#student loans are no joke i fear

[dontbuymeperfume]

if i posted abt my struggles and financial issues on tumblr dot com would you guys unfollow me

[goatmilksoda]

Theres only so much chillhop and homemade fun drinks can do until you start feeling The Weight™️ around you.

[oneforthemunny]

strangerprompts: turn back time |eddie munson x reader|

prompt: #8 you step into a hole-in-the-wall bar for a drink and suddenly find yourself in a different decade.

from strangerprompts writing challenge made by @bettyfrommars @allthingsjoeq and @somnambulic-thing <3 this was so fun!!! please check it out and consider writing for yourself!

warnings: language. time travel. but nothing crazy.

“It should be illegal.” You huff, nails digging into the leather of your steering wheel. The GPS shouted at you another robotic turn, drumming out the sound of your roommate on the other line. 

“I mean, seriously? Making me travel alone to- to the middle of nowhere. Ro, I’m not even kidding, it looks like the town Deliverance was filmed in. It’s the middle of nowhere.” You scoff, looking at the rundown building passing by you, all crumbling with desperate need of a renovation. 

“No, it can’t be Deliverance. They didn’t have hotels there.” Roslyn snicker floated through your car’s speakers. “C’mon, it’s not that bad.” 

“It is.” You grumbled. “And then they want us to meet at this bar for mingling. I don’t even know if I’m going to the right place!” You threw your hands up, smacking them on the steering wheel dramatically, turning it as the GPS announced you’d arrived. 

The Hideout- or at least, that’s what you could make out from the peeling sign above the building. “Jesus Christ, I’m getting murdered.” You muttered, sending Ro howling in laughter. “I’m not even joking. I’m about to be a topic on a fucking podcast.” 

“Stop.” Roslyn wheezed through laughter. “You’re not gonna get murdered.” 

“I don’t- This place doesn’t even look open.” You exhaled sharply, flicking through your phone, ensuring this was the right place. “Ro, you have to swear to me if I get murdered, you’ll make sure the true crime freaks won’t make Etsy merch about me.” 

“Calm down,” Ro laughed. “You’re not gonna get murdered. It’s just not the hipster ass bars you’re used to.” 

“No,” You muttered, locking your door quickly, clutching your purse to your side. “I really might. Stay on the phone with me.” 

“What?” Roslyn’s voice broke through the static. “I can’t- You’re cutting ou-” 

“Fuck.” You hissed, looking down at your phone as you climbed the stairs. Call Failed flashing back at you, no bars to be found. 

Turn around, get back in your car, and say fuck it. You do not need this job this bad. 

Yes, you actually do. 

A painful reminder of your maxed credit card, student loans, and rent flashed before your eyes, silencing your bitter thoughts. Sliding your phone into your purse, you clung to the strap tightly.

“Just stay fifteen minutes, then say you feel sick.” You muttered to yourself, reaching for the rusted handle. 

The entryway was dark, eerily quiet to be a bar. You almost thought it wasn’t one, if it wasn’t for the bright neon sign shining at the end. Welcome! Glowing in blinding red letters, underneath it in blue, the piercing glow that read: Stay A While. 

“So weird.” You muttered, your arms wrapping around yourself. 

The air turned colder with every step you took, following the bright signs- the only source of light, down the dark hallway. Your heart hammered in your ears, clutching your purse close to you. Just as you were about to panic, chest swelling with fear, veins icy as the air- you heard it. 

A muffled roar of an electric guitar, a tiny sliver of golden light peering beneath the heavy door. You pushed the door open, met with a sudden wave of warmth, the dim lights of the bar blinding you still. 

“Watch it, sweetheart.” A man with a tray of beers muttered, swiveling past you. 

“Sorry,” You squeaked, looking around the crowded dive bar. You scanned the packed tables for anyone from the conference, shimmying in between tables, peering over teased hair for anyone. 

“Fuck me,” You huffed, settling at a sticky bar booth, still littered with half drank beers and peanuts- the only one available. “No way I’m the first one.” 

You plopped your purse on to the seat of the booth, an iron grip still on the strap. You could feel the cutting glances still cast on you from the others, they’d had followed you from the moment you walked in. Judgemental, all accompanied with a lifted brow. 

Should look in the mirror, You thought bitterly, rummaging through your purse. They’re the ones wearing that outdated, ugly shit.

“Where the fuck- I know I put it in here.” You muttered, taking out the wrappers, your wallet, desperately trying to find your phone. 

“‘Scuse me,” You jumped, eyes wide when you looked up, clutching your purse to your chest. 

Dark eyes met yours, a dimpled smile joining them. “Sorry,” The man lifted his hand carefully, the other balancing a black bucket stacked with glasses. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Just wanted to see if it was ok if I clear this outta the way for you?” 

“Y-Yeah, sorry.” You muttered bashfully. “Yes, that would be great. Thank you.” 

A ringed hand passed in front of you, the light catching in the skull before it grabbed a glass. You moved back to your purse, furiously checking each pocket, chest growing tighter and tighter with fear. 

“You alright?” The busboy asked, swiping another glass, stacking it into the bucket with a soft rattling clank. 

“Yeah- I mean, not really.” You turned, head craning towards the door. “I think I lost my phone in that hallway.” 

“Hallway?” He laughed, his name tag flashing towards you- Eddie, decorated with sharpie drawn bats and devil horns. “Phone’s on the wall over there.” Eddie nodded towards the bar, an old dial up phone mounted there, a sign that the charge is a quarter above it. 

Your brows creased. You didn’t even know those things worked, you always assumed they were decoration for the… edgy aesthetic of the place. 

“No, I mean my cell phone.” You shook your head lightly. “I think I dropped it in that hallway back there.” You pointed towards the swinging door. 

Eddie frowned at you, stilling as his eyes scanned your features. “Are you- Are you feeling ok?” He asked. 

“What?” You snapped defensively. 

“Did someone slip something in your drink or something?” Eddie asked carefully. “Gotta be careful with those old guys. They look harmless but they’re gnarly-” 

“-What? No.” You shook your head, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I-I haven’t even had a drink. I just got here. I’m supposed to meet some people from a conference, but I can’t find my phone-” 

“-Your phone?” Eddie’s nose crinkled in confusion. 

“Yes. My phone.” You barked in irritation. “My cell phone?” 

Eddie blinked at you. “What is that European?” He shrugged. 

“What? Are you fucking with me-” 

“-No,” Eddie held his hands up. “No, I just- I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” He laughed nervously. “And I mean you’re dressed… different. Not that it’s bad!” He added frantically. 

“I just assumed you were European or something. Not from here anyways.” Eddie muttered, leaning against the table. 

You blinked. It felt like you were in a dream, like everything you were saying was mute, confusing, in Wonderland and entirely discombobulated. 

“You… You don’t have cell phones here?” You asked slowly. 

Eddie shook his head, curls bouncing. “Nope. Not here, sweetheart. Hasn’t made its way to Hawkins, Indiana yet, but sounds pretty-” 

“-What?” You hissed, chest booming with a fear filled ache, sure your heart had stopped entirely. “What did you just say?” 

Eddie’s face fell, his flirtatious grin disappearing. “Hawkins? Indiana?” He said slowly, eyes narrowing when your face paled. “Hey, are you ok? Did you take something?” 

“N-No, I-I don’t- I d-didn’t-” 

“-Look,” Eddie slid into the booth beside you. “You’re not gonna scare me off if you did somethin’, alright? I’m not nearly as conservative as these other bogus losers.” 

You couldn’t speak, mouth dry, heart caught in your throat, hammering away so fiercely your ears were ringing. “What’d you take? Blow? K? Pills or somethin’?” His arm brushed yours, head ducking towards you. “It’s fine, whatever it is, I’m- I’m really good with dealing with this sorta thing, if you can believe it.” 

“I-I didn’t take anything.” You droned, nearly automated. “I just- I-I was walking down the hallway, and-” 

“-Hey, I’m just trying to help you.” Eddie said softly, his tone pulling your attention back to meet his gaze. “Did you hit your head?” 

“N-No, I- The hallway-” 

“-That,” Eddie pointed towards the swinging door. “Is a bathroom.” You watched as the door swung open, as if on cue, a girl with blue painted lids and crimped hair piled high stepping out. 

“The closest thing to a hallway here is to the dumpster out back.” Eddie grinned at you softly. It was sweet, but you couldn’t bring yourself to smile back, body trembling with fear. 

Eddie felt it, frowning at you softly. “Do you need me to call an ambulance? Call someone for you?” 

“No,” You swallowed hard. “I-I need to leave. I have-I gotta get out of here.” Panic rose through your chest, trying to push him out of the booth, climb over him, anything. 

“Hey, easy,” Eddie slid out of your way. “Hang on-” You ignored him, pushing past him towards the door. 

Outside, the sun was still just beginning to set, that was the only thing that was the same. 

Your car was gone, in its place a line of cars- old cars, but still shiny? Still new, not rusted with wear or dulled colors from age. The buildings were no longer crumbling, signs still new and displayed proudly. 

“No, no, no, no.” Your chest heaved, fingers threading through your hair. “What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck is going on?” 

“Hey!” Eddie grabbed your shoulder, pulling your attention towards him. “Hey, I-I don’t think you should be driving-” 

“-My car.” You gasped. “Where the fuck is my car? I-It was right here,” You turned, throwing your hands out. “Right here!” 

Eddie looked around, a blush rising to his cheeks at the judgy looks the passersby were giving. “Maybe you should come back inside-” 

“-No.” You barked, shaking your head furiously. “No. I-I’m not-” Through the window, a glimmer of a photo caught your eye. 

Your walk back inside felt nearly trance like, everything underwater, Eddie’s voice droning out with the others. A painting of two cartoonized children waving fistfuls of flowers gleefully- though that wasn’t what caught your attention. It was the printed lettering underneath it that made your blood run cold. 

“Hey, why don’t you take a seat, an-and I’ll call someone-” 

“-Is this,” You swallowed, pointing at the wall. “This isn’t right, r-right? Thi-This isn’t- There’s no way.” 

Eddie frowned, looking at the wall. “I mean, yeah, it needs to be changed now. I guess it’s technically May now, Mick just hasn’t gotten around to flipping it-” 

“-No, this-this says…” Your finger traced the numbers, glaring at you in bright red. “1986?” You squeaked. 

Eddie blinked at you. “Yeah,” He nodded slowly. 

Your vision filled with dark splotches, fading in and out of focus on the calendar in front of you. Your knees buckled, purse slipping between your fingers before you fell limply, Eddie’s frantic voice ringing in your ears the last thing you heard before your consciousness slipped. 

[astonmartinii]

the student life part two | charles leclerc instagram au

part one

pairing: charles leclerc x student!reader

after an eventful visit to his girlfriend's university, charles unleashes his girlfriend and her friends on the paddock.

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly and 12,078 others

tagged: yourbff1, yourbff2, yourbff3

yourusername: some may call it insanity, but there's no other way we'd do it

view all 2,071 comments

charles_leclerc safe flight my love

yourbff1 she's already yakked once and we've not even made it through security yet

yourusername travelators should be illegal

pierregasly y/n is coming to abu dhabi??? i'm ready for the mess

yourusername you better be ready gasly, i've not forgotten you making fun of sharl for bodybagging. it's your turn next

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, yourbff1 and 505,461 others

tagged: yourusername, yourbff1

charles_leclerc: trying to spend time with y/n after two months away but there's these random people that won't leave us alone

view all 12,309 comments

yourusername they're my stray cats they have attachment issues <3

yourbff1 thanks mom (dad is an asshole)

charles_leclerc i'm not your dad???

pierregasly the way i can hear them from my room down the hall

yourusername we don't know what volume control is, my sincerest apologies

danielricciardo ahhhh the woman herself

yourusername DANIEL I LOVE YOU (go back to red bull pls)

yourbff1 added to their story

[caption: her ass does not have the reaction time to take pics of f1 cars on that dinosaur]

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo and 20,764 others

yourusername: everyone knows the race is just a pregame for the after party - good luck tho boob @charles_leclerc

view all 3,056 comments

charles_leclerc thanks (reminder you can't drink in the garage)

yourusername i'll go cold turkey for you any day

yourbff2 real love right there

danielricciardo my liver is quaking in fear

maxverstappen1 god you're old

yourusername yes maxy that's the spirit gin and tonic on me (on charles)

charles_leclerc ummm ???

yourusername added to their story

[caption: get me a double vodka red bull STAT]

yourbff3 added to their story

[caption: celebratory scran for sharl]

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 35,987 others

yourusername: camera roll finds

view all 7,031 comments

charles_leclerc don't knock the dance moves

yourusername never !!!! one of your many seduction techniques

landonorris what is this top @maxverstappen1

maxverstappen1 apparel for real men

danielricciardo i'll be invoicing you for my bar tab

yourusername don't leave it open old man <3

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55 and 1,089,344 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc the duality of f1. so so happy to get p2 in the championship, but of course we want to build from here. also big thank you to my wonderful girlfriend and her stray friends who killed off the rest of the grid for me (jokes) thanks for spending your whole student loan in the hospitality.

view all 119,076 comments

yourusername so so so proud of you boob, but more importantly WINNER WINNER CHICKEN DINNER YOU DIDN'T BODYBAG

charles_leclerc thank you my love, i learnt from the best

yourusername same cannot be said for @pierregasly @landonorris @danielricciardo @carlossainz @georgerussell63 @estebanocon @mickschumacher - congrats to @maxverstappen1 @valterribottas @fernandoalonso @sebastainvettel for being big boys who can handle liqueur

sebastianvettel i don't know what this is but yes i am an old man

danielricciardo way harsh y/ln

pierregasly leave me alone my head hurts

[lazerv4]

Thoughts on Total Forgiveness

Just my raw thoughts not a review or anything

Total Forgiveness starts with Ally Beardsley and Grant O’Brian pitching the show they are about to embark on to Sam Reich their at the time President of Original Content at CollegeHumor (now CEO of Dropout). The pitch is simple, student debt is a cripplying problem and they came up with the accordion method, what if instead of many years of suffering under their loans they could instead make the suffering happen in 4 months and pay their debt as they gamble on challenges between the two of them for money which the show would award weekly. Sam hesitates but greenlights the show much to the delight of Grant and Ally who get right to work on the first challenges which end up being Grant has to interview a lawyer specializing on student debt while covered in leeches and Ally has to interview an ex partner about what went wrong while they eat the spiciest food Grant can find. Afterwards we see the actual challenges go through as Grant does his assigned interview while bleeding profusely and Ally has what can only be derived as a cringe nightmare of an experience with their ex eating thai so spicy they almost throw up, then when they are both done we see them together, they both look like they’ve been through hell and that is just the first episode.

Episode 2 begins a little bit meaner with Ally getting an Oompa Loompa makeover and getting their driver’s license renovated while Grant wears a dog shock collar for barking the entire day which leads to him spending the day mute, this is where we start to see the main dynamics of the show develop with Ally embracing the horribleness and Grant trying his best to have fun with it but struggling a bit.

Episode 3 is a kinder episode to Grant with him simply going camping which apparently he hates, meanwhile Ally is buried alive for an entire day in a sort of sensory deprivation coffin while they are still in the office.

Episode 4 meanwhile has Grant performing a cringe inducing stand up show purposely sabotaged to be terrible with the caveat that if a joke doesn't land he has to say “it’s all love” which just makes it so much worse, on the flipside Ally has to publish an excerpt from their teenage diary, a move which severely backfires on Grant as it seems like a growing experience for Ally that improved them as a person all things considered, no suffering all money.

At this point not a single point has been lost and both Ally and Grant are giving their all to the challenges and still enjoying themselves to some extent since the point of the show is to compress suffering they do struggle but nothing too bad has happened yet, this is where that begins to change.

Episode 5 is one of the hardest things I’ve had to sit through. Grant gets the challenge of being locked in his studio apartment with 8 family members for a weekend which while I’m sure it was a nightmare, it doesn’t translate to tv. All’s challenge this week was to sing the United States national anthem at a minor league baseball game and to make it way worse, they apparently don’t even know the lyrics so they completely fucked it up and even have a random laugh in the middle of it, it’s the sort of horrible second hand embarrassment that is legitimately hard to endure and I have seen some people say this and another upcoming Ally challenge are borderline unwatchable because it’s just too cringe, but if you can get through it the series has more for you.

Episode 6 is the phobia episode where Grant must face needles and Ally must face snakes, for Grant he just has to inject himself so B12 with the alleged most painful needle which he does albeit it leads to one of my favorite gags when he says “I’ll be fine in 5 minutes” after he pulls the needle out only for the show to cut to him having a full panic attack with an oxygen mask. Grant won his challenge and valiantly faced his fear but as for Ally, well things would go different for them. Ally’s challenge involved that some night, any night at all, Grant would come in with a live snake and Ally would have to sleep with it on their bed. While Ally had been a very ambitious and fun loving contestant, this broke something and they just completely refused to engage with the snake and complete the challenge leading to the first loss and the domino effect which would shape the series into what it became.

Episode 7 is where challenges start to get unreasonable, with almost 4000 dollars on the line this contest had to get difficult so both Ally and Grant came up with this, Grant wanted Ally to spend their whole week piss drunk which at first Ally enjoyed and it annoyed everyone else but quickly it started getting to them and by the end of the week you can see their health suffer because of it and the remnants of a broken person just trying to finish the last day to claim the win, while Grant broke Ally’s body their mind seems unbreakable. As for Grant, Ally came up with a really strange and complicated challenge, basically Grant had to get an erection with no stimulation while being timed which ended in a really bizarre contraption so this could be shown without well showing Grant’s genitals. This challenge has been often called unreasonable and impossible by many people and to an extent it is but Grant still accepted it and attempted it as hard as he could, an attempt that proved unsuccessful leading to his first loss of the show.

As of now Grant has earned $10750 while Ally has $13250, as the gap starts to widen so do the challenges as the series starts to lead to it’s climax.

Episode 8 is the real turning point of the series with Ally getting the other famously cringe and unwatchable challenge in having to become a herbalife shill to her new roommates and do unreasonable actions Grant assigns via an earpiece to try and make them quit but their will somehow remained strong which showed how much fun Ally was having with this whole show as the chaotic person they are, meanwhile Grant was having a rough time. Ally’s challenge to Grant was to sell all his earthly possessions at a flea market and try to earn a thousand dollars which a some points seems maybe doable but very quickly while Grant still doesn’t realize it, it’s very clear to the viewer and to the crew that Grant won’t be able to accomplish this. He leaves this challenge defeated and returns to his empty apartment with now nothing to his name except around $600, not only did he lose the challenge but he also lost everything he had, this is where we first start to see how this show has damaged Grant and Ally’s friendship and also emotionally damaged Grant who seems barely still holding it together by the end of the episode which leads you wonder, how can this escalate further?

Episode 9 got mean, Grant challenged Ally to get a neck tattoo with the name of their new girlfriend who they've been dating for 2 months while Ally challenged Grant to shit in public as performance art (again his genitals are covered but chest up everyone can see him). The challenges this week feel very mean spirited and with Ally now being up $24250 to Grant’s $10750 things are heating up and they are starting to feel more like bitter rivals than loving friends doing a dumb show together. Going with Ally first while Sam seems hesitant to approve this challenge Ally wants to do it and still seems have fun with it as a big dumb joke even if it’s their first tattoo it’s just a gag to them and they don’t mind the embarrassment with them even bringing said gf to the parlor so they can watch the tattoo be made. Meanwhile Grant struggles, even before the exhibition opens we can already see he is stressed and uncomfortable, he doesn’t seem like he wants to do it but the money is too life changing to not go through with it so he presses on, he is notified that when he is done he can pull a string that will drop confetti to signify he has completed the challenge and so he gets on the toilet in front of a lot of people. The atmosphere is not tense, it’s closer to something sad and depressing, something akin to the feeling of exploiting someone and when Grant pulls the string and the confetti falls, you can’t help but feel awful, a big thing through this episode has been Siobhan (another dropout cast member) giving some advice to Grant and Ally separately about how to mend what they are breaking and she stays as everyone leaves to speak with Ally as Grant angrily prepares to go home. As Ally approaches to tell Grant everyone was an extra, the mood is again tense, he just replies he is “done for the day” and that it was “funny” as he just walks away checking with the crew really quick to see if he can leave and then just exiting the building silently. This episode seemed to be the tipping point for Grant and what would have ended their friendship with Ally as even with this the gap just widened and made everything seem worse and worse while making each other more antagonistic towards the other that while Ally had been taking as dumb fun, they had now realized was hurting Grant and something had to be done if this friendship was gonna survive this show, let alone a 10th episode.

Episode 10 is just titled “Finale” with no allusion to the challenges like all the previous episodes so you go on not exactly knowing what to expect. It begins with other dropout cast members talking about the strain this show has had on Ally and Grant before going into the challenge pitching part of the show where Ally is alone with the production crew struggling to even come up with something until they says they have a pitch and the show cuts to Grant alone with the crew as well, they try to check on Grant to see if he is ok and he clarifies he doesn’t blame anyone and he is not the victim of the show but he is struggling. He is not sure what to pitch except something horrible and life changing so he is gonna go through Ally’s challenge first, cut to Jess and Katie (dropout cast members) in Santa Monica, they have a letter for Grant that Ally wrote the challenge is just to enjoy the day at the beach with his friends while wearing a dumb outfit and to decompress the show a bit to see if maybe he has it in him to forgive them. The show cuts to a montage of Grant having fun for his $10k prize just hanging in the pier and doing dumb stuff with Jess and Katie.The mood is so different, so fun and afterwards Grant talks a bit about what the show has done to their friendship and how he is regretful Ally couldn’t be there with them before announcing he now knows what his challenge is and shot fades. We start the scene in a bar called “State Social House” that same night as Grant and Ally meet in the empty bar and Grant reveals the challenge is to have 3 mezcals with him, while they begin drinking they also talk about their sentiments regarding what the money has done to their friendship, the reminique about what they've been through and what living with debt has done to them, how they hope to remain friends after this and even hopefully for the rest of their lives as they approach the third drink to which Ally comments about prompting Grant (a seasoned bartender) to want to smell and check it’s profile, this leads Ally to telling Grant to just drink it and take the $10k and to make the gap smaller to which Grant replies that he can’t accept that, at this point Ally has made their choice so they drop the mezcal on the floor on the most shocking moment on the entire show. What is next is just pure friendship and love for the people around you. Grant starts crying and they hug in the sweetest moment in the show, this is the moment that turned around the show according to Sam in a “episode 11” interview. The show then cuts to Grant paying one of his loans and he becomes able to finally be able to start paying his loans instead of just interest, Ally also talks about their loan consolidation as the show begins to wrap and we get the final scene with is a small dinner they set up and the talk about everything they learned about loans and how they are designed to make people’s life worse before the show ends with a toast to it’s history and a tally of the remaining debt before finally saying goodbye one last time.

Total Forgiveness did eventually get a reunion episode 11 sort of podcast thing but that is mainly talking behind the scenes about how of the rails the show went and how it was almost cancelled before the final episode essentially redeemed the whole thing from feeling like like a dystopian torture system as well as how Ally and Grant expected Jackass but got something much deeper, something about the effects of debt on people, something like most of dropout special. Total Forgiveness may not be for everyone, it can be a hard show to sit through, but for those able to go through with it the way it develops as an allegory for its own themes is fantastic and beautiful and in some ways the only example of prestige reality tv I can think of. It is truly one of a kind and a beautiful little show that can’t and shouldn’t be replicated, it should stand as a monolith and be cherished for all it accomplished in showing the struggles of debt. Ally and Grant did something incredible that would only be possible at a platform like dropout and with how the show turned out and how it stands along with other titans at dropout they should be proud.

[seafoamreadings]

when i was at the beginning of grad school and struggling a lot i would always (half) joke that if physics didn't work out at least there's always astrology lol.

now that i'm at my last class of my phd and struggling again i make this joke even more i think, because i've also gotten more astrology knowledge and more of a following on here. obviously i'm not going to quit at this late stage when i'm just struggling and in no danger of actually being kicked out or anything, i would just retake the course. but.

yall physics is hard, i love it and i'm glad i'm learning it and i don't mind not being the smartest one in the room but astrology comes to me much more naturally. if you want to contribute to my temptation to become a professional woowoo lady, the best ways you can support me against my fear of student loan debt is join my patreon or buy readings from me

[originalpeanutpeanut]

Boss x Mistress Oc x Bosses wife

Summary:So the reader is a lower class woman working for a company she eventually gets into an affair with her boss but one day she is pulled into his office but instead of their usually intamincy she is asked to be in a love triangle with her boss and his wife.

Disclaimer: SMUT WARNING

As I got myself ready for my usual day I made sure to put on one of the dresses Mr. Wilson bought me from our monthly shopping sprees yes it sounds exactly how I’m saying this I am having a affair with my boss. It started out as a money thing the extra pay really helped me and even payed off my student loans but after a few months it became less of a money matter and more of a ‘I’m in love with my boss’ and I know he loves me he’s told me countless times when we where fucking or simply when we where alone. I know it sounds taboo and even ‘unprofessional’, and it damn sure doesn’t help he has a wife. but can you blame me he is mesmerizing in every way possible and he is hung well. It’s not like he truly loves her anyway if he did he wouldn’t be have an affair in the first place. Mrs. Wilson isn’t unattractive and the seems like a nice woman but I guess Mr.willson just wanted some one younger.

After getting dressed, I drive to the office, a towering building—one of the second tallest in the city. When I step inside, the receptionist informs me that Mr. Wilson wants to see me in his office.

“I thought he had a meeting today,” I say, confusion spreading across my face.

The interaction is brief, and I make my way to the elevator, ensuring I look perfect for Mr. Wilson.

When I finally reach his office on the 14th floor, I notice right away that he seems to be in a good mood.

“Mr.Willson,you wanted to see me?”I asked in a suggestive tone. “Yes Ms. Smith I wanted to discuss a personal matter.” He replied but something felt a bit odd. He then continued “As you know we had a ongoing affair and you where amazing and I wanted to tell you my wife knows and she was thrilled that I finally found some one for us” When he said that my heart stoped this had to be some sort of sick joke there’s no way she knows and if she did she most likely wants to kill me also what the hell did he mean by us? Mr. Wilson must have sensed my fear and confusion because he then continued with some clarification “My wife know from the first time we became intimate actually she knew from the moment I hired you because we where both infatuated by you. You first caught my heart when you first shook my hand and I knew you were going to be perfect for me and my wife.

Before I could bombard him with questions, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to see Mrs. Wilson standing right beside me. She was slightly taller than me, and she was stunning in every way—her beauty was undeniable. For a moment, I couldn’t understand why Mr. Wilson would even consider sleeping with me in the first place.

In all honesty, the entire situation felt surreal, but I had no idea it was about to become even more bizarre

Mrs. Wilson was the first to speak. “You see, my husband and I are perfect for each other, but sometimes we like to spice things up. Little did we know, you turned out to be much more than just a one-time fling. You’re far better suited as our…”

Before she could finish, Mr. Wilson completed her sentence: “Pet.”

At that moment, they were both smiling, clearly amused by the confusion written across my face.

To clarify, Mr. Wilson leaned in and said, “Think about what we used to do—only now, my wife will be included as your dom.”

Beofore I could turn down the crazy offer I just got Mrs Willson Must have caught on to my denial. “If you do end up accepting the opportunity we will be sure to pay you 3 times your salary if you make sure to be our good little girl” that’s when I began to consider that if i do accept I my life would be million times easier and I could even stop working. After thinking about the outcome of the situation i agreed and Mrs. Wilson pulled me into a deep kiss and Mr. Willson joined in hugging me from behind kissing my my neck as he did.

As we stood in Mr. Wilson's office, the tension was palpable. Mrs. Wilson's kiss still lingered on my lips, and Mr. Wilson's hands were exploring my body from behind. I could feel his erection pressing against me, and I knew that this was just the beginning.

Without a word, Mrs. Wilson walked over to the large, wooden desk and cleared it with a sweep of her arm, sending papers and pens flying. She smiled at me and said, "We're going to play a little game, and you're going to be our good little pup."

Mr. Wilson stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "You see, my dear, we have a special way of doing things. We like to call it 'breeding,' and it's a favorite of ours. You'll be our little pup, and we'll be your handlers. We'll guide you through the process, and you'll learn to love it."

I felt a shiver run down my spine as Mrs. Wilson handed me a small, leather pup hood from her bag. It was soft and black, with a cute, pink nose attached to it. She helped me put it on, and I felt a strange sense of transformation. I was no longer just an employee; I was a pup, ready to obey my handlers.

Mr. Wilson attached a small, fluffy tail to my back, and I felt it swish behind me as I moved. He then handed me a collar, which Mrs. Wilson fastened around my neck. It had a small, shiny name tag attached to it, with the word "Puppy" engraved on it.

The two of them led me to the desk, where they began to undress me. I felt a surge of excitement as they exposed my body, and I knew that I was in for a wild ride. Mrs. Wilson climbed onto the desk, her eyes fixed on mine, and said, "It's time for your breeding, Puppy. Are you ready?"

I nodded, my heart racing with anticipation. Mr. Wilson climbed onto the desk behind me, his erection pressing against my ass. He began to lick my neck, sending shivers down my spine, and I felt myself getting wet.

Mrs. Wilson reached out and began to stroke my pussy, her fingers sliding in and out of me with ease. I moaned, feeling myself getting closer to orgasm, and Mr. Wilson took advantage of the moment. He thrust his cock into me, filling me with his length, and I felt a surge of pleasure.

As they fucked me, I felt myself becoming one with them. I was their pup, their pet, and they were my handlers. I was breeding, and it felt amazing. Mrs. Wilson's fingers were still stroking my pussy, and Mr. Wilson's cock was pounding into me, filling me with his seed.

I came, my body shuddering with pleasure, and the two of them followed soon after. We lay there, panting, our bodies entwined, and I knew that I had found my place. I was their pup, and they were my handlers. We were a family, bound together by our desires, and I knew that I would never be alone again.

As we lay there on the desk, catching our breath, I couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction and belonging. The office was quiet, the only sound the hum of the computers and the occasional creak of the old building. I had never felt this way before, and I knew that this was just the beginning of our unique relationship.

Mrs. Wilson was the first to speak, her voice soft and gentle as she stroked my hair. "Puppy, you were amazing. We're so glad you decided to join us." She smiled, her eyes sparkling with excitement, as she sat up and leaned against the desk.

Mr. Wilson nodded in agreement, his eyes still gleaming with excitement as he sat up beside her. "Yes, you're a natural. We'll have to do this again soon." He reached out and began to lick my neck, sending shivers down my spine.

I smiled, feeling a sense of pride and accomplishment. I had never thought I'd be into something like this, but now I couldn't imagine going back to my old life. The office, once a place of mundane routine, had become a place of excitement and passion.

As we sat there, Mrs. Wilson began to tidy up the desk, putting papers and pens back in their place. Mr. Wilson stood up, his eyes never leaving mine, and walked over to the window. He looked out, his back to me, and said, "We'll need to set up a schedule for our playtime, and we'll need to discuss boundaries and safe words."

I nodded, feeling a sense of excitement and anticipation. I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together, and I was eager to see where it would take us. The office, once a place of boredom, had become a place of possibility.

Mr. Wilson turned back to me, his eyes serious. "We'll also need to discuss the financial aspects of our arrangement. As we discussed earlier, you'll be receiving a significant increase in pay, and you'll also be receiving a special allowance for your... extracurricular activities."

I nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. I had been worried about how I would afford to live, but now I knew that I would be taken care of. Mrs. Wilson smiled, her eyes sparkling with excitement, and said, "We'll take care of you, Puppy. You'll want for nothing."

As we talked, I realized that this was more than just a sexual arrangement. This was a relationship, a partnership, and a family. And I knew that I was ready to commit to it, fully and completely. The office, once a place of routine, had become a place of passion and excitement. And I knew that I would never look at it the same way again.

As the sun began to set outside, casting a golden glow over the office, Mrs. Wilson and Mr. Wilson helped me off the desk. We stood there, surrounded by the trappings of business and commerce, but our minds were elsewhere. We were in a world of our own, a world of passion and excitement, and we knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

.

[kinetic-elaboration]

November 24: The Menu

Decided to watch The Menu in the middle of the night because why not. Nothing could go wrong there. (This isn’t even sarcastic; I am and will be fine other than being up this late.)

I… feel like I have many thoughts and feelings but also no way to put them into words. I did really like it. I thought it was very well made. I really, really liked Ralph Fienes as the Chef, his mixture of utter sadism, cult-leader like charisma, unbearable pretentiousness and narcissism, and true pain and even vulnerability (as in the making the burger scene) that somehow all made sense together to form a coherent and very watchable character. He would be the rewatch element for me, should I ever decide to rewatch it.

I know it’s hard to put genre-straddling films in boxes because they’re pretty much always more one thing than another, but the idea of calling this a black comedy/horror is very strange to me. It had a couple jokes where I laughed out loud, in a snort sort of way (in particular, the yes-man to the critic agreeing with her when she said they were all going to die, and “No student loans? You’re going to die” and I think there was another but I forgot it already), and I suppose the introductory part was “funny” in the sense that the characters were being introduced as SO fucking annoying that I was impatiently awaiting their deaths, but generally I was not laughing. I was not finding this funny. Straight-up horrors should be funnier than this (see my reaction to Longlegs), which isn’t a complaint about the level of humor just my opinion that there was nothing in this that would warrant putting the label ‘comedy’ on it. Even black comedy—I mean I get that there were ‘so outrageous it’s funny’ aspects to it, especially as I went on, but…mmmm.

In general I actually found it incredibly horrific. Maybe it just hit my fears better than some of the other horror I’ve been watching, but really the whole middle part had this unpredictable and claustrophobic feel that just made me feel like I was losing it a little bit. The contrast between the incredible violence and the general acceptance of that violence by the characters. The calm and cult-like devotion of the staff. The smallness of the set. The slow ratcheting up of wrongness, from ‘wow that’s pretentious’ to ‘pretentious and off-putting’ to ‘subtly threatening’ to EXTREMELY VIOLENT. Tyler’s character in particular really sat on either side of the line of unbelievably over the top in his cliché foodie attitude (has the pretentious foodie lifestyle rotted his brain THAT much?) (yes) and evincing an attitude of such extreme wrongness, behaving in such an absolutely bizarre way even versus other characters, that he was frightening. I guess he was the black comedy all along.

There were also parts where I wondered if there was some degree of hypnosis (the clapping) and/or drugging (you must eat for the menu to work) happening, that was the level of psychological torture/horror I felt like I was witnessing.

This horror part, I think in retrospect, reached its peak with Tyler’s death and then started to go downhill at the fight in the Chef’s house. I sort of zoned out a little at that point, and though I don’t think the movie was too long—I think its slow pace allowed for building dread and I wouldn’t want it to rush itself—if I were going to cut it, say bring it down to 90 minutes, it would perhaps be in this section. From that point it was more thriller than horror, and I was primarily invested in seeing how it all turned out. I’d gotten the concept, so there wasn’t any more of that disorienting ‘what the fuck is that next turn’ feeling really left, and the torture was fairly out in the open. Was the last psychological trick, the asking for help that won’t come, really necessary? I mean, I suppose to explain why they all stayed. Emotionally it hit the least hard for me I’d say. And I thought the speech about the burger was a little expository and unsubtle, though I didn’t hate it. I mean in general I would call the film subtle as a horror but unsubtle as a movie with a specific message about foodie culture specifically and wealth/entitlement/service more generally. And it certainly played with some old-school, familiar tropes of locked-door mystery/horrors and retribution on the sinful and so on.

I did like the ending and found it satisfying. And that burger looked really good except for the onions. I laughed at the list of ingredients of the s'mores including ‘staff, guests, restaurant,’ so, yeah, there was another comedic element I guess.

[talkingpointsusa]

Debunking Charlie Kirk on student debt relief

Every time I watch Charlie's crap my eye is automatically drawn to that bizarre ass Eagle head impaled on an American flag in the background. (source: Charlie Kirk on Rumble)

Charlie Kirk, he's a profoundly bizarre human being. The fact that he's as serious a figure in the Republican party as he is should horrify all of us. Anyway, Charlie has thoughts on student loan forgiveness that are about as dumb as you might expect. Lets get into it.

10:57, Charlie Kirk: "Where was Joe Biden yesterday? Was Joe Biden staring into the heavens to look at the Eclipse? Was Joe Biden taking a nap in the East Wing? No, Joe Biden was in one of the states he believes will decide the entire election."

So....campaigning. This isn't exactly a new concept in politics. Trump does it too Charlie.

Also, Charlies really trying to go for that "dramatic newsman" thing in this episode. He has a newspaper with him on the desk and he reads that Biden has rebooted student debt relief right off the front page as if it were about JFK getting shot.

Anyway, the thing that Charlie is pissed off about is Joe Biden unveiling a new student debt relief plan. If this plan goes through, it could relieve the student debt of almost 30 million Americans. Given the increased cost of living, which particularly affects students, this is an objectively good thing. Given that we as a society obviously want more people to go to college and learn the skills that they need to contribute to society, this is a total no-brainer. Speaking of no-brainers, here's Charlie's take on the issue.

13:11, Charlie Kirk: "What is this, actually, what Joe Biden is doing? This is naked bribery."

So, this is Charlie Kirks angle on this issue. He thinks that it's bribery. If Biden doing a good thing for Americans is bribery, then every semi-decent president who has put in debt relief and economic programs has also engaged in bribery. All this does is help Americans through college and that's absolutely a good thing.

Charlie's position on this is wildly unpopular by the way. According to a 2023 Bloomberg poll, 47% of Gen Z voters believed that Biden wasn't doing enough to relieve student debt at the time. That same poll showed that 59% of Gen Z voters approve of Biden's plans to cancel 127$ billion in student debt.

13:42, Charlie Kirk: "Remember, as we say frequently here on this program - tyrants have two ways to hold on to power. Fear and free stuff. Fear and Free stuff. Fear and free stuff. In one week you have seen grandmas be sentenced to prison for praying in the capitol, a week later Joe Biden goes away to give free stuff for college students and college graduates in Madison Wisconsin."

I was curious as to what Charlie was talking about regarding the old woman praying so I did a little digging. Turns out it's more January 6th apologetics.

The person that he is referring to is a woman from Falcon Colorado named Rebecca Lavrenz who was at the Capitol on January 6th. She was inside the Capitol which is an illegal act of trespassing on a federal building. Plus, she was part of a mob that intended to overturn a presidential election. Whether or not she was praying is completely irrelevant here. Unless Charlie's saying that it's OK to commit crimes as long as I'm praying while I'm committing the crime.

Also, fear? Very few people even know that this case even happened. I'm not buying the idea that prosecuting people for crimes is some kind of intimidation tactic because that's extremely stupid.

14:39, Charlie Kirk: "And the Biden plan is, no joke, to give most student loan relief to those who have been the least responsible in their behavior. That's right, the people that have paid off the loans the worst. So not only is this debt forgiveness, not only is this bribery, but if you've been paying off your student loans your a sucker."

Or those people are struggling financially and need more help than others. I guess helping others out isn't in Charlies lexicon.

15:03, Charlie Kirk: "If you're a plumber, an electrician, a welder, if you're a police officer, a firefighter, an entrepreneur. If you served our military and didn't go to college, Joe Biden says 'heh, get out of the way.'"

I know that Charlie is having a blast listing jobs that come to his mind but are those people students? This conversation is about student debt relief and those people listed have steady and oft well paying jobs. They're extremely important to our society but those people aren't necessarily financially struggling like many students and recent graduates are.

Student debt relief actually helps the economy.

15:13, Charlie Kirk: "It is the individuals that studied North African lesbian poetry at the University of Wisconsin-Madison that are not able to pay of their loans. They're the ones that Joe Biden is attempting to bribe."

This is a huge Charlie Kirkism, it's also a pretty big Ben Shapiroism. If you consume nothing but right-wing media you'd assume that there are armies of people taking majors that don't easily apply to the job market and that these people deserve it for....studying something they're interested in I guess.

The problem is that it's not true. According to the National Centre for Education Statistics, the number one most studied major in the USA is business. Hmmm, that's pretty far from North African Lesbian Poetry (which by the way sounds like a really fun major but I won't belabor the point), maybe the second most studied major is more in line with that. Oh wait, the second most studied major in the United States is health, so studying to become a doctor or a nurse. As a matter of fact, all of the top ten are extremely traditional majors.

Number 9's journalism. That's me, yay :D

When you tally up all the percentages, you'll find that these ten majors make up for 75.9 percentages of degrees. But I'm sure that the 25% are the people who getting all the student loan forgiveness because they majored in North African Lesbian Poetry. Either that or Charlies argument doesn't make sense, like at all.

Also, if you look at the average salaries for all of these careers you'll find that Charlies argument about all these majors being low paying and financially unviable is totally ridiculous. If you calculate the average salary out of all of the salaries listed it comes up with $62,900. Seems like people are pursuing financially lucrative majors but seem to have something else holding them back...something else that can be relieved maybe.

15:49, Charlie Kirk: "Now what would make sense is making it so students can't take out these loans to attend the schools that have no financial value in the first place, wouldn't that be nice? Stop giving loans to gender studies and race studies. Stop letting people borrow $150,000 dollars for a photography degree."

"Yeah, why don't they just not give out loans to people taking courses that I don't like?"

Also, here's an interesting and often unacknowledged fact - people with degrees in gender studies make bank. According to Data USA, gender studies majors make an average wage of $85,454 a year and the industry is growing. But the point still stands that 3 quarters of American college students aren't getting degrees in things like gender studies and photography so its a moot point.

16:16, Charlie Kirk: "So who gets most hosed in this system? Anyone who was responsible. There are millions of ways -- there are millions of people who avoided college to avoid debt. Other people went to lower ranked schools on scholarship. Some people did AP classes in high school. Some people went to community college first. Some people did a stint in the military just to get the GI money. All of you are losers."

So, Charlies got two arguments here.

1): Just don't get an education - again, most nations have figured this out and offer college for free. As it stands now, college is extremely expensive but increases your chances of getting a job. So really this argument is just stupid because it reinforces a terrible system that Biden is somewhat helping to fix (although I personally am a believer in college being entirely free like in many European nations)

2): We shouldn't make any progress because that's unfair to the people who struggled before the progress was made - if you take what Charlie is saying here to its logical conclusion society wouldn't move forward at all because we'd be caught up in how unfair progress is to people who didn't get to benefit from that progress in the past.

Conclusion:

Charlie Kirk is usually a pretty good pulse for what the right-wing griftospheres take on new policies will be. Charlie really just trotted out the usual right-wing talking points about student debt relief that don't really make any sense. For a guy who runs what is supposedly a right-wing student organization, Charlie not only took the single most unpopular position on this issue but the stupidest.

Cheers and I'll see you in the next one.

Sources:

Original Video:

“Biden’s Student Loan Bribe + the Ukraine Money Pit | Mansour, Sacks, Klingenstein | LIVE 4.9.24.” Rumble.com, 9 Apr. 2024.

Student Debt Relief:

Douglas-Gabriel, Danielle. “Biden Makes Another Pitch for Student Loan Relief, but Challenges Loom.” Washington Post, 8 Apr. 2024

Browning, Lynnley. “What to Know about the Latest Student-Loan Forgiveness Plans.” Intelligencer, 2 Apr. 2024.

“Biden Forgave Billions in Student Debt. Poll Shows It’s Not Enough for Gen Z.” Bloomberg.com, 14 Dec. 2023.

Griset, Rich. “How Wiping out All Student Loan Debt Would Change the Economy.” Fortune, 3 Jan. 2022.

“10 Most Popular College Majors.” Coursera,

Miller, Dan. “What Would Be the Impact of Canceling Student Debt?” Investopedia, 9 Oct. 2023.

Woman praying in the Capitol:

Keith, Tony. “Falcon Woman Known as “Praying Grandma” Found Guilty for Her Role in the U.S. Capitol Riot.” Https://Www.kktv.com, 8 Apr. 2024.

[justsome-di]

Nobody Ends Up Dead in a Bathtub, Everyone Keeps Their Organs: Chapter 6

okay hi this is my fav chapter in this whole story eve is literally the best character in this whole novel

Summary: Alex, a secretary, and Damián, a sex worker, are set up on a “date” as an awful prank by Alex’s co-workers. They plan their revenge through a fake dating scheme with a big finale at Alex’s office’s Halloween party. But, this is a romance novel, so you know things don’t go that smoothly.

You can also read this on AO3, Wattpad, or Patreon (patrons also get chapters a week early along with bonus content).

In hindsight, Eve shouldn’t have checked her grades at work. It didn’t make a difference that she was on her break and sat in the empty staff room. She should have checked at home where she could lock herself in the bathroom while Alex quietly hovered outside the door, texting their mother that he feared Eve was hysterical.

She rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath.

54%

How could she have scored so low? She had tried so hard. She had studied for an entire week for the midterm. There had to be a mistake. Some glitch in the student portal. Maybe her professor mistyped or did the math wrong.

Eve refreshed the page and then refreshed it again.

The number under her cracked phone screen didn’t change. 54% stayed there in devilish red, letting her know she had failed.

There was no way she was going to pass the class now. She was going to have to repeat it, and then she would be behind. She couldn’t take calc II until she passed calc I. If she didn’t get into calc II that next semester, she would have to shuffle her schedule around to try to find an empty slot for it later. She would have to miss another class for her major or convince the registrar to let her overload her credit hours. There wasn’t that much wiggle room in her academic plan. There wasn’t padding built in for her to fail courses over and over.

If she couldn’t get her shit together, she would need to stay in college an extra semester. She would have to pay for an extra semester. She would have to take out more loans. And it would all mean more time squatting in Alex’s apartment and working a shitty retail gig.

Eve wiped away a few tears.

“Fuck.”

She pressed her fist into her forehead. She had to pull herself together. She had a book club meeting to host. She could hold it all in until she was home and in the bathroom.

Eve grabbed her copy of Sometime Next Year. She took another deep breath and stepped out of the staff room. She could pull herself together for an hour.

Upstairs, between the books on Wicca and biographies, club members were already gathering in their small circle of metal chairs. They creaked and squeaked and moaned as they got pushed around the hardwood floor.

Eve poured a cup of coffee for herself at their little snack table. It was shitty coffee, but it was all her manager could get with their budget. Shitty coffee and shitty cookies.

“Good eve-ning, Eve. Does anyone else make that joke?”

And then there was Damián.

Eve turned around to see him, grinning at his own joke as if it were the first time he ever had ever told it.

“Only you,” she said. “Every month for over a year.”

Damián was nice. She liked him. He was the type of guy who got along with everyone, and he was kind to her despite her lingering teenage angst.

He was also incredibly perceptive. Standing at the snack table, he frowned at her. He noticed her watery eyes and the slight hoarseness to her voice.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said.

But her voice totally cracked, giving away the fact that something was wrong. Damián curled forward, bending to look at her down-turned face. It made her feel worse, seeing his sympathetic face, mirroring her worry.

“Come on,” he said. “Come with me.”

She left her coffee and book behind. Damián gently took her elbow and led her back down the stairs and out the front door. Every step she took, her composure slipped further until she was crying into the sleeve of her cardigan. It was deeply embarrassing. Mortifying. She tried shielding her face so the customers and her co-workers floating around couldn’t see her getting more and more worked up.

They stood outside the bookstore. Her sweater wasn’t thick enough to keep her warm, but the way the cold wind hit her calmed her a little. It brought her back to the present, and she was aware of where she was. On the stoop of her bookstore, in the final stretch of her shift, with Damián keeping a mindful distance but still there. She took a shuddering breath in.

“What happened?” Damián asked.

“I failed a midterm,” she cried.

“Aww. That’s it?”

“What do you mean ‘that’s it?’ I failed a midterm.”

“I thought someone had died.”

“I failed a midterm.”

She would keep repeating it until Damián understood the gravity of the situation. It was the worst day of her life in a long time. All of her plans were crumbling around her.

There were internships she was hoping for, gone. No one would hire her if she wasn’t keeping up with her schoolwork. No one would want her if she couldn’t pass her very first calculus class. And she would continue spiraling down her path of mediocrity.  

“That’s not the end of the world,” Damián said. “Have you asked your professor if you can re-take it?”

Eve sniffed. She wished she had a tissue. “I can do that?”

“Maybe. If you’re polite enough, and if they’re understanding.”

She didn’t know she could re-take midterms. She assumed college was strict with hard deadlines and little leeway. She had gone through a whole school year thinking so.

“Just say you want a second chance,” Damián said. “The worst they can say is no.”

“But if he says no, I won’t be able to make it up. I’ll fail the class.”

“That’ll be okay, too. Eve, it’s okay if you fail one class. People fail classes all the time and still come out okay.”

Eve pulled her sweater sleeves over her thumbs and rubbed at the underside of her eyes. Thankfully, she knew, her black eyeliner wouldn’t stain her black cardigan in a noticeable way. 

She tried convincing herself that Damián had a point, that he was right. After all, he was one of the smartest people she knew. She didn’t know what he did now, but he had once let it slip that he had aspirations to be a doctor and that he had been pre-med in college. And she had assumed that he had to be smart to be pre-med.

“Don’t panic yet,” Damián said.

“When do I get to start panicking?”

Damián crossed his arms and tilted his head up. “If you’re still in college in ten years, and you’re still not passing this one class. You can panic then.”

Eve wiped the remaining tears on her cheeks away. “I’ll set an alarm.”

Damián smiled. His teeth were always a little too white. A little over-bleached. But it was one of those things that made him him. If he suddenly cut down on his whitening strip habit, Eve wouldn’t be able to recognize him. And then she’d think he was going through some awful, soul-crushing personality crisis.

Damián gave off the air of someone who was always very confident in the exact way that he was, the way he intentionally made himself. And it radiated off of him, making Eve think that maybe she could be intentionally herself, too, and love that version of her.

“Send an email to your professor in the morning,” Damián said. “I’m sure he’ll work with you. That’s his job.”

Her professor wasn’t an evil man. Damián was right. He would probably find a way to help her. She trusted Damián, at least, to give her good advice.

“And,” Damián said, “maybe ask someone if you can get a tutor? Doesn’t your school have student tutors?”

“They do, but I never get off work in time to schedule appointments with them.”

“Well, what if you ask your professor if he knows someone who can stay late? I’m sure they want you to pass their class. There’s no harm in asking. The worst he can do is help you find other resources.”

It sounded reasonable. She didn’t know how many math tutors would be willing to stay late to tutor only her or tutor on weekends when they probably had other plans, but she would ask.

“Okay,” she said.

“Did I help any?”

“You did.”

“Ready to go back in?”

Eve nodded.

Damián opened the door for her with a comment about how it was chilly and she should get back inside before she froze to death. They went back upstairs, Eve sheepishly took her book and now-cold coffee from the snack table.

Everyone had settled into the circle. 

These were her people. Her wonderful queers. Their presence alone was like a balm. Their company always made her feel a little bit better.

It was a widely diverse group. She was the youngest member, the only teenager.

There was an older couple—maybe somewhere in their 60s—who came in every so often.

There was a young trans man who was finally back after recovering from top surgery.

An Appalachian woman who had only been living in the city for a few months.

And a single mother who was straight and cisgender but who had a gay teenage son who she really wanted to support and understand.

Eve sat in her usual seat, right by the new Oscar Wilde display. It was coming up on his birthday month, and Eve was proud of her little monument to him. She had pulled all of his plays that they had and a good assortment of biographies. And, of course, The Picture of Dorian Gray stood at the top of the pyramid shelf. 

Damián sat next to her, like he usually did. Eve leaned in close to him.

“I didn’t get to finish the book,” she whispered.

“During midterms? No one can blame you.”

Her chair squeaked when she sat back into it. Damián’s squeaked when he crossed his legs.

There were a dozen or so more squeaks before everyone was settled. Eve hoped that her eyes weren’t red and puffy and began the meeting. She gave some vague historical context, though almost everyone else in the room was alive in the 90s when the book was set and definitely knew it better than her, and offered some personal insight. 

It was how some podcaster started episodes of a series Eve half-heartedly listened to every few months. It had sounded smart when she first heard it, so she copied it in hopes it made her sound older and wiser. Every month, she scribbled notes on loose paper. That month, her notes were on the back of a receipt to a Chinese restaurant.

Quickly, Eve passed the conversation on to the rest of the group. Damián picked it up, prefacing everything with his love for messy lesbian romances but how dissapointed he was in the lack of happy endings for lesbians in books. 

Eve learned that the book had ended with the main characters parting ways, agreeing that they were better off without each other. There had been little character development and everyone was stuck with new problems. All that was promised at the end of the book was that things might start to look better “sometime next year.”

“Gay men are starting to get happy endings, kinda, but we’re leaving lesbians behind,” Damián said. “All this talk about how representation is getting better, but it feels like it’s always focused around gay men. Sometimes you get happy lesbians, but how often are they side characters that don’t do all that much? Or are just there to support a male character? It’s unfair. 

“It’s this gross cross-section of bury your gays and misogyny. Even lesbian writers can’t see themselves as having a happy ending when they’re the main character—and maybe that’s cathartic And. I don’t think the author was saying lesbians don’t deserve happy endings but just that that’s what happens sometimes. But still, I don’t want lesbians in real life thinking that they’re doomed for failed relationships. There’s so much potential for good things.”

“I think suffering is inherent with being gay, though,” Eve said.

“I don’t agree with that,” Damián said, quickly, a little stern. “You don’t have to suffer. You can be happy and gay. I’m happy and gay. And if we believe that we’re supposed to be unhappy, then we’re just giving in to what homophobes want. We lose our fight.”

Eve couldn’t argue any further even if she didn’t totally agree. Damián was older, and she respected that. Alex had told her once that when an older queer talked to her, she should listen. She didn’t know how old he meant. She didn’t even know how old Damián was. Come to think of it, Alex was offended when she asked if he counted as an older queer. Maybe he meant really old. Older than 30. Damián couldn’t have been older than 30.

Alex had been offended by being called old, but he composed and corrected himself. He told her to just listen to him. Aging was different for people like them. And Eve knew what he meant when his voice wavered over those words. People like them.

It was different. Alex told her that if she were his age, she would see what he saw. A child growing up in the 90s, right as the epidemic was ending, right as things were starting to settle and right themselves, Alex was a child of the rubble. He had been so certain of who he was at a young age, but it was like standing in the aftermath of a bomb.

She was lucky, he said. She was born during better times. He was happy for her. He was thankful for it. But he seemed to assume that Eve was living without any guilt and less grief when really, she was living with just slightly different types.  

They had had an uncle Eve never met. Alex only had the faintest of memories of sitting on his frail lap, his own baby-fat-padded legs pressed into his boney knees. He told Eve every detail about him that he could remember. His thin cheeks. His sparse beard. From pictures the family had in old photo albums, Eve could see him as a younger man with the same round face Alex had and thick, sandy hair.

Their mother could talk about him for hours with a wide smile and sad eyes. She told Eve all about how they got in trouble together, kept secrets from their parents. Their age difference was just about the same as Eve and Alex.  

Their uncle Cole was always timeless and ageless. He was either a small child or a sick, adult man. Eve had asked once how old he was when he had died. Her mother was tense. Her hands gripped a dishrag tight. 35, she said. He died a few weeks after turning 35. 

Funny enough, their family never used the A-word. They skirted around it as though if anyone were to mention it by name, it would come back to them.

So, Alex told her, it was important to listen to whatever older queer person she came across. And she was certain that he didn’t mean himself. Or even Damián.

But regardless, Damián had helped her with her school dilemma, so she thought she owed it to him to bite her tongue while he talked.

“I just think we deserve to know we can be happy while still acknowledging our shared traumas and grief,” Damián said. “But I still really love a messy romance. I live for that drama.”

The meeting went on, lesbians in the small circle chirping up with how they felt seen regardless of the ending. Damián listened to them with thoughtful eyes and a slight tilt to his head, nodding along every so often and smiling with them. Eve tried copying him, tried looking like she was really taking in their points and observations.

But she was stuck on Damián’s words. If there was a way to balance happiness and trauma, she hadn’t found it yet. She used to burn up inside with her own misery, but it had turned into acceptance. She thought that if she were meant to be happy, it would have happened already. There would have been some sign that everything was going to look up for her. If Damián was right, if suffering wasn’t inherent to her identity, then she would have to go through the process of realizing that her reclusiveness, her loneliness, her confusion wasn’t part of a shared experience but rather just her.

If she deserved a happy ending, surely she should have been deserving of a happy middle.

[that-lazy-snail]

Election Ramblings to follow...

So I'm currently studying abroad in Japan for the year (and all the struggles that has presented is a whole different story but!) and the election has literally made me physically sick with anxiety every day for the past week. Like I can't sleep, I have no appetite, I have a horrifically upset stomach. I haven't been this anxiety paralyzed since I was 15, in England with the worst depression of my life and suicidal thoughts, before Trump got elected the first time. I know there's been some studies done on the post 2016 election ptsd but I honestly didn't realize how bad it was, I forget how bad it was and the fact that this year, it's another woman vs a white man, it's worse than it was in 2020.

I literally cried for an hour today, and probably will continue to cry until I fall asleep (if I even can it's 3:30 am in Tokyo right now) because in 2015 no matter how horrible Trump was, a woman was somehow still worse. That is psychologically damaging in a way I can't explain, that the country basically said that being a pedophile and a rapist, racist, homophobic criminal, was still better than being a woman. The bone deep dread I have, that it will be the same now, is indescribable. I don't know if I can survive another Trump presidency, as someone who has reproductive health problems and is amab, as someone who is homosexual. Even if the policy doesn't kill me (which it very well could and would, I live in the South) the stress, constant paranoia and anxiety might.

Being abroad for the election is definitely also not helping. While I have a wonderful sense of community with my friends here, and we're all very supportive of each other and have been doing some emotional hand holding for the last month of so regarding the election, my professors and to be frank the fuckin European students are not understanding. Quite a few of the European students are actually assholes about it and treat the whole thing kind of like a joke (which it's very much not) and use it as an excuse to shit on America and Americans overall. The professors aren't mean, they're just oblivious to the like, constant state of breakdown I've been in for the last week or so. Life goes on here, they watch our election on the news and call it done, for me, it is quite literally my life on the line so I'm quite a bit more anxious and generally stressed about it. I miss my parents and I'm terrified he's going to be elected and I'm going to go back to my apartment, alone and suffer. I'm so scared I'm going to relive 2016, where I sobbed in my parents bedroom for hours, until 6 in the morning except without my mom holding me and my dad telling me everything would be okay (spoiler it wasn't they overturned roe v. wade). Where I campaigned for Hillary and prayed for the rest of the adults around me to protect my future and watched them choose sexism and hatred over my safety. Watched my grandmother say that how her church told her to vote and their opinion was more important than my future, and then tell me that to my face. When I spent that whole year, believing that we'd get our first female president only to have that future ripped away. I'm scared to hope for it, but when (and I say when because if she doesn't I might really never be coming back from Japan) she wins, I'm going to celebrate so fucking hard. I'm going to be cheering and popping champagne and screaming from the rooftops that we finally shattered the glass ceiling.

By God I hope she wins, I hope she wins for women, for LGBT people, for children and for schools and for immigrants and for education and for unions and for tax cuts and loan forgiveness and freedom. I don't want to live in fear for the next 4 years, assuming that it doesn't quickly turn to fascism if he's elected. So she's going to win, cause she has to win, and if she doesn't I don't think I can call myself American anymore.

[k8ld]

I have paid off my student loans.

First began taking them out in 2012 and graduated college in the summer of 2016.

Started paying them when I immediately began college, with monthly interest payments.

I worked almost 40 hours a week as a full time student, maintained a GPA above 3.0 and had an active social life. I went to a college in state, chosen because it was the cheapest of the four I was accepted to, and commuted everyday.

When I graduated college, my monthly payments were around $500-$600 a month. I was working in the same restaurant job I had during college for the next 4 years while desperately seeking a full time position.

In 2017 my grandfather passed away and I received some money which was all put toward getting rid of the loans with the higher interest rates I had been paying since I was 18 years old. This was absolutely a privilege, and I was still left with about $30,000 (?) in federal loans.

In June of 2018 I owed 26,320. In 2020 I finally got a full time job. Covid happens, monthly payments were frozen, a gift honestly. I started saving up my monthly payments and then paying off individual loans in large chunks. I have applied for PSLF as a government employee and was still about 80 qualifying payments shy of forgiveness when I made the decision to just get rid of it all.

I paid the last individual loan a few days ago.

This timeline may not seem that impressive but to me it is.

I’ve never traveled, I’ve never left the country, I didn’t do spring break vacations, I couldn’t afford to move out of my parents home until I was 28. I stayed at jobs I absolutely hated and drove cars until they couldn’t be driven anymore. I had panic attacks from the fear of never getting out of the debt. I remember breaking down on the basement steps of my parents home after coming home from work at 11pm because I was just burnt out from the worrying and anxiety, I was 22. I use to make the joke that if I died, yeah I’d be dead, but at least my loans would be gone.

My story isn’t special or unique, it’s not particularly heart wrenching or moving anyone to tears but I know somewhere out there, there are other 21 year olds suddenly finding themselves in this situation. It’s a feeling worse than drowning. It can make you question everything and wonder if it was all worth it for an education.

College is where I fell in love with learning, but was it worth it? I will never be the same person I was again because of the anxiety caused by the financial stress I faced at a young age. I missed out on so many of the things young people are urged to do and explore because I was busy keeping up with debt. I had years of unhappiness because of the need for financial security and being terrified to take risks in my career choices.

I’m left wondering since I made that final payment, was it worth it? I have a BA In History with a minor in cultural anthropology. I loved perusing my studies.

I am a personnel officer/clerk for a municipal government. College degree helps my position but was not necessarily a requirement.

Will it equal out somewhere down the line? I really don’t know.

[violetsystems]

Grafiti artist gets caught bombing CTA trains. Then ends up working for the police on the low educating children and wheat pasting his way around Pilsen to dig himself out of his exorbitant art school student loans. Then gets a Gucci wall. That’s believable. Just like it was fate I kept running into people like you on the train. That’s some informant shit. Sounds a lot like human trafficking to me or some art school 21 jump street shit. But what do I know about traffic? Other than we threw all ages shows at your loft off grand. The curry across the street was quite good. Fuck the writer’s guild pay me instead. I don’t make this shit up. Never did. Never will. You are just living a walk on role in my life. And nobody walks all over me and gets to smile about it. I fucking promise you. I don’t give a fuck who you think you are or what you think you mean to me. Motherfuckers and their joke ass meme mentality out here almost got me killed any number of times. You think I have the luxury of fear you Neomarxist baby ass snake? Your intentions are foul then you will catch god’s own very hands. I don’t have to lift a finger. This ain’t no game for me out here. This is real real. The clap back from me will always be legendary. For I am legend not you. 🍛

[rozaceous]

all of our ideas start out as jokes, and tbh we made our most normie version si-oc's the ones to land the big bat, but really it's bc we take professional pride in pointing out all the ways the bats fuck up their lives in a logistical and physical sense.

my half of things below the cut

His neck is killing him, but he’d thought he was better at covering himself. Unfortunately, there’s only so much to be done when turning to the right shoots an immediate spike of pain into his shoulder.

Mrs George asks him knowingly, “Having trouble with the neck, Bruce dear?”

Mrs George has been his most tolerable company so far tonight, but even so, he’s not inclined to listen to the older woman’s mother-henning if he doesn’t have to.

He flashes a smile. “Just slept funny, I’m afraid.”

He’d gotten thrown into a parked car, is more like.

“Well, I know a girl if you need that taken care of. Massage therapists—” Mrs George sniffs “—well, they tend to be a little frivolous, in my opinion, but the girl I’ve got is magic. My scoliosis, you know, but I can do the yoga now because of her. Helped Harold when he threw out his back last November, too, better than those muscle relaxants the doctor prescribed. And she’s hard to get in with, but you just let me know, I’ll pull some strings; Rosalyn and I have history. You just have to treat her like a professional, Bruce.”

Bruce does his best to weather Mrs George’s beady-eyed look and implication that he doesn’t know how to keep it in his pants. “I’m sure I’ll be right as rain tomorrow, Mrs George, but thank you.”

---

He is, unfortunately, not right as rain the next day. Or the day after. Heat, ice, stretching—nothing helps. He takes pain killers, takes half a muscle relaxant—nothing.

Bruce can feel it in his back now.

---

Rosalyn Laurence, his investigation finds—because he's not letting someone he doesn't know the slightest bit about into his home where he has a child—has no college degree, but is a licensed massage therapist, certified in multiple modalities, and formerly the lead therapist to the Gotham Knights, though that had lasted only one season. Bruce suspects that’s because of the fear gas situation the Knights had gotten tangled up in during the quarter-finals, rather than her capability; the letter of resignation on file intimates as much. After all, twenty-five year-olds making it as the lead therapist to a professional sports team didn’t just happen, and he can’t find any evidence of nepotism beyond one of her mentors being friends with the head coach. But even their email correspondence on the subject is an entirely professional recommendation of her skill. Hm.

And now it seems she works for Gotham University’s athletic center two days a week, instructs at her former massage therapy school Wednesday nights, and otherwise takes private clients. No strange purchases or income, though she does seem to have an inclination for impulse buying skin care products late at night. Stable—though by no means luxurious—finances, a retirement account, some savings. Nothing more than a couple hundred in credit card debt, a few grand in student loans, and her car loan paid off in May. An apartment in the Upper West Side, no pets, no roommates.

He digs further, but doesn’t find anything of note beyond an unfortunate adolescence and her teen years spent in foster care. Despite all that, her high school records have her as a capable athlete and student, though it seems she’d declined pursuing higher education. Lack of funds or other resources, most likely, though she ought to have qualified for scholarships with Gotham U, if anything. A friend from high school that she still texts, and a foster sibling she’s still in touch with, but all the rest of her other social circle comes from her massage career. And her personal calendar suggests that her schedule is exactly what Mrs George had said—full.

Rosalyn Laurence seems, for lack of a better word, normal.

And his neck really is killing him.

---

“Holy—!”

“Yeah, sorry, this guy’s super cranky.”

“I can feel that behind my eye,” Bruce observes with awe and misery.

“Referral sensation,” Rosalyn-or-Ros-whichever-is-fine confirms. “SCM likes to get involved with everything: headaches, restricted range of motion, tinnitus, vertigo. Like a cranky old guy who does nothing but complain, but is also at every party and is impossible to avoid.”

“I know a few of those,” says Bruce ruefully.

Rosalyn laughs. “Yeah, I bet.”

“They’ve even given me headaches, too.”

Rosalyn laughs again, light and easy, her grip on his neck shifting but never relenting. He wonders if her hands get tired.

He’s never had a massage like this—though it’s not as though he’s gotten that much massage at all. He can hardly walk into a spa and hope his various scars will go unremarked upon, and that’s even if he were inclined to let some stranger work on his naked back while he’s face down. But Rosalyn has him on a table she’d hauled into the manor with her and set up in a spare room off the side of his home gym—the one on the ground floor, of course—and he’s fully dressed and facing up and she talks about everything she’s doing before she does it.

She’s good at small talk, too, Bruce notes, which makes sense given that he doubts she gets many people falling asleep on her, and that she makes frequent requests for feedback. Bruce is good at small talk, but he gets the sense that it’s more than just politeness on Rosalyn’s part; he’s spent enough time around people with ulterior motives to recognize that sometimes, if rarely, there are people who are just nice.

It’s been maybe fifteen minutes since he’s met her, and he likes her.

Despite what she’s doing to his neck.

“Yep, that’ll be anterior scalene,” says Rosalyn, sounding amused when he can’t restrain the vocal equivalent of a grimace. “Front of your shoulder?”

“It’s almost like you’ve done this before.” He does indeed have an ache traveling into his shoulder.

“Almost!”

It’s a mildly torturous hour in her hands—he’s certainly had worse—though by the end he can turn his head with only a slight twinge at the end range. Which is his full end range, rather than halved range of motion he’d had before.

He feels like his head’s lost weight.

“I had no idea this was possible without meta powers,” Bruce tells her, entirely honest. “Are you sure you’re not a meta?”

“No special powers, all science and practice,” Rosalyn returns with a grin and a wiggle of her fingers. “I take it I pass, then?”

“Flying colors,” he assures.

“Wonderful.” She rubs her hands with sanitizer she’s pulled out of her bag. “If you have questions, feel free to call or text or email; I usually respond fastest to text, though. You might be a little sore for a day or two, but it shouldn’t be anything excessive, and it definitely shouldn’t be as bad as what you started with. If that’s not the case, please let me know.”

Bruce tips her generously—Rosalyn thanks him, but doesn’t look at how much he gave her, just tucks it into her pocket, and says he’ll have the invoice for her services in his email that night—and is refused when he offers to help her carry her now-folded table back to her rather ancient Toyota Camry.

“Got plenty of muscle to do it myself, Mr Wayne,” she says, hoisting a strap onto her shoulder and grabbing a set of handles. “And it’s not so heavy anyhow.”

“Bruce,” he reminds her. He’d had to tell her to use his first name at the beginning, too.

“Bruce,” she amends. “Also, I just fixed you up, no need to go undoing my hard work with unnecessary chivalry.”

“Ah, and there goes my ploy towards seeing you again.”

Rosalyn snorts. “You’ve got my business card for the next time you ‘sleep funny.’”

Something about the way she says it makes Bruce look twice, but Rosalyn’s expression is just as pleasant as ever.

“I’ll let you know, then,” he says as he holds the back door open. The service entrance had been closest to the room they’d used.

“Sounds like a plan, Bruce. Have a good week.” Rosalyn gives another smile and a wave as she pops her trunk.

Bruce takes his cue to step back. “You as well, Rosalyn.”

an actual AU snippet: a number of different selves

bc @rozaceous and i keep teehee-ing about 'folie a deux' and aaaaall the au's we have for our dc-siocs

money where the mouth is: bonus snippet + concept for followers

(it'll prob just be like my longer mdzs au's with one written part and the rest is just back and forth)

impetus: roz and i saw a shitpost where someone laughed at "bruce wayne x reader divorce" and said "he's already going through it and people are really inserting themselves in the narrative just to divorce him lmao"

which we then joked "damn we'd be set. he could have whatever mistress he wants as long as we could have financial support and leave us alone. we'll play his trophy wife"

and then we both realized that there would be things we couldn't let go if we ever caught wind of it. like it would drive us insane to abide by it. and thus...a version of our si's w bruce (yeah you heard me, both of us)

so here's a thing, bonus only for tumblr🙂

“I put you two in that meeting to clear up any hard feelings,” Lucius stares dead-on at his screen. He tries very hard not to pinch the bridge of his nose—composure needs to be maintained. “It can’t have gone that poorly.”

“Time is a finite resource for us lowly mortals and I’m not getting that hour back,” Vivienne grits out. “A fucking PA—where does he get off on his high horse? I hope he explodes.”

What?

“—know how many people work here, Lucius? Let alone just my division? And you��re wasting everyone’s time with each dead-on-arrival concept that gets shuffled into our portfolio and then ‘mysteriously’ yanked when it’s just good enough to Frankenstein into whatever high school science project that’s hiding in some Gotham sewer tunnel.” Her tirade is caustic and not hidden behind the typical red lipstick smiles. “Morale is dipping. There’s only so much you can pay to keep mouths shut and stop turnover.”

Vivienne makes very good points—the fact she has the acumen even three years ago was why WanyeTech moved to fund her PhD and fast-tracked her as a technical director upon entering the workforce. She caught on very quickly—too quickly—that there were private uses of certain advanced concepts within R&D, and she cared. Fortunately for WayneTech, her diligence meant increase in efficiency for the company; they’ve won several bids that have extended their reach into two new industries.

(Fortunately, WayneTech is privately held and not subject to public shareholder scrutiny.)

Unfortunately for the Batman, it meant additional roadblocks for his tools and supplies. It was by God’s grace, or something, that Vivienne didn’t decide to either blackmail them or whistle-blow. What she argued for was more oversight and appropriate man-hours and billing for certain projects that went towards a ‘private use case.’ The willingness to help (out of logistical fury) took a load off Lucius’s shoulders, but it put two new headaches in his skull: one next to each ear every time Vivienne or Bruce complained about each other peripherally.

“Does His Dark Grace think he’s not subject to g-forces?”

“Lucius. I asked for four different configurations. It should be able to fit.”

“Love his idealism—of course we have the manufacturing tolerances of an ant colony!”

“This is over-redundant and unnecessary. It gets in the way of visibility. I need a design change by two weeks.”

...and so on, so forth. So Lucius decided to cut himself out as the middleman and make the two talk to each other. A direct stakeholder meeting to capture requirements and fulfill proposals, so to speak in company terms. As both Bruce’s long-standing friend and Vivienne’s superior for her tenure at the company, he’s in the unique position to see the similarities in their personalities and (perhaps foolishly) believed they would get along after candid discussion.

And somehow, it all went to hell in a hand basket. That’s probably on Lucius for forgetting that adults were equally susceptible to playground scrapping as his six-year-old son. Thankfully, there’s less physical dirt involved or impromptu weapons, even if Vivienne looks ready to rip her stiletto heels off to use as a real stiletto.

“Vi, what do you need me to give?” Lucius straightens and prepares to negotiate. The greatest vulnerability of adding good talent is having more people in the know. Loose ends. It’d be a blow to lose Vivienne, but as long as she doesn’t talk—

“He’s lucky he’s a net good,” she snarls, now pacing in front of his desk. “He’s fucking lucky city statistics are on his side.”

“Vivienne.”

She stops mid-rant. “What.”

“Are you terminating our agreement?”

Vivienne takes a few calming breaths before rearranging her stance into something more office-appropriate rather than riled up before taking part in an illicit cage match. “No, Chief Fox. I am not,” she answers with a placid smile, tone light and even.

“Then, what would make your life easier?” Lucius does understand that she’s doing them a huge favor at an equally huge cost from herself. There’s a lot of duties that are more effort and well-beyond what someone her pay grade should need to touch; the delicate situation requires her to be equal parts every role for end-to-end conceptual design to manufacturing.

When Lucius scouted Vivienne Yang from her undergrad in Gotham University, it was by chance—there were technical managers scouting and giving PR for various capstone projects, and he decided to tag along. There, as he was browsing various posters, is where he found her. The work done by her team wasn’t novel (just par for the course with undergraduate engineers), but it was the polish that caught his eye. A methodical approach to answering the prompts given by the capstone courses, justified scope, and structured analysis and design choices that made her team’s final concept (proposed electric car design) stand out. Their value proposition considered necessary support infrastructure and manufacturing as part of their considerations.

He called them ‘her team’ because it was clear that, despite being barely 5’6” with pointed choice of footwear and surrounded by young men over a head taller with the typical engineers’ mannerisms to boot, she called the shots. Oh, of course, her teammates contributed to the questions he asked (”Andy,” young-Vivienne barked, and Team Member Andy jumped in to answer about the drivetrain sizing), but she was the systems integrator.

This was the type of skill that took years to build—usually, years of practical experience on the job—and she had it as intuition. And when Lucius corrected certain assumptions on their design, she didn't take it personally but was instead able to promptly speculate how that would shift their design point.

Thus, he put out an immediate sponsorship for her to grab an advanced degree (or two), school of her choice, research topic to be approved by whatever technical manager in WayneTech that acted as her liaison, and would jump into a stable job with a salary and employee benefits other grad students could only dream of.

Landing something as prestigious as Director of Advanced Concepts, slated for Chief Technology Officer by her 30s, in a Fortune 500 company? Barring the fact that the work was based in Gotham, crime capital of the United States, it would be something like pure fantasy to any aspiring engineer.

She took the sponsorship offer, and Lucius learns over the years that she financially supports her family living out-of-state and genuinely enjoys the various industries that intersect within WayneTech’s R&D. She likes a job well done, is practical and professional (if not overly enthused) when defense-related bids come across their table, and disdains many of the big research or tech conglomerates that make the news for various crimes or “waste of brain cells and human effort.”

Her morals aren’t obvious, but Vivienne’s choice to support Lucius’s efforts to protect Bruce in his uphill crusade is her character vouching for the Batman, even if she dislikes the actual man behind the mask and his design requirements. That she considers it still of worth is something that Lucius needs to compensate her for.

Lord knows had Bruce actually gone through with that projectile design, he’d have already lost an eye. If Vivienne says his proposed ‘Batplane’ design will vibrate into smithereens, he’s inclined to trust her on that.

“I’m going to start calling him an idiot and vetoing stupid requirements,” Vivienne declares, one eyebrow raised like she’s daring him to object.

“You mean you haven’t been doing that already?”

“Lucius, I have been nothing but polite to him. You have the CCs,” she refutes, looking at him incredulously.

He’s not sure by whose standards her scathing emails can be considered ‘polite’, but of course she can be worse. He needs to smooth this out, redo the first meeting ASAP. His hairline can’t take more of this.

“Fine, alright. Just—let’s try to set up another discussion. I’ll attend this time.”

Vivienne actually snorts. “Guess I’m never beating the PA allegations.” She looks down at her watch. “Fuck. Should have just written you an angry email. How am I going to make it five blocks in ten minutes?” She mutters and just as suddenly as she invaded his office, she strides out with a distracted, “Okay thanks, I’ll continue this later.”

He’d rather she not, but it seems she’s sticking around the Wayne Enterprises HQ building to call into her upcoming meeting; he hears her requesting a fresh notepad, a hot cup of coffee, and a private conference room and everyone outside honors those requests immediately.

That’ll give Lucius about two hours to process Vivienne’s rant, track down Bruce for his side of the story, and figure out how to smooth things out. It shouldn’t be unreasonable.

His phone call to Bruce shatters his expectations.

“You called Director Yang my what?”

[boredompaw]

Jayvik Heacanons but modern AU (have some Caitvi while you're here as well)

Here me out. Jayvik (and some Caitvi) headcanons. But modernize it and make it less sad. I don't feel like being sad.

Also I wrote this at like 2 in the morning in my notes app last night while brushing my teeth so a lot of it is gonna sound like rambling. Don't have time to fix it because a lab report and some tests to study for pray for me.

• Jayce is senior year undergraduate researcher, gonna stick around for a combined 4+1 undergrad/masters kinda deal; double majoring in mechanical engineering and physics

• Viktor's a grad student (BS in physics and a BA in math) working in the same lab, who kind of knew Jayce in passing as one of the //pretty// ones in the lab but being the antisocial little shit he is he doesn't collaborate well with anyone else in the lab and assumed he wouldn't mesh with Jayce either

• Jayce is almost kicked out of uni for his unsanctioned research he was doing as a "side gig" unbeknownst to the professor who runs the lab, God knows how he managed to keep it under wraps for so long

• Jayce gets drunk and unreasonable tries to hang himself in the lab (hello undiagnosed chronic depression and a mess of other mental illness that probably leads to more angst later) but Viktor who was working late, catches him and talks him down

• Oh you're asking why Jayce would go to such desperate measures? Welllll in my head it has something to do with it going on his record, Jayce kind of having some shit grades in school (too smart so he kind of doesn't apply himself deal but he has a silver tongue that he's managed to talk himself into all sorts of positions like this research one), a useless degree without grad school, and general hopelessness that can come with depression. Also crippling student loans hello.

• Viktor is one of Prof. Heimerdinger's TA so he helps to move Jayce's research to the prof's office but he snags Jayce's notes from under Heimerdinger's nose

• Viktor makes the comment about being "egotistical" in reference to Jayce's massive swirly ass signature since it's actually standard practice to sign your notes/notebook for patenting and legal reasons later on if you're successful with your endeavor

• The two gremlins manage to reach a breakthrough with Jayce's confiscated technology so uni just kinda goes with it because they want their name associated with the discovery

--

Time skip est. Relationship stuff, some Cait and Vi here

• Oh my god they were roommates but not the only two they stacked in 2 other roomies (ahem hi cait and vi) because rent ain't cheap bitches

• Viktor hates watching sci-fi movies or any action movies bc he can't stop nitpicking the fake science but endures it bc Jayce likes to watch them for the opposite reason he finds the inaccuracies funny

• Viktor is a hazard while driving (it's always the ones you don't expect to be the most aggressive) on the road and Jayce fears for his life every time he gets in Viktor's car. Jayce also has no options because he don't own a car.

• Jayce is the one who cooks in this household, Viktor can apply eyeliner like a god hurrdurr don't ask me about these I just feel it in my core

• Viktor brews moonshine in the cabinet under the bathroom sink that could probably make you go blind. It's for special occasions.

• Jayce and Vi are gym buddies

• Jayce snores pretty damn loud which annoys everyone in the house except for Viktor the local insomniac who can hear it through the walls and finds it kind of comforting as he works into the night in his room

• It's always a dishes war in this house until Cait, the youngest of the bunch, has to go mom mode and make a chore chart to make sure the house stays functional

• Viktor has a soft spot for slow dancing with Jayce

• Jayce and Viktor ended up getting together after Jayce came into the lab one slow Thursday, made too many stupid heat related jokes and dropped a godawful pickup line. It only worked because Viktor said yes out of equal parts frustration towards Jayce and towards the stupid calculations he couldn't figure out how to reduce the heat transfer on his prototype. The rest is history though

• NO VIKTOR IS NOT DYING HERE this is an AU everything is happy and gay it's fine, but Viktor is an amputee. Doesn't stop him from driving crazy though, much to someone's chagrin

• No one here can keep plants alive. No one. Not Cait, not Vi, not Jayce, not Viktor. The succulent death tally is above 15 at this point.

--

you know what fuck it here's som Cait and Vi headcanons since they're in the same

household as well

• Caitlyn and Vi are in their junior year of university

• Cait's studying criminal law or forensics I haven't decided yet sorry saying she's a police just kind of leaves a bad taste in my mouth

• Caitlyn's a trust fund kid what can I say, but it hasn't gone to her head for the most part

• Vi's pursuing bachelor's in social work (HMmmMMM i wonder how jinx fits in here) but she also coaches boxing and other martial arts on the side for money

• They share the master bed/bath in the house they're renting since they told Jayce and Viktor they'd been in a relationship longer than the two had

• Vi's a sucker for trashy/smutty romance novels and Caitlyn will never stop teasing her about that

[thestalkerbunny]

TSB Plays Legends Arceus Part 23

Wow. Okay That’s a LIGHTENING ROD of a TREE. Wow. I think if I just stand under this tree, I’ll be safe in the whole fight. Maybe. I forget my lightening safety protocol. I don’t think any of my stuff is metal...

Oh Apricorns.

OH. Voltorb.

Aww Are ya’ll made of WOOD? That’s so cute. Ya’ll are just some LITTOL GUYS I love it, you’re so cute and round.

oh.

HE.

AHHHHHHHHHHHH.

sHIT SHIT SHIT SHTI SHIT SHIT WAIT DONT THESE THINGS EXPLODE??

AHH FUCKET FUCKET FUCKET TAKE THE DAMN BEANS ALREADY DONT TOUCH ME PLEASE.

CHRIST ON A CANDLE STICK

Oohhhh God that was terrifying, I hated everything about that FIGHT.

AH. You’re.....you’re much smaller up close. ...Hahh......

Oh don’t worry guys, I’m fine, it didn’t kill me, I-oh you’re pissed I fixed him.

Adaman looks a little too happy to see you on your knees, Melli. Excuse the joke I couldn’t resist. But It needed be made cause I don’t think you can chase me if you’re too busy in dispair.

Guys I smell burning, can we like....maybe walk home and have this convo. I feel sick and terrified.

Melli please, calm down. God’s not gonna get MAD AT YOU for THIS trust me. The gods of this realm are relatively rather lazy if anything.

Oh look, my train’s here. Ingo, can you just carry me BACK down the mountain I’m kinda fucked rn.

Doesn’t he LIVE on this mountainside too, Melli? You’re literally asking what your next door neighbor is doing.....5 feet from his backyard.

OH SHIT. EXCITING THINGS? GOOD MEMORY THINGS......Please don’t remember I’m not supposed to bring my houndoom on the subway, Domino loves the subway.

*SCREAM* TELL US YOU UNCLE OF A MAN.

Oh absolutely; I’ve spent nearly 20 years as a trainer. I’ve been here since FIRE RED CAME OUT. I’ve attended pokemon schools around the GLOBE, from Kanto to Galar and everywhere inbetween.

It honestly brought people together, it’s the one thing all the countries could agree on in post 1949 after the Second Great War. Well. That and Soccer.

THE MAN SPEAKS TRUTH. The revolutionary symbiosis between man and pokemon actually led to free health care, the end of a housing crisis, revolutions in medical advances and allowed 10 year olds travel independantly on their own with little fear of attack.

Oh it was great. I had no student loans, Public transport was great, part time jobs were sustainable to live on and my apartment was BITCHIN’.

Dare to dream it, Adaman, it’s a great future. Sure some weird ecoterroists here and there and some radicals, but nothing bad enough that a few scrappy folk with hard opinions couldn’t clean up real quick.

Oh what, that you have two hands, one for Ingo and one for Adaman? Because that’s not a revolutionary thought.

I.....Well you’re not WRONG.

I reiterate. Gods are relatively indifferent, but you know what, whatever makes you the happiest, Melli.

Oh GOD, words of wisdom from Adaman.