#I only took this damn job for the insurance and the insurance is good for absolutely fucking nothing

[tj-crochets]

I am once again in insurance hell, getting to the point where I’m going to say fuck it to company provided insurance and get my own like I used to, because it turns out the company insurance won’t cover my maintenance inhaler! The thing I need to use to breathe! Going into pollen season!!!!  I hate everything about this and the inhaler is $250 for a supply that lasts between 2 weeks and month.* *I got the pharmacy discount coupon, I talked to my insurance company, I got the form the doctor would need to fill out, but as I learned a few weeks ago with my rescue inhaler my primary doctor will not answer phone calls and will not fill out forms even if I hand deliver them to her office. The insurance person said I could have my cardiologist fill out the form, so I’m trying that, and if it doesn’t work this time I’m going to try to get different insurance. Also complain to HR because this would be a SECOND service that they are advertising as a bonus for employees and spending a lot of money on that absolutely no one is benefitting from I’m not looking for advice, this post is just half to vent, half as a warning I won’t be crafting much today because I am so stressed I am almost definitely going to have to take a benadryl. Having stress as a mast cell degranulation trigger sucks. 

#the person behind the yarn #medical mention #tj is in insurance hell #that will be my tag for this #swearing #tagging for it only because my posts are like 90% cute stuffed animal posts and I'm aware swearing bothers some people #I'm willing to not swear around those people IRL but this is my tumblr #so tagging is the middle ground? in that I will still swear sometimes but I will tag it in case people want to blacklist it #like I tag other common triggers #well. Idk if swearing is a common trigger but it's one for one for my grandma #idk I am all over the place right now just ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh #my breathing is behind a paywall and it infuriates me #I only took this damn job for the insurance and the insurance is good for absolutely fucking nothing #my copay every time I go to the doctor is THREE TIMES HIGHER than it was on my old insurance #and it WON'T COVER MY FUCKING MEDICATION #it didn't cover my holter monitor!!!! #I have had a fucking cardiologist since I was 18 years old and my insurance won't cover a fucking heart monitor for my chronic tachycardia?? #are there any circumstances where they would cover a heart monitor??? what the fuck do they expect people to do???????????

[oatmilk-vampire]

Steve Harrington needed hearing aids.

He wasn't born needing them. In fact, he was just about as healthy as a young man in his social class could be. But numerous head injuries eventually led to gradually worsening hearing loss, leading him to needing mostly useless hearing aids.

His damage was so severe he actually needed cochlear implants but his parents kicked him out of their house and off of their insurance plan when he got caught kissing his teammate back in high school. With his minimum wage job and splitting rent with his roommate Robin, he currently did not make enough money for such a luxury.

So he did the next best thing: he learned ASL.

It was free, other than his time invested, and Robin was the one to suggest it. After all, she was already fluent in five languages and had been in band for twelve years. If anyone could teach herself and a hard of hearing person to sign, it was Robin Buckley.

The only bad part was, they were the only two who seemed to know the damn language, leaving Steve to strain to hear or read lips lest he get (mostly) silently yelled at by some deranged customer.

So when he spotted a guy around his age with long, dark curly hair and perfectly round black glasses with side shields, he knew he had to act.

He knew what it was like to have people gloss over the fact that you exist, or even berate you for it; so he took a page out of Robin's book.

He learned braille.

Sure, technically Steve could still speak to the boy, but wouldn't it be more special if he could read what Steve wanted to say?

So he practiced and practiced until he was happy, bringing the card to work where his crush appeared to be a regular.

As Steve sees him walk in, he knows today's the day.

⠓⠊ ⠊ ⠁⠍ ⠎⠞⠑⠧⠑ ⠎⠕⠗⠗⠽ ⠊⠋ ⠞⠓⠊⠎ ⠊⠎ ⠺⠑⠊⠗⠙ ⠃⠥⠞ ⠊ ⠚⠥⠎⠞ ⠺⠁⠝⠞⠑⠙ ⠞⠕ ⠎⠁⠽ ⠽⠕⠥ ⠁⠗⠑ ⠗⠑⠁⠇⠇⠽ ⠉⠥⠞⠑ ⠁⠝⠙ ⠊ ⠺⠕⠥⠇⠙ ⠇⠊⠅⠑ ⠞⠕ ⠁⠎⠅ ⠽⠕⠥ ⠕⠥⠞ ⠕⠝ ⠁ ⠙⠁⠞⠑

Hi I am Steve sorry if this is weird but I just wanted to say you are really cute and I would like to ask you out on a date

Steve is giddy when he wanders over to the boy in dark clothes. He had on black jeans that are ripped at the knees, a Metallica band tee, a leather jacket, and a denim battle vest. He's perfect. He's hot.

Steve's footsteps must be louder than he expects because the object of his affection immediately turns in his direction.

"Hi," Steve greets as he presses the thick stock paper into his hands.

The boy angles his head down with a frown as he traces an index finger over the raised dots, before looking right at Steve behind those dark frames.

He takes them off, and Steve learns after so long that his eyes are brown.

"I'm sorry," his crush says, Steve recognizing those syllables easy enough, "But I can't read this. What is it you're trying to say?"

But now that response is too much, Steve can't keep up. All he knows is the card he worked so carefully punching little holes in with a special tool he had to buy was now being pushed back into his hands.

Steve doesn't try to answer, he just wants to get the hell away before his tears spill over, but a hand on his shoulder stops him in his tracks.

He tenses, squeezes his eyes shut and braces for impact, but when a familiar hit doesn't land on his face, he cautiously opens his teary eyes to find him staring right at Steve.

"Are you okay?" He asks, but Steve can't be quite sure if he's checking on him or asking if he's gay.

Steve's own frown appears on his face as he points to his ears.

"Can't hear too good."

His mouth drops open, rushing to spiel something Steve doesn't catch. He must realize this because he's taking Steve's card back from him now as he mimics writing something with raised eyebrows.

Steve nods his head, more confused that the guy he thought was blind seemed to be understanding him perfectly.

He fishes out the little pad of paper and pen he keeps with him for moments not quite like this, passing the two items over.

He scribbles for a moment before letting Steve read what he's written in big loopy letters.

Hi, I'm Eddie. Sorry, I can't read braille. What did you say?

Steve furrows his brows.

I thought you might know it. Aren't you blind?

Eddie shakes his head with a little smile.

The glasses? I have killer migraines. Never go anywhere without them.

Steve smacks himself in the face. He's been such a fool!

Eddie taps him to gain his attention once more before handing him the notepad and pen.

What did you say? I'd like to know :)

Steve worries his bottom lip.

Hi I'm Steve. Sorry if this is weird but I just wanted to say you're really cute and I would like to ask you out on a date

He's nervous as he hands it back, but Eddie's wide grin and eager nod does wonders to knock back those worries.

I thought you'd never ask, Steve.

#Some steddie au to soothe soul #canon typical violence for Steve tho #eddie's migraine wear inspired by my migraine wear #we wear sunglasses inside bitch #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie ficlet #hard of hearing steve harrington #steddie au

[spider999sposts]

Bright — Hobie Brown

🕷synopsis: Hobie has queit the crush on the oblivious spider–healer.

🕷genre: fluff!

🕷tag: gn!reader × Hobie Brown

🕷authors note: first hobie fic, hope I did well!

Hobie had never expected to fall for a varient of his. One that was so different from him anyway.

First time he saw you, he was one of your patients. Your radioactive spider gave you the regular spider powers, but your special ability was healing. Hobie did not respect alot of people, but those who worked in the medical industry were one of the exceptions. He would usually refuse to visit the infirmary if he got hurt, but this one time was really bad. He had an injury on his arm, obtained in a fight with a variant of Green Goblin, but with just one touch from you and a few of your webbings it was as good as new.

You were sweet, asking him if he was okay, trying to keep him distracted from the fact that his bone was snapped in two and that there was a deep gnarly gnash on his forearm. Your touch was gentle, your tone brought him calmness. You were queit funny too, cracking jokes with him. He'd forgotten all about the injury by the time you were done wrapping it up for him.

Since then, he's noticed you around more. Subconsciously, he would find himself bringing Pavitir and Gwen to sit in a table where he could see you during lunch breaks at the cafeteria. You'd usually sit with the other 'healer'—esque spider-people. He'd find himself listening in to your conversations, chuckling when you joked, admired how you looked while listening to people.

"I can see the love blooming!" Pavitir would say excitedly. "The punk and the healer! That would be so cute!" Hobie would just scoff and give him a small smile, unable to truly disagree with him. It would be cute. You were an entirely different genre to him. With your colourful converses and mismatched socks (you were the only spider-person who would wear socks ontop of their suit's feet). Your bright attitude and your taste in music, which was queit different from his.

"Aren't they a little too different for Hobie?" Gwen argued, "They're cute, but I don't think they'd give you a second thought."

It was true. You did not pay him alot of attention, why would you? To you, He was just another patient. You saw hundreds of your varients everyday. He shouldn't be special to you. You became a distant fantasy of his for a while.

That was until a few months ago, your paths crossed again.

He was supposed to be reporting to Miguel about something, and decided to just go pester him instead. The deadline he gave him was already past due it's date, not that he cared, deadlines are a concept made just to insure stress. He was strutting to his office like he does, when he heard loud yelling coming from inside. He did not care much at first, everyone had to suffer from Miguel's uncontrollable wrath every now and then.

That's until he heard your voice replying to him. An urge he hadn't felt before overtook him. He was reckless most often than not, but he did not think twice before ordering LYLA to open the door to let him in. The sight of Miguel towering over you, glaring daggers at you, while you hugged your medical kit to your chest and looked away filled him with a what most would call protectivness.

"Oi, calm down, mate—" He rushed over, standing in between the two of you, making sure to shield your body with his so Miguel couldn't see you. "—What's happening here?" He did not care why Miguel was raging, frankly, the question was more directed to you. "My rapture viles are apparently 'unready' because someone took a break to go home last week." He replied, his chest heaving.

"But, boss, I couldn't—"

"I don't care," He yelled, "It's your job, your responsibilty—" He tried to look at you, but Hobie moved, still sheilding you, holding his hands up.

He decided if he couldn't get him off your back, he'd just try to get him on his so he'd forget about you for a little.

"Damn, can't survive a day without your little drug? Should've told me mate, woulda' hooked you up with something much stronger from my universe."

He heard you giggle, and for a moment his little unbothered facade fell. His eyes softened, his mouth curled into a small smile. He wanted to keep you giggling.

"What..." Miguel's eyes came in contact with his. "What on——¡Dios Mio! Where have you been?" Seems like his plan worked. "Where is the intel I asked about—It's been a week, you—"

Hobie doesn't remember much of it after that. Miguel kept yelling at him instead, and he helped keeping him distracted while you sneaked out. One thing he remembers though, is Miguel telling him to get out and then losing his mind completely, rambling in spanish.

When Hobie left his office, he chuckled, putting both his hands on his pockets. He was starting to walk away, when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Um, Spider-Punk, right?" His colours changed. From their usual grey to a pinkish hue. You might've not caught it, but anyone who knew him knew that was an unusual occurance. "I wanted to thank you, um, for.." You shifted your feet, looking down and hugging the med-kit closer. "For getting him off my back. I owe you one. I'm sorry you had to be yelled at, I felt really bad and—"

"Hobie."

"What?"

"It's Hobie Brown. My name." He usually didn't go out giving his name to people like that, most just called him 'Punk' wherever he went. " N' it's okay. No need to apologise, or thank me. Someone needed to get him off your back. Bloke's done lost the plot long ago." He joked, and you cracked a smile. "Besides, you don't owe me. If anything, I owe you. You're the one who saved my arm after that incident on Earth—...I cannot remember, actually."

You laughed, and his colour changed again. To yellow. "Oh, yes! I remember that. Your mask wasn't off then. I recognised you now from your suit and spikes." Ah, he was a bloody idiot. Of course it wouldn't have changed anything, but maybe that's why you didn't notice him around during lunch breaks. You didn't even know what he looked like. "But truly, thank you. If it weren't for you, he would've chewed my head off." You pat his arm awkwardly, but just your touch made him feel all sorts of things. His colours changed, alot.

He coughed, clearing his throat. His colours were set back on pink again. What was wrong with him? He'd never felt this way before. It was disgustingly...sweet, and he did not like feeling things he didn't understand.

" 'Tis fine, really. We look out for each other." He spoke, trying his best to seem laidback, uncaring, unbothered like he always was. It was tough though, with the way your eyes shone and sparkled and how he felt like just staring at you made his face heat up. You smiled, nodding. "We do, yeah."

He didn't want the conversation to end there. He did not know if there would be another chance to talk to you.

"I should—"

"Do you want to—"

Both of you paused. You chuckled, shaking it off. "You go first."

"I was just gonna ask if you wanted to join me 'n my mates on our table in the cafeteria. Heard they're making pizza's today." He felt himself internally cringe. It sounded way better in his head. This just sounded like he was a middle schooler.

Yet you smiled at him. That sweet, beautiful smile of yours. "I'd like that, if your friends will have me.." Gwen and Pavitr were the ones who encouraged him to ask you anyway. "..I just have to finish up the Rapture viles for Miguel. I'll finish up at the labs and come."

He nodded, and you rushed to your work. He wanted to come with, to accompany you, but he felt that was too forward.

That day was the first time you ever hung out together. It became a regular occurance after. You'd leave your little healers and scientists convention table and go sit with them. Gwen and you bonded queit quickly, and Pavitr became your bestfriend from day one. Hobie learned that you were just as a hopless romantic as Pavitr was, which didn't surprise him. Not that much anyway.

The more he learned about you, the more he felt a little more attracted. Your energy and your sweetness brought an unfamiliar warmth into his life.

As the months passed, he felt his feelings only increasing and not subsiding. The more time he spent with you, whether it be on missions, hang outs, or just visits at the infirmary, the more he felt like he wanted to spend all his time with you. Not just these fleeting times.

He tried making it obvious a couple of times how he felt about you. It was no use beating around the bush, it was either you liked him or did not, and he wasn't someone with alot of patience nor did he like not being upfront about how he felt. In fact, he really liked being upfront with you.

The problem was that you did not pick up on his hints, his little touches, his small gestures of affection. The way he made sure you were okay, even though with your powers, you were indestructible. The way his hand always seemed to be around you. Gosh, the way he looked at you made it queit obvious too. But that was all to no avail.

"I'm going bonkers." He remembers telling Gwen. "Do ya think I made them uncomfortable? Cocked it up? They wouldn't flat out reject me, too nice to do that, do you think—"

"I don't think it's any of that." Gwen knew better than Hobie. You told her alot of stuff, but she couldn't just pass them on to Hobie on a golden spoon. "I think they're just oblivious. Like truly."

He let out a disgruntled scoff. " N' What am I suppose to do about that? I tried everything."

"Try asking them out, just as simple as that."

"And if they reject me? Bloody lovely, that would be, hm? They wouldn't want to be friends with me too, then."

Pavitr spoke up then. He too, knew alot more than he was letting on. Difference between him and Gwen is that she hid it better. "Since when did you care about the consequences of your actions?"

"I don't, because everything else is trivial," He sat up, "This, is not."

"Just ask them out, man!"

"Yeah, I'm with Pav on this."

"Tsk.." He rolled his eyes, and sighed. That was the only way he could truly know what you felt about him. But to him, if this went wrong, he wouldn't forgive himself.

If he couldn't be in your life as a lover, he wouldn't mind being a friend. He would settle for anything, just to have a moment of your time.

They kept encouraging him for weeks on end, and when the time came, the four of you were on the roof, chatting away. Pav and Gwen excused themselves, saying that their 'gizmos are malfunctioning' and that they needed to go to someone in Tech about it, leaving you and Hobie sitting at the ledge.

It was silent for a bit, and you noticed it. "You're awfully queit." His colours changed from blue to pink. It was queit the obvious hint, and he wasn't sure how you didn't pick up on the fact that he's always pink when you're around. "Just a bit knackered." He replied, looking over the skyline.

You laughed, and he found himself involuntarily smiling. Like he always has since he met you. Hobie's chest felt warm when you laughed, it was like music to his ear. "Your accent and those slang words of yours are so silly."

"Silly?" He exclaimed, putting a hand on his chest, acting offended. You laughed harder. "Excuse you, this english is that of the queen. Whom I don't respect. I don't respect any monarchy—"

"—Or any authority."

"—..yes, or any authority. But my slang words are not silly."

"Oh, I didn't mean it like that." You replied, "It's silly as in funny—not bothersome. It's..cute, one of the cutest things about you."

Hobie went a shade darker.

"Ah, so there are other cute stuff about me, huh?" He teased, his heart fluttered. "Care to tell me what they are? I'm all ears." You hit his arm lightly, looking away. Hobie couldn't see your face, but your flushed ears gave you away. "Nothing else.."

He put his hand on his chest again, and moved away. His little antics made you laugh, they always did. "Fine——Fine. Stop being dramatic." You adjusted yourself near him. "I just.. you're pretty cute in general."

"Most people wouldn't call me cute, but then again I don't care what most people call me." Your eyes met, and Hobie's eyes fell on your lips. "Except you, and all.."

Your ears flushed again. This time, Hobie decided to be bold. It was now or never.

His voice was hesitant, but he tried to hold himself as he spoke. "Hey,  some time later, would you wanna.." You looked at him expectantly, tilting your head. "...attend a concert of mine? I got back with the band. Probably gon' leave them next week though, so I want you to come see us before I do."

"Oh, I'd love to!" Perfect. It seems like his plan was working. "Are Gwen and Pav gonna come?" Hobie shook his head. "No, uh, I was thinking it could be me n' you..or they could come to the concert if they want, but.."

For the first time, your hand brushed against his.

"We could get some chips together after. Just me and you."

Your eyes were locked with his and he didn't know how much more he could take before he would grab and kiss you. Your fingers were on top of one another, he didn't move them and neither did you.

"Like..a date?"

"Heh, if that's what you wanna call it."

That's what he wanted you to call it. So badly actually.

You turned from him, and pulled your hand away. Hobie's heart sank. He's done it, hasn't he. Ruined it. Like he always knew he would.

"I'd love to."

The words came at him like a missle. He raised his brows, and smiled. He was trying to contain his excitement, he didn't want to seem too much, even though he has spent nights imagining how this would play out.

"You..you're serious, eh?"

"Yes, Hobie. I'd love to get chips with you."

"Tis a date then?"

You laughed, putting your hand beside his again, leaning onto him. "If that's what you wanna call it."

His fingers locked in with yours, then he smiled.

"It is."

#across the spiderverse #atsv pavitr #gabriella o’hara #gwen stacy #hobie brown #into the spider verse #lyla spiderverse #marvel #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #astv hobie #hobie x y/n #hobie fluff #i love hobie brown #spiderman across the verse #spider man: across the spider verse #atsv miguel #miles morales #the prowler #peter parker #mary jane parker #spiderverse pavitr #spider gwen #i wrote some words #spider noir #peni parker #peter porker

[allthingsfangirl101]

Desperate First Kiss–Keys

Working for a video game company has pros and cons. Your job is always needed, but you sit in front of a computer all day long. You have great insurance, but you're surrounded by lonely guys who think they're God's gift to women.

You get fun nicknames, but they usually are based on something embarrassing. Not anyone else's nicknames though. Just mine.

I walked into work, instantly tucking my head and slumping my shoulders. I tightened my grip on my bag as I walked over to my nook. I've been working as a graphic designer for about two years, and I wonder every day if it's worth it.

"Hey, Y/N."

I looked up and smiled when I saw Keys walking over with a cup of coffee in his hands.

"Hi, Keys."

"Did you see that accident on your way in?"

"See it?" I scoffed. "Why do you think I'm 45 minutes late?"

He laughed as he started walking with me to my desk. "Don't worry. Antwan doesn't usually get here until 11. Besides, it's not like any of us are going to rat you out."

"Thanks," I laughed.

Keys was the only one in the entire company that doesn't call me by that embarrassing nickname. In fact, he tried to stop others from calling me it.

"Hey, KV," Mouser teased as he walked up to us.

"Come on," Keys sighed, slightly taking a step toward me.

"It's okay, Keys," I whispered. "KV?" I bit back my smirk as I turned toward Mouser. "KV? Really? You're too lazy to say the whole thing?"

"Do you prefer me to call you Kissing Virgin?"

"I prefer you to call me by my name," I scoffed. "It's shorter than that damn nickname."

"Where's the fun in that?" He laughed as he walked away. I took a shaky breath, trying to get rid of the lump that just formed in my throat.

"Y/N," Keys started.

"Wow," I laughed harshly. "I've been here not even ten minutes and already want to quit."

I started to walk away but Keys quickly grabbed my hand and pulled me back.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I really wish I could get them to stop calling you that. It's only Mouser and a few other guys."

"It's fine," I tried to shrug off. Keys shook his head, tightening his grip on my hand.

"Please don't lie to me, Y/N," he said under his breath.

"Keys," I sighed, "I have a lot of work to do before the New Year's Eve party tonight."

I finally pulled my hand out of his grip and walked back to my desk. The rest of the day, it felt like whenever I looked up, Keys was watching me. During lunch, I went and got a sandwich from across the street. When I got back, I kept my head down and finished my work.

Finally, it was time to go home and get ready for the party. I started to pack up and as I stood up, Keys was walking toward me. He fell in sync with me as I started to leave.

"Are you going tonight?" He asked.

"Maybe," I shrugged. "I probably won't stay the whole time."

"It won't be that bad," he said, trying to be optimistic. He saw the look on my face and laughed. "You're right. It's going to be horrible. Let's stick together."

"Sounds good."

                                * * * * *

I checked how I looked in my dress before leaving my apartment. The entire way back to Soonami Studios, I debated about turning around. I could ring in 2023 by myself in my apartment. It would be much better than ringing it in with a bunch of drunk coders and designers.

I walked into the building and headed upstairs. The thoughts of wanting to turn around continued the entire elevator ride up. The doors opened and I almost hit the Lobby button. The only thing that stopped me. . .

"Y/N!" Keys laughed. He grabbed two glasses of champagne and met me at the elevator.

"You look beautiful. I'm glad you decided to come," he smiled as he handed me one of the glasses.

"Still kinda on the fence," I sighed as I took a sip. I laughed when he reached out his free hand for me.

"We'll stick together."

Just like he promised, Keys stayed by my side the entire night. Whenever someone tried to call me by the nickname, he interrupted and corrected them.

It was ten minutes to midnight and I decided I didn't want to be here when that clock hit midnight.

"You okay?" Keys asked.

"I think. . . I think I'm gonna head home."

"Okay," he said, sounding slightly disappointed. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," I said shakily. Instead of telling him the truth, I said, "I don't want to be driving past midnight. That's when all the drunks come out."

"I can drive you," he suggested.

"It's alright," I said a little too quickly. "Have a good night, Keys."

"You too, Y/N."

Instead of going home, I walked into the employee lounge and grabbed a coffee.

"You leaving already, Kissing Virgin?"

I turned around, not hiding my anger anymore. "Mouser," I said slowly, "go to hell."

I dropped my coffee in the sink, not having even taken a sip. I tried to walk past him, but he stepped in front of me.

"Let me go," I said, my voice breaking.

"Y/N," he sighed.

"Don't," I cut him off. "You. . . You're the one who. . . You started it."

"It was just a. . ."

"A what?" I scoffed. "A joke? What kind of joke takes a girl's biggest insecurity and flaunts it in front of the entire company?!"

"I'm sorry," Mouser sighed. "Really. I'm sorry."

"Save it," I said, my voice getting caught in my throat.

"What if I said I could help you fix that insecurity?"

"How?"

                                * * * * *

I woke up the next morning, with a weird feeling in my stomach. I slowly got out of bed and made myself a cup of coffee. I grabbed my computer and sat on my couch, turning on a random show. I could hear my phone ringing in my room, but I didn't bother to get it as I started looking for a new job.

A few hours later, I had given up looking and applying for jobs. I was laying on the couch, falling asleep, when I heard a knock on the door. I sighed, forcing myself to get up. When I got to the door, I wasn't expecting him.

"What are you doing here, Keys?"

"I've been calling you all morning," he said, glancing me over.

"Sorry," I said, clearing my throat.

"You feeling okay?" He asked, stepping a little closer to me.

"I'm fine."

"Y/N. . ."

"I'm just hungover," I quickly lied.

"Y/N, you only had one glass of champagne last night," he sighed.

"How did you know that?" I asked, my voice breaking.

"I just. . . I did," he stuttered. He cleared his throat before asking, "Have you eaten anything?"

I wrapped my arms around myself and shook my head. Keys sighed as he grabbed one of my hands and led me into my kitchen. He had me sit down and started making me something to eat. With everything he did, I couldn't stop watching him. My conversation with Mouser before I left last night replayed in my head over and over again.

"How was the rest of the party?" I asked.

Keys sent me a look before letting out a small laugh. "To be honest," he said, handing me a plate with a sandwich on it, "I left about thirty seconds after midnight."

"No New Year Kiss?" I tried to sound light-hearted but it came out more forced.

"Who am I supposed to kiss?" Keys laughed. "Mouser?"

"I have to tell you something," I blurted out.

He looked up at me and studied me for a second. He finally walked over and sat next to me.

"You can tell me anything, Y/N. You know that."

"And you promise not to judge me?"

"Of course not," he said instantly. "I would never. . ."

"I let Mouser kiss me last night."

Keys didn't say anything for a few seconds. You could practically see the wheels turning as he figured it out.

"I'm sorry," Keys said slowly. "Wait, you let who kiss you?"

"I know it was dumb!" I jumped up. I started pacing around the room as I continued to mumble. "I'm tired of everyone making fun of me, calling me the Kissing Virgin. So I was desperate. Big deal. It's not like there was anyone else lining up to take that bullet."

"I would've."

We both froze.

I turned around to see Keys looking surprised. It was like even he didn't think he was going to say that.

"What do you mean?" I asked under my breath.

"Nothing," he stuttered.

"Keys," I said, his name getting stuck in my throat. "Please tell me. What did you mean when you said you would've taken that bullet?"

"You know what I meant," he whispered, slowly stepping closer to me. He reached forward, grabbing my hands in his. I instantly recognized how warm his hands felt.

"I'm not sure I do," I whispered. "I mean. . . I don't want to be wrong about. . ."

Keys leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine. My breath got stuck in my throat the second his lips touched mine. Even though this kiss was soft and a little hesitant, it felt way stronger. I slowly started kissing him back. When I did, he deepened the kiss. We broke apart when neither one of us could breathe.

"Wow," I whispered.

"Mouser was just practice," Keys said with a small smirk. "That was your real first kiss."

"Hopefully not the only one."

Keys was about to kiss me again, but I gently stopped him. "Is something wrong?" He asked, his voice soft.

"I need to confess something," I said with a small laugh.

"You kissed Antwan?" Keys joked.

"No," I smirked. "Close though."

"What do you mean?"

"I didn't kiss Mouser."

"I don't understand," he said slowly.

"Mouser and I didn't kiss last night," I explained. "He offered to help me with the nickname, but not by kissing me."

"Then how?"

"By telling me of someone he knew who wanted to kiss me but no because he wanted to win a workplace bet."

"He told you about the bet?" Keys asked.

"Yes," I laughed. "But that's not the point of what I just said."

"I know," he said with a small chuckle. "I just thought. . ."

I cut him off by standing on my toes and pressing my lips to his. Keys instantly deepened the kiss as he wrapped his arms around me. We laughed, breaking the kiss when we stumbled and almost fell.

"If you're no longer a kissing virgin," Keys whispered, "what do you think Mouser is going to change your nickname to?"

"He actually told me he had a few ideas."

"Oh yeah?" Keys laughed as he pulled me in closer. "And what ideas did he have?"

"His favorite is one I actually like too," I smirked.

"What's that?"

"Keys' Girl."

He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips. He pulled away, his face inches from mine.

"I'm okay with that," he whispered.

"Me too."

He smiled at me as he reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. I felt my face burning as his hand lingered.

"Happy New Year, Y/N."

"Happy New Year, Keys."

#keys #Walter keys mckeys #free guy #free guy imagine #joe keery #joe keery imagines #joe keery x reader

[imjussaiyan]

Anyone else have a sibling that HAS to have ALL the attention and is entitled as fuck?

My sister is so fucking entitled it makes me sick. And she’s fake on top of it all.

So I know accidents happen and it only takes one time to get pregnant. And I know you’re wondering why this is an issue and you’re probably thinking I’m an asshole.

Well, we live on the family farm with our parents because this country is a hellscape. She was going through trade school, which fine I get them supporting her through that. However, her boyfriend lives here too (that’s partially my parents stupid mistake) and neither of them have a job or source of income.

Like. At all.

My parents FULLY support them financially and otherwise. And they had the fucking nerve to get pregnant and KEEP it..? On someone else’s dime? In a home that there is literally no room for a good damn baby? With a broke ass, dead beat ass fiancé..? Because of course they’re engaged. Idk how they’re going to get married or with what money. She wants to do that before she has the baby. L O FUCKING L.

Oh, but there’s more. Not only did my parents and I pay for her trade school, she slacked off and took too many “personal days” because she was upset about social things at school. Which created MORE fees adding up to 2300 dollars. Which I paid so she could graduate. Bitch. You are almost 22. Shut the fuck up.

ON TOP of that, I found a nice little manufactured home for a low price and showed her because it was cute. Not that I can afford it, but it’s fun to window shop and the bitch says, “I should have mom and dad help me with that.”

Our parents cannot afford to do that. And I told her so. She then gets all sad and butthurt. Like, excuse me? We literally grew up poor as dirt and she thinks our parents are just going to buy her everything? I know they spoiled the fuck out of her and that’s partially why she’s such a selfish brat, but honestly, it’s her personality.

But wait. THERE’S MORE.

Not only is she pregnant on our parents dime, she signed up for state insurance incorrectly and was just going to give up even after our other sister told her exactly how to do it and offered help. Her response? “Oh, mom and dad will pay for it.”

WITH WHAT MONEY, BITCH?!

She does next to fucking nothing around the house and is overly fucking sensitive about anything and everything. She’s also a little bitch ass know it all and she literally has no fucking clue about how anything in this world works, including her own body. Yes. She doesn’t even know how her vagina works and she decides to have a god damn baby that no one can afford.

And now I’m the asshole because I’m NOT excited. Nor do I have to be. She lied about “the condom didn’t fit right.” Then why did you do it? Especially when she KNEW she was ovulating..?

She tried to have a kid with her last fiancé under the same exact circumstances, but aborted that one because she realized it was a bad idea. Mind you, I’m the only one who knows this. If my hyper religious parents found out, they’d go ballistic. Part of me wishes I hadn’t protected her from that. Anyway, she did this shit on purpose. I know when she’s lying and she can’t even keep her lame ass story straight.

I am so done with her rn.

**** UPDATE

He finally got a decent job. Even though he could’ve been working a meager in between one instead of relying on my family for everything for over a year… but whatever I guess. At least he’s got a job now.

#shitty siblings #siblings #sister #sisters #family #spoiled #spoiled sister #family issues #spoiled brat #entitled brat #your privilege is showing

[elianamarie-blog]

The Things You Give Part 30

I'M BAAAACCCCKKKKKK!

Hello, my beautiful people. It's been so, so long. I was stuck for a long while on this chapter, but I hope I did it justice. I can't believe that we're already on 30 chapters! I never thought it would go this long. But here we are! As always, enjoy the chapter!

“Do I smell brownies?” Red asked as he entered the kitchen. Kitty was hunched over the counter, cutting up and arranging the freshly baked brownies. He smiled and reached one for one. “Thanks, Kitty.”

“Oh, good, now that you’re in a good mood,” she said and swiped her hands together. “Let’s talk about the baby shower.”

 “Oh, come on!” he griped with a mouthful of chocolate. “I just want to eat my brownie in peace. Now, why would you want to ruin that?”

“I don’t think we should make the kids pay for their own baby shower,” his wife continued. “I figured we can pay for the food and decorations.”

“And they can pay for the location?” he asked, taking a bite of the chocolatey goodness.

“No…” Kitty said, trailing off. “We can actually have it he—”

“No!” he boomed, dragging out the vowel. “No parties! No more! Our house is starting to smell like a frat house from all the parties that you like to throw!”

She squinted her eyes at him and placed a fist on her hip. “How would you know what a frat house smells like, Red?”

He cleared his throat, feeling uncomfortable, and scrambled for an answer. “Well, I…uh…this isn’t about me! This is about you and wanting to throw a damn party here!”

Kitty opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by the basement door flinging open and stomping.

“Y/n, come on!” Hyde cried out from the stairs, following after his wife.

“Get bent, Steven!” Y/n screeched as she entered into the kitchen, heading towards the sliding door.

“I’m sorry, okay?! What can I do to make it better?” he begged.

“Just leave me alone!”

“What is going on here?” Kitty asked.

 “Steven is hiding money from me!” Y/n blurted. “And not just a few bucks—no, a couple thousand!”

“WHAT!” Red and Kitty said unison.

“Y/n!” Steven cried out, rubbing a hand down his face.

“You’re telling me that you can not only afford this damn party by yourself, you can also afford to move out?” Red asked, annoyed.

“Where is this money?” Y/n demanded, placing her hands on her hips. Steven was grateful she diverted the attention back to her instead of having to answer to her angry father. “It can’t be in our bank account because the last time I checked, the money wasn’t in there.”

Steven’s head snapped up. “You’ve been checking my bank account?”

His question took Y/n a bit by surprise. “Our bank account. And yes. I keep track and budget our finances.”

“No, it’s my bank account,” he said, growing irritated. “The money that I make goes in there.”

“Steven, I’m warning you: Don’t. Go. Down. That. Road,” Red said, eyeing his son-in-law. “Trust me, this a trap. Don’t fall for it.”

“What the hell do you mean the money that you make goes in there?” Y/n spit. “Regardless of what’s what, it’s still our money. Now, answer my question!”

“No, no, I’m pumping the brakes on this one,” Steven said. “I make the money by going to my job. I bring home the paycheck by putting it into my bank account. The only thing you do is spend it all!”

Rage flickered in Y/n’s eyes. If Steven didn’t know any better, he swore he was looking right into Death’s stare. “What did you just say to me?”

“I told you not to go down that road,” Red sang-song, mumbling under his breath while he flicked through a newspaper.

“Did I stutter?” Hyde spat with venom.

“Do you realize that if it weren’t for me, we’d have no money at all?” she asked, resisting the urge to wrap her hands around his neck. “We’d have nothing to buy food, or afford our car insurance, or have a savings—but by the sound of it, that’s not even a problem!”

“So, what’s your point?” he asked her.

“That it’s our money!” she yelled. “You may be the one making it, but I’m the one managing it!”

“And the one spending it!” he retaliated.

 “What the hell does that mean?”

“Oh, he doesn’t mean anything by it,” Kitty said, intervening.

“No, Mom, he does,” Y/n said, not breaking eye contact with her husband. “Tell me, how do I spend it?” She spit while sharply enunciating the last syllables.

"Well, for starters, when you spend it all on unnecessary food."

“Yeah, because I’m pregnant with cravings—next,” she said impatiently.

“When you went out the other night to buy us some dinner and came back with bags of crap that you didn’t need!”

“What crap?” she asked, knitting her eyebrows together. After a second, it clicked and she realized what he was talking about. “Are you talking about the baby clothes I brought home?”

Steven looked down, unknowing about the baby clothes.

Y/n stepped back in absolute disgust and awe. “You really think I’d just piss away the money, don't you?"

“No, that’s not it—” Steven said gently, but was cut off once again.

“Never mind why you’re hiding it from me, even though we will be having that talk later,” she growled. “I wanna know what it’s for. Why do you have a two grand saved up?”

He shook his head, embarrassed.

 “Now you won’t tell me the reason?” Y/n asked. “You’re such an ass, man!”

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that—”

“No!” she shouted, tears in her eyes. “You don’t trust me with ‘your’ money, you don’t trust to tell me what it’s even for…what kind of marriage is this if you don’t trust me?”

His hardened gaze barley softened as he stared at his emotional and angry wife. “Fine,” he said after a minute. “I’m putting money away for a house. There, ya happy?”

“A house?” she blinked. “You’re hiding this money from me so we can buy a house. And you felt the need to hide that from me? What the hell, Steven? Did you honestly think I’d be upset about that?”

“No,” he said and inched closer to her. “It’s…complicated.”

“How is it complicated? We’ve known each other for years and you still can’t tell me what you’re feeling?!” she seethed.

“Look, can we have this conversation later when we’re alone? And not when you’re so…pregnant angry?” he asked, actively avoiding his in-laws stares.

“Pregnant angry?” Y/n spat. “What the hell does that even mean?”

“Well, you’re already intense when you’re not pregnant and angry. Now that you’re pregnant—”

“Don’t say it,” Red murmured from the corner of his mouth.

“You’re friggin’ terrifying, man.”

Red sighed. “And he said it.”

“Alright, I’m done,” she said and tried to storm out the kitchen, but in reality looked like an angry waddling pregnant.

“Where you going?” Steven asked her.

“Anywhere you’re not!” She slammed the sliding door shut and stomped off, allowing herself to blow off some steam.

 Steven sighed and turned to face Kitty and Red.

 “Am I wrong?” he asked them.

“Steven, you’ve only been married for a short time. So, let me guide you through,” Red said, setting down his newspaper.

 “What—the ‘Hide-In-The-Garage-To-Avoid-My-Wife Guide?’” Steven snarked.

 “You do what?!” Kitty shrieked.

  “No,” Red said calmly, smirking. “But I am about to give you the ‘My-Foot-In-Your-Ass Guide.’” Steven went silent and Red took that as his cue to continue. “When you’ve been married for as long as we have, you pick up a few tricks to keep a happy marriage.” He stood up to meet with Steven who was standing at the counter next to Kitty. “Rule number one: Happy wife, happy life. You’re only as happy as your wife. Because if she’s not than she can make your life a living hell.”

“You know, I’d normally be upset and protest, but I agree with this one,” Kitty said and smirked. She eyed Red and grabbed a brownie. “And don’t you forget it, Red Forman.” She walked out the kitchen, swaying her hips.

“Okay, now that she’s gone,” Red continued once the door swung shut. “Rule number two: if you’re going to open up a secret bank account, DON’T tell your wife about it!”

                                                           ∞∞∞

“I can’t believe it. I just can’t freakin’ believe it,” Y/n fumed as she paced around Donna’s living room. “He has a secret savings account and didn’t tell me because he doesn’t trust me! What the hell!”

“I know,” Donna agreed, shaking her head. As much as she wanted to comfort her friend, she didn’t know what to say in this situation.

 “And me out of all people!” she continued. “Me! The one who helped convinced my dad to let him stay with us when he had nowhere to go. Me! The one who pushes him to his best potential. ME! The one who was able to keep our relationship under wraps!”

“Normally, I’d agree with you, but the last part made me realize maybe that’s why Hyde was trepidatious to tell you,” Donna said quietly before averting her gaze from Y/n’s fiery one.

    “Oh, what do you know?” Y/n snapped and plopped onto the couch, crossing her arms. “You know what hurts the most? Out of everything we’ve been through, he does something like this.”

 “I know.” Donna rubbed a comforting hand on Y/n’s back.

“He’s such a jerk! I could just—oh, ow,” Y/n said suddenly, hands flying to her stomach.

Donna looked at her concerned. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m just—oh, my God, ow!” She gripped her stomach, leaning forward. “Something hurts!”

“Oh, my God,” Donna said, eyes widening and shot off the couch. “Don’t tell me you’re in labor!”

“The babies aren’t due for another three months!” Y/n strained, pain radiating across her stomach. The tightness was so uncomfortable she had doubled over, groaning. “I need Steven.”

“You need a hospital,” Donna countered, forcing her panic down and staying calm. “Come on, let’s get you to the car.”

“My keys are at my house.” Sweat started to bead on her hairline. “I don’t think I can make it.” Tears started to brim her eyes. “Oh, God, I hope my babies are okay!”

“They’ll be fine,” she responded reassuringly and grabbed Y/n's hand. “Come on, get in my car and I can run over and get Hyde.”

Another painful wave hit that made her knees buckle. “Oh, God!” She used Donna’s hand as leverage and squeezed so hard she felt some pops.

“Ow—oh, my God!” Donna cried out, not letting go of Y/n’s hand. “It’s a good thing we’re going to the hospital, right?”

“Yeah,” Y/n whined.

As the girls made their way to Donna’s car, they came into view of the guys in the driveway. They were sitting in the chairs, chatting when they saw a hunched over Y/n.

“Yeah, anyway, so I said, ‘Caroline, I can’t keep doing this,’” Fez said. “’I know I put you back in the looney bin, but I can’t have you stab me if I come to visit you.’”

“Fez, man, does this story end anytime soon?” Hyde asked, annoyed. “You’ve been going on about this for the last hour.”

Fez frowned. “I was going to say that she didn’t end up stabbing me.”

“Good for you,” Markus said, bordering sarcasm. “You shouldn’t date a girl that tries to stab you.”

“I mean, we still got to do it,” Fez said, shrugging.

“Oh, so you got the conjugal visit, then?” Eric asked, smirking.

Fez’s face scrunched up in confusion. “A what now?”

“A visit made for sex,” Hyde responded boredly. His eyes lazily glanced up to see Donna leading a hunched over Elena to the car. “Oh, my God,” he mumbled. “Y/n!”

Everyone snapped their heads to look at Y/n who was doubled over in pain. Eric stood abruptly, quickly making his way over.

The girls looked over to him who was running over to his wife.

 “What’s wrong? What’s happening?” he asked, questions racing out. He placed his hand on her back and took her other hand.

 “She’s in a lot of pain,” Donna responded, unlocking her car.

“Pain?!” Hyde cried out. “Where?!”

“M-my s-stomach,” Y/n hissed as another wave of pain crashed into her. She groaned and gripped onto her best friend’s and husband’s hands tightly.

“What?!” Hyde yelled. “Oh, my God, get in the car. I’m going with.”

"Yeah, me too," Eric said and got in the back from the opposite side of Hyde.

 “I sure would hope so,” Y/n groaned as she got into the car. “You’re a bozo, not a piece of crap.”

 “Yeah, about that,” Hyde said as he climbed into the back behind her. “I’m really sorry about earlier—”

“Yeah, can we talk about this later?” Y/n cut in. “I just want to make sure our kids are fine—son of a bitch!” She clutched at her stomach and smacked back against her seat. Tears pooled at the corner of her eyes as the pain radiated.

“Alright, hold on tight,” Donna said, turning the car on. “Things are going to be a little fast.”

                                                          ∞∞∞

“Everything looks fine,” the emergency room doctor said as he finished up looking over Y/n. “What you were experiencing was Braxton-Hicks contractions.”

“Braxton what?” Hyde asked.

“Braxton-Hicks. It’s her body preparing for the real labor,” he responded. “Usually you’ll only feel a mild discomfort. Most women don’t even feel them.”

“Mild discomfort my ass,” Y/n bit.

The doctor chuckled and patted her shoulder. “You did good coming in. It’s better to be safe than sorry. I’m going to go ahead and get your release papers ready. You folks have a good day.”

As the doctor walked out, Donna handed Y/n her clothes. “We'll give you two some privacy.” She and Eric headed out the door, closing it behind them.

An awkward silence fell between them as Y/n let the hospital gown pool at her feet. She grabbed her dress and pulled it over her head.

“So…” Hyde said after a minute of silence. “I’m glad you’re okay. You had me worried.”

“Thanks,” Y/n said, disinterested in anything he had to say.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asked, shuffling closer to her.

She gave him side eye. “What do you think?”

“C’mon, Doll, I’m—I’m not…look, I’m sorry, okay?”

“Yeah, you’ve said that already,” she mumbled as she finished getting dressed.

“Don’t be like that,” he said quietly. “I know I messed up, but please let me make it up to you.”

 “I’m sure you will. Just…please take me home,” she said, locking eyes with him for the first time that day.

He nodded solemnly. “Okay.”

                                           --Scene Transition—

As the Hydes reached the driveway, they entered the kitchen wordlessly. Kitty was in the middle of cooking dinner, stirring a pot of soup.

“Where have you two been?” she asked them, barley looking up.

“We were at the hospital,” Y/n said, preparing for the screaming.

“WHAT?!” Kitty screeched, completely forgetting about the soup. “Why?!”

“I was having some pain, but don’t worry, they’re just Braxton-Hicks.”

Kitty let out a sigh of relief as she turned back to the pot. “I could’ve told you that. Every woman has them.”

“Well, we didn’t know that and I thought something was wrong with the babies,” Y/n answered sourly.

“You still should’ve told me,” Kitty replied. “I would’ve gone with you.”

“It’s okay, Steven and Donna and Eric were with me.”

 “Are you giving birth to Donna’s children or my grandchildren?” Kitty quirked an eyebrow.

“Oh, come on, Mom. Please not now,” Y/n said rubbing her face. “I’m tired and want to go to bed.”

The basement door swung open, revealing Eric. "Hey, Y/n, how are you feeling?"

“I think I’m going to go lie down. I’m so drained from today.”

"Y/n, it's only seven o' clock," Hyde said.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Steven asked.

“No,” she said shortly. “I want to be alone.”

He didn’t respond as watched his wife exit the kitchen.

“Man, I really screwed up,” Hyde said, glaring at the table.

“She’ll get over it,” Eric shrugged. “She always does.”

“No, this is something pretty big,” Kitty interjected, finishing up dinner. “You hid money from her; that’s not something you lightly get over.”

 “What can I do Mrs. Forman?” Hyde asked desperately. “I told her that I’m saving up for a house so we can have a life in it, but she doesn’t want to hear any of it.”

“You can surprise her with a gift,” she suggested.

“Like what? Flowers and jewelry aren’t going to make up for what I did.”

It was silent between the three of them until a sparkle flashed in Kitty’s eyes. “I have an idea.”

                                           --The Next Day—

“Where’s Hyde?” Markus asked as the gang hung out in the basement the next day.

“I don’t know,” Y/n sighed, sucking on a popsicle. “I haven’t seen him since this morning.”

Donna, Eric, and Jackie looked at each other, knowing exactly what was going on.

“Huh, weird,” Markus replied. “I would think he would’ve told you.”

“Well, I haven’t spoke to him since yesterday.” She shrugged. “I’m still mad at him, so right now I couldn’t care less.”

“Harsh,” Fez said. “Don’t you think you should hear the guy out? I mean, you guys are married after all.”

 “Just because we’re married doesn’t mean I want to look or talk to him right now,” Y/n responded. “He hid money from me and told me he didn’t trust me enough to tell me. He said what he said.”

“Hey, Y/n did you know that your feet and toes will swell up twice the size and never go back down?” Eric spoke up, reading from the pregnancy book.

“Oh, and you’re pregnant with twins so your toes will be swollen four times as big!” Kelso chortled.

“What?!” Y/n screeched and looked down at her sandaled feet already noticing the swelling.

Eric cackled. “This never gets old.”

“Bite me,” Y/n snapped and threw a pillow at her brother’s head.

Someone coming down the stairs interrupted their conversation.

“Hey, Y/n ” Steven said, coming down. “Can you come upstairs for a second?”

She turned, glaring at her husband. “For what?”

“I want to show you something.”

“No, I’m okay right here,” she spit and turned her back on him.

“Y/n, come on. Please?”

She rolled her eyes and groaned. “Fine.” She stood and followed him upstairs. “Last time you said something like that, I ended up pregnant!”

“What am I going to do? You’re already knocked up,” Hyde pointed out.

“You’d think I’d be used to hearing them by now, but I’m not,” Eric snarked, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Gross.”

"Payback's a bitch, isn't it?" Y/n cackled as she and Hyde made their way up the stairs.

Hyde grabbed his wife’s hand as he continued to lead her up the stairs towards the bedrooms.

“Whatever this is isn’t going to make up for what you did,” she said. “What you said hurt.”

“I know,” he responded, rubbing circles onto her hand with his thumb. “And I’m sorry. I’m hoping what I did might help you to start to forgive me.”

Hyde led her all the way down the hall and stopped in front of Laurie’s old room.

“Why did you take me to Laurie’s room?” Y/n questioned. “Are you pointing out that she left again? Because, hello? Where have you been?”

Hyde smiled and titled his chin at her. “Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

She sighed heavily and did what she was told. Steven opened the door and guided her inside. “Okay, you can open your eyes.”

When she did, she saw a barren room, except for two white cribs backed against the walls, adjacent from each other. On each side were plain dressers and changing tables.

“What..?” she asked, confused.

“I’ve been at this all day; cleaned out the furniture and went baby shopping. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to come with me, but I went with your mom and got the basics to help you out with some of the stress. We can decorate together—and if you don’t like the cribs, we can still take them back and get something else—”

He was cut off by Y/n ’s slamming her body into his and wrapping him in her arms. Burying her face in his neck, she could feel her eyes welling up. “I love it.”

He embraced her back and kissed her head. “Really?”

She nodded, not trusting her voice.

 “Does that mean you forgive me?”

 She pulled away and looked at him. “Of course, Steven. This was so thoughtful. No matter how mad I get at you, I’ll always forgive you. You’re my husband and I’m not going to throw away our marriage for something like this.”

He smiled down at her before dipping his head down to place a sweet kiss on her lips, but before he could, she stopped him by placing her hand on his lips, blocking him.

“Hang on, Romeo, you have some explaining to do.” He looked at her seriously through his aviators. “What made you think you couldn’t trust me?”

He sighed and rubbed his neck. “I-I don’t know. I just wanted to stop arguing and I said the first thing that came to mind.”

 “Oh ‘cause that worked out great,” she deadpanned.

“Yeah, I know.” He grabbed her hands and held them gently in his. “I guess I didn’t want to get your hopes up just in case things fell through. Knowing my luck, it wouldn’t have and I didn’t want you to be disappointed. I didn’t want to be the reason why.”

 “Steven,” she said, placing her hands on either side of his face. “No matter what happens, you will never be my disappointment. In fact, you’ll always be my greatest achievement.”

 He smiled and placed a hand over her right one. “And you’re mine.”

 She smiled back at him as he leaned down towards her lips. After he placed a sweet peck, he pulled back. “If you ever tell anyone this—”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll deny it.”

He smiled coyly. “That’s my girl.”

                                              --Time Skip—

“Okay, I don’t understand why you’re taking a camera on your road trip,” Y/n said, as Hyde, Donna, Red, and Kitty helped Eric pack up the car. “You should be packing more sensible items like toilet paper—”

“And your mother,” Kitty cut in, giving him a nervous smile. “A road trip isn’t complete without her, ya know!”

“Look, Mom,” Eric began. “Accept it. I’m going. My year is off is officially over and I’ve decided that I need to find a sensible career for myself that’s going to provide a steady and fulfilling future: I’m going to be a traveling documentary filmmaker.”

 “Oh, come on, you made that up!” Red cried out and raised his hands in the air. “Hey, Kitty, I’m going to go ice skating on a rainbow!”

“Eric, don’t listen to him,” Donna said, stepping in front of Kitty. “I have complete confidence you’re going to be the best docu-whatsit-who-maker ever.”

 He nodded with a smirk. “Thank you, Donna.”  

“Okay,” Kitty piped up, pushing Donna aside. “Do you have enough money?”

“Oh, I don’t need much,” he responded. “I’m sure on stops along the way I’ll meet some kind strangers will just offer me a hot pot of beans in exchange from some colorful stories from the road.”

Y/n gave him a look. “Hot beans? Dude, you can’t even chew cinnamon gum!”

Eric sighed through his nose. “Alright, that’s it. I’m off.” He turned to Y/n. “I’ll, uh, miss you—”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she quipped and turned on her heel, walking inside.

“Yeah, well…at least I don’t waddle when I walk!”

“Yep, that’ll teach her, Forman.” Hyde clapped his shoulder. “Oh, and a little piece of advise: if you see a bear on one of your camping trips, make sure to get to high ground like a tree. Bears can’t climb trees.”

Eric nodded, but then scrunched his eyebrows together. “Wait, I don’t think—”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Kitty said impatiently. “Call me every night at 9:00 so that I know you’re safe.”

“Oh, no he won’t be doing that because he’ll be calling me,” Donna said. “That’s why I got him the watch as a gift.”

“No, he’ll be calling me, right Eric? You know, the one who gave you life.”

“So, what, you squeezed out a baby. That was like a hundred years ago!”

“You listen here, little missy—”

Eric looked between the two women, sweat starting to bead on his forehead.

“Okay, Eric!” Red boomed, breaking up the fight and rounded the car. “You best get on your way.”

“Right, right,” he responded and pulled out the camera. “Just one second.” He turned the camera on, pressing record. “Hello, America! And welcome to Eric Forman’s Journey Across America: The Things You Didn’t Know. Here, I plan on having you travel with me as we journey across the historical land of our Great Nation. Come, come with me to witness the unknown that can be right in your backyard.” He winked at the camera before pressing the button to cut recording.

“Oh, my God,” Hyde groaned. “I’m leaving before this gets more ridiculous. Later.”

“’The Journey Across America?’” Red mocked. “Come on, I could’ve told you all about that.”

“It’s not stupid, Dad. It’s something I can show my viewers about what they don’t know. I think it’ll be educational.”

“What it is, is stupid,” Red replied, rolling his eyes.

"Dad, no offense, but I don't think my viewers are going to only want to hear about your gory time in Korea."

"It'd still be better than this crap."

Eric stared at him with a grave face. “Bye.”

                                             --Time Skip—

“Alright, folks. Here we are, beginning our journey together,” Eric said to the camera. “I’ll tell ya, being on the road like this, really makes me feel like ma—ah! Ah! Ah!” He screamed as he felt pop on his tire that veered him off the road.

When he was finally able to regain control of the car—and his breathing—he looked at the camera embarrassed. “Okay, I guess I can edit that part out later.” He turned the camera off and stepped out the car, sighing heavily to himself. “Please don’t be anything expensive,” he prayed.

“When he saw a flat tire, he sighed in relief. “It’s just a flat, I can totally fix that!” He pulled out the camera and adjusted it accordingly before pressing record again. “What we’ve learned so far is that Mother Nature can be a cruel mistress. She caresses her tire with her…asphalt…” He cleared his throat. “And then the next, she punctures. But not to worry, because that didn’t stop me from making it out of point place!”

He looked around at the tree overgrowth on the side of the road, to only turn around to a sign that said, “You are now leaving Point Place.” “No problemo, we’ve got the spare tire in the back. Let’s get it, shall we?”

                                    A few minutes later…

“So, there is no spare tire,” he said to the camera, feeling defeated and nervous. “And it’s, uh, really dark out. And I’m alone.” He started to hyperventilate and get squeaky. “I want my mommy.”

                                             Meanwhile…

“So, have you guys thought of names yet?” Donna asked the Hydes as they were sat at the kitchen table enjoying some snacks.

“Not yet,” Y/n responded and reached for a strawberry, the sweet juices lightening up her taste buds. “I don’t even know what kind of twins we’re having. Same-sex or boy-girl. I don’t even kn—Steven, what are you staring at?”

 Steven, shamelessly, had been staring at her chest the whole time. “Man, your boobs are HUGE.”

Y/n clicked her tongue in annoyance. “Hey, not in front of our friend.”

“Oh, because this is so much better than all the other times?” Donna smirked, taking a sip from her soda.

Y/n sighed and finished the treat. “You got any ideas?”

“Well, I’ve always thought you could have a gender neutral name,” Donna suggested. “Like Jordan or Blake?”

“Jordan Hyde?” Y/n asked. “I guess that doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Nah,” Hyde said. “I have a cousin named Jordan and he’s in prison for committing tax fraud. I also have another cousin named Jordan and she’s in prison for shooting her husband.”

“Wow,” Y/n responded. “So, Jordan’s off the table. What about Blake?”

“Blake Hyde,” Steven pondered. “Maybe. What about Harper?”

“I don’t know. I had a Harper in elementary school who tried to give me a swirly. Rather not have that reminder of that bitch. How bout Sawyer?”

He made a face. “No, got a cousin in prison for arson. Johnathan?”

“Too common. Alexander?”

“Maybe. I don’t have any cousins in prisons with that name. What about Penelope?”

“In this small town?” Y/n asked. “Not a chance. Layla?”

“Layla Hyde..? I don’t know, sounds kind of weird. Chloe?”

She shrugged. “That doesn’t sound too bad. Avery.”

“Veto.”

“Okay, let’s discuss this later,” Y/n finally said. “We’ve still got time.”

“And you still have a baby shower to plan,” Donna pointed out.

“Crap, I forgot about that.” She rubbed her face. “Okay, fine, how should we do this?”

“I think we should…we could…um…” Donna stumbled, thinking hard. “Oh, crap.”

Y/n sighed. “We’re screwed.”

“Well, you do have one other option,” Steven piped up. “You could ask—”

Y/n gasped. “No, don’t say it!”

“J—”

“Hyde, no!” Donna cried out. “You say her name and she appears like a frickin’ genie.”

“Jackie,” he finished with a smirk.

“Ugh, he said it,” Y/n mumbled.

“Hey, guys!” Jackie chirped as she walked in through the sliding door.

“Son of a BITCH,” Y/n cried out. “How do you always do this?”

“Do what?” she asked innocently.

“Show up whenever we say your name! Do your ears burn or something?” Donna asked, baffled.

Jackie tilted her head, confused. “Uh…no? Are you guys okay?”

“No, we’re not okay,” Y/n grumbled. “I completely forgot that we need to plan my baby shower and have no idea what to do.”

“Oh! Can I help?” she asked. “I love planning parties.”

“I know you do,” Y/n smirked. “Well, you did plan my bachelorette party, so that was fun. Just…no male strippers at this one, okay?”

Hyde snapped his head towards his bride. “Male what?”

“Oh, don’t act all innocent. I know you went to a strip club,” she snapped.

“Uh…no, I didn’t?”

She rolled her eyes. “Save it.” She turned back to Jackie. “Any ideas?”

“Not yet, but I know it’s going to include something luxurious.”

“No, no Jackie. Nothing big,” Y/n said. “Just something small with our friends and family. I don’t know if I want to go bed at 4am again.”

“No, nothing like that!” Jackie defended. “Something to tell everybody else that you’re better than them!” She squealed. “Oh, I gotta go home and plan this! Catch ya later!”

She skipped out the kitchen, leaving the three there.

At that moment, Kitty burst through the door. “Have you guys heard from Eric?”

All three shook their heads.

“Eric was supposed to call at 9:00 and it’s now 9:04! Something bad happened to him, I just know it.”

“It’s only four minutes, Mom. I’m sure he’s fine.”

“No, no,” Kitty shook her head. “My mother’s intuition is saying otherwise. I’m going to go find him.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, knowing there was no point in arguing with her mom. “I’ll get Dad.”

“I’ll get the car,” Hyde said, standing.

“And I’ll get my jacket,” Donna responded.

                                     --Time Skip—

It wasn’t long until they all found the Vista Cruiser at the edge of town. They all got out of the car and found the flat tire with no Eric in sight.

“Eric!”  Kitty called. “Oh, my God, Red! What if he was kidnapped by white slavers? He can’t do anything, he’ll be killed!”

“I told him this was a stupid idea,” Red seethed. “And now we’re stuck in the middle of nowhere. My foot is shaking from wanting to kick his ass so bad!”

“I should’ve never let him leave,” Donna said, shaking her head. “I should’ve tempted him into staying home with sex—”

Kitty sharply turned to face Donna.

“I mean scrabble,” Donna finished.

“Oh, please. If my baby depended on you being loose then I wouldn’t have to worry.”

“Can we focus, please?” Y/n asked, waddling over to the car. “He clearly couldn’t change the tire and went off to get some help.”

“Alright, let’s get back in the car and find this bozo,” Red muttered and stepped back into the car, slamming the door shut.

                                --Time Skip—

“Alright listen,” Hyde said as they all entered a diner where they believed Eric was. “This type of establishment is well known to criminals, okay? So I want you to stay close, and if there's any trouble, I'm gonna use you guys as a human shield.”

“Not if I sacrifice you first,” Y/n said, glaring at her husband.

“I don't like the looks of these people. They seem like they could tease a polite young man about his sweater and then laugh when he starts to cry,” Kitty said impatiently.

“See, that's the problem. Maybe if you didn't baby Eric so much, he wouldn't have had to leave to prove himself,” Donna said, growing annoyed.

“Well, maybe if you hadn't exhausted him with your sexual demands, he wouldn't have had to leave just to get some sleep,” Kitty bit back.

Red help up his hand, a headache coming on from their constant arguing. “All right, that's enough, you two. If Eric's in trouble, he deserves it, because he should know better by now.”

“You sound like you don’t care at all!” Kitty said.

“It's not a matter of not caring,” Red replied, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s a matter of not giving a crap.”

Kitty gaped at him with furrowed brows before huffing at him and turned around.

“Hey, Red, they got ‘Rhinestone cowboy.’ Toss me a quarter,” Hyde piped up from behind him.

“Shut up,” Red snapped, ignoring his son-in-law.

“For your information, Eric comes after me a lot more than I go after him,” Donna said after a minute of silence.

“You know, all you damn redheads are the same!” Kitty said.

“What the hell does that mean?!”

“It means that—!”

“Alright, I’m going back in the car,” Y/n cut in. “You’re getting on my nerves with all your arguing.”

                                        A Little While Later…

“Well, it turns out I have a couple of problems with being a traveling documentary filmmaker,” Eric stated as he stood in front of the car with the camera set up in front of him. “One... The traveling. It's exhausting. Two... Documentaries. I only like ones that are...You know, about monkeys. And three...Filmmaking.” He sighed and looked down for a minute before looking back up at the camera.

“If there's no space battles, I mean, you know, really, what's the point? I'll tell you something. This day has not been a waste. I realized what I really wanna do with my life is just get the hell out of Point Place.”

He closed his eyes, relief flooding him as he finally said it. “I'm ready to do that. I really feel like this trip made me a man.”

Out from the distance near the thicket, a voice called out in the darkness. “Eric?!”

“Mommy?!” Eric called back, his childlike gentleness taking over again.

“Thank God you're okay!” Red said.

“Thanks, Dad, but I’m okay,” Eric replied with a content grin on his face.

“Not you, the car,” he replied roughly.

“Eric, your mom called me a whore,” Donna said defensively.

“Only because I was worried about you and love you more than she does,” Kitty replied.

“Ugh, Mom,” Y/n said from behind them and stepped in front of them. “You have no idea what it was like riding in the car with them. Can I ride back with you?”

His lips formed in a thin a line as he nodded. “Nice to see you, too, Sis.”

“Hey, dudes! I got that waitress’s number!” Leo cried out, emerging from the thicket.

“Leo?” Hyde asked. “What’re you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at home right now?”

“I got hungry and wanted a bite to eat.”

“Leo, man, you’re like forty five minutes away…” Hyde pointed out.

“Yeah, I got lost,” the old hippie chuckled.

“Hey, I’m glad that everyone is safe and happy, but can we go now? Cookie dough ice cream and the Andy Griffith show are calling my name and I’d like to get home before I miss it,” Y/n interrupted, her patience gone.

“Y/n, the Andy Griffith show has been off the air for ten years now,” Hyde pointed out.

“It reminds me of a simpler time,” she responded casually. “Alright, people. Good night, I’m getting in the car.”

“Yeah, I’m joining you,” Donna said and followed Y/n into the car.

Steven turned to Leo. "Do you need a ride home?"

"Nah, man, it's back at the diner," Leo replied. "Now, if I can just remember where that is..."

Hyde chuckled and clapped his friend on the back. "C'mon man, I'll take you." He turned to Y/n. "I'll see you at home."

She nodded as she put her seat belt on.

“Nice, now I got two moody women in my car,” Eric grumbled as he stepped into the car.

In unison, the two women yelled,

“Shut UP, Eric!”

Taglist:

@not-shy-nanya @taysirene @maddieschampagneproblems @mdittyz123 @undead-sierra @random-thoughts-004 @lieswithoutfairytales @chloem4a1 @srhxpc @zhonglibxitch

#that 70s show fanfic #that 70s show #stevenhydeedit #steven hyde x y/n #steven hyde x reader #eric forman x reader #eric x donna #eric forman #donna pinciotti #that 70's show fanfic #steven hyde #jackie burkhart #that '70s show #red and kitty #red and kitty forman #red forman #fez x kelso #kelso and brooke #jackie and kelso #donna pinciotti x reader #i just love when fez sings this because it's so cute haha #fez that 70s show

[mintmatcha]

i hope this is okay to send you but i saw you were posting about how expensive things are in america so i thought it was appropriate haha

this past weekend i had really bad food poisoning and my dad took me to the er because i couldn't even stand without damn near passing out just for the nurse to keep me in there for over five hours and give me close to no attention outside of messing up my iv twice, giving me fluids and prescribing me medicine i didn't need or want

the bill was over $2,600 before insurance 👍🏻

thankfully my job has good insurance and i only have to pay $300 but it being that expensive for me to leave not only disappointed but still feeling sick is insane

im glad you're feeling better!!!!!!!

in this economy $300 is a LOT. its so insane that some of us have to pick between extreme debt and LIVING

[medicdoodles]

DRAtchet Week 2022 Day 4: Great Things do Happen.

(First Day)||(Day 3)||(Day 5)||(Last Day)

Deadlock knows that the war will shift soon. So he goes and looks for work with no strings attached.

The war is going to escalate soon. Deadlock had no real prove of this, but last time he ignored this feeling he ended up left behind. High command is going to have him sign a contract to only do work for them. While a long time ago he would have liked that. To have one guarantee.

The truth is he has Ratchet to think about, not that the mech has said anything about wanting to bond or anything. Deadlock still has to take care of his lover. He knows that Ratchet would not want to join any side of this conflict. Having other bots dictate who he is and isn't allowed to fix is against his coding.

That means that if he wants to keep Ratchet, he will have to find honest work. Easier said than done, honestly he's tried that before. However, this time he won't take no for an answer. If he has to he will threaten bots to give him the work.

Damn, if he hadn't bought Ratchet that nice house he would have a good amount left over, but it's not a regret he has. Ratchet likes it, likes it enough to stay there even if Deadlock has offered his nicer appartment.

There's still time for him to take up more contracts. At this point he will even agree to the Senate's dirty work that pays less than a cube of energon just to save more. Doing all of the bounties also gets him in the spotlight of other assassins, who normally took the scraps he leaves behind. Now he has to time the last job he'll take and when he will excuse himself from the Decepticon army.

"17000 is starting pay. All you have to do is stay in alt mode and follow the directions of the stunt director." The recruiter he ran into while staying at the motel parking lot in between jobs says to him.

"17000, no insurance?" Deadlock should be angry about risking his life for less than two meals, but it sounds like steady work and anonymity. Really the only downside so far is that they expect him to tour with the group.

"No we have one mechanic on site but the talent is top priority, get it." An opening.

"So what if I wave my right to go to him for repairs, could you up my pay?" The mech isn't surprised. He supposes that the other bots who are dumb enough to take this job are also desperate.

"It goes to 30000." The bot sighs as he scratches the build up in his microphones.

"Deal." Deadlock holds his hand out to shake on it.

"Deal. Your first day is in a week. If you're late on showing up your fired." Should he be intimidated, his Ratchet has a remote ground bridge he sure he can ask to borrow it.

----

Fuck, they didn't tell him that the mech they hired to preform the stunts had never done any before. No it was only after he crashed into him and five other cars in the fire pit that they tell him. Most of the performers were a bunch of pretty looking younglings, who were easily preyed upon or hatchlings that had just grew up around the stunts.

Really only the bot from Nyon with a fire outlier ability has any control over his performance. Which Deadlock has a lot of issues with, and now has to make sure all these kids don't get hurt. He also takes up teaching the sharp shooters how to properly fire their own blasters.

All that work and he gets to go home with three new scorch marks, a broken fender, and a twisted back tire. At least they are off for the next two days due to bad weather. So he's going to get home rest on the couch and call Ratchet tomorrow.

That was until he gets into his appartment. Opening the door with a physical lock is a pain in the ass but it was safer to have two locks instead of the standard code lock. Walking into the room Ratchet is asleep on his couch. One arm wrapped around the blanket that he uses. Another one is holding the wax, theres now a new dent in the center.

His spark is about to give out. Ratchet has chosen to be here, in his hovel because he missed him. That he is the one that comforts him and trust him. How couldn't he, when Ratchet has had just as much hardships as he, how couldn't he. It's almost a shame to wake him, but the faster it's done. The faster he can sweep him off his feet and carry him to the bed.

"Hey." He shakes Ratchet's leg, gently nudging him to wake up. "I just got home.", he watches as Ratchet's eyes blink back on and synergize to his processor.

"Huh, Deadlock." Ratchet doesn't move but he does follow his movements aroubd with his eyes.

"Yeah I got off of work. So I'm going to go to bed." He can feel the smile burn onto his face. Primus imagine getting to spend the rest of his life waking up to this kind of Ratchet. He truly would be blessed. "I was hoping to get you to join me."

"Oh." He lets go of the blanket to wrap his arms around him. "Fine, but you have to pick me up."

"Of course." Like that was some kind of punishment. He scoops up both leg in one arm, the other grabs his shoulders. Or he would have, if it wasn't for the shots that got his left side.

His leg gives out and make sure Ratchet is okay he drops him back on the couch. He falls to the floor and sees the legs of the seat snap. It hits the floor hard, kicking up all the dust coating both their frames. Now his wonds are stinging.

"What happened?" Ratchet is now climbing off the couch and examining the damage. He's on his frame, legs lock around his and it's starting to get hard to think.

"It's nothing to serious I just got a bit ding up at work." That has the opposite effect as Ratchet is now digging deeper into his frame, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. "I was going to tell you tomorrow over diner but I got a job at the circus."

"The Circus?" Ratchet then runs his hands on the bent fender and twist it back into place. "What about the Decepticons? Are you not getting paid enough?" He looks back at him. "Do you need help?" They've been this close before, but never did Deadlock take the time to notice how sullen his eyes are.

"I'm planning to leave the Cons." That now gives him a bewildered look. That's a new one and damn if it doesn't look cute. "I just have to submit my two weeks."

Ratchet is shocked, so much so that he stops his examination. One hand steadies them, the other is hovering right above the bullet wound. "Really?" He doesn't move, so expressionless that Deadlock is starting to worry.

"Yes. In the next two weeks I will officially be apart of the stunt act and out of the Decepticon army." Ratchet still stays silent, and he moves to comfort him. Or he would have if Ratchet didn't suddenly push him to the ground again and kisses his face. He would like to return it but fingers dig deep into his wound and it hurt like hell again.

He wouldn't trade it for the world, he even starts to see his vision pixelate. Great things do happen, and for a while Deadlock was sure that he found happiness. It would be the law of the universe that he will drive into the worse sadness of his life.

#transformers #fanfic #maccadam #deadlock #au #transformers siege #transformers wfc seige #ratchlock #DRAtchet #dritchet #DRAtchet week #DRAtchet 2022 #Ratchet

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Whumptober Day 2: Nowhere to Run (BAU reader)

No. 2 NOWHERE TO RUN

Cornered | Caged | Confrontation

WARNINGS: cage fighting, fighting, blood, hurt reader, let me know if I’ve missed anything

Word Count: 2572

Disclaimer: I don’t condone illegal fighting or anything

@whumptober-archive

“Make sure you win.” You nod sharply, knowing that Tony wasn’t someone to joke. Not when it involves money. And this did. A lot of it. Tony smiled, tapping your cheek lightly, “Good. Now go out there and win us some money,”

You nodded once more, bouncing on your toes slightly. You knew it wasn’t strictly legal per se. But you needed the money. While the FBI paid well, it didn’t exactly pay well enough. You still had student loans, rent, not to mention your medical bills - as it turns out, the health insurance you get at the FBI is shockingly terrible. And on top of all of that? You had your sister’s medical bills to pay for as well. 

You were up against a new opponent today and he was good. You hadn’t seen him fight, but Murphy had managed to take down Maguire, which meant he must be good. There was only one other person who had ever taken Maguire down, and that was you. You, being the current champion, were introduced to the audience first. You grinned, despite your nerves (from the pressure of needing to win the money, from Tony, and not having fought Murphey yet) as you jogged up, placing your hands in the air as you did so. The crowd cheered loudly as you stepped into the cage. 

Murphy followed quickly, punching the air for the crowd - which they loved, apparently. You couldn’t help but think it was a little cliche. 

He threw the first punch, it landed on your ribs. He was eager. Perhaps that was something you could use to your advantage. In the split second you had thought about this, Murphy decided to strike again. He aimed for the next hit, aiming for the same place as before. 

You had heard rumours about Murphy but nothing prepared you for just how good he was. He was fast, agile, and strong. Extremely strong. Two hits into the match you already felt your ribs twinge with pain. You trained hard - your job made it hard not to - and you knew you were strong, but damn this man was strong. You could hear Tony yelling from the sidelines, telling you to think about the money, to think how good it would be if you won the match. On the next hit, you smack into the ground, disoriented. You stumble up, blinking the blood from your eyes. You needed to win. Murphy clearly didn’t worry about kicking a man when he’s down, if the harsh kick to the face was anything to go by. Your head snapped back, slamming into the floor as it did so, you groaned, giving a cough, spitting out the blood from your mouth. 

The match was over rather quickly and annoyingly not in your favour, it was your first loss in a while. You were on the floor, bloodied, by the time the ref calls it. You hear the door of the cage open, the ref and Murphy leaving, and then the crowd slowly exiting the building. Normally, Tony would grin, patting you on the back as he congratulated you on your latest victory. This treatment, however, was only for victories, never defeats. You were left to fend for yourself when you lost. You prop yourself up with your right elbow and slowly make your way to a standing position. By the time you do, no one is left in the room, it’s empty. You hobble towards the gate, smudging some of your blood along the floor as you shuffle towards the exit, one arm protectively wrapped around your side whilst the other clutches onto the fencing of the cage for balance. 

You headed straight to the showers, longing to wash the blood and sweat from your body. Your shower was on the longer side and you made sure to use cold water, hoping that it would numb your body of the aches and pains. You took your time, making sure to rinse all the blood off. You didn’t rush getting changed either. By the looks of it, everyone had already left anyway. 

You’ve just finished getting dressed into joggers and a tee-shirt when Tony entered the locker room, slamming the door closed as he did so. He stormed towards you, face like thunder. “I told you to win.” Tony growled in your ear, you gave a weak shrug.

“I did my best, he’s good-”

“He’s not supposed to be better than my best fighter,” Tony responded, voice sharp. “Follow me,”

“What?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Tony said, making his way to the cage. The seats were now empty, the place abandoned. It was strange, seeing it so deserted. You are confused to say the least when Tony walks the stairs to the cage, stepping inside, he motions for you to follow. When you do, he turns to you, looking you up and down. “Listen, kid, you’re my best fighter. But clearly you need harder training.” With this, three large individuals joined the pair of you in the cage. “Which is why they are here. We are going to stay here, all night if we have to, until you finally beat them. It’s up to you how long we stay here.” 

You furrow your eyebrows, “Tony, it was just one game, I’ll make up for it in the next one-”

“Until you beat them, there is no next game,” Tony said, shrugging as he did so, making his way past the three fighters and out of the cage door.

“Tony, no, I need the money,” You said, rushing forwards to keep up with him. “Tony, you know I need the money-”

“Then you better improve. And quickly.” He replied, locking the door shut with a padlock, pocketing the key. “Time starts now, I guess,” He said as he turned away. 

“Tony? Tony!” You attempt to push past the men standing tall in front of you. They grabbed you tightly, preventing you from getting past them, before roughly shoving you back. You stumble a few steps away from them, glaring at them when you’ve regained your balance. Fuck, this was not good. You had never pissed Tony off this bad before, hell, you had never pissed Tony off full stop. 

You try to push past them again, not wanting to have to actually fight them. You had just lost brutally to Murphy not even two hours ago, you ached all over, your body throbbing to the beat of your heart. You hadn’t really paid them any attention until then, you looked at them and instantly recognised them. In the middle stood Maguire, the man you barely beat in a fight two weeks before. On his left, Johnson, a good fighter, but in a one-on-one fight, you were able to take him down rather quickly. On the right was Williams, he was decent, not as good as Johnson and certainly not as good as you, but he could hold his own against a regular fighter.

They pushed you back again, you sighed as rage began to pool in your stomach, walking towards them once more to get past them. When they reached for you, however, instead of letting them push you, you dodged their hands before throwing a punch at Johnson’s jaw. As it turns out, this was not the smartest move you had ever made. It caused the others to spring into action. 

You were on the floor in seconds. With no ref and Tony gone, you doubted very much that they were going to stick with the regular MMA fighting rules. You knew Tony wasn’t lying when he said that he’d force you to stay here all night if necessary. The fastest way out of here was to knock the three men unconscious. A thought which was a lot easier said (or thought) than done. Once Tony made up his mind, there was no talking your way out of it, you simply had to accept the consequences. 

The first hit landed itself on your side, by the strength behind it, you knew it was Maguire. He was cunning when it came to fighting, knowing exactly where to hit his opponents to cause them pain, he had noticed you favouring your side since the fight after a particularly harsh hit and decided to make the most of it. Despite your best efforts, you did not manage to gain the upper hand, only landing a handful of good hits. 

You were there for hours before the door was unlocked - and not because you had managed to knock the three men unconscious, but simply because Tony (when arriving at work early the next morning) had felt sorry for you and had let you out. 

…

You made sure to keep his head down as he walked through the BAU bullpen until you reached your desk. You knew the team would freak out if they saw your bruises and if you were honest, you had no clue how you were going to keep it hidden. Your face was littered with bruises - as was the rest of you. You hadn’t had time to pick up any makeup or anything this morning, you simply rushed home, showered and changed, and then rushed to work. Most of the bruises were only dark red at the moment, but you’ve had enough of them to know that they were going to be an angry purple soon - probably by the end of the day. There was no way you were going to be able to hide this. Even if you did have access to makeup, no amount of foundation and concealer would cover this. The skin on the bridge of your nose was purple already from the multiple hits it had taken, your left eye was a blackish blue and your lip was beginning to swell due to the cut that sat just to the left of your lip. 

You dumped your bag at your desk and edged yourself onto the chair as smoothly as possible, trying to draw as little attention to you as possible. Your head was pounding. You looked at the time, you were late. Not by much, only five minutes. But late is late when you’re fighting crime (or filling out the paperwork of past crimes). 

"You okay, (Y/N)?" Morgan asked, seeing you hiding your face in the crook of your elbow.

You let out a half assed moan. "I was up most of last night." You were hoping to keep your head down as much as possible, maybe play it off as being tired until the bruises had healed. You knew it wasn’t the best plan, but it’s all you had until you could get your hands on makeup.

"Atta boy!" Morgan exclaimed, too loudly. You winced slightly.

"There was no sex involved Morgan, " You said, raising your head to look at Morgan in disgust.

"Woah, what happened to your face, kid?" Morgan asked, his eyes widening, drawing the attention of Reid, Rossi and Emily. Shit. This was not good. So much for that plan then. 

"Shit. Um, I didn't get into a fight- really. I fell over? Badly?"

"Bull shi-"

“(Y/N), my office, now.” Hotch said, appearing from his office. You looked up at him, making (accidental) eyecontact. You couldn't tell if he was pissed, worried, or a mix of the both. You gave a short nod, as you began to stand up, trying best to hide your wince as you did so. Based on the look shared between Hotch and Rossi, you did not do a good job. 

Hotch was sitting at his desk by the time you made it up the stairs - turns out, they are a pain in the ass to climb when injured. He motioned for you to sit down, studying you as you did. Great, that was just what you needed. “Yes, sir?” You asked, looking up from your hands at him. ‘Just pretend to be confident’ You thought, ‘He won’t be able to tell the difference’. 

“What happened?” He asked. No beating around the bush then.

“Nothing, sir, honest-”

“(Y/N),” He said sternly. “Something clearly happened.”

“It won’t happen again and it won’t interfere with my work, I swear-”

Hotch sighed, “Stop avoiding the question,”

“I was mugged.” The lie slips from your tongue before you can even process it. You shut your eyes, biting your tongue. You were going to get into so much trouble if you told the truth. So much fucking trouble. But you weren’t a liar, you were an honest man going through a rough patch. You could trust Hotch. He was stern and sometimes had little sense of humour, yes, but you could trust him. You were sure of it. “That’s not what happened.” You drew in a sharp breath, wincing when it caused a sudden pain in your chest, before you continued, “I’ve been fighting underground for a few months now. I fucked up and lost a fight, this is what happens when you lose a fight,” 

You watch in silence as Hotch furrows his eyebrows, thinking. “I’m going to have to report this,” He said. 

You nodded, “I know,”

“And I’m not sure what the outcome of this will be,”

“I know that too,”  Guilt swarms through your chest when you lock eyes with him. He looks so disappointed. You don’t want to ask, but you have to. “Do I need to pack my stuff, sir?”

“I don’t know,” Hotch answers and you’re thankful for his honesty. It’s more than what you’ve done over the last few months. He sighs deeply, “Why did you do it?”

“I need the money,” You answer. “This job pays well, sure, but it doesn’t cover everything.” When you see his confusion, you decide you may as well tell him everything. He knows this much, he may as well know the whole truth. “My sister’s sick, really sick and health insurance doesn’t even cover a quarter of the medical bills,”

Hotch gave a sigh, rubbing his hand across his face, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

…

“What do you think they’re saying?” Emily asked.

“I’m not sure, but whatever it is, it isn’t good,” Morgan noted. 

…

“There wasn’t and isn’t exactly anything you could do sir, so I just didn’t see the point in telling you.” You shrugged, drawing in a breath at the pain that flooded your back from the small motion. 

“I don’t want to,” Hotch began, “But I’m going to have to suspend you pending an investigation,”

You nodded. You had expected that, “Yes sir.”

“You don’t need to clear your desk,” The ‘yet’ was left unsaid. “But you do have to let me drive you to the hospital.” He said, not giving you room to argue before he stood. “Come on.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “What? No, sir, it’s not that bad, really-”

“(Y/N),” His voice left no room for argument, and so, with a groan, you stood. 

“Fine,” You mumbled, trying your best not to think about the further medical bills that were going to come from this hospital visit. 

Morgan nodded at the pair of you as you trailed after Hotch, letting yourself curl in slightly in an attempt to reduce the pain. They knew now anyway.

“Everything okay?” Morgan asked.

“I’m taking (Y/N) to the hospital,” Hotch answered, “I should be back before lunch,”

“We’re coming with you,” Garcia declared. Hotch thought for a moment before nodding. Maybe, just maybe, you’d be okay. 

#whumptober #no. 2 #caged #criminal minds #cage fighting #blood #fighting #fic #criminal minds fanfiction #x male reader #male reader #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #hotch #morgan

[emdotcom]

Pros of the new job:

Crazy-ass hours mean I don't need to adhere to my family's schedule (i.e. -- dinner's at 5, but they don't guilt trip me if I don't go, now)

Only one person has made me feel like i should quit, so far, & it was only one time

I have a name, & people bother to call me the correct one!! (IMAGINE)

Free slorpie & sodie yay yay yay :D

So far, nobody has told me off for drawing or listening to my headphones, so long as I'm paying attention to customers (& I am!)

On the one occasion that I did work a double shift 1) it was only due to another person calling in sick (& it was NOT intentionally scheduled like that, multiple days in a row, unlike my first job), 2) They made sure I got a break in-between the shifts (any break at all is better than my first job, but they gave me multiple hours & my manager personally covered me while I took said break), & 3) They moved my next shift down (again -- manager took the shift I was going to work) so i could get more than 6 hours of sleep before coming back for another 8 hours.

I get paid weekly, &, thus far, not a single check has been late (unlike my previous job, where i was paid ""bi-weekly"" -- which was always 2-9 days late by my boss & post-dated to not pay out for another several days)

They have not asked me to do anything INCREDIBLY ILLEGAL. Like the type of thing that would get a doctor shut down & stripped of their license for a major violation.

I don't constantly consider killing myself just to avoid working (i am not joking. It was fucking attrocious. It was constant. It was before work, at work, & after work, DAILY)

Having a job means I don't need to wade through the hellscape that is job applications, &, so far, have paid of 2/3 of the debts i accrued when I was jobless (the third one is slightly more substantial, & will take up at least 1/2 my check)

I have money, again! God, i missed not having to stress over whether i could afford the gas needed to drive to all these damned job interviews, wondering if I needed to borrow MORE money, & driving knowing that I probably won't get the job that is currently eating up my tank

The schedule has been less unrelenting. If i applied for health insurance, I would likely be able to make doctor appointements & keep them. A novel concept

Cons of the new job:

There are several tasks that would take me mere minutes to complete if I were left uninterrupted for a relevant amount of time, but bc of TWO company policies, they all take me hours

They don't like when we sit down, so I continue to have severe joint pains that last multiple days. If anyone has a good shoe brand, pls reccomend

This job makes me horribly aware of how bad I am at making eye contact

It turns out I am not a "night person," as I have assumed for the past 20 years, but instead have "chronic, untreated insomnia" that affects me regardless of what time of day it is, & so taking night/over-night shifts did not suddenly make me a person who can just go to sleep easily. Who'd-a thunk it!

I am still really bad at time management, I am still really tired, & it still feels like all my hours are slipping away (every job has felt like this, so far)

#em.txt #i am sure many of these pros seem pathetic. the basic respect of being called my name was robbed of me at my previous job #at every introduction. over every phone call i placed. on every letter i mailed out on that job's behalf #i wrote & spoke my name. & it meant so little nobody bothered to say it. #suicide ment

[asleepinawell]

this is exactly the sort of question i'm happy to answer. I included a readmore since it got long but I tried to include all the stuff I would want to know in advance

there's obviously going to be differences to all of this depending on what country you live in and what state if you're in the US. i live somewhere with better insurance coverage laws than many places, and the company i work for has made a point of letting us know it's covered by our work insurance. so i'm very lucky on that front and not everyone is. I would recommend looking up the laws where you live so you can tell if anyone is lying to you and denying you coverage/access they're legally required to provide

here's an outline of everything i had to do:

1 - I started out by talking to my regular doctor. I had recently switched to a doctor who listed lgbtq health in her specialties. If you possibly can I would highly recommend trying to find a doctor you feel comfortable with. It can be kind of stressful to switch but it was a huge help for me both for this and that my new doctor helped me with a lot of other health problems my previous doctor hadn't

2 - My regular doctor gave me a referral to a surgeon (plastic surgeon). The referral isn't strictly necessary for me with my insurance, but I felt better getting a referral from a doctor I trusted. If you can't do this, depending on your insurance (if you're in the US at least), you can probably look up available surgeons on your insurance company webpage and take a look at their specialties (you can also potentially see doctor reviews online though i find that people only leave reviews if they're mad about something so it's not always helpful)

3 - I met with the surgeon's assistant who went over all the things I'd need to take care of including having a breast exam, getting clearance from a psychologist/social worker, planning to take medical leave from work, having someone to drive me to and from surgery and help me for the next few weeks. The surgery doctors submitted the claim approval to insurance for me. They also had some initial questions about do I have reference photos, do I want nipple grafts, do I want nipple size reduced. These are good things to think about before you go

4 - The insurance company rejected my claim, which they legally can't. They made a whole fuss about codes etc and in the end the surgery board at my doctor's had to make a meeting with them and hash it out. They took care of this and got it sorted out eventually but it was stressful

5 - I contacted my local lgbtq resource group to get a psychological approval letter for surgery (you should also be able to get this from your psychologist if you have one who you talk to about this). This is a service a lot of groups like this provide for free. It was an interesting experience and a little strange.

They were after some very specific information to establish that I had dysphoria (see the following paragraphs for my thoughts on this), that I was mentally capable of making the decision (bullshit but required), and then the part that I'd say is actually a good thing to have which was making sure I understood how being visibly trans might affect my job/relationships and making sure I had a support system of some kind. They sent me a letter that I sent to my doctor to submit with the insurance coverage claim

They also insistently asked me if I identified as trans, which is a really odd question for me to get. I'm agender and while agender technically falls under both trans (as an umbrella term) and non-binary, I only use agender for myself and only begrudgingly. I don't want a damned gender identity label, that's the whole point! But that's not really what they're interested in and saying "I'm agender" didn't cut it for them. They just want to check the not-cis box so they can write their letter I think. Annoying but whatever

To go into the dysphoria thing a bit, something I ran into multiple times was doctors being astounded that I was not seeing a psychologist for gender dysphoria. This was very unusual based on their experiences. I'm a case where I do have dysphoria but it wasn't causing me crippling depression or anything, it was just constant lowkey discomfort that I didn't know the source of for a long time. Once I knew what it was I was like ah okay makes sense and started thinking about top surgery. I didn't feel the need to discuss it with a doctor because there wasn't anything to discuss. My focus was more on how happy the idea of having surgery made me rather than currently feeling bad about myself. There was a lowkey attitude of why would someone do this if they didn't hate themself??? from a bunch of people. They weren't knowingly being transphobic and no one ever questioned if I should get surgery, it was more a total inability for these particular cis people to comprehend my situation. I mostly found it mildly amusing

6 - Breast exam stuff. I'm including a bunch of details because this part was a little scary. I'm still a little young to be getting a regular one so it was a new experience for me. Nothing terrible but they're gonna smush your boobs in a medical thing to take pictures. They also took reference pictures. Hopefully they don't find anything. In my case there were a couple of what they call "complicated cysts" which meant I needed an ultrasound. In my case it was like a less than 1% chance they were anything bad (they're fairly common) and they gave me the option of either having another ultrasound before surgery or having a biopsy taken. They recommended the former but i went with the latter because I was like I'd rather not have anxiety about this and just know asap. That process involves getting a HUGE needle stuck in your boob (you are pretty numbed up so after the numbing shot you don't feel it) and they take some samples. That all came back normal so I was cleared. Not everyone will have to deal with all that, but it's worth knowing you might have to do some of it

7 - Talked to my brother and asked him to come stay with me for 2 weeks post surgery. It's very very good to have someone stay with you for at least that long. Even a couple days if you can manage it. You're going to feel really fucked up after and not be able to lift your arms or open jars or pick things up (I think it starts at nothing 10lbs or over). I was mostly okay on my own after 2 weeks but had to have someone help me carry a heavy box once

8 - Got surgery scheduled. I had to find a time when my brother could come stay with me and had to wait about 3 months for it to all work out.

9 - A slew of pre-surgery appointments where I talked to the surgeon and got reference photos taken (topless pictures basically) and was told what to expect during and after.

10 - Attempted to figure out the labyrinthine process of getting medical leave approved at my job. This is another one that will obviously vary but oof. Definitely look into this early if you have to do it. I took a month off work. I'd recommend at least that much if you can swing it. They say 2 weeks minimum but I was really grateful for the extra time

11 - You'll have to do some pre-surgery prep. Nothing crazy. Use a body wash the night before and morning of. Don't eat/drink after midnight (most meds okay though)

12 - Got surgery. You will have to talk to ten million doctors on the day of. There are the ones doing the mega numbing stuff, the anesthesiologists, the breathing tube guys, the actual surgeon…it was a parade

13 - I was not in much pain for about 24 hours after surgery and then it kind of hit all at once (I'm guessing stuff wore off). They'll give you oxycodon or something similar which will really help. They'll also give you anitibiotics which made me nauseated and miserable. I stuck to rice for a few days because food looked gross. You may also look kinda gross. Like random lines drawn on you, skin discoloration from medical stuff, random pieces of tape. It's like damn I went through an Experience huh

14 - Post-Surgery care. You'll have a compression vest over the bandages. It's not that comfortable. They may tell you that you can use a binder instead if you have one. The bandages and tape started itching like crazy after a week (my skin hates medical tape).

You'll also have 1-2 wound drains in which look like little plastic grenades. You empty them twice a day and record how much blood/goop comes out (they should give you instructions for this). They come out after 2-3 weeks depending on how much the wounds are still draining. I think it was 3-4 weeks that the bandages came off as well. I still had to wear the compressions vest for 6 weeks total.

Like I mentioned in my other post, getting the bandages off was a bit shocking. Had to process the change for a bit and my mood was all over. More than anything else I think that's what I would have liked to have been prepared for in advance. Like, I completely freaked out for 20 minutes and then was a little weirded out for a day or two and then was completely fine and I'm now super happy. But it was a big holy fuck moment

It's likely you won't be able to shower until the bandages are off/drains are out. I get cranky if I can't wash my hair so I worked it out by putting a raincoat on and carefully washing my hair under the tub faucet (sink might work too but my sink sucks). Better than nothing

Also you have to sleep on your back for a good long while. I'm a stomach sleeper so this was hell for me to adjust to. I'm only just able to go back to sleeping on my stomach now and it's still a little uncomfortable (rapidly improving though)

15 - Got the rest of the stitches out. You have to rub aquaphor or something similar on the wounds twice a day to help them heal. Around 6 weeks they also recommend using silicon strips to help with scarring

I think that's most of it. It was definitely A Lot, but it was stretched out over 7 months at least.

#trying to get long text posts to work on tumblr now is painful :)))) #congrats on your blogging site guys! #mp #personal

[thessalian]

Thess vs "Help Desks”

Sweet blessed gods, if people are going to try to phase out and or cheap out on phone helpdesk staff for the sake of their bottom line, they could at least do it competently. I’ve been using automated phone trees of one type or another for a long time, since the days when “hold the line while we transfer you to an operator” meant “some people are still using a rotary dial phone”, and it’s amazing to me how they get smarter and yet somehow more ridiculous every time I turn around.

There’s a thing I’ve been dealing with at the behest of my parentals regarding my state pension. Basically, over here, your state pension is based on your National Insurance contributions, and you have to have 35 years of full National Insurance contributions before you can get your full state pension. Thing is, because I worked as a temp a lot, there are a lot of years when I didn’t make a full contribution, and there weren’t National Insurance credits available for a lot of reasons. (It doesn’t help that I was allowed and in fact encouraged to use a temporary National Insurance number for years and it doesn’t look like those years count towards my state pension now, even though I paid above the odds those years. Ugh.) Now, theoretically, if everything goes to plan, I should be able to claim my full state pension because I’ve got fifteen years of full contributions as of this tax year and I’m not due to claim my state pension until 2044. Or later, because they might change the laws on that again; wouldn’t put it past the government as is. Anyway, point is, I should be fine. But it’s possible I won’t be fine, because I am, after all, disabled. Also, let’s face it - my luck with jobs has been made of dogshit for ... well, most of my life, if you think about it. My luck’s holding so far but shit does happen, often, and often to me. So anyway, the point of all this is that you’re allowed to make voluntary contributions towards your state pension for the last five years that a full contribution wasn’t made. My parentals intend to make that voluntary contribution to take five years’ worth of pressure off my quest for a full state pension. Which is nice of them.

Now, if they just didn’t make it so damn complicated to give them money in that way, that’d be great.

They tell you to go to the website and follow the instructions to pay online or by direct debit. They don’t tell you that you need an 18-digit reference number until the box requesting one is staring you in the face. You actually have to go to ancillary information sources (non-HMRC help sites) just to find out how to get that 18-digit reference number they’re apparently so hot for. There are apparently two options for getting one: write to them and wait two weeks while they send one back by post, or call.

However, their automated voice-recognition phone tree piece of bullshit does not understand the difference between National Insurance reference number and National Insurance number. There is a difference. One you get given on a card so you can write it down on tax documents (like a social security number); the other is a very specific number used only by HMRC internally to deal with voluntary National Insurance contributions. However, the automated phone tree does not recognise this difference, so giving it the key phrase “National Insurance reference number” is useless. So is “voluntary National Insurance contributions”, and similar phrases. It’s not that the automated phone tree doesn’t understand it to a point; it just doesn’t recognise it as something I literally need to speak to a human being to sort out. Thus it just says, “Our lines are busy, look up the information online, good-bye”, and hangs up. No option to ask to speak to an advisor, nothing. Just “Check our website; bye. *clik*”

It took awhile, but I finally figured out how to actually speak with a human being in this instance. Every time it repeated the Google-perfect phrase I gave it and asked, “Is that correct?” ... I said “no”. Even if it technically was. See, at that point, deliberately playing obtuse is the only way to go, and even then it was a nightmare. First they just let me try again - “Is this correct?” “No.” Then it suggested some key phrases I could give it as search terms. I picked one that sounded close-ish but no cigar - “Is this correct?” “No.” Then it gave me even simpler verbal options that really did sound like basic Google search terms - “Is this correct?” “No.” Finally, they gave me a number menu, and at the end of that list was “To speak to an advisor, press 4″. They went all the way around the houses to make it as hard as possible to speak to a human being, because every one of the options I was given in the first three tries were designed to point you at the website and hang up on you. I know because I tried them on and off for a fair bit of last week.

Then I spent over an hour on hold. I can’t blame them that much because we are coming on to tax season but especially when you consider how hard that phone tree works to shunt all callers to the website ... fucking hell. All of that for an eventual conversation with a pleasant lady who asked a couple of questions, seemed grateful I had all the information she wanted to hand, and dealt with the whole thing in three minutes.

Don’t even get me started on the power company. On one hand, it’s a little easier to get to the “please hold for an advisor” stage. Not much, but a little. On the other hand, I’m pretty sure they outsource most if not all of their call center and web help staff overseas. Leaving aside the whole “You’re just outsourcing this work overseas so you can get a service while drastically underpaying your staff ... more than you can get away with here, anyway” problem, the other issue there is that if you’re providing call centre services to a company that does business in an English-speaking country ... it might be good if you at the very least made sure the staff providing the services can actually speak English to a reasonable degree. It’s hard to say that without worrying that I’m judging these people for not speaking English, but I swear I’m not judging. I don’t expect them to speak English because I’m fairly sure they’re not in England, or in any other country that speaks English as its first language, come to that. This is bad enough when it’s the web chat help system, where it’s pretty obvious that the person at the other end just copy-pasted your question into a FAQ search and then copy-pasted the result back to you without necessarily knowing what it said; it’s worse when it’s a human being and you need three tries for what effectively boils down to “I want to check my balance” but is a bit more complicated than that.

I’m sure that companies were wetting themselves in sheer joy when technology allowed for the automation of something vaguely resembling a help desk. Thing is, as my brother-from-another-mother says, computers are just very fast idiots. They will do exactly what you tell them, and only exactly what you tell them, and if your request deviates even a little from their parameters of what a request looks like, they will throw a fit. As for outsourcing overseas ... like I said, I don’t blame the people on the other end of the phone or web chat who don’t speak English very well. I blame the people who hire them on at ludicrously low pay and horrific hours and then setting them up for hours of abuse from customers who are a lot less polite than I am about their understandable inability to speak fluent English when they live in a country that doesn’t.

I think this pisses me off to a greater degree than usual these days because of a certain piece of rhetoric regarding jobs and people in this country doing them since the fucking Brexit referendum. They yell about “foreigners taking our jobs” while throwing ones that would actually be perfect for people in this country on a work-from-home basis - for the disabled, carers for small children or vulnerable adults, even for second jobs that wouldn’t require even more time spent on commuting - at places with fewer employment rights and minimum wage laws, which only results in a worse service and more stressed staff. If the xenophobes in this country don’t want “foreigners taking our jobs”, maybe they should demand that we stop throwing 'our jobs’ at ‘foreigners’ in a massively exploitative model that does nothing but fatten the profit margins of the CEOs. And also maybe don’t throw it at computers that require a certain specificity to function in a helpful way, when help desks are generally called by people who don’t have specifics - THAT IS WHY THEY ARE CALLING FOR HELP.

I mean, I think a lot of this boils down to “stop using technology to exploit people in the name of The Great God ECONOMY, you shitheads”, but with specific examples and a lot of frustration.

#Thess is a motherfucking adult #Thess gets aerated

[turnipatthelibrary]

Time for 2004's Spider-Man 2

I like the opening credits "in case you forgot what happened in the first film" sequences

LOL would we all be abusing our super powers to get our day jobs done? I think we would.

I just love how pathetic this version of Spider-Man is. Like yeah, you'd fail at everything too if you were trying to be a college student and hold down a job and have a social life and be a super hero. Why doesn't he just live with Aunt May? This man can't pay his rent but he's obsessed with do-gooding.

Introducing Perpetual Sun Man!

Okay, he did legit get in a car accident on the way to MJs play, but also he just couldn't resist spidering it up.

Yeah, you really get to see how burning the candle at both ends and all the trauma from the first movies just fucks his life all up. Pathetic Spider-Man is a choice.

'member payphones?

Oh but he could make it to Dr. Octavious's unveiling. So clearly he loves this guy more than he loves MJ, or so I'm sure the plot will say.

The smart arms alone are a piece of impressive technology. Imagine the accessibility applications! Why didn't he market these!? Ah yes, because inevitably all the inhibitor chips malfunction and then you have a legion of evil octo-arms running around. Actually, I'd watch that movie.

Okay, but like fundamentally the process for fusion worked though right? If he just hadn't pushed it.

"The power of the sun in the palm of your hand" is a Sunny-D commercial. I need to see this as a Sunny-D commercial.

LOL like father like son, you gotta say "I'm the boss!" like a little baby or it's not true.

aaand cue the bloodbath. Why all the villains in this franchise gotta have the whole multiple personalities thing going on? And where did he find that hat?

Okay, but I feel bad for Harry though, poor little baby, always striving for his father's love, then asked to take over his entire company and not doing a great job because he wasn't properly prepared and yeah, as far as he knows his best friend knows who murdered his father but won't talk to him about it. Like, damn.

LOL Crime up 75% without Spider-Man? Really? One dude? Was the only thing holding back the tide of crime in the city? What did they do before Spider-Man

None of them deserve Aunt May.

This dingus doesn't have health insurance but he's gonna just go ahead and jump off a building.

Awww hell yeah trope of telling the person you love that you don't love them to protect them. That's good shit right there.

Oooh, Doc Ock SMASH! LOL, I literally had to pause the movie I was laughing so hard when he took his sunglasses off with one of the metal arms. Oh dang, then Spiderman SMASH - Hulk ain't the only one can fuck up some stuff

Somebody would have pushed the emergency stop on that train tho

I absolutely love the idea that all the people in that train car just wordlessly decide to grab him up and lower him down and not tell anyone they know what he looks like. We ain't snitches!

Spider-Man's not dead - he's right behind you!

Come on, smart boy, use that big science brain of yours to shut it down

Oops, you forgot MJ was there

Aw, tragic villain "I will not die a monster" That's also good shit right there.

Hur dur, Spider-Man will always have enemies and I can't take that risk, she was freaking at risk even when she didn't KNOW you were Spider-Man, dummy!

Oop bye bye fiancé, I'm in love with my best friend. Happens to everyone at least once, right?

AVENGE ME! Best friend Spiderman reveal, Dad Green Goblin reveal, Harry is not having a good day.

Oh shit, she going through with it? Wait, no she's not. Okay, leaving someone at the alter real messed up though and she looks so elated about it LOL

Peter, kiss me like one of your French girls. I do like the role reversal of him always chasing her in high school and then her kinda chasing him after that.

Alright I'm just gonna say it, I liked this one better than the first one.

#Spider-Man 2 #movie commentary

[poetrythreesixfive]

Monster Story

I hired a monster to walk around with me

to protect me from all enemies, foreign

and domestic, a big fat hairy monster with

teeth in rows like a sword factory displaying

its deadly wares, and when he would open

his gaping maw, rear his head back, and gaze

at the sky, it looked like a giant bed of death

daring all fleshy, pierceable organisms to flop

down onto it and be introduced to a world

of bloody holes like see-through fabric.

He only used that pose when posting victory

after crushing someone or scoring a touchdown,

because that’s what is expected, and let’s admit,

we learn these gestures from watching others

as small children, thinking, damn, that’s what

I would do if I successfully stormed a castle

or slew a hydra; most of the time, he would

just stand there, hairy and huge, and that was

enough to scare the bejesus out of bystanders,

and so that’s what I named him—Bejesus.

So me and Bejesus—I mean, Bejesus and I—

would stroll casually down dead-end streets,

memory lanes, boulevards of broken dreams

and country roads that took us home, and

people would part before us like a blood red

sea, no-one brave enough to raise their hands

and pronounce STOP! or ask for tolls or taxes;

even the troll beneath the bridge stayed silent

and cowering in his shady hidey hole, content

with allowing us to cross, and glad to see us go.

With all the hoopla of having to step aside and

cower to our demands, our names spread far

and wide—though let’s admit it, nobody still

knew who I was; it was my monster who got all

the press—but I was in every picture, or at least

most of them, and we got to meet mayors and

governors, pop-stars and princes, and anyone

who called themselves an ‘influencer’ was quite

instantly smashed into the ground with a single

mallet-like wallop from Bejesus’ colossal fist.

And I never feared for anything—my life, liberty,

or pursuit of happiness; muggers and marketers

were sent screaming over the horizon—but I did

contemplate how to leverage my newfound power

into cash because, let’s admit it, the only thing

more powerful than a big fat hairy monster is a

giant bank account, and I knew that one day, like

in every good story, the hero would have to lose

something in Act II, and my monster was the only

thing I had in the whole world, so I needed a plan.

So Bejesus and I started charging money for every

picture, and we hired a lawyer to sue anyone who

didn’t want to pay, and we started charging for

appearances on talk shows and at political rallies,

and if I had the sense to write a book, I would have,

but it was easier for companies to just plaster ads

all over Bejesus’ body as he walked along, a giant

hairy billboard that turned every head, and he soon

developed a killer smile and snappy finger-point

for the camera to add that extra promotional edge.

One day, we saw a little girl drowning in a lake,

as her canoe had capsized, and her father, unable

to swim, was clinging to the foundered boat; we

both jumped into the water, and Bejesus waded

out to the girl and plucked her out like a salmon

on a hook and carried her to shore; but there was

a ‘No Swimming’ sign posted on the water’s edge,

so Bejesus and I were both arrested for trespassing,

and since I had neither monster insurance nor a

license to own a monster, I was quickly arrested.

They took my monster away and threw me into

jail, and the father of the little girl sued us for

making him look bad, and all the muggers and

marketers who had fled in terror at our approach

got onto social media and canceled us for violating

their freedom of speech, and if we had had jobs,

they would have fired us, but we didn’t, so they

just kept me in jail and put my monster in chains,

and we lost all our endorsements, even the sneaker

ads, and the news reports said we were unelectable.

Then in my darkest hour, I had a brilliant idea:

I had something that no one else had: a monster;

a big fat hairy reason to tell them to all go fuck

themselves, and I went to the window of the cell

and gave a loud whistle, and Bejesus heard me

and snapped his chains and came a running and

smashed a hole through the prison wall, and both

us ran off into the night, giving them all the finger

as we went, and we disappeared into the woods,

free and uncaring, and lived happily ever after.

-GeorgeFilip

#poem #poetry #poetrythreesixfive #georgefilip #spilledink #poetryportal #poetsandwriters #poetsontumbler #spilledwords #deepthoughts #misanthrope #monsters #monsterstory #surrealreality

[pinkantagonist]

I’m just gonna vent about adhd for a second.

A while back, I told my boss (past boss) that I had adhd. I was being converted from a contract worker to full time, so disclosing my disability seemed like a normal part of that process. I wanted to put my best foot forward at my new job, and ask for reasonable accommodations so I could do my best work. My boss and I had a good relationship, so I felt very confident about it.

He scoffed at me, said that “everyone has a little adhd”, and then went off about how kids are over diagnosed. I sat in silence for the rest of the conversation. Oh, and it took about 8 months for me to get my requested accommodations.

I have a different boss now, who is much kinder about it, but this really colored my experience of being a working person with adhd. Sometimes I forget that I’m disabled or I don’t consider myself as such, but the corporate world has a way of reminding me.

Well, this morning I fucked up. I was supposed to do a small presentation and I completely forgot, and missed about 90% of it (I work remotely and have somewhat flexible hours, for context).

I remembered at the tail end of the meeting, jumped into the call and apologized to everyone, and was able to finish it up, after my boss had so kindly stepped in and presented most of it for me. I made a real ass of myself and I’m trying SO hard not to spiral about it… it was absolutely mortifying.

Now, this was 100% my fault. I’m not trying to blame anything else, but damn is it just… hard. It’s so hard for me to like, be a person. And the adderall shortage is making it so much worse. I can only get the instant release tablets, MAYBE, if I’m lucky, and they just flat out don’t work as well as the extended release, which are impossible to find right now.

I have pretty severe TMJ, which is exacerbated by the instant release, so I’m constantly balancing being in so much agony and being a functioning person. The less pain I experience the more I fail at my responsibilities, and the more pain I’m in the better my brain works... And the more teeth I break. You don’t even want to know how much I’ve spent on dental work, and a mouth guard that my insurance refused to cover.

Basically, yesterday I chose to be irresponsible with less pain on my day off, which had major repercussions today. If I’m not like, 110% stressed out about everything 24/7 I WILL forget pretty much all appointments and commitments, but it’s unsustainable to live like this and my health is FAILING. I can feel myself becoming weaker and worn out. I’m killing myself just to appear “normal”. But I can’t do anything less, because if I get fired, goodbye health insurance! Then I wouldn’t even be able to get the shitty instant release tablets.

And it’s all invisible. No one suspects a thing. I can’t really talk about it. I told everyone we experienced a power outage, because the real reason just seems silly. Sorry, I took a day off from being a person yesterday because my daily life makes me feel like I’m drowning, and my meds didn’t kick in fast enough for me to remember on time! Sorry, I was distracted by having to pry my jaw open to brush my teeth when I woke up today since I already lost my $800 night guard! Sorry, I have chronic IBS which causes me so much pain that sometimes I can’t even move when I first get up, which was what delayed me taking my meds in the first place!

I don’t know what the point of this was. Happy disability month, I guess. It absolutely sucks here.

And if you think “everyone has a little adhd”, please go fuck yourself.

#rach.txt #this is a very personal post guys #trying not to spiral and writes an entire essay which is basically me spiraling #probably rsd #adhd #living with adhd #also fuck capitalism tbh

[verai-marcel]

Spy Awry 2: Mail Room Boogaloo (RDR2 Fanfic, Low Honor Arthur x F!Reader, Modern AU, 18+)

Spy Arwy 1 is here.

Summary: You had been caught during your mission to infiltrate the FETA corporation, but fortunately you had struck a deal to keep your cover. Unfortunately, however, the deal was not on your terms. A very dishonorable Arthur Callahan had you paying for his silence in his apartment, but he had never brought the terms of the agreement to the workplace. Until now. 

Author’s Notes: I wasn’t expecting to write a sequel, but I got horny.

Tags: low honor Arthur, modern AU, bad spy plot as a cover for porn, porn tropes, doggy style, dirty talk, rough sex, office sex, standing sex, creampie, ambiguous ending

Word Count: 4083

AO3 Link is here, sweetheart.

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

“Have you found him yet?”

Arthur shook his head and looked at his client straight in the eyes. “No sir, haven’t found him. He’s stopped his movements. Maybe he left?”

The rotund man stroked his beard with all the cliché slowness of a James Bond villain. He looked as if he was stuffed into a business suit purchased off the shelf with shoulder seams that lined up with the top of his arms rather than his shoulders. “Maybe he’s biding his time until the heat is off of him. You said you nearly caught him after you started monitoring the 14th floor?”

“Yup.”

The man let out a sigh. “Well, stick around for another couple of weeks. At least find out what he took and report back to me.”

***

You typed away, filing reports and organizing meetings with the ease of a veteran party planner. Getting ten busy people to agree to one time slot wasn’t nearly as hard as everyone made it out to be; it was just a simple matter of tenacity and patience with these kinds of people. Alpha personalities, all who need their needs catered to, could easily be manipulated into cooperating if they smell profit for themselves.

When taking that into account, it was easy to cajole partners into coming to the office for in-person meetings by luring them in with promises of free lunch and opportunities to line their  pockets with extra profits.

You were damn good at your job.

But you were supposed to be a corporate spy. What were you doing, performing actual work?

You had to lay low. After your “run-in” with Arthur in the warehouse last week, the two of you had agreed that he would turn a blind eye to your actions, but that you had to be very careful not to be caught by anyone else, as he was sure he wasn’t the only investigator on the payroll. In exchange, you would visit him after work for, as he called it, “insurance.” 

Every night, you’d go up to his small studio apartment and knock slowly on his door three times followed by another three quick raps. He’d open it, drag you inside, and fuck you silly. It was animalistic, pure lust that drove the two of you to tear off each other’s clothes and fornicate wildly. And in the end, you always begged him to come inside of you, and he always gave it to you, a wicked grin on his face.

And every time, you would quickly wash up and leave, despite his attempts to cajole you into staying. He never threatened to blow your cover at those times; perhaps the post-nut bliss made him a little more tame, more forgiving. But you always left as quickly as possible, not wanting to foment any intimacy. You couldn’t afford any emotional connection. This was purely physical.

You knew it was twisted, this farce of a relationship. At work, you were fierce and he was friendly. At his place, you were compliant and he was commanding. In a strange way, coming to him felt like a release from the control you held tightly in your white-knuckled grip during the day.

The familiar sound of a mail cart being rolled around on the threadbare carpet was Pavlovian in its effect on you. Squeezing your thighs together, you took a deep breath and continued to work, ignoring the heated gaze that Arthur directed at you once he rounded the corner.

“Hey there,” he said amicably, waving his hand once. While anyone else might see him as a nice guy with a placid smile, what you noticed immediately was the smirk on his lips as he passed your desk, and the subtle flick of his wrist as he dropped something from his shirt sleeve to land quietly on top of your keyboard. He walked away smoothly, not a single step out of pace as he headed back towards the elevators, but not before shooting you one last, suggestive glance.

A moment was all it took for the lust in his eyes to hit you like a fireball. You swallowed and continued to type, although for a good ten seconds, you realized you were typing the previous paragraph over again. Glancing around and noting that no one was around, you took the small piece of paper, folded up into a compact triangle, and unraveled it.

Meet me in the mail room at lunch.

You looked up at the clock. It was 11:35am. You checked your schedule. Realizing that it was open for once, you wrapped up what you were doing and made your way down to the elevator hallway. Your heart thumped harder with each step, your hands growing a little clammy. Was it nerves? Or was it anticipation? 

Perhaps a little bit of both.

***

“You made it, darlin’,” Arthur said delightedly as he looked up and saw you enter the mailroom. The place was small, but well kept. You weren’t surprised; Arthur’s apartment was just as organized. There were shelving units all along the walls, with a desk in the middle of the room, flanked by two folding tables, one labeled OUT and the other labeled IN. The desk had very little on it, just a dusty all-in-one computer with a dingy keyboard and mouse.

“Why am I here?” you asked. You already had a hunch, but he wouldn’t do this here, would he? He might blow his own cover.

He got up from his shitty hand-me-down office chair and stalked towards you. Instinctively, you backed up until you hit the door. His eyes held yours as he reached down and locked the handle.

“Yer a smart girl,” he said softly. “I think you know why you’re here.”

You swallowed, then nodded slowly. Yeah, you knew. Your body certainly knew, as heat pulsed between your legs.

 A warm thread of desire wound its way through the tone of his voice, making him sound raspy, barely on the cusp of control. “Spread your legs.”

You took in a deep breath as you widened your stance. You knew better than to touch anything; Arthur was the kind of man who wanted to do everything himself.

He took the hem of your skirt and slowly lifted it. The fabric dragged along your thighs until it bunched up around your waist. Your turquoise lace panties barely hid the fact that you were wet, had been since you had received his note.

“Naughty girl,” he murmured as he placed two fingers over your slit, pressing against the damp fabric. “Thinkin’ dirty thoughts?”

“Your fault,” you breathed.

“Oh? How so?” He slowly rubbed his fingers against you, pressing down on your clit as he did.

Your mind short-circuited, and you couldn’t quite come up with a witty response. “Your stupid note.”

Arthur chuckled. “I could’ve just been askin’ you out for lunch.” His fingers pressed harder, stroked you faster through the fabric.

Your attempt at a sarcastic huff came out as a soft moan instead.

“Admit it. You like this.” He leaned in closer, crowding you against the door, his breath on your ear. “You want this. You need this.”

You whimpered. His deep voice vibrated into your very bones. 

He growled softly as he slipped his fingers past your panties, gliding them inside of your slippery channel. “My dirty little spy,” he crooned in your ear. “You want to come on my fingers or my cock?”

Without hesitation, you answered. “Your cock, please, your cock.”

You could feel the smile on his lips against the sensitive skin of your temple before he placed his other hand around your mouth. You had a millisecond to wonder why before he started to rub your center at a furious pace.

“Quiet now, darlin’,” he said as he fingered you. “You don’t want anyone to know what a little slut you are, do you?”

You shut your eyes and controlled your moans, but as he brought you closer and closer to the edge, you couldn’t help yourself and let out a whine of desperation.

Arthur’s deep rumble in reply sent shivers down your spine. “You need it, don’tcha?”

You nodded. You tried not to show how desperate you were for his touch, but a small, pathetic noise escaped your throat anyway. You were a heated, trembling mess.

He nibbled on the shell of your ear as he slowed his touch. “Too bad, I ain’t ready to end this just yet.”

Letting you go, he caught you by your waist as you crumpled, barely able to stand. You were so damn close, frustration welling deep in your bones. 

“Dammit Callahan!” you hissed as he led you back to his desk. You opened your mouth to shit talk him, but your words died in your throat as he grabbed your neck and guided you slowly down until you lay on top of his desk.

“The only words I want to hear from that pretty mouth of yers is ‘yes sir’, ‘please sir’, and thank you sir’,” he growled. “Otherwise, you better be moanin’ my name.”

HIs eyes pinned you down as effectively as his big hands. “Y-yes sir,” you said automatically, easily submitting to his command. If only life were so easy: give this man what he wanted, and he would take care of you.

But at least for a little while, you didn’t have to think.

“Good girl,” he said, smiling as he released his grip on your neck. He let his hand trail down your chest, and gave one of your breasts a playful squeeze before he stroked down your belly, then rested his hand over your mons and patted you there gently. “Now, lift yer skirt, sweetheart.”

With a quick, dutiful nod, you obeyed, lifting your ass up just enough to tuck the fabric up around your waist. As you started to slide your panties down, he lightly batted your hands away. Instead, he took the turquoise fabric in his hands and slid it off of your body. His fingers skimmed over your skin as he lifted your legs and pulled your panties off, leaving your legs hanging over his shoulder.

“I’ll keep these fer now,” he said, pocketing your panties. “You certainly won’t need’em.”

“But—”

He slapped your ass. “Are you questionin’ me?”

You bit your lip. “No, sir.”

Leaning down, Arthur gripped your jaw firmly. “You goin’ to be my good girl, ain’t that right?”

“Yes, sir.”

He smiled before he kissed you, a surprisingly gentle kiss, his lips lingering on yours before he pulled away. Spreading your legs, he kneeled down and pulled you close to the table’s edge. He moved your legs, one hooked over each shoulder, and leaned forward.

His tongue on your clit was an epiphany, no matter how many times he did it. The licking, the teasing, the perfect pressure he applied when he knew you needed it, were all so goddamn euphoric that you felt like a goddess being worshiped by her most devout believer.

“Oh god, oh god,” you mewled.

Arthur’s eyebrows furrowed as he moved his head away, and you whimpered. He licked your essence from his lips and pinned you with an intense stare, his pupils dilated with desire. “Beg for me, darlin’, not god.”

“Arthur, please Arthur, Arthur!”

He went right back to your core, his lips wrapping around your center and sucking abruptly.

“Oh fuck, Arthur!” You were so close. So damn close

He hummed. The vibrations went through your body and straight into the pleasure center of your brain. You instinctively reached for his head and dug your fingers into his hair, lifting your hips off the table as you ground down on his face. His tongue pressed against your clit and he licked effusively as he pushed one finger inside of you and curled it upwards.

You exploded, a climax of colorful fireworks exploded behind your eyelids as pure bliss shot through your veins. He reached up and clamped one hand around your mouth to stifle your moans as you shook with your release. Your hips shuddered and your body went rigid as you felt the stress of the world, of everything, slip away, and time lost all meaning. All you were left with was this wonderful, light feeling of pleasure. You could only hear the beating of your own heart for a few moments, followed by the low chuckle of a man who knew he could get what he wanted.

Opening your eyes, you watched Arthur lick his lips before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Delicious,” he purred as he stood up to his full height, towering over you. He reached down to his pants and unzipped his fly.

No matter how many times you saw his full length, you always had a visceral reaction to him. Your body pulsed with desire.

“I can see you droolin’,” he said as pulled out his cock, hard and dripping at the tip. He reached up to your cheek and held it gently for a moment. “Don’t worry girl, I’ll give you what you need.”

Then his grip changed to cover your mouth, and his visage turned feral. With a grunt, he shoved himself inside of your wet channel.

After your initial cry of surprise, you devolved into a moaning, whimpering creature of need. His cock was so thick, so filling, so damn good. You wrapped your legs around him as he fucked you. Your hands gripped the edge of the desk to keep yourself steady. His staccato rhythm laced with a tone of near desperation echoed in the space where the two of you gave into a primal lust. 

Arthur leaned forward, his pelvis rubbing against you in all the right ways as he slowed his thrusts. “You want it from behind, pet?”

Without meaning to do it, you tightened your channel around him.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said smugly as he pulled out of you and flipped you onto your belly. Taking your left hand, he covered your mouth. “Keep yerself quiet while I fuck you.”

You muffled your own cries as he gripped your hips and did as he said. He fucked you with a passion, his moans intertwining with yours as you stuck your hips out, begging for more. Deeper, harder, you wanted all of him, and you wanted him to make you his.

Arthur leaned forward, his forearms caging you in. You felt the puffs of his breath on your ear, the low growls as he sped up his pace. “Gonna fill you up, darlin’. Can’t wait for you to walk around with my cum dryin’ on your thighs.”

You let out a whine of need.

His hand covered yours over your mouth. “Such a loud li’l spy,” he murmured. “This what you need? Need my cum?”

You nodded vigorously.

Arthur’s breathing hitched. “Fuck, then take it all, sweetheart.” 

He tightened his grip on you. You swear his fingers were going to leave bruises on your hip, but you didn’t care. Your mind was so focused on pleasure that you didn’t think about anything else. Turning your head as much as you could with his hand on your mouth, you saw his fierce expression as he barreled towards his climax, a slight snarl on his hips. He looked truly feral, rutting you like a beast.

“Every. Last. Drop,” he gritted out, each word punctuated by a powerful thrust of his hips as he came inside of you. His head leaned back and his eyes closed as he let out another low moan of satisfaction. He held you down, keeping his hips against yours until he caught his breath.

When he finally let you go, you felt some of his cum leaking out, dripping onto your inner thighs. You quickly squeezed your legs together. Turning to him, you held out your hand for your panties.

He smirked and pulled your panties out of his pocket. “You want these?”

You reached for them, but he took a step and pulled them away. “I think I’ll keep these, sweetheart. As a trophy.” He tucked your panties back into his pocket.

“You bastard,” you grit out, but the afterglow made your words sound less harsh than you meant.

Arthur chuckled. “Been called worse.” He then leaned forward and cupped your cheek gently. Your heart started to beat hard as his face turned serious. “Darlin’, the boss is startin’ to get impatient. I can’t keep holding them off. You need to quit in a week, or I’ll have to turn ya in.”

You stared at him in shock. “A… a week?”

He nodded. “Get what you can and get out. Can’t protect you any more than I have been.”

For a moment, there was only silence. The two of you stared at each other, you trying to figure out what to do, and him, waiting for your answer.

Finally, you came to a conclusion. “Alright. I’ll be quick.”

***

“You sure you haven’t been caught by the company?”

You sweated as you stared at the phone screen. You had just video-called your boss, your real boss at SpiralX, to report back, and now he looked at you in disbelief.

“I’m sure. I made a deal,” you replied. You weren’t lying.

He gave you a long sigh. “Even if the one who caught you was a third party, that doesn’t mean they still won’t turn you in later. You better leave town and cover your tracks.”

“I will.”

“Alright.” Your boss leaned back in his chair and regarded you with the same mix of irritation and resignation as one would their guilty child who had just broken a window with a wayward baseball. “So what’s the price?”

“Don’t worry, I already paid it,” you said. You hoped your face was as blank as possible, but your boss also taught you everything you knew about spywork.

Your boss raised an eyebrow, but only nodded without questioning you any further. “Alright. Get going.”

The video call ended, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

***

Your meager belongings were packed, your car filled with most of your boxes. The last things in the apartment were the air mattress you had been sleeping on for the past two nights, a pillow, and a light blanket. You were in the middle of letting the air out of the mattress when you heard the doorbell.

Not knowing who it could be, you carefully went up to the door, sidling up to it in case it was someone dangerous. Peeking out of the peephole, you were surprised by your unexpected visitor. So surprised, in fact, that you didn’t move.

“I know yer in there, darlin’.”

Sighing, you finally opened the door.

“Hello, Arthur,” you said quietly. You had hoped not to see him. You weren’t supposed to become attached. Ever since you had quit your job a week ago and walked out of the office, you had thrown yourself into cleaning and getting rid of the few pieces of furniture you had acquired.

You had been pretty successful at not thinking about Arthur for the first few days. But then on the fourth day, in the morning, when you woke up ravenously horny and needing satisfaction, you jilled off so hard to the thought of Arthur holding you down and having his way with you that you cried out his name. You immediately felt frustrated and vowed to not do it again.

Except that you did the next day, and the next.

And now, he was here, in front of you. Your gaze unconsciously wandered down his body.

“I see where yer lookin’,” he said with a smug grin. Without asking, he sauntered right into your empty apartment and shut the door behind him. “Yer not goin’ to ask how I found you?”

“You’re a private eye. I can guess how.”

He shrugged. Then he looked at you thoughtfully for a moment, then took another step towards you. “Then can you guess why I’m here?”

You looked down at his pants. Reaching down to cup him, feeling his cock hardening under your touch, you grinned. “One last fuck before I go?”

Without words, he gripped your jaw and kissed you hard, not letting you up for breath until you gripped his cock harder. When he did let you go, he grabbed you and pushed you up against the closest wall. Crushing your body against his hard chest, he ground his hips against you like a man possessed. He rapidly pulled your pants off and stripped the T-shirt from you. Your panties and bra were pulled off so quickly that you didn’t even know where they went before he was unzipping his jeans. He pulled out his shaft and rubbed it against your slick folds.

“You need this, don’t you?”

“Yes, please, fuck me,” you begged.

Arthur laughed softly before he reached down and began to toy with your core. “First, let me see your face when you come.”

You reached down to grip Arthur’s arm as he rubbed your center. His other hand played with your nipples. He stroked you so expertly that your climax came barreling down and caught you off guard.

“Fuck! Arthur, yes, fuck, Arthur!” you cried out as you came around his fingers, shaking with the pent up need that had finally been properly released with his touch.

“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you,” he murmured as he watched you climax in his grip. As you began to slink down the wall, he grabbed your leg and lifted it up, wrapping it around his hip. Angling himself, he aimed for your channel and thrust inside.

“Oh Arthur,” you gasped at his intrusion, breathing hard as he filled you completely.

“That’s right, take it,” he growled as he began to thrust. “Show me that needy look on yer face when I fuck you.”

You looked up at him and knew you looked like an addict getting their fix. You didn’t care. You mewled and moaned for him, just the way he liked.

“Good girl,” he praised as he thrust more rapidly. “Such a good fuckin’ girl, takin’ my cock.”

He pulled you into his arms and suddenly you were riding his cock as he held you up with the pure strength in his arms, standing in the entryway of your apartment.

“I wanna come inside you,” he growled.

“Do it,” you whisper. “Fill me up, fill me until cum spills down my legs.”

“Oh, fuck,” Arthur moans before he presses you against the wall again and thrusts hard, twice more until he stills, his cock twitching inside of you. His forehead rests against yours, and he lets out a guttural groan as he spills everything within you.

For a blissful minute, the only sounds in the apartment are your ragged breaths, synchronizing with each moment that passed.

And then he stepped away, guiding you to stand on your two feet, his seed spilling down your legs, just as you wanted.

In your dirtied state, he looked at you with a dizzying amount of tenderness. He cupped your cheek and kissed the tip of your nose. “I’ll always remember you, Darlin’.”

For a moment, you almost wanted him to take you away, to keep you as his fucktoy forever.

He took a step back and tucked himself back into his pants, look as if he hadn’t just fucked your brains out. Pulling your panties out of his pocket, he grinned. “I’m keepin’ this pair too.”

“Arthur!” you gasped. All your clothes had been packed now, so you’d have to dig through your duffel bag in your car if you wanted another pair.

He laughed as he stuffed them back into his pocket. From his other pocket, he pulled out a business card, handing it to you. “Call me if you want’em back, sweetheart.”

Unable to respond, you could only take the card and watch silently as he opened the door and walked out, leaving you alone, naked. 

It took a few moments, but reality finally came back into focus. Sighing, you pulled on your clothes and pocketed his card without a second thought. Finishing up cleaning your apartment, you dropped off the key at the office, and headed to your car. As you passed by a trash can, you pulled his card out again. You stared at the cell phone number. You looked at the trash can. You looked back down at the card.

You pocketed the card and drove away.

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

End Notes: Did I just leave the ending open? Sure did. Never know when I want to come back to this AU. But for now, consider this series as done unless I think of some other dirty filthy thing to do with a spy and a private eye. Thank you for reading, I know this is pretty similar to some of the other things I’ve written, but I really needed a dirty low honor Arthur fic to fulfill my filthy desires.

Many many thanks to @shootybangbang and @reddeaddufus for being the bestest beta readers a horny writer could ever ask for.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x F!reader #rdr2 fanfic #low honor arthur morgan #writing #fanfic #rdr2 #nsft #lemon fanfic