the cries of mothers.

The old women reaches for her sons shoes but is shoved before she could reach them. She pleas with the officers taking her to the back, but they are like statues as they manhandle her away.

Coriolanus could now see tears spring in the eyes of the young man. A befitting end for a capital traitor.

He gives the order to continue the show. They ready the man for execution.

More commotion is heard as the crowd readjusts to let someone through. He looks to see you making your way through the crowd to the front.

Had you come to see him. Watch him as he took life. Does the power fill your belly with excitement to know that the same hands that caressed you now commanded death of another.

You wanted to make yourself known to him. To let him know he had a friend in the crowd. You had dressed pretty for him back in your clothes you wore for your vaccination. A nod to your secret bond.

You left the bandana off, letting your loose hair fall around your shoulders.

But no. You don't come to his side of the stage. You rush to the soon to be dead man.

You grab the shoes, just as the box is kicked. You squeeze your eyes shut and bring them to your chest.

Coriolanus steps back to the guards behind him.

He nods in your direction, "Take that girl to my study. Make sure she doesn't leave".

Coriolanus hears the body drop, and the Guard move to catch you.

You hadn't moved since the rope stretched. You stood there eyes closed and shoes to your chest until you felt hands upon you telling you to move.

You look back at Coriolanus on the stage to see him looking down at you.

The rage in your eyes matches his.

---------

Coriolanus makes a trip to the bathroom to wash his face and make himself more presentable. He takes off his official hat, and unbuttons the top of his jacket.

You had been waiting for him for nearly an hour and a half. Having to wait for the rest of the hangings to finish, the crowd to go home, the peacekeepers to sweep the area and the final report from all leaders to Coriolanus before he dismisses them for the night.

He untucks his chain from his neck and holds your ring in his hand.

You were still his girl. Just unshaped still.

Placing the hat under his arm he makes his way to you in his study. The Peacekeeper stood guard at the door.

"You can leave" he tells the man, before entering.

He sees you shoot up from the chair as he closes the door behind him.

You had been crying. He could see the tear lines still wet on your face.

"What were you doing at the hanging?". He storms over to you. He was giving you an opportunity to satisfy him.

I was there to see you but the women upset me. He wanted you to say.

"Leave me alone. i have to get these shoes home" You try and push past him but he shoves you down into the chair. Resting his weight upon the arms of it as he leaves over you.

"I've told you once, associating with rebels will get you hanged".

"his mother won't have a body to burry. She will have his shoes".

It was the first time you hadn't called him Sir in a conversation.

He wanted to slap you until you did.

But his hands were busy taking the shoes from you.

"Now she won't have shoes either. She can burry a memory".

You push the chair back to escape him. He could tell you wanted to hit him. Your fists balled and your stance was ready to swing.

"Come here" he demanded. It gnawed at him that you were upset with him. He was only doing his job.

"Give me the shoes" you demanded.

He drops the shoes to the ground.

"come and get them" he taunts.

You seem hesitant but you do, bending down at his feet to retrieve the shoes.

He grabs your jaw once your knee height and you struggle against him.

"Tell me I am taking good care of you" He pushes down as you try and get up. "Tell me how handsome I am".

You weren't truly mad at him, only overcome with emotion, he assured himself. But he too felt heavy after hanging days.

he had wanted to rest in your arms, similar to the boy with the scraped knee. But you offered him no comfort.

This time you do strike him across the face. He shoves you away and you scramble far, taking one shoe with you.

He begins to laugh, would every comfort be denied to him. No, not you.

"Don't you ever touch me again. You stay away from me from now on".

He was going to make you regret ever saying those words to him. You were going to give him every drop of kindness you held even if he had to wring it from your body. he deserved it after everything he had been through. You were his reward for it all, and by god he was going to have it.

But not now. Now he opened the door for your freedom, watching you run out.

He would make sure you came crawling back. Telling him you wanted his great care again. Telling him how handsome he was.

He would have you all. How much pain you wanted to go through first was entirely up to you.

[fallingdownhell]

haii may i request the sumeru men with a people pleaser so?

Love this! As a people pleaser myself, I know how hard this can be. Still, hope I did a decent job with this.

Characters Included: Tighnari; Cyno; Kaveh; Alhaitham; Wanderer

Content: gender neutral reader; established relationship; some comfort and fluff

Word count: 2k words

Have fun with this<3

Tighnari

he understands you want to help people

he really does... but when it comes at the cost of your own health and well being, that's where he draws a line

Tighnari watches you as you go around doing anything people ask of you, always a smile on your lips

but he sees behind that smile, sees the tired expression you so desperately try to hide

He knows you want to make people happy.. but there's got to be a line. Sometimes, one has to prioritize themselves

But when you remain unwilling to stand up for yourself, he steps in to take over for you. Enough is enough!

When he sees you taking on the work of someone else yet again, he decides to step in

He takes you away from the situation, making up some excuse about needing your help with something before he drags you to his hut by your hand

You protest against him at first, but when he didn't budge at all, you knew to just accept your fate. After all, Tighnari can be quite stubborn if he wants to be..

As you arrive, he instructs you to sit down on the bed, which you oblige to while he goes and makes you a quick snack, since he noticed you haven't really eaten anything all day. You had even skipped his top tier breakfast..

He literally watches you like a hawk, making sure that you eat at least half of the food he made before he tells you to lie down and relax

You try and protest again, but he's firm in his resolve

With a sigh, you comply. And as soon as your head hits the pillow, you notice just how exhausted and drained you truly feel..

Tighnari looks at you with an expression akin to "I knew it". He lied down next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he just held you like this..

"You don't always have to make everyone around you happy. You need to think about yourself and your own well being from time to time as well. You need breaks, just like everyone else needs them. Rest for now, my flower. I'll watch over you.."

Cyno

Cyno's an interesting case...

He wouldn't notice that behaviour in you at all at first. And once he does, he admires it first and foremost..

People were always afraid of him... they were when he was younger still.. and they are now, thanks to his status as General Mahamatra..

He finds it fascinating that people come to you to ask for your help constantly.. he can't even imagine what that would be like for him.. there would definitely be some underlying jealousy from him at the start

But.. overtime.. as the people ask more and more of you and you growing more and more stressed and tired trying to do all of them justice, did he finally see the downside to that kind of life..

Especially when it's affecting such a kindhearted soul like you, who can never turn anyone down for anything

after reaching that point, he starts to keep an eye out for you, making sure that you're not overworking yourself too much. But he wouldn't step in just yet, believing that you'd know your limits yourself

So, he just watches, as people come running to you again and again, asking you to fulfill simple tasks for them that they could have easily done themselves

it's not until much later does he realize that these people are only exploiting you and your kindness. To be fair, he only knows the extreme examples of such behaviour, so he didn't immediately recognise it with such "small" acts

but as time goes on, as he sees just how tired and exhausted you get, he starts to get worried himself

he's constantly asking himself why you wouldn't just turn those people down. He really doesn't understand it

But what he does understand is that you need a break. Urgently.

so without waiting any further, he goes into action. Cyno knows your usual schedule like the back of his hand so he knows that he has some time on hand

he goes to the market and buys all the ingredients for your favourite meal, which he promptly cooks you for dinner. After you've come home and eaten the food, he insists you take a nice, relaxing bath

after that, he gives you a nice and long massage, relaxing all your muscles perfectly. And once that is over, he cuddles you for the rest of the night until you both fall asleep

He's seen how hard you were working these last few days, so he wants you to know that he appreciates you and that he wants to help you unwind from time to time

"I've seen how these people treat you... you and the kindness you show them. Remember that it's okay to say No to them every now and then. You don't and can't always be responsible for everyone. You need to look out for yourself more. But for now, relax, my Lotus. Relax and let me take care of you for tonight."

Alhaitham

At some point, you became the unofficial librarian of the house of Daena

Not because you wanted to or applied for the job.. you just spent a lot of time in the library so you know where most of the books are. And people come to you when they need help with literally anything, because you never refuse to help anyone

At first you were happy to be able to help out a few struggling students, glad you were able to guide them in the right direction

But soon, word spread around and people came flooding you every tile they spotted you within the house of Daena

What was once a nice interaction and an exchange of information soon became an overwhelming amount of people bombarding you with questions

And even though it became too much for you very quickly, you didn't have the heart, not the opportunity, to turn them down

Much to the displeasure of someone else, as well

Though your boyfriend loved the House of Daena and to spend time with you here, he didn't appreciate people flooding you like that, taking time away he would usually spend with you and just being generally very loud

And since he knew you would never turn anyone down, he had to do it for you. He did not care what people thought or said about him, his reputation already being not the best. But what's it to him?

And today especially.. people were just so damn pushy and demanding towards you. It didn't sit right with him..

He watched you for a bit as two students were heavily debating something with you, raising their voices slightly. He noticed you growing uncomfortable in the situation yet still not saying anything

Deciding that he had to step in at this point, he walked over to you and simply took your hand, pulling you along with him without uttering a word

The two students were yelling after you, but he didn't pay them any mind. You weren't protesting at all, simply following him along, because you already knew why he did that

After he turned a quiet corner within the Academiya, he turned around and pulled you into his arms, engulfing you in a comforting hug

"I told you so many times.. you need to learn how to turn people down. They'll walk all over you otherwise. Please don't take this the wrong way, I'm just concerned about you. ...How are you? Feeling better?"

Kaveh

Oh boy...

this is quite the difficult situation, because Kaveh is such a big people pleaser himself

You two are constantly looking out for the other, reminding them to take breaks and to take things easy

you are both great at giving actual good, helpful advise. But when it comes to following them yourselves.. both you and Kaveh need to hone that skill much more

you constantly keep an eye out for him, as he does for you. Kaveh knows the telltale signs when you get exhausted and he always tries to gently remove you from the situation to get you to lie down when he sees them... which works for the most part

but he's often away on trips for his work, so he's not constantly around you to keep you safe from your own self destructive behaviour

when that happens and he returns from a trip a few days later, he finds you utterly exhausted and tired, about to collapse while standing up

he quite literally forces you to sit down or lie down while he makes you some simple food, mostly soups and such

and every time, you promise each other to look out better and to take better care of yourselves... only for that promise to be broken a few days later, letting the cycle begin anew.

Kaveh knows that things can't keep on going like this, something has to change. Something has to change, right now!

So he sits you down for an honest talk where he plays with open cards, sharing all his doubts and worries with you

It's an emotional talk, many tears from both you and him flow, but in the end, you both agree that you can't keep going like this, unless you want to destroy yourself completely

it will take a lot of time and effort, but you're sure that you can do this. You can do anything with Kaveh and his support by your side to help you back on your feet when the world tries to push you down again

"I know how hard it is.. you want to he helpful, you feel like that's the only way you can accomplish something in this world. But overworking yourself is not the right way to do this. Listen to me and listen to yourself. You are also important. So please, start treating yourself that way."

Wanderer

Hates it. Absolutely hates it

But not for the reason you might think

well... At first, at least

you see.... his issue in the beginning is how much time it takes away from your shared time together

every time you're out with him, even just for a walk, people come up to you, either engaging in conversation or asking favours of you

at the start, he only scoffs and shoots nasty looks at those people, but he does not interrupt, since he doesn't want to come of as rude to possible friends of yours

but he's still annoyed beyond anything that your attention is taken away from him

after he gets over the inital feelings of annoyance and anger, he begins to notice a pattern every time people approach you with a request in mind

he begins to notice your little hesitance before accepting the request, notices how your shoulders slump just slightly after they walk away without even giving you proper thanks

so, he decides to observe further... and boy, does he not like what he sees

because the longer he watches this unfold, the more rage he feels building up inside him

why were those pesky humans always coming to you for such trivial things? And why aren't you turning them down? In fact, he hasn't seen you turn down a single person so far..

of course, as he keeps on observing you, he notices you growing more and more tired the longer this keeps going

until one day, he just has enough

it happened when you two were out for a nice stroll in the evening and someone was approaching you yet again

something in him just snapped when he saw that familiar expression in their face

he quite rudely and loudly just stated a firm "NO!", taking your hand in his and just pulling you along with him

you did not protest against this, partly because you were surprised and a bit shocked by his strong reaction

he took you out of the city, to an open field where he sat down with you, watching the stars up in the sky

he kept quiet for a long while, and you also kept quiet, not knowing how to best tackle this situation

but as it turns out, you didn't have to do that at all

"Idiot... going around and letting yourself get expoited like that. What would you do if I weren't here to look out for you, huh? Just... be more careful. You don't always have to agree to anything, you can just say No to them. It's not that hard... But if you can't do that.. let me know. I'll do it for you."

[mixtapedoh]

How about lonely boy, lee know, and forced proximity?

@eclliipsed — i am thinking of you, specifically while writing this <3

;༊ — lonely boy

pairing: lee minho x gn!reader genre: fluff, office setting word count: ~3.6k warnings: language, situational stress, han is here stirring the pot, a startling amount of homicide jokes

olive’s notes: a unique challenge of writing lino fic that i did not before account for or even conceptualize is that when i think of said silly little stray kids cat boy, i think of him almost 99% of the time as 'lino' and like 0.9999999999% of the time as 'lee know'. lee minho? you mean the actor? it's not clicking up here, asdfghj. all that's to say, if i make a mistake and call him lino instead of minho, i'm so sorry, feel free to stone me in the square on whatever day is most convenient for you <3.

☄. *. ⋆ lee minho x forced proximity...

— society, as a collective, just loves their 9 to 5, right?

i mean, if it were actually a 9 to fucking 5, maybe you wouldn't be screaming, crying, throwing up, gnawing on the iron bars of your enclosure.

— but haha, as a general rule (collectively agreed upon at some point, or perhaps no one agreed so much as they were browbeaten into submission), more than society loves their 9 to 5, they love their workplace grindset culture.

gotta get those financial gains, amirite?

— which is all to say, you were simply enamoured, quite totally besotted with, completely captivated by and hopelessly devoted to your demanding, grueling, parasitic life-force of an office job.

and people had the gall to say you didn't have romance in your life.

clearly, they hadn't seen the zeal and devotion with which you dedicated yourself to your company issued computer, stacks of files, and white-walled cubicle.

after all, regular hours simply weren't enough for all the worship you had within you — you simply had to have both your mandatory overtime and your Implicitly Dictated and Oh-So-Reasonably Expected overtime hours as well <3 you did want to keep your job after all, and job security is such a silly little thing <3 corporate culture really is just soooo romantic in that regard <3 complete and utter devotion <3 commitment almost pious <3

until you managed to break away from the curse of Living in a Society and could live without bills, debt, responsibilities, more bills, more debt, and the desire for silly little (but financially substantial) hobbies to make this existence of yours worthwhile, your love affair with your job would simply have to stick.

— which made for the perfect little soup you were currently mired in. a thick broth of learned helplessness seasoned with intense loathing, a dash of interest in low stakes coworker drama, a sprinkling of compulsory people pleasing, a garnish of yes man energy, and an optional mix-in of untapped, constantly simmering rage.

so, of course you were best friends with han jisung.

— the universe really did do you a solid when they placed han jisung in the cubicle next to you.

perhaps the only employee that hadn't succumbed to the incessant humanity-sucking leech affectionately called a company, jisung was the only one who kept you sane when you were 56 hours deep in your work week and considering moving to a homestead on alaska where you would likely not even last a whole 72 hours — but, hey, you would at least get some sleep at the end of it when succumbing to the effects of hypothermia, so it didn't seem that bad of a gig, really (jisung always offered to cover half of the down payment cost, but at the end of the conversation, he'd just buy you a coffee and the two of you would call it even).

— and being friends with jisung was, all at once, both a blessing and a curse.

(because this is corporate living and existence is a fucking nightmare ~°~♫⭒~꘎ )

— poor excuses for jokes in your company chat box, sticky note battles during days when the mundane tasks you were assigned were mind-numbing enough to fell the strongest of corporate warriors, the constant "i owe you" back and forth when one of you went on a coffee or vending machine run and grabbed something for the other, and, of course, juicy gossip during your lunch break — all of these were the positives of being jisung's partner in captalist crime.

— but on the other hand, should either of your work be wanting in any regard... well... accountability is a word long enough to stretch between two.

— which led you to your current state of affairs.

"the next time you forget to delete your 'tongue-in-cheek' speaker notes on the powerpoint we're submitting for review from higher ups, i'm breaking your fingers so you can't type them in the first place."

but of course jisung just turns it into a joke about a hand kink.

— your punishment for 'distasteful' jokes left in the margins of official company output wasn't anything too severe — bless whatever cosmic force made it so that the generally easy going mr. ok taecyeon was the one to see jisung's fuck up, and not someone less forgiving — but it meant the next few weeks would be hell in the form of grunt work.

see, your company was expanding in the industry, and it meant that the building you were currently working in wasn't big enough to house all the ✨aspirational goals✨ it was just starting to believe in. thus, the majority of higher ups were going to move into a new office building... and for some ass-backward reason, so, too were all of the archives.

and someone had to go down there and box it all up, making sure it was properly labeled and in order.

sure, the company was just head-empty enough to have the desire to move physical archives to a new office building. but at least they wanted it all in order before they stuck it in a different dusty basement.

— the very first day you went to the basement and saw the sheer level of work the two of you had in store, you locked eyes with jisung and just knew that fucker was going to find some way to get out of it.

— on your lunch break you tried to beat him to the punch and defend your honor against the soul crushing weight of undue punishment. but alas! you had already taken vacation days in the last month (damn that kpop concert - did you really have to be that devoted to your ult group??) and han hadn't had a day off for the last 6 months.

how the hell did you end up doing the punishment work for actions that weren't even (mostly) yours?

han jisung better move to that alaskan homestead after all, nowhere else would ever be safe from your wrath... once you got out of this basement, of course.

— the most you were given was help in the form of lee minho — who would have thought that he of all people would be your saving grace?

maybe he'd help you plan jisung's murder. they were friends, true, but anyone who was around han long enough would not be opposed to plitting his demise. it was part of his elusive charm, after all. everything wonderful about him also lent itself to fodder for plotting his demise.

convenient, really, given the circumstances you were in.

— but back to lee minho. perfect performance lee minho. always last to leave the office lee minho. infuriatingly not suffering from looking chronically fatigued or daunted, overwhelmed, or simply fazed by the overzealous work culture you found yourselves in, lee minho. curt and focused but lacking of an edge that would make him unapproachable lee minho. impossible to pin down, the vitruvian man of corporate dreams, somehow the bosses favorite despite failing to do any of the sucking up some of your other coworkers engaged in almost religiously lee minho.

he didn't frustrate you; he didn't even really baffle you, but he didn't exactly occupy your brainspace in a way that could be described as indifference, y'know?

maybe this was something you could blame of jisung, too. he always talked about minho an ungodly amount, waxed poetic about how it was a shame that minho worked in a different department — how the two of you really would get along famously, but damn, if he couldn't convince either of you to spend any of your (perhaps two (2)) hours of off-duty life in the same place at the same time.

social lives, after all, were laughable, where the both of you were concerned.

— the day you walked down there and saw minho already elbow deep in a filing cabinet seemingly older than your parents (which, lamentably, was the worst organized filing cabinet you'd ever seen, and was regrettably representative of 95% of the work ahead of you), you laughed out loud and took the moment to convince minho to take a picture for you, so you could tell jisung that he was missing the Historic and Long Anticipated Meet Up, and that was the moment you realized that you were so deep in the basement, phone service was a pipe dream.

it wasn't a concern, really — you were both benefiting from the random employee benefit of free spotify premium, so your downloaded content was enough to get you through the long hours of organizing and packing, and hey! being in the basement meant no one really expected any more out of you than your required hours and whatever mandatory overtime you had left to complete.

— so really, jisung had been stupid as hell to avoid this punishment. it was effectively less work than you were used to (though tedious) and you were far enough away from your desk that the thought of the work piling up in the world above wasn't eating at you that much (at least not any more than usual; workplace anxiety and you were well acquainted, at that point <3)

— and minho! — god forbid you say anything complementary about that bastard han jisung while he left you (more than) 6 feet under, doing work that was, by many rights, his punishment — but he had been right when he said you and minho would gel.

he didn't disturb you, for the most part, but working in the same space for full work days with nothing to do but listen to podcasts and check the dates on dusty files meant that Annoying The Only Other Person In Your Vicinity became a welcome distraction from wallowing in the fact you were moving at a pace slower than desired. and he responded quite well to any question you threw his way - no matter how brain-dead, invasive, or embarrassing. in fact, he'd hit something back - put the ball in your court in a question almost more ridiculous, leaving you to question how jisung hadn't forced the two of you together sooner (but fuck jisung; all my homies are blaming this comedy of errors on jisung and are in this basement actively plotting his demise).

— and it didn't take you long to realize charming minho is almost exactly like getting a neighborhood cat to endear itself to you.

pspspsps at random (bat a stupid ass joke his way);

give him space but respond to his random bids for attention;

have a snack drawer (one of the first emptied out file cabinets furthest to the back of the archival area) and occasionally offer something sweet as a reminder that the snack drawer exists and is for joint indulging;

entertain him with logic puzzles and psychological warfare;

and, of course, shit talk your coworkers and company.

indulge the cats desire for destruction and mayhem; tell minho that whenever he was ready to put in his two-weeks, you'd be right there beside him and would run the paper shredder all night while he corrupted the files.

exist calmly and comfortable in the cat's space; work so well in tandem that you began anticipating the movements of the other.

spend quality time with the cat; both of you begining to wordlessly take your lunches at the table in the archival basement, instead of going all the way back up to the cafeteria, choosing instead to chat with each other and indulge in the other's niche interests and stupidly staunch opinions on poor pieces of media.

slow blink at the cat; catch yourself staring for a bit too long when he doesn't notice you looking, your thoughts getting all muffled and sappy as you become wholly fascinated by the slope of his nose and the softness of his big, dark eyes that look perpetually half-bored at work but sparkle with intelligence and mischief when you call out his name — lighting up with interest and disguised delight as that lazy, gummy smile makes it's way onto his features, eyebrows quirking upward, already expecting a challenge and...

— wait... what was that?

— is there absestos in the company walls, and that's why they decided to randomly move buildings? is there lead lining these filing cabinets? black mold in the ceiling? were you perhaps inhaling narcotics in this dusty ass air and hallucinating something vivid?

you were not developing a crush on someone just because you were stuck in the basement with this fool for going on two weeks now and hadn't seen another good looking coworker in quite some time. this wasn't some kind of drama where the ceo has a strange delight in forcing company employees into situations laced with ✨sexual tension✨. you weren't a main lead suffering from romantic withdrawals. remember your leech of a company. you have no time for shit like that.

— but, i mean, if you're never out of the office, perhaps finding romance in office is a solution...

shut the fuck up, you and minho weren't even in the same department. that point was moot.

— because damn, maybe asbestosis really was getting to you, and that's what was knocking the wind out of you any time minho smiled. yes, certainly the absestos in the walls was what was informing the way your heart constricted whenever the two of you brushed hands passing a file between you. maybe you should sue your company and have some hospital use you as a case study. maybe all the distracted daydreams was a new symptom of your newly contracted deadly disease.

see, that would make sense. you weren't catching a mean case of crushing on your forced proximity coworker, you were simply dying. because of the absestos.

— but even still, the day both of you piled all the boxes of (appropriately lableled) filing into a work car, and minho drove you over to the new building, the fresh air didn't seem to be a cure all. you were still a little more than distracted by his messy hair and black sunglasses... his concentration on the road... his pushed up sleeves... not to mention his hands wrapped around the steering wheel.

(but of course you'd snap out of your thoughts when you remember that joke jisung made about your supposed hand kink at the beginning of all this nonsense. shut the fuck up, memory ghost jisung. you don't know shit. you and minho had already talked about it and were coming for his broke ass the day he had the courage to step foot in the office again.)

— yeah, haha, you weren't crushing on lee minho because of a comedy of errors you had never dreamed would befall you in the first place. working alongside him hadn't woken anything in you. certainly not.

— and yeah, haha, you'd definitely be able to hide this from jisung when he came back. not a problem at all when he asks you about how sorting archives went (he had the gall to bring it up every five minutes — taunting you with the fact that he got to have 4 days off and was then reassigned to do answer all the emails that had piled up during his time out of office. yes, he had picked up some of the work originally meant to go to you, but still. a veritable traitor who deserved your absence from your usual lunch dates. and yes, it was hard to be slick when he'd bring up your casual absence from lunch — were you finding minho's company to be more than enough? — but you'd manage. like hell were you going to give the smug bastard satisfaction after he made you atone for his and also your crimes.).

— and yeah, haha, you'd would definitely be able to explain to a suspicious and put out jisung why you were canceling anime re-run night with him to instead go with minho to this hybrid cat-and-comic-book-cafe he had mentioned never being able to get a reservation for, despite living two blocks away from it. silly little things like that would be easy to wave away, right.

it's like, totally platonic for you and minho to meet up on your only day off to spend hours lounging at a cafe retreat together where you cooed at semi-sociable cats and joked about adopting and co-parenting the one who enjoyed wearing cute hats, and read comic books for hours and order food to share and have low-stakes debates about the best tropes and characters of shared beloved media.

it's not like that whole set up is incredibly date coded.

and it's not like it would become a recurring habit for minho to invite you to do things with him that would have jisung waggling his eyebrows even as you pleaded innocence and smacked him with whatever quasi-weapon you just so happened to have on your desk (mostly file folders and your favorite cat themed mini calendar).

— haha... it wasn't like you were down bad and incredibly bad at hiding your crush.

...right?

— you fool. you absolute buffoon. han jisung could smell your lies and poorly contained crush from thousands of leagues away. even if you weren't shit at hiding it, he would have known. he could have actually been on that remote homestead in alaska and still picked up on just how brain dead you were over your crush. you thought you were slick? when han jisung has a doctorate in anxious suspicion and twelve master's degrees in the art of bullshitting?

hell, he knew you were going to fall in love with minho before the two of you even met. why do you think he'd wanted to connect the two of you in the first place? because he thought you two needed a social life? please — he knew going in that putting the two of you in the same room was horrible for his self preservation; he knew it was practically undermining company goals because your joint productivity would fall 2000% and the amount of cat memes you two would send on company time would increase so exponentially, you'd both resort to making your own memes using your company paid subscription to adobe creative cloud; he knew that the two of you were almost scarily well matched and equally devoted to drinking your refusal-to-believe-i-can-be-loved-romantically juice.

he knew that you and minho would develop glaring crushes on each other and wouldn't do a damn thing about it beyond smoothly flirting for an afternoon, inviting the other out on dates-that-aren't-dates and promptly fake-gagging and denying in a manner almost theatric that you might *gasp* enjoy the other's company in a way not-so-platonic, only to do it all over again. a vicious cycle of 'stop feeding the rest of us lies and just kiss with tongue already, damnit.' and he knew all of your coworkers would be caught in the middle of it.

— which they were. for, like, a solid five months.

— now, it wasn't too bad, considering the fact that you and minho worked in different departments, but anytime there was cause for collaboration, suddenly you were clambering to be considered, no matter the intense workload or the way the task was slightly out of your wheelhouse. suddenly, it seemed you were incredibly eager to learn and prove yourself.

at first, your team leader was overjoyed. initiative? drive? a seeming zest and fire for more commitment? say less and do more! marry yourself to the dumbass collaboration with the other department! perhaps this could mean freedom for their long suffering servitude under the corporate thumb!

but then they saw you flirting with minho and making plans to spend an afternoon together at a book signing while still on the clock. and while they're not opposed to a bit of misuse of company time (vive la révolution contre les régimes capitalistes, and all that), it was a bitter and sobering pill to watch that shit happen daily while not getting any yourself, and then stomaching the fact that these clearlly love-struck fuckers won't admit their own transparency-set-to-0% feelings and put their chronically-single corporately-suffering coworkers to rest. either say you're in love and just be done with it or take the rest of us out with a shot gun. goddamn.

it's like a sitcom's mind-numbingly over-the-top valentine's day special. someone make it stop.

— and it didn't take a genius to connect the dots and realize that the employee responsible for all of this was han jisung.

after all, he's the mutual friend between them. no doubt he talked about the other constantly in glowing terms. no doubt he planted the seed they'd be a match made in heaven. no doubt he was the one to blame.

and! wasn't it his fuck up that forced you and minho to work together in the archives to begin with?

maybe killing han jisung wasn't going to make you and minho confess to each other, but it would be some kind of catharsis for the people who were stuck in this hell of Watching You Two Take Your Sweet Time With It.

— so jisung had to understandably think of some kind of plot. after all, the two of you were his best friends, but to hope that you would admit your feelings for someone to save his livelihood? don't be ridiculous. the both of you were quite happy with the flirting stage, as it currently stood.

— how to get your stubborn friends to admit their (very real and very reciprocated) feelings for each other... when there's no external or even internal pressure (on them, at least) to do so... jisung would have to think outside of the box.

or perhaps inside of it.

— which i'm sure is reason enough to explain how the both of you managed to get stuck in a closet during your company's holiday party.

and, through it all, is minho's mischievous eyes and your flair for the dramatic.

"do you think we should tell our coworkers we've been dating?"

☄. *. ⋆

blog home

[caprisunnydays]

Adventures of a not so average Voxtech employee : Chapter 1

You're an average corporate slave in hell to the most popular place of Voxtech. However, will you continue to be a basic worker when you slowly are entangled in your boss's personal situations?

Most of these chapters will be kinda stand alone, though connected through an over arching story, more on my ao3 when I can!

Word count : 1.7k

Life in hell wasn’t THAT bad. Well, it was still hell, but you’d come to appreciate the afterlife you’d made for yourself. Considering the unfortunate circumstance, you were able to find comfort in the twisted familiarity. It felt like being trapped in a tidepool, where the ebb and flow of the water brought fleeting moments of relief from the frigid depths. Yet, in this hellish existence, there was no escape from the relentless cycle. At times you weren’t drowning in the anguish of your existence, but just like the ocean's chill, you felt a constant, dull pain. But things had been worse before you got this “job”.

You had no purpose for quite some time. Running around in search of suitable shelter each night, scavenging for food, and busting your ass to avoid bigger, more powerful demons was no way to live. Even now, you were new to hell. It had only been about a year since you died and fell into this horrid place, and for a few months, you were scrambling for a scrap of stability. Then in a turn of luck, you landed a job as a janitor in a Vox tech store, then worked your way up the totem pole (which wasn’t too hard when the boss of that store fired and killed people left and right if they looked at her funny) to where you sat today. 

A cubicle in Voxtech’s news script writing department for!

MUCH better than when you had no job and no place to sleep! Now it was just a 5-minute walk to the Voxtech building from your apartment every morning, work until you’re done, and hopefully get back home before 3 am! You weren’t so lucky this time, but you had accidentally fallen asleep on your 30-minute lunch break and turned it into an hour and a half, so maybe the overtime was karma. 

You sat hunched in your chair, a fluffy blanket from home wrapped around your shoulders, and the taste of cold coffee was on your tongue as you typed corrections on the last of your assignments. When you discounted the burn of the blue light in your eyes, you entered a meditative state that combined focus and dissociation into the killer combo known as your “work mode”. It got you through the days, nights, and mornings you spent doing overtime with no extra pay. Your eyes wandered to the clock in the corner of your screen.

3:15 am

Eh, not as bad as it could be.

Even once you finish this, you’ll probably end up sleeping in your makeshift office bed, which consists of your blanket and a flat-ass pillow being shoved under your desk so you don’t have to deal with going home just to come back in 3 hours. You stretch, pushing your rollie chair away from the desk and groaning at your stiff joints. You stood up and looked over the rows of dividers to see empty cubicles. This was probably the first time in forever that you had been the only one in the office, even at this late hour. The glowing of your singular computer screen and the hum of the AC bordered something you’d see on a Lofi study video, bringing a sense of comfortable isolation to your dead heart. That was until you heard the clicking of shoes against the office floor and doors being slammed.

“Mother FUCKING useless pieces of shit! The one day they say they can come in for maintenance checks and their sorry asses flake AGAIN?! I swear to Satan I’m sending someone to burn down that company for making ME do this bullshit myself because like hell am I gonna deal with shit in my company not working and costing me money-”

 You froze at the aggressive rambling as it approached your station. You slowly sat back down and turned off your computer, sitting silently. Your fingertips brushed the handle of your bat, which you kept under your desk for cases like this. In case one of those nut jobs with much less sanity than you decided to throw themselves in the building and go on a rampage. You gingerly picked the weapon up as the angry ranting got closer. The footsteps crescendoed until a figure was nearing the opening of your cubicle, and you shot up, bat drawn back ready to swing.

The TV demon screamed, jumping back in a laughably cartoonish way, arms over his face and one leg off the ground. His screen buffered, his scream lagging while a code ‘HOLY SHIT’ flashed across his screen.

“AH SHIT! What the fuck are you doing here?” You stood there in the dark for a beat, before putting the bat under your desk and turning your computer back on.

“Work.” You yawn and sit back down. You accessed the man, your brain slowly catching up to reality despite its drowsy fog. 

TV demon…loud…angry…oh shit this is my boss.

In your entire time working for this man, you seldom saw him in the flesh…or, circuits rather. That made sense, he’s VOX. Owner of Voxtech, one of the most powerful overlords in hell, and from what you could tell, a workaholic. He built this empire that you only played a minuscule part in. It was something to marvel at, if you thought about it deeply enough, but you also knew he had a habit of slaughtering anybody disrupting the machine he kept so well-oiled. Maybe that’s why the manager of your department was such an asshole all the time, but you’re sure that she was born to play the role of a narcissistic, cold-hearted bitch. All that aside, you didn’t want to set off the big man who controlled your life standing right next to you, so you just sat in your chair, awkwardly waiting to be spoken to again.

“And your “work” has you sitting in the dark with a bat like a lunatic?” He groaned and rubbed his face. “I mean seriously, I’m surprised you’re still here when I specifically told everyone to get their asses out of this office before 3am.” You squinted in confusion. You were never usually told to leave by a certain time. Everyone above you 

ALWAYS wanted you and the other corporate slaves working around the clock to keep making money. You quickly opened your email.

Nothing about that in there.

Maybe they had an announcement that you just didn’t hear? But you’d been working your ass off the whole day and didn’t-

They had a meeting while I was asleep on my lunch break and NOBODY TOLD ME ABOUT IT?! These people really are fake as hell.

You knew not getting screamed at and almost killed by your boss for your unprompted nap was strange. She must have just let it slip so you’d have to deal with someone much worse. Vox was looking down at you with a furrowed brow and tapping foot. You considered your options, and the most rational thing you could think of was just to try and slowly extract yourself from the office. You grabbed your phone and turned off your computer, keeping your gaze down as you attempted to creep away.

“I am looking right at you, stop trying to sneak away as if I can’t see you.”

Well, there goes that plan.

Halting your movements, you began mentally preparing to be maimed. After all, it wouldn't be the first time that happened to you in this office. Your manager handed out physical punishments like candy, and while she had never killed you and forced you to respawn, you had been given horrific injuries countless times. You turned back to Vox, studying his form in the low lighting. He didn’t look THAT mad, more like he was contemplating something. His scrunched expression morphed into a charming smile, the one he’s known for. Was he about to use his eye on you?

“I could use your help with this inspection I’ve gotta do. You know this place best after all.” It was not a question, and since you were just preparing for a second death, you’d take this option with no complaints. You gave him a nod and he clasped his hands together, before grabbing one of your shoulders. “Greaaaat,” His smile dropped, “Let's get this shit done with.”

You proceeded to show him around the office, stopping at places that could be hazardous and require maintenance. The lights, electricity, and everything else that made this unit function was in order. You were only checking the places that made this place run smoothly, but that was to be expected. You ended off your maintenance tour by turning on every single computer to make sure they were functioning. You had only gotten through three when suddenly the office exploded with white light. Vox shot you a cocky smirk.

“It’s much faster that way,” He held out his hand, blue claws sparking as tiny bolts of electricity danced between his fingers, “but your manual technique was cute enough.” He stomped and let electricity surge through the floor again to shut off all the computers. Then he scoffed and pulled out his phone, texting someone aggressively. “Thank god that’s over with. I’m out, you should be too.” He pocketed his phone and began striding out the door. “Oh, and thanks for the help or whatever.” 

Just like that, he was gone. A breath of anxiety pushed out of your lungs, one you weren’t even aware of until the pressure of Vox’s presence was lifted. You had expected much worse. After all, the consensus among you and your peers was that he was a massive prick. But at least he didn’t grab you by the horns and throw you around till they cracked like your manager.

“…mission successful.” As you mutter under your breath some passive-aggressive comments you'd like to say to your colleagues, you gathered your belongings to head back to your apartment. Nearly stumbling over your improvised bed, you briefly consider just crashing there for the night. Mentally though, you’re so far gone that you might end up doing yourself even more of a disservice by staying. “Fuck it, I’m going home.” You chug the rest of your watered-down coffee and throw the mug in the office kitchen sink. 

As you stepped out into the vibrant streets of the entertainment district, you savored the moment when you closed the back door to the Vees' headquarters. There’s nothing like the sound of the lock clicking when you turn your work key in the knob and head off for the night.

I'm gonna make multiple chapters and post em on Ao3 whenever I get around to working on it. Will post the link here!

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook:

𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐝 Part 1: I hate you

You hate how he acts, how he talks, how he treats you- like some dumb girl that's stupid enough to fall into his claws. But you're not that stupid. Or are you?

Tags/Warnings: mc hates kook, Angst, enemies to ???, past regrets, miscommunication, Fluff?, slow burn, sugar daddy Jungkook vibes, minor age gap, sexual thoughts, there's tension baby

Length: ~2k.

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

If Jungkook wasn't 5'10" and basically spending half his time awake at the gym, you'd definitely fight him. Slap him at least- but again, only if he wasn't tall enough for you to need a chair to reach him.

He just gets onto your nerves.

His attitude, the way he carries himself, the way he acts as if he's in control of the entire room, even if there's people in it that are twice his age. Nothing seems to ever bother him, nothing makes him angry, or upset, or anything- he always has that shit-eating smirk on his face, making him oh-so punchable in your opinion. He's so aware of his own charming nature and ability to sweet-talk anyone into doing what he wants them to, that it just feels utterly unfair to you. Sure, he's attractive- but only visually so, on the surface level. As soon as he opens his filthy mouth to talk and brag about all the different adventures he's already been on (inside the bedroom and in general), you just want to vomit.

He's a fuckboy, deserving to get his penis bitten off.

Okay, maybe that's a bit drastic- but he's just incredibly irritating to you. Mostly because you just don't know where you both stand; He tends to belittle you in an odd manner that makes you confused if he's being nice or teasing you, whether he's offering an insult or a compliment. And the worst of all is that whenever he does outright give you praise of any kind, which mostly happens very fleetingly so you almost don't notice it, you can't get it out of your head for days.

It sticks to you like gum.

You remember, for example, when he had simply called you a 'good girl' after you had caught his credit card as it had slipped out of his hands and tumbled underneath his car- a place he would've had a lot more trouble with reaching than you, considering the height difference between the two of you. This moment, the tone of his voice, the slight chuckle he'd given you, the brush of his fingers against yours - it had stayed with you for almost an entire week after it had happened.

You hate this. It's ridiculous.

Jungkook is the brother of your former best friend - the two of you back in school - inseparable, but with her moving out of the country to pursue her studies, you simply lost touch. Jungkook, however, stayed behind, obtaining a large share in a pretty successful company, smart decisions, and hard work having brought him into the position he is in today. He doesn't need to worry about money any longer, and he won't ever have to again if he plays things smart, It led to him deciding to invest into things he knows will retain value overtime, making him buy a high-end apartment in Seoul's prettiest neighborhood- which is why when a waterpipe had broken in your old apartment, he'd been your last hope of finding somewhere to stay for the time it would take to fix and renovate the damage, your own flimsy savings not enough to cover weeks of hotel costs. It had surprised him, you know that - but you also remember how surprisingly kind he'd been, always making sure that you were comfortable. But with that also came frustration - because sometimes he acts as if he's older by a lot more than is actually the case between you both. Sure, he's already almost thirty, putting almost six years between you both, but still. You're not a stupid girl, and he should stop treating you like one.

For some reason, that's why your hatred really keeps burning.

Maybe because he just belittles you at any chance he gets. He seemingly refuses to see you as a woman, always describes you as a little girl, never takes you seriously. That, combined with your not so small crush you've had on him ever since your school days, just simply doesn't mix well. You hate this.

You hate him.

And unbeknownst to you, it's mutual.

Jungkook fucking hates you too.

He hates how you flaunt your figure any chance you get, just like now, as you're sitting on his friend's couch next to himself, naked thighs on full display for everyone in the room to see, black shorts living up to their name by being disgustingly short in his opinion. He's also sure you've skipped a bra for the movie night this time- your slightly perked nipples pushing against the fabric of your baggy shirt, freely moving tits underneath the black item of clothing just begging for his touch it seems. You're always like this, as if to mock him with what he can never have for himself, completely immune to any of his advances that it just made him stop trying at this point. What's the use for his charms if they just make you laugh at him at the end of the day?

He hates you so fucking much.

Especially now, with you so comfortable next to him. It's like your dynamic has shifted over the past six months- mutual friends making you hang out more often than not, and while you'd been so deliciously shy and easily flustered around him before, nowadays, it feels like you've kicked him right into the friendzone, no joke of his getting under your skin any longer. He knows you think Jimin is kind of cute- but he didn't think that it was enough to make you move on from him this fast. Or maybe he had hoped it wouldn't.

He's aware of your crush on himself after all. He's been relishing in it for a long time, his career and the falling out of touch with his sister and you after she'd started her studies abroad the main cause of him never making his move. He'd been waiting, pushing it further and further and further in front of him instead of doing something.

And now? It feels like he's lost his chance.

"Gimme that-" You whine so cutely, leaning over his lap to grab the bag of peach snacks from Taehyung sitting on the floor, and yes, now Jungkook can be one hundred percent sure- you're definitely braless, softness of your chest flush against his thigh for a moment, warmth seeping through the fabric of his sweatpants and making him internally rip his hair out. He's glad he's got some good self-control under his belt, otherwise he'd surely pop a boner right here and now, embarrassing himself in front of his best friends and you as well. Or maybe you'd be impressed. Who knows. How much could you even take in terms of.. size?

But oh, it gets so much worse, because it has become your life's mission to just make him suffer it seems.

You now decide to simply lay over his lap now- body warm over his thighs while you swing your legs back and forth behind you, fluffy socks on your feet hitting your butt every now and then while you're talking to Taehyung about some mistakes in the movie's plot- though Jungkook himself is not listening, the rhythmic rocking of your body over his legs from your own movements too much to handle for a simple mortal like himself. All he can think about is how much he just wants to spank the living hell out of you right in this position- hand itching to just place itself palm flat over one cheek and just, squeeze until you yelp.

You'd make such cute noises, he just knows. He'd been getting those little teasers of them all the time, after all. How much would it take for him to make you scream? And how much further could he push you until you're just fucked too stupid to form any sounds at all?

That thought alone spirals out of control in his head as he's suddenly getting visions of you underneath him, hands bound to the bedpost and body flushed and wet with sweat while he pounds into you until you're bruised. He hopes you like it rough- because he's sure if he ever got his hands on you, he'd push you to your limits and maybe even beyond, his hand grabbing your hair while he'd make you gag on his cock until you cry.

"Move a little, I gotta use the bathroom." Jungkook grunts, careful but strong in his actions as he maneuvers you off his lap so he can escape for a second, or two, or maybe he just needs to leave entirely because fuck.

He hates this.

Every time he's got someone over to try and somehow fuck it out of his system, all he can see is you, and it's becoming a problem. It makes him suffer continuously, unable to cum if he doesn't think of you in any way- and it's embarrassing to admit to himself, no pleasure enough for him if his brain isn't allowed to connect you to it.

He doesn't know how long he can take this. He has to get out of here right fucking now- he can't just jerk off now because he knows how flushed he gets afterwards, there's simply no way he could ever hide that from anybody. Why do you have to even look like that tonight? Why can't you just leave him alone?

Well, that one's easy.

He wont let you.

It's like he's turning from the sadist into the masochist every time you're with him like this, the pain and torture he has to endure completely his own choice at the end of the day. He knows you're like this, it's nothing new to him- you feel comfortable and relaxed around him, and he likes that, he feels honored by it in a way, really. But it's also a terrible curse, when in times like these, he can't even slightly hope for some divine intervention to give him that k-drama worthy experience of mind-blowing emotional sex after a heartfelt confession of love. He won't get that, because those fucking idiots always seem to be there to ruin it for him.

And whenever he's alone with you, he pretty much forgets about it, as stupid as it sounds.

He likes taking you along to trips and travels he's got to go on; not only for the sake of company, but also because you deserve to see the world and experience those luxuries as well. He likes spoiling you, he enjoys taking care of you in any way you allow him to- and yet, it again bites his ass like an untrained dog because it makes him loose his initial goal completely. It falls out of sight every time, and looking back at it, maybe it's just karma. It's a higher power punishing him for being so goddamn stupid every time.

He slept in the same hotel room with you for fuck's sake. He helped you tie your hair one time, routinely takes off your jewelry whenever he takes you along to expensive dinners. All of those perfect moments to make a move- and yet he never does.

Probably never will.

"You heading out already?" Jimin asks as everyone now turns to look at him as he grabs his jacket and car keys, walking over to where you're stills prawled out on the couch before he grabs his phone.

"Yeah, forgot I have a meeting tomorrow early, sorry." He simply apologizes, before he makes a goodbye gesture and heads out, door closing behind him.

"Bullshit." You mumble more or less to yourself. "Fucking liar. He's got the day off." You complain, and Taehyung laughs.

"Why so mad about it?" He wonders, poking at your stomach. "Little baby already miss her dad-"

"Don't you fucking finish that sentence kim taehyung!" You instantly argue, tackling him on the floor to playfight him-

all while Jungkook questions his life choices s he reaches home himself. There's no way his fucking boner is still present even after the entire drive home- and it makes him have to come up with a plan. Maybe this really is just simply sexual frustration and nothing else. Maybe just screwing you will help him become able to move on with his life.

The only question now is; how does he get you under his spell?

[cognitiveleague]

Truly one of the more frustrating recurring experiences of trying to navigate life as a grown-ass person with ADHD is that like… it’s so goddamn hard to keep my brain (which is, y’know, diagnosably deficient in Reward Self for Accomplishing Task juice) motivated to put forward the effort to take care of chores and errands and shit, because I have so many unpleasant memories of failing at that sort of thing and I feel so little sense of reward (or even relief) when I do get things done that it’s this huge effort to not just… ignore tasks until they develop into a Bullshit Avalanche that I can no longer ignore? And when I do force myself to Do Something, running into obstacles can make me feel so frustrated and embarrassed that it’s almost as if I’m being punished for trying to accomplish the task and it would have been better not to try in the first place

Like today I noticed that I’d worked about an extra hour over the last few days, and instead of doing overtime I was like “ok, it’s payday and the ‘get your oil changed, bitch’ light has been on for a while, let’s clock out at the 40 hour mark and go do that before it’s time to pick my wife up from work so I don’t have to try to make that happen this weekend”

Which meant not just the actual task of taking the car to the oil change place, but also sheepishly explaining to the folks there that a) I did not have the financial means to be upsold on anything that was not likely to be a life or death issue before tax refunds come in so please don’t bother unless you are literally afraid for my life if I don’t get the additional service, and b) I actually already know about the headlight that’s out and the old-ass air filter but please don’t replace them, I have the replacements in the car and just keep forgetting to install them myself and only remembering about it when I don’t have time or the engine is too hot for me to go feeling around for where the fucking headlight bulb goes

And to add insult to that injury, they finish up and I’m like, oh. Right.

I lost my debit card like 2-3 weeks ago (yay, absolute garbage perception of time) and KNOW it’s on the floor of the car or maybe in my apartment somewhere so I haven’t reported it lost to get a replacement I just need to find it but the car’s a huge mess and I keep always being too tired or busy when I think about it. And also it’s hard to not be underemployed when I don’t have the spoons to look for a better paying job on top of holding down the job I have, and my wife has similar issues, and the cost of living these days, guys, am I right?? And we’ve got a little windfall coming soon that will help us pay off our debts, but crucially. That is still ‘soon’ and hasn’t happened yet. Anyway so the credit card is apparently maxed out from us having to use it to get around not being paid a living wage the last couple of years :))))))) And the “emergency use only because the bill goes to my parents’ house and I don’t want to abuse the privilege of having parents who can afford to and are willing to help financially when I really need it or to keep being a burden on them, and also they WILL judge me if anything unnecessary is on there” card in my wallet is expired and the new one is somewhere in the kitchen (or living room?) mess at home so I can’t use that right now either

So I had to explain in front of the other customers that I just straight up forgot that the only functioning card in my wallet was maxed out and like, stand there while she looked at records to confirm I was a regular client who’d never pulled shit like this before and also put a note on my file so they could like, know about it and refuse service in the future if I didn’t make good on my promise to come back and pay once I pick my wife (and their debit card) up from work in an hour and a half

And the embarrassment of all of that so thoroughly outweighs whatever minuscule satisfaction my brain can derive from “but I got the task done!” that it feels like I didn’t accomplish anything and also like I put myself through a shitty awkward experience for (what feels like) nothing. And it’s that, but with like…. every fucking thing that I have to deal with when I get home from work and I’m tired and my meds have worn off. So I just have to keep powering my way through a wall of experiences telling me “you will have all of the suffering and experience none of the reward, OR you could not bother and do something that does make you feel nice instead because wow fuck that” for EVERY GODDAMN LITTLE THING.

Anyway I love my brain for so many things, but goddamn it would be great if the “positive reinforcement machine broken” issue impaired me as little as ableists seem to think it should

[magnumpihq]

Ratings and articles about ratings.

Here’s a longer guide to ratings, what they mean and why we shouldn’t panic about them as well as the articles.

During the save campaign a media outlet has reported that renewal will come down to ratings and Magnum P.I. gathering new viewers and better ratings. That statement is a bid of a double-edged sword.

The show has gathered new viewers, mainly seen on social media as new friends slide into the new warm and fuzzy blanket that is the comfort show called Magnum P.I. We also left some viewers behind on CBS, which is perfectly natural. CBS is known to be a ratings giant, in large part to the general audience CBS gathers that simply turns CBS on no matter what is on. Think background music that consist of explosions and gunshots. These viewers are the ones we haven’t managed to bring over to NBC and we weren’t going to be able to bring them over anyway.

But let’s look at some things in more detail.

What are ratings?

Ratings are a measuring system, by which networks gage the audiences interest in their shows. Based on ratings advertisers also decide what ads to place and potentially how much they pay for it, which is income for the networks. The sales demographic (18-49) is specifically interesting to those. Networks as well as the companies have access to far more data than the simple sales

Are our ratings bad?

Simply said, no. For a Sunday show on NBC in our timeslot our ratings are solid. Even the recent ‘drop’ in numbers is just a reflection of the competition currently on. Sundays are some of the weaker days in terms of ratings. At the moment Sundays generally don’t gather stellar ratings across the board. Every show and network suffers from this downturn (Hello streamer competition, anyone?)

Why did we suffer a drop in ratings in the recent weeks?

Simply said: Competition and natural viewing behavior.

March Madness is an event people watch live (as are Oscars, but March Madness much more so). These people record their shows instead of missing the game. March Madness also consistently ran overtime a little. People don’t just switch to other channels to catch half an episode. If they haven’t set a recording they will watch on Peacock.

It’s also somewhat natural for shows to lose a few viewers along the way. The reasons are as many as you can possibly imagine. Some lose interest, some have a different working schedule, lose access to NBC, aren’t in the right mindset to watch, have to go to the hospital, stubbed their toe, die (yeah, people annoyingly do that in which case their rating isn’t counted).

Where is everyone who saved the show and why aren’t they watching?

It’s a frequent complain and one that is perhaps the most stinging to the fans that have become active to try and save the show. It’s also an unfair question. A little over 14000 people signed the petition, only a fraction of those have donated to the fund, a handful have organized initiatives (billboard, anyone). You will have to subtract international viewers here, who have made up a large portion of that number. As you can see those specific fans are around – if they can. The international fans have no way of contributing to ratings other than social media engagement.

What ratings do we need to get renewed?

Impossible for us to tell. Ratings are only one factor in a large grid of data that NBC has access to and we don’t. We like having control, I know, but in this case we don’t have any.

Data we don’t have but that factors into renewal decisions:

Production cost (including rent for stages, compensation for cast, crew and so on)

How much money the ads actually make

How much money product placement in the show brings in

Number of people streaming

Contract requirements for the ads

Social media engagement (beyond the cold numbers) and the value they put into it

Projected ratings and expectations

To make it simple: A show that has high production cost and high ratings can still be canceled if the income the show brings doesn’t match the cost of producing it. Shows with lower ratings can still be renewed if there’s a solid profit.

Why do ratings look so different on a Sunday than a Friday?

Viewer behavior and circumstance. Friday is the beginning of the weekend, a lot more people have time to just kick back and watch TV, whereas Sundays people prepare for the new work week, maybe go to bed early. The reasons are endless, but it comes down to this: Sunday ratings and Friday ratings are wildly different overall. More people watch Friday in general, so our numbers would be higher there, too, but our Sunday ratings do reflect the higher ratings we would have on a Friday, translated to the circumstances on a Sunday.

We would have better ratings on a Friday, why doesn’t NBC put us back on a Friday?

It comes back to the data we don’t have. Yes, we performed well on a Friday, but NBC has analysts who thought it would be most beneficial to have Magnum P.I. on a Sunday. They had a reason to put it there. Also we would have likely experienced a rating drop on Fridays, too. Mainly because, as pointed out, the people who habitually watch CBS, wouldn’t watch NBC now.

CBS has a much higher rating than we do. Should we be worried?

No. NBC won’t make renewal decisions based on what CBS does. NBC makes decisions based on how their own shows do. Ultimately the shows that bring (and are projected to continue to bring) good profit, not ratings, are likely the ones that will be renewed. So don’t look to other networks, we’re not in direct competition with them for a timeslot at NBC, we’re in competition with other NBC shows. And among them we’re far from the worst performer. (And again, we have very little data in order to gage profitability)

Why are articles reporting so negatively about the shows ratings?

It’s simple journalism. Similar to shows, articles have a bit of a rating system behind them: Clicks. Highly clicked articles = more income.

Now as yourself which headline are you more likely to click and which article are you more likely to read through:

Magnum P.I. plummets to a new all-time low.

Or

Magnum P.I. has 0.5mil viewers less this week than last week.

You’re more likely to click the first one, because it tickles your emotions, in this case in a negative way. The same way the content does. This type of language grabs you more, which increases click rates and the chance that you read the entire thing through, which is what they want.

Ultimately they pick the language to manipulate you into a reaction, not because it reflects their opinion or the meaning of the ratings. The content is the same, though: The ratings dropped.

Matt, who almost writes daily articles about Magnum P.I., is a great example for it. I am sure we all remember when he had headlines during the save announcing statements by a star of the show only to click the article and realize it was just talking about a recent social media post by a cast member which we had already seen. The objective here is, like with every other website: Gather clicks. In this case by tickling your curiosity. It’s nothing more, nothing less.

The reason why the articles sound negative is simply to get you to react. They in no way reflect NBCs opinions, nor are they able to tap into more data than we do, which is the ratings. All they have is a bit of experience with previous shows, but when it comes down to that, they consistently point out that Mangum P.I.s ratings are a win for NBCs Sunday line-up.

Why aren’t streaming numbers released?

Internal decision, but maybe this quiets your mind: Procedurals like Magnum P.I. are known to have great streaming numbers. They’re one of the best performing genres on streaming platforms. One of the reasons for that is how easy one can get into the plot at any point due to the stories contained within an episode. Magnum P.I. and all the other procedurals are a show where you can watch an episode without context of previous seasons and still enjoy it due to the mystery of the day. From there maybe the serialized aspect makes viewers go back. Or they continue to watch. But our streaming numbers could very well be good.

Does the drop mean it looks bad for renewal?

No. Right now what you want to look at is context: Magnum P.I. brought NBC the strongest Sunday ratings in years. Our decline is happening within the context of a sport event/natural decline and NBC will have expected it. Other than that our ratings are stable.

We also consistently adjust upward from the preliminary ratings we get on a Monday to the final ones we get the week after. That means something.

Ultimately we will not be able to judge our renewal chances on the ratings alone, due to the multitude of factors (and there could be more) I already mentioned.

There is no point in getting overly worried about ratings. We can’t control them! No matter how much we want to.

What we can control is this: If we can watch it and have our view counted, do. Engaged with the official accounts on social media and enjoy the show. There’s really nothing more we can do.

[alice-steel]

I'm a disabled trans woman currently living with my underpaid and overworked partner off their income as we wait for the beurocracy to agree that I'm disabled and give me the benefits I paid in for the ~10 years I worked before accepting that I'm disabled. Our day-to-day budget, while tight, is functional. However we are so poor as to only get medical insurance through medicaid and to live in the state of Missouri which both already had an explicit exclusion of trans surgeries from Medicaid and recently passed a bill which doubles down on that exclusion and adds in an exclusion for HRT as well.

I've been in touch with a trans legal aid group who said they'd be willing to help with pursuing legal action regarding the old exclusion once I get a direct rejection of the prior authorization I've requested. However, I don't really want to go through the stress of that whole process if I can help it at this point so I'm redoubling .y efforts to get help paying for surgery out of pocket. I've already had a consultation with Dr. Loren Schechter at Rush in Chicago and have all the required medical letters so basically the only thing keeping me from getting surgery scheduled is a lack of funding.

If possible, I would also love to get together enough to just move to the Chicago area, but that's not my priority right now.

I don't currently have a confirmed price estimate for the surgery itself or really any of the related expenses but based on the information I've seen from others I'm guessing it's going to be around $10k-20k. I have no expectation of being able to raise that much from people here, or anywhere else I might share this but I hope to raise enough that I can manage to get a loan to cover the rest.

Donation channels:

Cashapp: $AliceSteelTDD

PayPal: alicesteeltdd

FBPay: message me for link

Crypto: fuck that shit

Others will be added upon request so long as the channel seems trustworthy.

I will update this post as I receive donations and/or details on the actual expected costs.

$0/$10,000

Update: I just received a good faith estimate. The estimate says it will cost $50,615 to them with half up front. Beyond that, I'll also need to cover travel and living expenses for a few months in the area for recovery and follow-up appointments, which I'm guesstimating at around $4.5k. I guess the numbers I'd heard before were after insurance coverage. I've updated the target to $55,000 accordingly. I have yet to receive any aid, so the progress remains at $0.

Update 2: So I got an insurance quote that would cover surgery and everything and if we (my partner and I) could get a loan for $18k with $400/mo payments for 5 years we would be completely set. The problem is our bank will only loan AT MOST 3 months of her gross pay, which is like 7-8k. That would cover our debts and the base premiums for the year, though. Then if I put back my plasma money for the first 2-3 months alongside the amount less than 400/mo that smaller amount's monthly payment is alongside the raise she's expecting to get in the near future (one way or another) and any overtime/extra paychecks we might be able to pull it off! I have to talk it over with my partner before I can go ahead with this gamble though. (Help from others would still definitely be useful to further increase our success odds though.) So on the assumption that we're going to get 7k out of the 18k target in loans I'm going to adjust the goal back to 10k. As we are able to put back money of our own, I'll add that to the progress section. As of now though, there have been no outside donations, and we can't put anything in ourselves, so the progress side stays at $0. (BTW: Anything I get from OF will also be counted towards this, so if you want some nudes/lewds, check that out. I posted about it on my blog the day the first daily post went up.)

[lunarsilkscreen]

Loans, Stock, and Personal Wealth

If you are a famous Artist. Like Banksy or somebody. And you make a piece of Art, that art isn't worth anything.

Until an appraiser, comes along and says "it is worth 'x'". Or somebody offers to buy it. But it's not like Banksy created money from nothing, he still has to sell it.

When he sells it, that generates a taxable event. Another way to generate a taxable event, is for somebody else to trade a "certified Banksy piece" to another person, in lieu of cash. Like a bartering system.

Except, most small transactions, are "under the table" and thus not taxable. This includes gardeners trading vegetables for other food stuffs, or you pulling weeds for a sandwich. They're not taxable. Otherwise everybody would be taxed.

Same with a company. At start-up, a company is worth nothing, until it starts generating profit. --or-- somebody offers to purchase stock of the company, for partial ownership.

Those, aren't quite taxable until the stock is sold, because company stock isn't considered worth anything, except what somebody pays for it.

So while Bezos' stock is technically worth Billions, the question is; who would pay Bezos' billions of dollars for his share of the stock? Who even could? And even then; what restrictions are normal for stock ownership by the rules of his board members?

Sure he could take out a loan, but the banks pay taxes on the income they make from the loan. And they would only make such a loan were they certain it would be paid back.

Despite that; Bezos' base salary is reportedly around 90k as of 2022, with most of benefits and *value* coming to him as perks of job. (theoretically) there's not actually much public data on what "compensation" and "benefits" are when reported on. Just a number they depict.

It could be insurance, company car, on site amenities like food and private suite, company jet, and stipends for certain things.

And because of that; the company would be the one paying all the taxes on those benefits. It should be noted that many amenities and benefits are shared by other employees in the company (benefits of wholesale is it's cheaper)

And reporters count the cost for an individual person to pay for all those benefits, instead of reporting on the actual cost to the company itself. (And include all the beneficiaries, or other employees who also get those benefits. And what level do you have to be to receive them?)

It should be noted; that $90k divided by 12 months is 7500 a month, divided by 30 days is $250 a day divided by 40 hours a day is 6.25.

Meaning that if he *only* works 40 hours, he's making less than half of a typical Amazon employee.

That's still twice what I was making in the military. Working close to the same hours you'd expect to be working. (10-12 hours a day, most days) which is between 70 and 90. (More because travel means time away from home.)

However, Bezos' has like 20billion (reportedly) in $$ and personal assets. (Like cars and houses, and other *things*) so like, I'm not worried about Bezos' in any facet.

And it also depends on if he actually works those 80 hours, or if he's like most people and just on auto-pilot until there's a meeting or emergency.

And the local fast food restaurants (high-expense town) you can see about 12-15$ an hour. Which is about 1,920$ per month. But could you imagine if you worked 80 hours with all that overtime?

So if you're making more than 20k a year, you're doing pretty good.

But here's the problem; rent in this area costs more than you're making. And landlords don't like you to have a roommate to help split the cost. Which means you have to rent a place that allows roommates, or sleep in your car.

If it wasn't towed by your landlord.

[handeaux]

Back In The Day, You Might Have Thought Everyone In Cincinnati Loved Fred Trump

People in Cincinnati were raving about Fred C. Trump a full decade before he ever dipped a toe into Cincinnati’s real estate market. Mildred Miller, in her Cincinnati Enquirer “Talk About Women” column [2 March 1954], begged the New York developer to buy some Queen City rental property:

“Sa-ay, why can’t it happen here? We sure could use a few ace-high landlords like Fred Trump of New York! He not only rents to families with children but also provides many extras to make them happy! . . . Such as playgrounds, indoor recreation centers, summer camps and baby sitters!”

Ten years later, Mildred Miller got her wish when Fred Trump purchased the moribund Swifton Village apartments in Bond Hill. Originally constructed with Federal Housing Administration financing at a cost of $10 million in 1954, the complex was half empty in 1964. The FHA foreclosed on the property and put it up for auction when the original developer defaulted. Fred Trump was the only bidder, snatching the complex for $5.7 million. The Cincinnati Enquirer [6 January 1965] was delighted:

“Before ink was dry on the Swifton deed, Mr. Trump said he sent his maintenance crews into the village on a $500,000 reconditioning and redecorating program. A new community center was built; streets and sidewalks were repaved; paint was dabbed here and there; new refrigerators and new laundry machines were installed; window shutters were ordered. New tenants started coming in.”

Although several sections of the complex were reserved for adult tenants, Fred Trump did build playgrounds in the portions of Swifton Village in which children were allowed. He also maintained a private swim club and sun deck for the exclusive use of tenants.

Fred Trump apparently worked overtime to satisfy the folks who lived at Swifton Village. One employee recalled when the owner visited Cincinnati around Mother’s Day and bought 1,000 orchids to distribute to the resident mothers. Trump passed out thousands of pre-stamped, pre-addressed post cards to all his tenants encouraging them to send complaints and suggestions directly to him. Enquirer business editor Ralph Weiskittel enthused [2 October 1966] about the benefit:

“This is the ‘service’ aspect of our plan, Mr. Trump said. When a tenant calls for a service he wants it ‘then’ – not an excuse that workmen are busy and will get to it the first thing tomorrow morning.”

Of course, the New York developer spent a lot of money burnishing his own image. The entire time he owned Swifton Village, every newspaper advertisement specified that the official name of the complex was “Fred C. Trump’s New Swifton Village.” Trump ran advertisements touting his concern for the tenants’ welfare. One advertisement in the Cincinnati Post [25 August 1966] promised a lofty goal:

“Who’s this man Fred C. Trump anyhow? He’s head man of Swifton Village. He loves this place. He’s out here regularly overseeing all the improvements that will make our Swifton Village a veritable paradise of suburban living.”

Another advertisement in the Enquirer [27 August 1966] emphasized his personal touch:

“This man worries a lot. If you lived here, you might be getting a phone call from Mr. Trump. Sound strange? Well, that’s the way Mr. Trump works. Several times a week (in addition to his regular visits) he picks up the phone and makes a long distance call to a tenant in his Swifton Village Apartments. Just to check up and find out if they’re content. Are things being taken care of? Anything he can do to help make living in his apartments a bit more pleasant? He’s the kind of landlord who worries about you.”

As a couple of lawsuits revealed, Fred Trump reserved his worries for his white tenants. In 1969, according to testimony by Trump’s own lawyer, only two or three apartments out of 1,167 in the complex were occupied by Black families.

The Cincinnati lawsuit was filed on behalf of Haywood and Rennell Cash, a young couple living with relatives because they were unable to find an apartment. At Swifton Village, they were told there were no vacancies, but they suspected otherwise. They consulted with the Housing Opportunities Made Equal organization, who sent a white woman out to Swifton Village. She was immediately offered an apartment. When the H.O.M.E. shopper returned with the Cashes, the apartment manager threw all of them out of his office.

A New York case, filed in 1973, involved almost identical circumstances, including allegations that Fred Trump’s managers falsely claimed that no vacancies existed and required higher rents from Black applicants. The New York lawsuit itemized incidents of discrimination at more than 17 Trump properties in New York and Virginia.

As it turned out, Fred Trump had been accused of discriminatory rental practices for years. At one point, folksinger Woody Guthrie lived in one of Trump’s Brooklyn buildings and crafted a new verse for his song “I Ain’t Got No Home” as a protest against the policies that kept that complex exclusively white:

We all are crazy fools As long as race hate rules! No no no! Old Man Trump! Beach Haven ain’t my home!

Despite his advertisements professing love for Cincinnati and his tenants, Fred Trump dropped a few hints indicating he was on the fence about his investment here. He told the Enquirer [6 January 1965] that Cincinnati was “a real disappointment” because the market was “overbuilt.” He described Swifton Village as a “Mexican stand-off,” meaning he expected to do no better than break even on his investment and that the property would mostly function as a tax write-off.

In December 1972, Fred Trump sold Swifton Village to Prudent Real Estate Trust of New York for $6.75 million. He never again entered the Cincinnati real estate market. All of the original Swifton Village apartment buildings were demolished around twenty years ago to make room for a new housing development.

[pages-of-us]

Earlier Days

Ralph and Andrew had always been stubborn, a trait they shared despite their otherwise contrasting temperaments. Their love for each other was as fierce as it was tender, and when they made the joint decision to leave the comfort of their wealthy families to start their lives from scratch, they knew the road ahead wouldn’t be easy.

Their first apartment was tiny—a cramped one-bedroom with peeling paint and creaky floorboards. But to them, it was home. Ralph took on construction jobs, often working overtime shifts to make ends meet, while Andrew balanced freelance writing gigs that paid far less than he deserved. They made a promise: they would accept no financial help from their families, no matter how much they struggled.

When Elliot was born, their world shifted again.

**********************************************************************

The decision to move into Ralph’s family home—the Vleugels house—after Elliot’s birth wasn’t made lightly. Ralph’s parents—Halmeoni and Harabeoji—offered their home not just as a place to stay but as a support system. Elliot grew up with the warmth of his grandparents’ care and the occasional antics of his doting Uncle Gunho, but Ralph and Andrew refused to let the family’s help replace their own parental efforts.

Andrew worked from home, writing during nap times and late into the night. Ralph, who had struck a well-paying yet grueling construction job, was often gone for long hours. They juggled parenting and their careers with a dogged determination, but it wasn’t without its costs.

**********************************************************************

Harabeoji was the first to notice. Ralph had come home from a 14-hour shift, still in his dusty boots, to find Andrew at the dining table, laptop glowing faintly in the dim light. A half-eaten bowl of rice sat next to a stack of Elliot’s baby laundry that Andrew had clearly folded between edits.

“You should go to bed,” Ralph murmured, setting down his tool bag.

Andrew smiled weakly, his eyes barely open. “Just one more paragraph.”

By the time Ralph returned with a glass of water, Andrew’s head was resting on the table, his breathing soft and even. Harabeoji found them both there the next morning, Ralph having fallen asleep in his chair, one arm protectively draped over Andrew’s back.

**********************************************************************

There was the time Uncle Gunho came by to visit and found Ralph leaning against the living room wall, snoring softly, while Elliot babbled happily on the floor beside him. “I think your husband’s broken,” Gunho teased Andrew, who was wrangling a basket of laundry.

Andrew didn’t even look up. “He just needs a reboot.”

And then there was the evening when Harabeoji tried to share a story from his youth, only to glance over and see Andrew’s head drooping dangerously toward his dinner plate. “He works too hard,” Harabeoji whispered to Halmeoni later that night.

**********************************************************************

Then, they both decided to move out and live in a small apartment in the corner of the city. Their families saw the struggle. Great Aunt Viola, who had always been skeptical of Ralph’s relationship with Andrew, surprised everyone one holiday season by offering to fund the Zanes’ move to a bigger house. “For the children,” she had said curtly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

But Ralph shook his head with quiet resolve. “Thank you, Aunt Viola, but we’re okay.”

“You call this okay?” she countered, gesturing vaguely at the modest decorations and the worn furniture.

“It’s more than okay,” Ralph replied, his gaze soft but firm. “It’s ours.”

Even Halmeoni and Harabeoji, despite their pride in their son’s independence, tried to slip cash into Andrew’s coat pocket when he came by to pick up Elliot after work. Andrew would always return it, albeit with a sheepish grin. “We’ve got it covered,” he would say.

**********************************************************************

Despite their exhaustion, Ralph and Andrew never complained. They would collapse into bed at the end of each day, often too tired to speak but always reaching for each other’s hand in the dark. Their shared determination carried them through, and their love for Elliot, and later the twins, fueled every late-night shift and every long writing session.

The people around them saw it—the quiet sacrifices, the way they pushed themselves to the brink for the life they were building. Ralph’s colleagues noticed his quick catnaps during breaks. Andrew’s friends occasionally called, only to hear his voice thick with exhaustion as he promised to “call back soon.”

**********************************************************************

But for every moment of struggle, there were also moments of joy. Like the first time Elliot giggled, a sound so pure and infectious that it erased weeks of exhaustion in an instant. Or the nights when Andrew would read one of his stories aloud to Ralph, and Ralph would fall asleep with a contented smile on his face.

And then there were the times they found themselves laughing in spite of everything—like the day Ralph came home to find Andrew wearing Elliot’s bib because “he wouldn’t stop crying until I did.”

**********************************************************************

“How many seconds did it take for you to fall in love with Andrew?” Gunho once asked Ralph during a rare quiet moment.

“Not seconds,” Ralph replied, his eyes soft. “Every second.”

“People who are in love are disgusting.” Gunho then would say.

Ralph just cackled as he reminisced back to the good old days.

Those early days were tough, but they were also the foundation of something unshakable—a love that had endured sleepless nights, overdrawn accounts, and the chaos of building a family from scratch. They wouldn’t have had it any other way.

[spacecadetspe]

Nov. 12, 2024

I'm not okay. I'm going to go into it again, but I've almost got the pattern figured out, so bear with me.

Fortitude came home at nearly 9:30 this morning. That's not like him at all. One of his lead techs is some variation of OCD, and it's interfering with their work and now their pay. A two-person team is supposed to be able to complete two locations in a single night, with an average of each gig lasting 4 hours. The man Fortitude is currently teamed up with will take 12 hours to do a single gig.

To cut down on overtime costs, the owner of the branch where Fortitude works has implemented some pay scale changes "to incentivize their workers." The problem is that Fortitude is on a team with the guy who works hard, not smart, and takes 12 hours to do a job that could be done in 4. That means that they're only getting paid for 4 hours of their time; HALF of what is expected.

All the technicians except Fortitude are lead techs, except for one. And when you have a bunch of lead techs on the same job, they all have their own ways of doing things, and no one is going to listen to another unless the Senior Lead Tech is there. The "Lead Tech" title is handed out like a participation trophy.

Because he's worked a second 12-hour shift in as many days, Fortitude has again worked himself into bed. His tendinitis and plantar fasciitis are so bad he can barely crawl to the bathroom. And tonight he is due in at 6:30.

When I chided him about this, he first tried excuses. "It's getting better." Yes, when you're NOT working yourself to the bone. You said it WOULDN'T get like this again. Did you ever get your X-rays? "No." Okay, I'll call them. "Babe, I'll do it." You could, but you haven't. I'm going to do it.

I call the physician, and as it turns out, Fortitude missed his follow-up appointment back in September.

Fortitude then crumbles, saying he "just wants simple." He doesn't want me to have nightmares, wants peace in the house, wants things to run right, wants to be present for W, etc.

Here is the root of what I perceive is the problem: he doesn't want "simple," he wants "easy." And misery is easy. If he wanted simplicity, that would mean finding tenable solutions to existing problems to MAKE it simple. But he doesn't want that. He wants routine, which in discipline is a good thing, but in repetition is just stagnation. Simplicity is not EASY. And then when I give him the "simple" solution, he balks.

I'm actually so hurt by this; that he doesn't want to change even though it's hurting him. That he's resisting what's good for him so hard it's affecting his mental health, our relationship, and my willingness to see him as a parent to my child.

I spoke to R about this earlier, and he said it may be coming time for an ultimatum. And if I'm going to do that, I need to be completely independent from Fortitude. I have been gentle. I have been kind. I have yelled and screamed and cried and nothing works. I need to prepare myself for the possibility that I'm not going to get anything else out of this relationship.

[devild0m]

Day 08 Midnight Visit - Hyesolo

Eyes furrowed at the never ending sight of the paperwork, having just gotten off a group call with the seven demon brothers; Hye is quickly brought back to the reality. Back in the human realm and working steadily at what is known as the mage’s tower, thankfully due to Solomon’s influence and their own accolades of being the master of the seven demon lords, landed them a pretty cushy job and didn’t have to return to their old one. the pay and leave was quite good. but, the workload was a heavy adjustment. while Hye was accustomed to overtime this was a completely different beast, they didn’t have the luxury of being a famous immortal mage who could leave at the drop of a hat, deadlines upon deadlines was thrusted upon them. gazing out the window, when did it become night time?

stomach growling and eyes drooping even more than usual, when was the last Hye had actually sat down and ate? If anything, their work life reminded him of his student days. couldn’t help but laugh at his circumstance, never in a million years did Hye think she’d be capable of wielding magic let alone being so powerful having to require two rings to regulate such power. with both parents out of his life officially, it felt both fulfilling and empty. at long last, Hye had accomplished what her parents solely wanted but at what cost? The cost of unloving and apathetic parental figures? it was laughable in so many ways, sinking into their chair. golden eyes fluttering shut for just a moment, only then a single figure teleports into Hye’s office.

It was Solomon. Seemingly returned from his trip from half across the globe, wondering what exactly his adorable student was up to, only to find them sleeping whilst in the midst of conducting research. noticing the dark circles under her eyes, Solomon could only sigh. Maybe I should convince the upper heads for a sanctioned break thinking to himself. poking Hye’s cheek to watch their reaction, at first frowning at the sudden disturbance and then turning their chair until . . . oops they fell.

completely startled awake and drawing their sword, only to find his whimsical teacher waving at him. taking in a great sigh. “ Sol… What are you doing here , I thought you were researching in Europe.. “ Wiping the sleepiness out of his eyes, this in turn only made Solomon chuckle. How on earth could someone be this adorable? “ I’ve just returned as you can see, well, I see they’ve kept you rather busy. A bit too much for my liking, when was the last time you actually slept? “ Tapping a finger against Hye’s cheeks. Immediately in response turning their head to the side, a tell sign that they were hiding something. “ Well . . . I sleep in the office sometimes and head home in the morning before we need to start working aga- Hey what are you doing? “ Being lifted in the air by Solomon and carried not too dissimilar of a sack of potatoes. Solomon laughs in response, opening up the window and the two of them walked on the air gazing at the night sky & lights.

It was a magical sight. “ Well, I have to make sure my adorable starlight can get some rest now don’t I? “ In no shape to fight off their fatigue and sleepiness, clinging to Solomon neck and drifting off to bed. Solomon can only chuckle, kissing their cheek.

Sweet dreams…

[sunnyworldwidelogistics]

Shipping Surgical Equipment to Saudi Arabia for Yousef: Completed in 4 Hours vs. Industry Standard of 1 Day

Shipping Surgical Equipment to Saudi Arabia for Yousef: Completed in 4 Hours vs. Industry Standard of 1 Day

I received an inquiry from Yousef, a procurement manager from a major medical equipment company in Saudi Arabia. He urgently needed to transport a batch of surgical equipment from Shenzhen, China, to Dammam Port in Saudi Arabia.

These equipments were vital for Yousef's clients, as hospitals in Saudi Arabia were experiencing supply shortages. He demanded prompt delivery and insisted on clear and transparent transportation costs, without any hidden fees. As an experienced freight forwarder China to Saudi Arabia, I was confident in providing Yousef with the most suitable solution.

Yousef mentioned that the shipment was not only high-value but also had a narrow timeframe. His clients required immediate booking confirmation and a Shipping Order (SO) within a very short period. Facing this challenge, I knew, as a trusted freight forwarder China to Saudi Arabia, I had to act swiftly and without delay.

Time was running out. Yousef only confirmed the booking request at 4 PM on Friday and insisted we secure the SO the same day. Typically, such a process takes at least half a day or even a full day, but driven by my client's trust and expectations, I immediately activated our emergency response protocol.

I set aside all other tasks and promptly verified the detailed cargo information and transportation requirements with Yousef. Meanwhile, I communicated with our agency team to confirm vessel space availability. However, by the time we received Yousef's BOOKING, it was already 5 PM, posing a significant challenge. But without hesitation, I sprang into action.

I sent the BOOKING details to the shipping line immediately and kept a close eye on every email and phone call for a response. Although it was past office hours for most shipping companies, our persistence paid off. The shipping line's customer service team, especially those handling the China to Saudi Arabia route, demonstrated remarkable professionalism and teamwork. They worked overtime, communicating with me every 20 minutes to update vessel space availability, ensuring we stayed on top of the situation.

After two hours of intense effort, we successfully obtained the SO by 7:30 PM. This moment was not just a victory for our team but also a testament to our commitment to Yousef. I promptly shared the good news with Yousef and sent him the SO via email, allowing him to proceed with subsequent arrangements seamlessly.

Yousef was amazed by our ability to accomplish what seemed nearly impossible! He praised us as a reliable freight forwarder China to Saudi Arabia. Subsequently, the cargo was smoothly loaded into containers and embarked on the ship bound for Saudi Arabia as scheduled. Despite the tight timeframe, our team's meticulous planning and seamless collaboration ensured a successful completion.

Although this was just a matter of hours, it showcased our professionalism and efficiency in handling urgent and complex tasks as a freight forwarder China to Saudi Arabia. If you have logistics needs from China to Saudi Arabia, feel free to contact me. For more about my journey and the achievements of our freight forwarding services, check out my diary, where I document every challenge we've faced and every victory we've achieved in the world of international logistics.

[avocodas]

This is a long ass post.. I don't if i am back as my senses for joy are paralyzed. But I wanna thank you for each like, reblog, or reach out message💖 If you read this, ily

Where am I?

I am in my 20s crisis... that's what is fueling this anguish post.

But i wanna point out first how, lol, how soothing opening this hellsite again.. All the memories played back like my skin cells are giggling bro.. how pathetic haha

Now for my crisis.. I left my job

No i wasn't laid off, i didn't resign at once .. but some of you caught up with my random thoughts, you knew I worked as a teacher. From grade 1 till grade 10...... that's 10 classes at my first fulltime job and I will spoil you it was a terrific experience and i mean that in two directions. So i asked to be a part-timer ( since i was teaching 2 subjects) and stay the Design teacher for Middle Schoolers- and High schoolers ( younger kids are nightmare) . A month and a half the HR and my line manager sat and a meeting and informed me that my request isn't in the prestigious-expensive-only-rich-fams-register-their-kids school's budget. So I politely quit! My health withdraw, the psychopath manager i had to work with, the unpaid overtime, last minute meetings, the whole chaos weren't the reason to quit. I quit because i don't wanna stay in the same classroom telling a kid to quit licking the mouse for 40 years straight.

I got a chance to work in Qatar, despite I didn't wanna go i accepted to go to the interview *after mom scolded me too lol *, and everything went great till the interviewer learned I don't have a teaching diploma which is a mandatory requirement in Qatar.. Another piece of crap paper that costs-lots-and-adds-no-values, is once again controlling my life..

I didn't want teaching or the "safe" job title to be my prison for my abilities and for my ambitions...

Right when I quit, an initiative to teach 2D animation opened for applications, it was a full year program from 9-5 ( unpaid lol) but you are gonna learn from local artists who worked internationally and who wanna revive Lebanon as a creative hub for digital productions! the only downside that they accept only 5 students, and you have to be a good in digital art!

and guess what this girl is at least great at? splashing colors on pixeled canvas!

So I applied, waited a month and a half for applications to close and another 15 days waiting for a shortlisting email for an interview which was in couples of days!

I arrived before 20 minutes, scanned the greeny, clean, prestigious, occupied by western-woke locals neighborhood, till my interview starts in 6 minutes!

I tried to stay calm, but my heart was beating fast from this random jogging around the neighborhood haha, one of the juries approached me and said " don't worry, they are monsters inside *wink wink*" and jokingly replied " Ohh no, i was a teacher, so ig i am too a monster myself haha" and we shared the laughs..

In the interview.. they asked the typical questions why i wanna learn animation, have i tried, bla bla bla and i basically repeated my cover letter and shared my experience with students when we learned to storyboard and film simple stop motion animations...

" But why haven't you created your own universe?"

Excuse me ?

The founder himself, along with the children book illustrator asked me this question.

Folks, my portfolio consisted of variations of work, from commissions, to studies, to typographic illustrations and many many more.. at the end i put 4 illustrations from my KNY fanwork to prove my rendering abilities

Just to be asked why I don't have a concept.. an attribute that needs a lot of research and year of observing, experimenting and documenting to achieve.

I replied that i am indeed in my journey to learn and discover my concept, I kid you not drawing my favorite shows is what drove me to learn art, dragon ball helped me get through my parents divorce, i ve been drawing KNY for 2 years straight and there where my technical skills got honed.

But what do you wanna do? you were a teacher, game developer, do you see yourself a game developer? you did VR game, you drew comics, you studied CS at uni bla bla...

and I simply replied " I still in my journey to learn what do I actually wanna do for living, committing to a title isn't a wise choice for me as you stated I am good at multiple fields. I am applying to this program to add to my table and see how my past expertise would contribute into elevating the skills i am gonna acquire - if selected- here"

"But if you wanna give a title for yourself what it would be ?" asked the first juries that i met "A Digital Artist . As it joins the multidisciplinary fields in the digital medium in general"

and there where it ended. Do you know what shocked me the most? It is the skeptical looks on the founder of the program, and the weird vibes in the room itself as if i was brought here to be humiliated.

Because what didn't make sense at all, is asking why I don't have the vision of a 30 yo painter when i am still 24? I mean i am here to learn ani-.. well who am lying to...

the only reason I wanna get applied to this program wasn't just to learn animation purely, it was to work on the last project which is a 15 minutes movie.. I want to be seriously involved in a professional production of a movie where i finally can feel belonged to, and use my skills in concept art, visual development, narratives, designing and developing the storylines.

A week pass by, and it passed horribly. As my eyes were glued to the gmail app, and my ears waiting for the notification sound sat to important emails only. And just for my luck i got insomnia and i couldn't sleep well. What adds to it my mom cooked mjadara in both colors for the whole week.

On Thursday, When i was with my friends, I ordered a roasted potatoes from the Al-Turki restaurant, called the restaurant twice to confirm bringing changes so i can avoid unwanted tipping. Food arrived, my friends are jealous cause of my big fat potatoe while they got humble shawarma wraps which was also high in calories unlike my order.

Right when I forked the first hot, cheesy sweet and salty bite, the important-email notification knocked, so did the result..

"Bla Bla Bla

I am writing to let you know that we won't be able to take you with us for this year's program.

Bla Bla Bla. Bla Bla Bla Bla Bla 2025.

Bla Bla, Bla "

All the week of eating bland food and meals, and this appetite killing news came just after i paid 8$ for a delightful meal..

I did the usual, called my mom, she comforts me, tells me Allah knows the best, peeps in Palestine fought for 75 years and they still fighting and it will be free... maybe you might need a part-time job first so you can handle the transportations and don't feel less than others.. bla bla bla.. and don't cry

Yeah i didn't cry, I desperately wanted to, but my mom asked me to not.. even when my friends asked what's wrong I cracked jokes instead.. at the shower i wanted to cry but my eyes stayed dry..

Cause now I am lost, this what I visioned my year gonna be.. i planned to have my name travelling in the movie credits in the MENA annual festivals... and what went wrong is something i didn't have control over, i crafted my application perfectly, i contacted the first edition participants, and took their opinion. All what i planned and worked heartfully through just didn't blossom at all..

the seeds were rotten to begin with ...

Chin up, accepting faith and trying to move on... i am trying to apply to full funded masters program in CS, couple of programs opened and amma apply... Colleagues, friends and online strangers are saying a the perfect candidate and shower me with compliments ..

But at this point, does anything I plan to matters? I don't recall the last time i put huge efforts and got fair results..

Highschool? I was kicked off the team cuz my teacher misread the number 3 to 4.. and that was right after i did half of the project

University? Always were with the outcasts, the cool ones tho. Covid, inflation, stress eating me alive, Doctors opens the pandora box for unholy questions, effortless teammates, woke teammate, love triangles i was forcefully registered in...

Even After University, when i had an interview with an alumni to work online in his gaming company, he calls me at night and tells me he got me job as a teacher - a position he previously worked in- and he wasn't gonna pay for three months anyways so this better for me...

Only to have my views of whatever-positive-delusions-i-had crushed and turn on my survival instincts to escape this toxic-controlled-by-psychos-work place....

I really wanna stand by and watch where the waves of life throw me at. DO nothing at all, and see where Allah's plans throw me at... I have big faith in Allah but ... this wallah frustrating... soul crushing... i don't even know what job i can apply to now...

I am afraid to not get anywhere and be another story of those who faded in the morphine of corporate and safe redundant jobs.. or worse to end up as a beggar who couldn't move on, yet finds out that the market is already saturated and competitive too.