#i made it through all that and still didnt get hired last time i applied so fuck ever doing that again

[thenextchapterbegins]

Voxitechs programming and wirewall was....complex to say the least. Took Sage a good few minutes but after she finally accessed it, instantly every screen Vox owned turn a bright, hellish red.

"Sorry. This belongs to the Eggman Empire now."

Vox blinked a few times as his screens all flashed a bright hellish red. "Oh, someone finally went for my firewalls...cool, well congrats. Honestly didnt think anyone would be insane enough to do this. But were doing it."

"Thank you for applying to voxitech headquarters through our cyberdivision through alternatives means, if you look at what u actually have access to besides my screen, u will see you have access to a fun little pinball game from the first era of computing, mspaint and an exe file, that file will lead you to the next level of hacking, 1000 leveled progressivly harder and harder and harder final 3 puzzle are loosely based on puzzles from the infamously impossible cicada 3301 event from i think the early to mid 2000's which if you deem actually wanting to spend the time to do so, i will have moved all important executive functions onto new systems so that by the time u have finished u will still at square 1 also all firewall levels are timed with each 10 or so levels the time decreasing with the last 3 being at a whopping 5 mins to complete basically an impossible task and if you fail any of the times allotted the system will completely brick and boot you, but i will offer to hire you on the spot, if you actually choose to do this and succeed i've had 1 person so far actually manage it and he made this system harder when he got hired. If not, uh get the fuck out of my basic level 1 firewalls you have 5 mins to choose or the system will completely brick and boot you out. as well. so have fun im gonna go talk to my security division to start preparing transfers of my executive functions just in case."

"Thank you for visiting voxitech."

#Vox: The man behind the screen #aulcard abridged referenced loosely in this reply #if u get it u got it

[kjhmyg]

rough edges pt. 6 (m)

pairing: jungkook | (f) reader genre: college!au, badboy!jk, fluffy too :(  warnings: mentions of drugs, unprotected sex, cursing, violence, alcohol, drinking, death, manhandling, college parties, boys lol  word count: 10.7K

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / part 6 / 6.5

author’s note: hello i love u. first of all welcome to  ♡ libra season ♡ sorry this took so long; it feels kinda short so maybe i’ll post a short 1k chapter next week (part 6.5). i wrote the last half of the last part like an hour ago i hope i didnt make any big grammatical errors or typos lol. also dedicating this to my friend haru who i miss loads.

RE asks tag

What was a red mark on Jungkook’s cheek, has now turned purple-ish. He promises it doesn’t hurt anymore but you notice him mindlessly touching it at times. So you kiss it very gently each time you say goodbye and he doesn’t stop you.

With one arm around over the back of your chair, he’s feeding himself fries with the other. You lean against his shoulder, watching as he nibbles away. “Can’t keep your eyes off me huh?” He mutters.

“You know I can’t.” You admit, giggling into quick, continuous pecks. He lingers on a little longer on the last one like he always does.

“Will you guys save it for the bedroom?” Jimin asks, face twisted in disgust. He doesn’t really care, but it’s fun to tease Jungkook. “Gross.”

“Gross is you dipping fries in your coke.” Hana shakes her head at the soaked fry between his thumb and index finger.

"Don't be mad you don't have refined taste in food like me." He shoots back. “A soaked fry has equal parts sweet and salty.”

“You’re just gross.”

Hana’s realised it doesn’t take much to get under his skin and is enjoying every bit of it. The irony is that it always starts with Jimin trying to get under Jungkook’s skin. Next to Jimin, Taehyung’s phone has his undivided attention. In fact, he’s been rather quiet today, spending the last five minutes or so frowning at his screen.

“Tae, you alright?”

“No.” He sighs, finally looking up. “I have to get a job.”

“...And?”

“Well I don’t want to.” He says simply. “Can’t believe my parents are cutting off my allowance because I spend too much.” He uses air quotes.

Except for Jimin, the rest of you only manage blank stares, unable to sympathise with his first world problem. "Yeah, I’m sure those thousand dollar Balenciaga sneakers you got last week have nothing to do with it.” Jungkook says.

“Jungkook. They were limited edition.”

“A thousand dollars?” You say. “What the hell dude.”

“Okay can we stop talking about the past and focus on the present?” Leaning back against his chair and looking into the distance, Jimin places a comforting hand on his shoulder

“Don’t worry, we’ll find you a nice job.” Jimin says and he lets out a tiny whine, throwing his head back.

That’s when it hits you. You have no idea how, but it does. And you have no idea if it’ll work but you’re doing it anyway.

A clueless Hana raises a brow in question at the sudden look of mischief you give her. She braces herself for whatever you’re about to do, equally curious and worried. “Actually, you should apply at our café.” You say to Taehyung.

“They’re hiring?”

“Well not yet.” Turning back to her, you widen your eyes slightly, prompting Hana to play along. She quickly does, noticing Jungkook watching her over your shoulder. “I’m leaving soon so they’ll definitely need a replacement.”

“You’re quitting?” Jungkook asks, sitting up straight. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” The little head shake you give isn’t enough to convince him. “I just wanna work somewhere else. Anyway, you’d like working there Tae. It’s nice.” The other boy perks up, seemingly interested.

Hana agrees, explaining the details of your work and what it’s like there. While they talk, Jungkook squeezes your shoulder to get your attention, “Are you sure nothing happened? Creeps harassing you again?”

“No, really.” You say, hand over his cheek. “I just want a change of environment. The job’s getting boring.”

The worry in his eyes gradually disappears as he seems to accept it. He gives a soft okay for now. Looking away, you let out a silent sigh of relief. On the inside, the rational side of you is yelling her head off. What possessed you to decide to quit your job for no good reason? This plan is banking on the chance that Jungkook will let you join him at the club. Which when you think about it, is very unlikely to happen.

Yet, another part of you is excited. Your mind is in a frenzy. Convincing yourself you’ll figure the details out later, you silently thank Taehyung and his Balenciagas for handing you this opportunity.

"Oh hey, we better get going." Jimin says, looking at the time on his phone. "We'll see you guys tonight?"

The girls of Eta Iota are hosting a party tonight. Naturally, the boys get invited and by association, you too. Sunhee’s cashing in on your promise of taking her to one, so you have to go even if it’s just to hang around for a while then leave. You part ways with Jimin and Tae as Jungkook gives Hana and you a ride back. He walks with you to the lobby of your place, where you tell Hana to head up first.

Right by the stairwell, he leans against the wall and holds you in his arms, between his legs. “Are you sure you wanna quit your job?”

"Yessss, I’m sure. I wanna work somewhere else." Resting your chin on his chest, you look up at him. "It's cute that you're worried about me."

“Of course I am.” He kisses the top of your head. “I’ll help you keep a lookout for places that are hiring.”

You smile gleefully up at him. Oh, he’s going to help you get a new job alright. Just not in the way he’s thinking. Already, you feel bad for lying to him. But you keep telling yourself you’re doing this for him.

He doesn’t let you go so easily when you try and remove yourself, not giving up his hold on you. When you pry his hands off, he tugs you right back in, locking you in his arms as kisses land all over your face. “Stop,” you laugh, “someone might see us.” But you don’t look around to check for anyone. He doesn’t care either.

He lifts you up easily, wrapping your legs around him. Switching positions, you now feel the cool wall against your back. “Should we skip the party tonight?” He asks, a hopeful look in his eyes.

“You have to go. It’s part of your fraternity sorority socialising thingy thing.” He rolls his eyes at that. “Plus, I promised Sunhee I’d go with her.”

"Fine. But I’m only going ‘cause you’re going."

“So I’ll see you there, okay?” He nods in response as his hold on you loosens. A peck on the cheek and you’re going up the stairs, one step at a time, hand still holding on to his. As it slips away, he squeezes his chest with his other hand and groans in mock pain.

“Silly,” you mutter between giggles. He breaks character and skips up the steps to get another kiss from you. At this rate he would never leave.

“Jungkook seriously,” you say against his lips, leaning back to separate yourself from him, “you should go now. I’ll see you later anyway.”

He complies and lets you go, but not without releasing a very dramatic sigh. You hurry up the steps before he changes his mind, looking down over the railing as you go, waving your goodbye.

𝄖𝄖

Purple, purple everywhere. The Etas had decided to do their rush party while celebrating their anniversary. Which explains why the decorations are of their ‘official’ colour. Purple balloons, cups, banners, napkins.

“This is so fun!” Sunhee squeals, coming up to hug you from behind. “I’ve made a bunch of new friends!” She squeals again and hurries off elsewhere, leaving you and Hana once again.

“I’m glad she’s enjoying herself.” Hana comments, taking a sip of her drink.

“Aren’t you?” You nudge her side. “You’ve had like four guys come up and give you their number. Don’t act like you’re not having fun.”

“I guess I’m havin’ a lil’ fun…” she mumbles towards the end, sipping on her drink with a tiny smile. She’s holding up much better than you thought she would. Much better than you at least, she doesn’t seem too bothered by the constant yelling.

There’s no reason to worry about Sunhee. She’d clung on to you earlier when you arrived together as promised, like you’re her ticket in. As soon as you passed through the doors, a couple of girls from the host house came up to greet you. While it was a little awkward for you, Sunhee saw her chance and took it. She’s been hanging out with them since.

“Where’s Jungkook?” Hana asks. She’s still unsure about your plan. You had gotten an earful from her earlier on, back at the apartment. Only after you promised, pinky promised and swore you’d be safe, did she finally calm down.

“Somewhere.” It’s crowded enough to not be able to see the other end of the room. You crane your neck to see better. “Don’t know if I can find him with all these people around.”

“Go.” Her pretty, long eyelashes flutter over her eyes as she looks at you. “Don’t worry about me.”

You’re hesitant to leave, but she reiterates that she’d be fine and you finally nod, much to her relief. She has Jimin and Taehyung with her anyway, she says, nodding over to the pair a few feet away.

Before disappearing into the crowd, you turn back to let her know you might not see her for the rest of the night. But she’s read your mind, waving her hands at you. “You’ll be with Jungkook, I know.”

“Text me when you get home. I love you.” You blow her a kiss and watch her roll her eyes, then push through bodies of people to get to a different part of the house. There’s way too many people here. Most of them tower at least a head over you, disrupting your view. Your phone vibrates just as you enter the biggest room of the house which gives you a little more maneuvering space than the previous one.

Jungkook: u look great

Slowly, you turn in the spot you’re in, paying close attention to each section of the room.

Jungkook: i like pink

Jungkook: ur ass looks great in those jeans btw

You: reveal yourself  

He doesn’t respond and you continue to wander around, until you reach a short hallway separating the kitchen area from the previous room. With more room to breathe, you decide to stay put knowing Jungkook won’t keep this up for long anyway. And you’re right.

"Looking for me?" His hot breath tickles your ear.

Spinning around, you're greeted by his wide grin and immediately hate how good he looks in a simple white tee with his house name, Kappa Sigma embedded on the left chest, and tucked into black jeans, "Hey you." He tastes like fruit punch when you kiss him.

Your bodies sway slightly to the music with his hands on your hips and your arms around his neck. He reaches behind, pulling something out of his back pocket and holds it up in front of you. “Lollipop?”

“It’s...purple.” You take it from him, observing its odd colour, wondering if this was even necessary.

“I know.” He chuckles. “They really go all out.”

You shrug, unwrapping the sweet and pop it in your mouth. “So, you wanna get out of here?” He asks.

“But I thought you liked parties,” you blink, “socialising, hooking up.”

“I know you’re making fun of me but it’s kinda hot when you talk like that.” He eyes the way your lips wrap around the lollipop, unconsciously mirroring the movement of your tongue licking the layer of sugar off your lips, suddenly going thirsty.

You shove him in the chest and he laughs, stepping back. “I’ve been here less than an hour.” You say. Although, it’s not like you were planning to stay long anyway. You know that, he knows that.

“You won’t miss a thing, trust me.” He hooks an arm over your shoulder. “Besides, we can get started on the hooking up part.” He winks.

You leave through the back, avoiding the large crowd up front. You quickly send a text to Hana to let her know you’re leaving. Out on the lawn, you walk past a group of guys drunkenly singing to their heart's content and you flash them a thumbs up despite how horrible they sound.

The Eta Iota house is just a few houses down from the boys’ and you walk back hand in hand, swinging your arms as you go. Jungkook watches your smile, and the way you laugh when your arms swing so far back that it throws you off balance and you almost fall. “You look good.” He says, softly.

“I know, you told me.” You say without sparing him a glance. “I look good in pink. And these jeans are good for my ass.”

“No.” His voice is as soft as his smile. Looking at him then, you notice the tender look in his eyes. “I mean you look good when you’re happy. It’s nice. Does that make sense? I don’t know.”

Your heart leaps at the way he looks away almost shyly, focusing entirely on the ground as he walks, his other hand in his pocket. You close the gap between you and kiss him on the cheek. “I’m always happy when I’m with you.”

“I’m happy when I’m with you too.”

The rest of the short walk back goes in comfortable silence, you still lightly swinging your arms. But as you reach the front of the house, Jungkook pauses. It surprises you when he decides to take a walk in the park instead. You give him curious glances along the way, wondering what’s gotten into him. It’s a ten minute walk from his place to a park that’s your go-to for impromptu date nights.

You walk past groups of people hanging around, laughing with food on large picnic mats. Finally you opt for an empty space on the grass, not too far away from others there but secluded enough to have some privacy.

“Oh my god, look at the clouds.” They’re big and fluffy, floating through the dark sky. “I wish we could see the stars. That’d be perfect.”

Jungkook follows your gaze. “There are places where you can do that you know.”

“Yeah, I’d love to go one day.” You say with a heavy sigh.

“We could go together.” Jungkook says, making you look at him. “Like a vacation.”

“Aw. I’d love that.”

He smiles sweetly, then turns in place to face you. “I went to look for places which were hiring earlier.”

“You did? Why?”

“Aren’t you...quitting your job?” He looks at you confused. “Unless you’ve changed your mind.”

“Yeah but, there’s no rush.”

“Just wanna make sure you have something to fall back on.” He says, checking his phone. “So, the bakery right next to the cafe is hiring.”

“Jungkook,” you laugh, “I can’t quit and then take up a job next door!”

“I know but, just in case.” He goes on, looking upwards as he recalls. “The school’s also looking for a part-time librarian⎼”

“Baby no, that’s so boring.” You groan. “I thought I’d look for something more...exciting. Like a routesetter maybe?”

“I didn’t know you rock climb?”

“Oh I don’t.” He looks at you with a blank expression on his face. “What? I can learn to!”

"You're weird." He shakes his head and taps your nose. "Why would you wanna go out of your way for a part time job?"

"Cause...it's fun?"

"Even you don't believe that."

"You're right." The wheels in your head turn at full speed, trying to make this as natural as possible. You have to be careful, Jungkook's way too attentive when it comes to you. "Okay, I'll be honest."

He perks up. Face filled with curiosity, as if ready to say I knew it, that something was up, and that you wouldn't leave your job over nothing.

"I'm quitting because…" You gulp. "I want to spend more time with you."

"What?"

"Don't be mad." You add in quickly. "I just thought that I'd get to have more time to spare for you if I wasn't always working."

Eyes closed, he lets out a sigh and drops his head with a little shake. The small smile and amused look in his eyes makes you smile too. “Are you serious? Are you running a fever?” He places the back of his palm against your forehead and then checks the pulse on your wrist.

“I’m fine.” You snatch your hand back.

“The Y/N I know wouldn’t make impulsive decisions like this.” He quirks a brow, “You know you need that job. How else will you pay rent? Get groceries? You don’t ever let me pay for anything.”

“I’ll find a job with less hours.”

“Less hours, less pay.” He lifts your chin up, pouty lips calling him in. “Don’t be silly baby, you’re not leaving your job.”

“Too late.”

“What d’you mean?”

“I...may have...emailed my resignation...earlier on.”

He groans and you cringe when he shoots you a look of disapproval. You give your best kicked puppy look which doesn’t work. “This doesn’t happen often but I’m really mad at you right now.”

“Don’t be.” You scoot closer and when he turns his head away, you move onto his lap, forcing him in an embrace. “I’ll find something.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Go back to work tomorrow and speak to your manager. Tell him you’ve changed your mind.” He asks seriously. “I’ll go and have coffee during every one of your shifts so we’re technically spending time together.”

“Don’t be silly.”

“I’m the silly one?”

“Okay fine, I’m sorry.” You sigh. “I didn’t think things through…”

“You’re damn right you didn’t.” He rests his head in his palm. “So, what are you gonna do now?”

“Spend more time with you?” You inch even closer, if it’s even possible with how you’re already sticking to him like glue. He doesn’t reply right away but squeezes you in his hold, resting his cheek on your head. “Are you still angry?”

“Yes.”

You lift your head off him for a kiss. When he sighs this time, he feels the anger dissipating. At the same time he curses the way his body betrays him when it comes to you. You can barely tell he’s upset with the way he responds so eagerly. The pleased look you give him after has him rolling his eyes. “You can’t be mad at me. I’m cute.”

“True.” He leans back, hands on the grass behind him. “But, we are going to look for job postings online tonight.”

“But mom!” You whine, folding your arms in front of you.

“No buts.”

“Not even my butt?” Blinking innocently at him, you add in a little head tilt until he breaks and starts grinning. “Thought you liked my butt.”

He falls onto the grass, laughing in disbelief and you steady yourself on his chest. “What has gotten into you?” He says, watching as you hover over him. “You’re acting so weird.”

“No I’m not. I’m just happy, like you said.” You kiss him on the nose. “You’re the weird one. Nagging at me about getting a job. Being a responsible adult and stuff.”

He flips over, switching your positions so that he’s hovering over you now. Almost immediately, you’re distracted by how dreamy he looks with the view of the night sky behind him. You run your thumb over one side of his cheek. “You did this to me. Plus I’m just looking out for you.”

“I know. Thank you.”

“Don’t worry. I can pull some strings and get you a job somewhere fun.”

He rolls over to your side and lets you rest your head under his arm, both of you watching the sky. You shift even closer, slinging one leg over his and draw circles on his chest. “Hey I mean, worse comes to worst, I could always come and work for you.”

Surprisingly, he laughs. Really hard. You lift yourself up and rest on your elbow to watch him. “Nice one.” He sighs. Then he notices the way you’re looking at him, face void of expression and brows up in question. “What? You were serious?”

“Slightly offended that you thought it was that funny but yes, I was.”

He raises a brow at you. “You? Want to work at a club? Doing what?”

“Bartender? Cleaner?”

“Don’t even joke about that, our cleaners are our most valuable staff. They clean, sanitise, then double sanitise, wipe up vomit, make sure the booths aren’t lined with nasty fluids.”

Your face twists in horror and he nods, proving his point. “Okay...fine so I’m not qualified enough for that. But bartending? I can do that.”

“No.”

“Why?”

He gets up and you follow. He ruffles the back of his head and dusts of the grains on his hands. “Baby, you’re not working there. I won’t allow it.”

“But𝄖”

“Y/N, I said no.” There was no room to argue, not even cheekily. He didn't raise his voice, but the tone he took was enough. Easing the firm stare he gave you as he said it, he turns his attention to his phone as it beeps.

𝄖𝄖

"Lucky for you, I told the manager you just needed a break to focus on school," Hana yawns, pulling up the blanket to her face, "you can come back anytime."

"You want me to give up?"

"Only because your plan is dangerous."

"Hana, I'm not giving up."

She sighs, turning over to the other side. “Let’s talk tomorrow. I’m tired.”

You push yourself off her bed and sit on the edge, thinking. Quietly, you pull open the drawer by her bed, fumbling around until you feel what you’re looking for. The little paper you tore out of Jungkook’s notebook. When he started sleeping over, you had asked Hana to keep it safe for you. You stare at the address. You hadn’t gotten round to visiting the place, especially since you don’t even know what you’re looking for.

“Turn off the light when you leave, will you?” Hana mumbles half-asleep.

You leave the piece of paper and close the drawer.

𝄖𝄖

Two days later, you’re back at his place. The guys are all over, making sure the house is ready for a party tonight. Each of them were assigned different tasks to settle to save time. When you arrived, Hoseok made sure to separate Jungkook from you, for the sake of efficiency, so you’re stuck in the kitchen with Jimin. Helping him with the cleaning, you listen mindlessly as he rambles on about something. He yells at every guy that enters and tries to steal some snacks but sneaks some into his mouth when no one’s looking.

Just as you’re done wiping down the chip bowls, Jungkook walks in with dark stains all over his shirt and face. He chugs down half a bottle of orange juice from the fridge before opening a bag of gummies placed on the table for the party which has Jimin groaning.

“What happened to you?”

“Car oil needed changing. Cleaned up under the hood too.”

“What?” Jimin shrieks. “You were working on your car this entire time?”

“Yeah?”

“While the rest of us were preparing for the party? Unbelievable!” He huffs, “You were supposed to fix the first floor bathroom⎼”

Jungkook signals for him to stop, holding up a palm. “Fine, I’ll go do it now.” He reaches out for your hand and continues to nod at everything Jimin says as he tags you along, the nagging fading away as you run upstairs.

“You should really go and help out.” You say, plopping down on his bed with a bounce.

Jungkook hums, “I will. Later.”

Sniffing the shirt he has on, he lets out a disapproving grunt. He removes it in one swoop and tosses it into a basket. You watch quietly as he steps closer, eyes fixed on yours. He leans forward and your hands grip the sheets as you lean back, looking at him expectantly. Then his arm moves past your head and reaches for another shirt on the bed, behind you. He snickers and you slap his shoulder.

“I’m leaving.”

“Aw, come on, don’t go.” He jumps into bed and grabs you. He leans on his side, propped up on his elbow, hand on your middle.

“I have to get some groceries.” You play with his hair. “Then I’m gonna freshen up and come back here in time for the party.”

“Great, I’ll drive you.”

“No, you stay. Fix the bathroom.”

“But I don’t want to.” He groans, and rolls over onto you. Almost naturally, your legs wrap around him and he starts kissing your neck, moving down to your chest, pulling down your shirt. You stop him, giggling. “Why do you always wanna leave when we kiss?” He frowns.

“Why do you always kiss me when I’m leaving?”

“‘Cause I don’t want you to leave."

The smell of your skin makes him smile. It smells like...home.

You feel his weight slowly get heavier on you as his body relaxes and melts into yours, nestling his face into your neck. He almost drifts to sleep with the way you’re rubbing his back. When you ruffle his hair, he lifts his head and claims a kiss. “I love you.”

“Love you too. Kookie.”

You giggle as he drops his face in the space between your neck and shoulder. Groaning, he recalls the night Suga found out about the nickname. He has since, constantly used it on Jungkook whenever he can. “He’s never letting that go. Thanks a lot.”

“I’m sorry.” You laugh, chest moving under him. “I was drunk. I didn’t know what I was saying.”

Supporting his weight on one arm, he hovers above you while his free hand brushes past the side of your face. “You don’t remember anything you said that night?”

“No.” That can’t be good. You scan his face. “Why? Did I say something weird?”

“No. Just wondering.” He says gently, expression slowly changing into a smile that makes you forget you were even worried a second ago. “Don’t get drunk anymore. Suga likes you way too much when you’re drunk.”

“Does he?” You laugh, cupping his face. If Suga likes you, you can use this to your advantage. You can’t wait to tell Hana your plan worked.

When Jungkook hears the sound of his name being called from somewhere around the house, he groans and sinks into you again. You push him off you with much difficulty, laughing as he keeps plopping back down into you.

“Okay, they need you. I’m leaving so you can focus. I’ll come back later.” You say, when you finally manage to escape. Reluctantly, he follows behind as you walk down the stairs.

Just as you reach the bottom of the steps, you’re being pulled to the side, against the wall where he corners you into, hands on either side. “I’ll be waiting, so you better show up.” Down your back, up your front, his hands run over your body till they rest just under your jaw, making you lift your chin towards him. Breath hitching in your throat, he carefully brings his lips to yours, teasing a soft touch. Then he lets go.

He smiles like nothing happened and you catch your breath before racing to the front door. You hear a soft chuckle and turn to see him winking at you as he goes in the other direction. Hearing voices from the kitchen where the meeting has started, you quickly close the door behind you, ignoring the pulsing between your thighs.

𝄖𝄖

With a basketful of groceries, you stroll through the store, looking for anything you might have missed out. As you walk, you notice from afar, standing right in front of the refrigerated section your new friend Namjoon. You head straight for him, a little bounce in your step. When you stop right next to him, he turns slowly and carefully.

“Oh. It’s you.” He says as he realises.

“Getting some groceries?” You ask, looking at the shelf then back at him.

“Oh just,” he lifts up a bottle of juice, “getting my orange juice. I see you’re getting your monthly supply. You alone?”

“Yeah I am.” You nod, “My roommate’s busy with school stuff.”

“Right.” He smiles, then it seems like a thought comes to him. “Hey, you’re going for the party tonight right?”

“What? How’d you know about that?” You look at him confused.

“I have friends too you know.”

“But, you can’t come. You’re technically faculty.” You say, putting down your basket to fold your arms in front of you and stare him down. “Are you trying to get us in trouble?”

He chuckles, then points and holds up a finger in front of you. “Actually, I’m an external instructor. So technically, I’m not faculty.”

“How convenient.” You eye him down.

“Fine, fine.” He sighs. “It’s been a while since I’ve been to a party, okay? I just wanna mingle.”

“Hm.” You chew on your bottom lip. Seems genuine enough. You can’t help but wonder if he’s there for something else. How will that go down with Jungkook? “An instructor looking to mingle with his students...definitely no red flags there.”

He rolls his eyes at you. “Come on, I’m not that much older than you. And I’m not that kinda person.”

“That’s what they all say.” You shrug. “Well, I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

“Cool.” He winks. “I’ll see you tonight.”

He walks off way too quickly, like he’s avoiding something and heads straight for the checkout counter. Of course you know why he’d go to a college party; the perfect place to sell his drugs. You can’t figure out if you should let Jungkook know about Namjoon. But then again, he almost always knows what’s going on. And he’d be uneasy knowing you know so much.

You pick up your basket off the floor and head for checkout yourself. Barely making ten steps, you notice someone leaning against the side of a shelf, watching you with his arms crossed, mischievous smile on his face. Your other new friend. How coincidental.

“Suga.” You say, a tone way too excited for his liking but he nods anyway. You walk over to him and stand awkwardly before him, holding your basket with both hands in front of you. “Hi.”

“Hey cutie.” He searches for someone behind you. “Where’s Jungkook?”

“Oh he’s back at home.” You smile. “They’re getting ready for rush week. And the party tonight.”

“Am I invited?”

“Oh, um…” You can tell he’s joking, but you can’t be too sure. How interesting would it be to have Jungkook, Namjoon and Suga in one place. You wonder what would happen if they met.

You chuckle nervously without giving an answer and he shrugs it off. “I was kidding.”

“I guess you can come if you want to.” You say with a tiny shrug. “I’m sure Jungkook won’t mind.”

He changes the subject almost immediately, offering to help you carry your basket, which you politely decline. He walks with you to the counter. “So who was that guy you were talking to?”

Oh, he’s an instructor from school and also the new drug dealer in town. “Oh him? He’s the new self-defense instructor on campus.”

“Really?” He looks amused, and bites his bottom lip in a half-smile. “Cool. And you guys are friends?”

“Yeah. Kinda.” You place your basket on the counter and help the cashier to unload the items to scan. You don’t notice the way Suga laughs silently to himself, shaking his head.

“You know what, I gotta go.” Suga says, walking backwards towards the exit. You don’t even manage to reply to him before he takes off. “Let’s drink again sometime soon!”

𝄖𝄖

Hana is less than pleased to know about your run-ins. She looks at you with daggers in her eyes. “You have to stop this. He obviously knows your plan."

"Stop overreacting. How could he possibly know that?"

She shrugs. The loud music drowns out your voices from being overheard by those around you. "It's hard to believe it was a coincidence running into him.” She says and you sigh, choosing to ignore her.

The last you saw Jungkook, he was laughing away with a group of people. You didn’t want to bother him, he’d be busy anyway trying to get freshies on his side. But it’s been a while and now you don’t see him anywhere.

While Hana mingles, you go off to look for him. In the kitchen, you find Jimin doing shots of something that doesn’t look edible with a bunch of guys cheering him on. But no Jungkook. You peek out on the deck out back but he’s not there either. A hand on the sliding doors, you sigh and step out into the courtyard, breathing in air that doesn’t smell like sweat.

You pause when you step down the stairs and spot something, squinting at the sight of two guys in the far end of the backyard, right by the bush-lined fence. Recognising that jacket, you realise one of them is Jungkook. He then pulls something out of his pocket and shakes hands with the other guy. You turn back before he spots you. Probably just a polite handshake. Maybe with an old friend. Yup.

Step back inside, you’re being stopped by a hand on your arm. “You look flustered.” He says.

“Hi Hoseok.” You force a smile. “It’s warm in here.”

His eyes flicker over to the backyard and back at you. “This is what he does at parties. It’s how he distributes them.”

“So?” You look around uncomfortably.

“I know you don’t like it either.” He stops you before you can reply. “Can you meet me outside in ten minutes? It’s important.”

“You’re already here, what is it? No one’s paying any attention to us anyway.”

“I can’t.”

The sceptical look you give him has him feeling restless. “Trust me, it’s very important.”

From the tone of his voice, he sounds sincere. You don’t want to, but do you want to risk not knowing something that could help you help Jungkook? You hate this. After a long pause, you nod reluctantly. “Fine.”

Neither of you realised the two figures approaching until they’re walking up the steps. Hoseok and you share a look, as if pleading to the other to act normal. As they reach the door, you see now that Jae is the other guy. He greets you as he walks past, then blends into the crowd. Behind him, Jungkook spares you a curious look at the little exchange. He then notices Hoseok’s presence.

“What’s going on?” He looks back and forth at the two of you. “You look upset.”

“Hm? Oh no, I’m fine.” You muster up your best smile. “We were just talking about the guy who puked in the sink earlier.”

“Speaking of which, I should go make sure he’s not puking elsewhere.” Hoseok says, taking his leave.

You can’t tell if Jungkook bought that but he doesn’t question it. His demeanour changes as soon as Hoseok leaves, directing his attention on you. “He wasn’t bothering you, was he?”

“No.” You smile. “I ran into him while looking for some food.”

“Oh⎼”

He doesn’t get a chance to continue when someone he knows slaps him on the back. They chat for a while as he keeps you close next to him, even when you try to pry his fingers off. The other guy drags him somewhere but before he goes, he turns to you. “Grab some food and meet me upstairs, I’ll just be a second.” He winks, stealing a kiss.

“You don’t have to. I’ll just come find you later on it’s fine𝄖”

“You’re not getting rid of me babe.” He jokes and you let out an awkward laugh as he goes.

You haven’t mastered being in two places at once, you’re not a ninja. And in a few minutes, Hoseok will be waiting for you outside. And Jungkook upstairs. You groan, searching the cabinets for some snacks before heading up to Jungkook’s room.

That’s when you notice a familiar blond head among the crowd you. It distracts you. You could’ve sworn that was Suga. But too many people are blocking your line of sight. As you reach the spot you had possibly seen him, he’s gone. You don’t have time to think about this. Swiftly, you run up the steps and head right for Jungkook’s door. And of course, a familiar face exits the washroom on the same floor.

“Namjoon.”

“Why do you look so surprised to see me?” He raises a brow with a playful smile on his face. “I told you I was coming.

You shake your head and look behind you. “Nothing I was just⎼”

“Hogging all the snacks?” He gestures towards the food you’re cradling in your arms and you laugh.

“There’s more downstairs.” You reassure him.

As if on cue, footsteps move swiftly up the stairs and you glance behind to find Jungkook halfway up, a cautious look on his face as he approaches you. Namjoon nods politely. For a moment it’s like you can no longer hear the music blasting, enveloped by the awkward silence.

“Uh, Jungkook this is Namjoon.” You notice the way his jaw clenches as he takes Namjoon’s outstretched hand in his. “And this is Jungkook.”

“The boyfriend. Nice to meet you.” He flashes a blinding smile Jungkook’s way.

“Likewise.”

Namjoon reads the room well and you’re thankful for it. He excuses himself, saving you from having to grease the conversation any further. “See you guys around.” He says, leaving.

Jungkook opens the door for you and you drop the snacks on his table. His fingers immediately wrap around you, lifting you up and throwing you onto the bed. “Finally." He mutters pulling you in.

You giggle nervously as he kisses you all over, pulling away from him. He shoots you a confused look. "Wait I...need the toilet."

He throws his head back but moves aside to let you go. "Okay. I'll wait."

Hurrying out, you close the door and run downstairs, rushing past the sea of bodies to the front door. Once outside, you look around scanning the few faces there for him. Hoseok stands around the corner at the side of the house and calls out your name.

The front and back of the house is well lit, but not the sides. Both of you stand in the shadows by the wall, waiting for him to speak. But he doesn't, instead, he looks around anxiously.

"Hoseok, what is it? You said this is important!" You hiss. "I can't be too long, Jungkook's waiting for me."

"Just give him a second, he'll be here."

"Who?"

"He's here." His eyes focus on a man wearing a navy sweatshirt, hoodie pulled up so you can't really see who it is. He only pulls it down when he joins you in the shadows.

"Hi."

"Y/N, this is Seokjin. He works with my friend."

"Oh. Hello." You watch him curiously. If you could describe a smile as being trustworthy, it would be his.

"Thanks for meeting me," he starts, "I’ll make it quick. It's about a case I'm sure the two of you are familiar with. Actually, I'm here to speak to you, Y/N."

"Me?" You ask, worrying.

"As you know we have an agent working undercover. He's seen you around and since you know about this operation, he’s worried you might get too close, given your relationship with one of the suspects involved. We want to make sure you stay out of it as much as possible."

"But I'm not doing anything to jeopardise the operation."

"We know." He nods, "But still, we have to emphasise that these people are dangerous. You do not want to get involved. You shouldn’t know about this operation in the first place, but nothing we can do about that now.”

Hoseok’s eyes downcast and hands hide in his pockets, knowing he wasn’t supposed to reveal anything to you. “He’s okay right?” He asks softly.

“He’s fine. He personally contacted me to speak with you. And he’s sorry he hasn’t answered his phone, it’s too risky.”

“Who’s this guy again? Do I know him?” You ask.

“You already know too much as it is. I can’t reveal the name of our agent. We can’t risk him getting exposed, it could cost him his life.”

Silence ensues. It’s uncomfortable to think about how someone could literally die from an unfortunate slip of the tongue. You wait for someone to diffuse the tension. Hoseok looks like he’s in thought, opening his mouth to speak then stopping. Seokjin beats him to it. “In case it’s not clear enough, your plan ends here Y/N.”

How does he⎼ oh. So that’s why Hoseok looks troubled. You stare him down and mutter through clenched teeth. “You told him.”  

“I didn’t mean to!” He spits out. “When Seokjin called me earlier, I got reminded of you. I had to tell him. And I know you wouldn’t listen to me anyway, so I got him to come here.”

“Listen. I just want to help Jungkook, that’s all.” You sigh. “I promise I won’t get in the way.”

“I get it. Hoseok’s explained it to me.” It’s Seokjin’s turn to sigh. “Doesn’t matter what your intentions are, it’s best if you stay away.”

You look helplessly over at Hoseok, then reluctantly agree with a nod. “I’ll try.”

“No, you see, this isn’t a request. It’s an order. There is a chance you’ll get convicted as part of the group if you don’t keep your distance. Is that what you want?”

“No. But𝄖”

“Good, so we’re on the same page.”

“No, we’re not.” Huffing, you step closer to him. “I’m not doing this for fun. I’m trying to get my boyfriend out of there.”

“I understand. But there’s no telling what could happen. Let us handle it. If he’s innocent, then you don’t have anything to worry about. The most important thing here is that you don’t end up getting caught up in the mess. Do you really want to be associated with criminals?”

“Jungkook’s not a criminal.”

Seokjin holds up his hands in a surrender. “That’s not what I meant.”

Hoseok gulps, gently touching your arm. “Y/N please. Let them handle it.”

“I am letting them handle it.” You say stubbornly before turning back to Seokjin. “Look, I’m just here for Jungkook. Tell that to your guy. I won’t stand in the way of the operation.”

“You do know that this is all off the record?” Seokjin starts, “That means even though our undercover, as well as I, am aware that you’re not involved, if by any chance you’re caught with drugs or anything illegal at the time of the raid, you might get convicted. There will be no records to show that you’re innocent.”

“I understand.”

“Alright.” Seokjin pulls his hoodie back up. Now you can only faintly see the bottom half of his face. “Take care. Remember, no one else can know about this.”

He takes off in quick steps, round the corner and down the street. Hoseok fidgets in his spot, trying to find the right words. “I didn’t make him do this to scare you or anything. Promise.”

“I know, Hoseok.” You smile softly. “But you get it right? Why I’m doing this?”

“Yeah...” he trails off for a moment, then continues. “You saw him earlier didn’t you?”

“I did.” You shake your head with a sigh, “Trust me okay? I’m doing everything I can to help Jungkook, like you wanted me to.”

“I never wanted this. I don’t want you to get hurt if things don’t go as planned.”

“Whatever happens after, I’ll deal with it then.”

𝄖𝄖

Feeling numb, the walk back upstairs feels like you’re on autopilot, barely hearing the buzzing of the crowd. You take a deep breath before turning the knob of Jungkook’s door, willing yourself to forget the last ten minutes ever happened. He’d read you like a book in this state.

But your bright smile is wasted on an empty room.

“Jungkook?”

𝄖𝄖

The next day, you're sitting on the running track, soaked in sweat after a long session of track and field. The coach bids his goodbye as the team continues their cooling down stretches. Hana plops down next to you. “So?”

“What?”

“You wanna talk about it?” She asks, picking dirt off of your cheek with her thumb. “You seemed really out of it last night. Barely spoke the whole day today…”

“I’m sorry.” You shake your head. “Just thinking.”

You decided not to tell her about Seokjin and everything that was said last night. For now at least. She already has reservations about your plan as it is, telling her about Seokjin would just freak her out even more.

“Jungkook called you yet?”

“Mhm.” Technically it was a text, wishing you good morning with a kissy face emoji. Not wanting to make a big deal out of the night before, you reply as you normally would. “Don’t worry about me, I’m just tired actually.”

She hangs an arm over your shoulder and gives you a side hug. “No more parties for you.”

“Yeah they’re kinda lame aren’t they?” You laugh.

After grabbing your stuff, you’re headed for the locker room. You're too deep in thought to realise the girls on your team giggling around you. It isn't until Hana nudges you then nods to bleachers that you realise your boyfriend is waiting for you. He salutes the other ladies with a winning smile as they walk off, before getting off his butt.

The girls mutter quietly, and you hear the words lucky and they're so cute as they leave you. Hana waves to Jungkook before walking ahead. Jungkook trots down the steps and lifts you in a hug.

“Sorry, I’m sweaty.”

“That’s okay,” he smiles, swaying you side to side, “not the first time I have you all sweaty in my arms.”

“Shut up.”

He laughs, then starts swinging your hands as you walk back. “Hey sorry about last night."

"Oh it’s fine. Don't worry about it." You say, with a shake of your head, looking at the ground. "You're a busy man, I know."

"Can I make it up to you? Tonight?"

"Alright." You nod. "I gotta shower first though. And you have to give me a ride back to get some fresh clothes."

"No need to dress up."

"But I want to." You pout and he chuckles.

The sound of whistling and yelling coming from the field gets your attention. It's the soccer team, practice still ongoing. It only just occurred to you that you haven't seen Jungkook there in a while.

"Why aren't you practicing with them anymore? Did you quit?"

Jungkook looks at you with an amused look on his face. "Y/N, I was never part of the team."

"Huh?" You stop in your tracks. "I'm pretty sure I've seen you on that field running after the ball."

"Yeah but I was never really on the team." He reiterates. Now you're confused. "I only practiced with them so I could watch you during track and field."

"What?"

"Have you forgotten? I'm on the basketball team."

Honestly, you hadn’t made the connection that it’s impossible for him to be on both the soccer and basketball teams until now. "No wait, you joined them just to watch me?"

"Yes and no?" He shrugs proudly. "At first it was because I got kicked off the basketball team. Then we started dating. I got to see you every practice. Then I got reinstated on the basketball team. And I didn't wanna stop seeing you during practice so I kept going. Until now."

"Jungkook that is𝄖"

"Sweet?"

"Lowkey creepy."

He lets out a tiny gasp with a look of betrayal on his face. "But...I wanted to see you."

You laugh at the utter disappointment he shows and pat his face, though it feels like a light slap, before running off making him chase after you.

𝄖𝄖

Laying on the hood of his car, with his arm under your neck, Jungkook listens to you talk about anything and everything. In your favourite spot, parked by the beach so you get the cool breeze and the gentle sound of waves crashing onto the shore.

He enjoys listening to you talk about your life; what your childhood was like, what kind of trouble you used to get into, your family. It’s like peeling off a new layer every time. Who knew you used to bully the bully as a kid? And let’s not forget that time you got detention for smoking in school but you only did it to get your dad’s attention so that he would stop dating the evil girlfriend who threatened to send you off to boarding school.

“Baby are you...a troublemaker?” He muses and you laugh.

“Well I was. I grew out of it.” You shrug and look up at him. “Kinda.”

“Would’ve never guessed. You’re so shy. And good.”

“Yeah. Once I realised how my behaviour was affecting people’s liking towards me, I changed.”

He smiles tenderly at you, always so full of surprises. You play with the hem of his sweater, then look up at him. “What about you? You haven’t told me anything about your past.”

Not once has he shared his own stories. You never asked because you didn’t want to pressure him. But you’re almost out of stories yourself.

Jungkook looks up at the sky for a while. You sense the hesitance. “There’s nothing much to say.”

“What about...your family? Do you have any siblings?”

There’s no reply, only the sound of the waves crashing and a distant laughter from a group of friends on the beach. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay.” Propping yourself up on your elbow, you see now the faint sparkle in his eyes. Could be the cool breeze making his eyes water. He blinks it away when you stare. “We can talk about other things.”

He smiles as his eyes scan your face before you’re snuggling into his side again. “I like hearing your stories.”

“But I’ve told you everything.”

“What about your first kiss?”

You groan. “I’ve told you that one. It was during camp. He pushed me into the lake after that because it was all a dare.”

“Oh right and then you threw all his clothes into the lake as revenge.”

“Yeah.” You laugh. “It was pretty funny.”

He laughs thinking about tiny Y/N lugging a big bag full of clothes and dumping it into a lake as the owner yells in horror. Who knew you had it in you. You’re always so calm and by the book, it’s almost like a whole other person.

“Can you tell me about your tattoo?” You look up at him.

He smirks, turning his head to the side towards the arm it’s on. It’s a tiger head on the upper bicep of his right arm. Made up of shapes, lines, squiggles, it has sharp piercing eyes. It’s beautiful, really. “It’s just something to represent my loyalty towards my brothers.”  

You’ve never seen this mark on the other frat boys, so you assume he’s talking about his other group of brothers. “It’s nice. I like it.”

“Mhm.” It’s tough to crack him. He never reveals more than what he thinks you need to know.

After a while, you pluck up the courage to ask him about the job. “Have you thought about what we discussed?” You ask softly, playing with his fingers.

“What did we discuss?”

“About the job,” you remove yourself from him again and this time get on your knees, “about me working at the club?”

He sighs, looking at you like the stubborn teenager in your stories. “I already told you no.”

“You won’t even consider it.” You pout.

He smiles, surprisingly. “After careful consideration, I regret to inform you that you’ve been rejected. You don't have what it takes.”

“Rude!” You huff, “I have all that it takes.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes I do! I’m tough.” You spit out. You strike an awkward pose, doing something weird with your arms. “I have swag.”

It makes him laugh so hard he starts tearing and almost choke on his saliva. Embarrassed, you laugh along, hitting him on his chest. Cheeks hurting from all that, he opens his arms. “Come here you.”

You drop into him, mostly to hide your face in his shoulder. He holds you tight, a content sigh escapes him as he does. “I love you so much.” He says into your ear.

Lifting your head up to face him, he smiles tenderly at you, softly tracing a finger over your face, the lulling movement making your eyes flutter shut.

𝄖𝄖

“You got a problem with me?” Namjoon says to the smaller guy.

Suga smirks bitterly, unimpressed by how the new guy has no respect whatsoever towards him. “I do actually. What’s your deal?”

“What d’you mean?”

“You appear out nowhere, get dispatched to our district. Same area as Jungkook no less...are you trying to replace us?”

“Hey, I didn’t choose the location.” Namjoon shrugs. “Maybe if you guys didn’t suck so bad they wouldn’t have asked me to secure the bags.”

He braces himself as Suga lunges forward, shoving him against the wall, his collar bunched up in clenched fists. Surprisingly strong for a small dude. “You don’t come work for us and talk shit about us to my face.”

Namjoon tugs on his clothes, pulling them out of Suga’s grip. He clears his throat and tries to calm himself. “My bad. Next time I’ll do it behind your back.”

“What are you up to? You took a job on campus, why? Jungkook’s already got that covered.”

“Like I said, I didn’t choose to. I was sent there.” He steps forward, making Suga take a few steps back.

“Liar.”

“Look if you have a problem with it, take it up with the lieutenant.” Namjoon walks off, angering the other guy even more. The nerve of this new kid makes his blood boil. There’s something off about him, there’s no way the bosses would send a new guy in for no reason.

He stomps his way into Kyun’s office, slamming the door behind him. Kyun looks up, sees him, and goes back to his laptop. “What?”

“Don’t you think there’s something wrong with that RM guy?” Suga says, pulling up a chair.

“No. Why?”

“He’s so full of himself.”

“Name one person working here that isn’t,” Kyun says, “besides, you should be thankful I assigned him to you. Jungkook’s been slacking.”

“I told you, the school’s keeping an eye on him. He’s taking it slow.”

Suga can’t remember how many times he’s used that excuse. He can’t come right out and admit that Jungkook has in fact been slacking. Or rather, distracted. Not to mention the time Jungkook considered leaving all of this behind. It’s no surprise the lieutenant’s picked up on it.

“Whatever.” Kyun mutters, obviously tired of having this conversation.

“Wait,” the wheels in Suga’s head turn and he looks curiously at his lieutenant, “you’re not doubting Jungkook are you? Did you send RM in to replace him?”

“If Jungkook’s doing a good job like you seem to think he is, why would you be worried about this?”

Suga purses his lips, “He’s fine. He hasn’t missed any of his shifts. I couldn’t have gotten shit done at the club without him.”

“Numbers are still low though.”

“That’s because you’ve got the new kid stealing all his buyers.”

“RM’s good and the staff there seem to trust him. He stays.”

“Fine. Then get off Jungkook’s back about his numbers. He can’t sell drugs the same as before if you have another dealer there competing with him.”

Kyun thinks about it for a minute, then nods. “Alright fine. Anyway, it’s good that you’re here now. I can run through what boss wants you to get up and running at the club.”

It hits Suga that Kyun having doubts about Jungkook is bad news, at least, if word travels up the hierarchy. While Jungkook had promised to keep up, Suga intends to make sure he actually does. He can’t afford anymore slip-ups. Or distractions, in the form of you. He can’t let anything happen to Jungkook.

𝄖𝄖

Sneaking back into the house at such an ungodly hour, you guide Jungkook in the dark, careful not to make a sound.

Back in your room, his jacket and shirt are the first to go. He lifts you up and carries you to the bed, lips not parting from each other.

Slipping under your shirt, he unhooks your bra and pulls your shirt with it over your head. Lips smiling on yours, his hands knead your breasts and you feel your nerves reacting. He trails wet kisses down your front, fingers undoing your jeans and pulling them off in a single swoop.

He removes his own pair of jeans, leaving him in his boxers. Then, kneeling by your legs, he gently peels your panties off, taking in the view of your naked body, lighted up by the warm yellow of your nightlight. If he could, he’d engrave this image of you in his head.

His eyes wide and lustful, they trail over you. “You’re so beautiful.” He whispers.

Hovering above you, he strokes the side of your face, before pressing his body to yours in a soft gentle kiss. He moves so gently, like you could break at any moment. When your hands wrap around his neck, he grabs hold of your wrists, pinning them above your head. You let out a soft whimper.

Jungkook takes his time, showering your skin with kisses. Starting from your neck down to your navel. He licks one side of your breast, teasingly drawing circles with his tongue along the nipple, then gives the same attention to the other. Your breathing gets hitched in your throat, feeling the blood rush down south.

He brings his mouth lower, hands now occupying your breasts where his mouth was. It sends you butterflies the way his hot breath brushes against your skin. There’s something different about the way he��s touching you tonight.

He spares some kisses down your inner thighs and watches the way goosebumps appear as they try to clam up reflexively.

Hands on your thighs, he pushes them apart and runs a teasing lick over your folds. Then his tongue finds its way to your clit, flicking it gently before his lips wrap around it and he starts gently sucking. You jolt and take in a sharp breath grabbing a fishful of the sheets.

His fingers delicately touch your folds, running a teasing finger over your entrance. Looking up from between your thighs, he watches the way you steady your breaths, eyes closed, brows furrowed.

It doesn’t last long and when you open your eyes, he’s hovering over you, licking his lips. Very eagerly you pull down the hem of his boxers, exposing his hard cock. His own fingers wrap around it, stroking himself gently as he reaches for a bottle of lube. He stares at you with a look you can’t read.

“Something on your mind?” You voice out.

He shakes his head with a gentle smile and takes his position between your legs, your thighs over his. Aligning himself with your entrance, he grips your ankles on either side. Slowly, he enters and you will yourself not to make a sound at the initial stretch.

Jungkook keeps a steady pace, watching intently the way he moves in and out of you. You can’t help but to stare at him and the way his abs clench every time he moves his hips into you. The flexing of his arms every now and then, keeping your legs steady. And the way the warm light casts shadows dancing over his body as he moves.

“Jungkook.” You call out for him, so softly.

He releases your ankles and leans forward, resting his body on yours. Pressing his forehead to you, he admires the look of lust in your eyes and the way you’re biting your bottom lip. “Yes, my love?”

Your fingers run over his face. You’re too occupied with the pleasure of him inside you that your brain refuses to put your thoughts into words. He chuckles when you only manage a breathy smile instead.

Your wrists get pinned over your head once again, and he watches you from above. Every thrust is deep and filling, his hips moving expertly to give you just the right amount of pleasure, leaving you a hot mess beneath him.

You look absolutely breathtaking to him; the parting of your lips, eyes shut and shaky breaths. Your breasts bounce with every thrust and your chest rises and falls with every breath you take. He lets out a low guttural sound and presses his body to yours, devouring your lips in a passionate kiss.

His hips pick up speed, grinding into you with calculated moves. You get lost in each other, a mixture of your quick breaths filling the room. The look in his eyes is mirrored in yours, waves of emotions flowing between both your bodies and soul.

Jungkook can’t describe his feelings for you. It’s something he hasn’t felt in a long time; warmth, love, trust, acceptance. All he knows is to tell you he loves you and hopes you get it.

Your eyes get misty as you let your own emotions get to you, feeling the twinge in your chest when you look at him.

Arms wrapping around his waist, your tongues dance between your lips. He knows all the right spots to leave you breathless. You feel it building in the pit of your stomach, and pull away from the kiss, no longer in control of your actions.

Jungkook feels it too, sensing the pressure between your hips as they wrap tightly around him. He steadies himself and gives you long, deep strokes, as he watches your breaths get quicker. The euphoric look on your face earns a grunt of approval from him.

Not wanting to hold back any longer, his hips grind into yours at a quicker pace, feeling himself reaching his release. His mouth latches on to your nipple, sucking it for a second before he hears small whines leaving you, signalling you’re close.

Willing yourself to keep your eyes open, you place a hand on the side of his face, making sure his eyes stay on yours. It gets blurrier with the way tears start to fill your eyes. “I love you.” You blurt out in a whisper and he rests his forehead on yours as he thrusts hard, one which makes your insides squirm.

Jungkook’s breath hitches in his throat as he watches you. A single tear rolls down the side of your face as you start to reach your high. “I love you Y/N.”  He breathes out against your lips before capturing you in a kiss. With one hard thrust, you find yourself succumbing to the pressure in your middle, unravelling a wave of pleasure that courses through your entire body, chest rising towards him and hands keeping him close.

Watching you, he reaches his own climax, hips bucking wildly into yours, and you feel his warm release spilling inside you, his moans lost in the kiss. It takes a while before his hips slow down into a gentle rhythm. Your body goes limp as you ride it out, drained of energy.

He catches his breath with his head on yours and when you finally catch each other’s eyes, you share a giggle. He shines in his afterglow, a look of pure bliss on his face. But he could say the same for you, thumb running over your cheek to wipe off the tear stains.

In that moment, it feels as if you’re staring right into his soul. He stares back at you, as if trying to say something more than what’s been said, worrying once again about conveying what’s in his heart. But you just smile back.

“I know, Jungkook. I know. I love you too.”

#jungkook fics #networkbangtan #kwritersworldnet #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #rainworks #my #hope you like it :(

[pastellipanic]

Junkenstein's Legend

It isnt a secret that I like Overwatch. It isnt a secret that my favourite event is the Halloween event of Junkensteins revenge. It also isnt a secret that I get hyperfixated onto uncommon things or parts of things. So today, presented by my hyperfixating grey brainmatter, I bring you:

The Full Tale of Junkensteins Revenge

Or, you know, the The Full Tale of Junkensteins Revenge as Theorized by Pastelli During Sleepless Nights. Anyway, we shall start at the beginning!

(Everything in this story is theorized upon the tidbits of canon information from the game, the comics and details of skins, sprays and maps. You are entitled to disagree with my theorization and I will gladly take on any opposing theories if they are given to me with a constructive and positive vibe. I will also gladly have a chat with anyone who is interested in the subject or has ideas I hadnt considered. That being said, Enjoy!)

Chapter 1: The sad beginnings of a mad doctor and his first step onto the battlefield.

Doctor Jamison Junkenstein was a young lad who worked for the local Lord Reinhardt in a town of Adlersbrunn located in the outskirts of Black Forest. He was a brilliant mechanic, engineer and had no fear of working with electricity, hence he had gotten the job in the first place. While his social skills were limited and his fame in the town stained, he was a hard worker and a genius in his own field. At some point during his career, he got bored of the same old electricity and piping, and began to experiment in robotics. His first one was a crude little thing but he was proud of it, so he decided to continue on this path. He began to dream of building live automatons, creatures that could think and feel for themselves. Perhaps it was the fact that he yearned for someone to befriend whilst the townspeople mistreated and disrespected him for his oddities, or perhaps it was his pride towards his own intelligence. However it may be, he started spending more time upon making the automatons, "omnics" as he called them or "Zomnics" as they were later called by the townspeople for their ghastly slow movements. Lord Reinhardt was displeased by him giving his time to such silly things, even more so when Junkenstein came to his door to show them. Every time he made adjustments and showed them to the Lord, he waved the "useless trinkets" away, and everytime his already feeble fame deteriorated in peoples rumours. Madman, lunatic and fool were quickly becoming synonyms for his name. This only spurred him on in his quest to prove them wrong. The metal husks laying in his laboratory soon turned to dug up corpses, the wires he used to put inside turned to stitches on the flesh and what he couldnt understand in anatomy he changed into machinery. Soon he had a body, half organic half inorganic, and all he needed was to make it come alive. Bloodpumping didnt work. Watershocks didnt work. Exchanging the heart into a running motor didnt work. Atlast he tried using electricity to bring his creation to life, unsuccessfully. Junkenstein was exhausted, abused and even his trust in his skills had failed him. He was on the brink of quitting and burying that stupid project, until...

Witch of the Wilds appeared!

The Witch of the Wilds was a well known individual, feared by all near and far for her magic. It was rumoured she could turn coal into gold, make waterfalls run upwards and burn a castle with the flick of her wrist. She was also known from her coming to people at their darkest hour and offering a solution... for a price. And thats exactly what she offered Junkenstein, a solution to his problems; the spark of life. She only asked for a favor, one she would come collect in a nearby future and one that he couldnt refuse. He accepted. He had nothing to lose. Applying the spark of life onto his machine, he started the creatures heart and mind. There were a lot of things that went through its mind when it woke, curiosity and giddiness, but most importantly: Panic. In a furious frenzy it tore itself from its bindings and ran out, into the streets of Adlersbrunn. The townspeople, upon seeing the monster, immediately screamed, cried, yelled, attacked and fled. The monster had no sympathy for people so cruel as the baker who hit it or the children kicking its shins, so he let out his rage onto the masses. It was carnage.

Junkenstein was happy. He had succeeded! His monster was doing exactly what he wanted; avenging the years of societal neglect and bullying Junkenstein had gone through. Yet he had no control over the monster, and no idea how to get it to the Lords doorstep. A couple of hours of manipulating the routes and trying to get the monster where he wanted, he finally got to the door.... Only to find that while he was busy, so was the Lord. He had hired a few wanderers to protect him when he had heard of the happenings in the town. An old soldier searching for a fight, an alchemist practizing her talent, an archer running from the past and a gunslinger hunting for easy money. Only four they were against the doctor, his monster and his minions, and against the Witch of the Wilds and her fearsome ally; a cursed pumpkinheaded man by the name of Reaper. And only four they were who beat him, leaving his corpse battered onto the rocktiles of the yard. His monster was perished, the Witch had fled and the Reaper had gone with her. The wanderers went inside to claim their prize.

Chapter 2: How to tame a monster and revive a doctor.

As the wanderers left the scene, Witch of the Wilds saw her chance to do her work. She quickly used the spark of life to revive Junkenstein, giving his bruised flesh some tidying up whilst doing it, and watched as he sat up. Safe to say, he was pissed to have lost. He wanted to charge right back into fight, but was stopped by the Witch. She managed to make him change his mind, to wait for a year and build his army before trying again, and give her some time to get allies. Gathering what he could of the broken zomnics, Junkenstein found the corpse of his monster and decided to take it back to his lab for revival. He wasnt sure if the creature would run out again or stay, but he wanted to still show the town that he could make something living. This time, when rising from the cold metal table, the monster sat still and stared at Junkenstein. During the fight it had noted that the doctor didnt attack him, even defending him from the attacking gunslinger. It decided to stay near him, for no other reason than that it trusted him. Junkenstein was thrilled to have a friend, even if it did smell of decay a bit.

11 months went by in peace. The town healed, forgot about the incident and, assuming that the wrecked corpse of a homeless man was Junkensteins, buried the past with it. Meanwhile the doctor had other things to think about. He had built an army of zomnics, had tamed the monster and befriended it, had taught it to speak a little and had served the Witch on a few occasions. On some days he still liked to venture into town to see how life was going there. At one point he had almost forgiven the town, before he had come to learn of a new game for the children based after the mocking of his person. Thats when his short temper blew into pieces and he jumped to make an announcement in the middle of the town. He raged, mocked, spat at the townspeople, before revealing his identity and announcing that all of them would perish under his boot. Seeing a dead man back from the grave gave quite a scare to the town, making them panickedly run to the local Lords. They decided that a meeting was to be held to consider this new threat. Some voted to kill Junkenstein again, yet it was deemed to be an ineffective solution due to him coming back the last time. Some voted to trap him and enslave him for the rest of his days, but it was a futile idea for someone like him to be trapped. He would just squirm his way out like the vermin he was. It was decided that Adlersbrunn was to be evacuated. All people were to be gathered into Lord Reinhardts castle, to have few protectors stay behind until they could safely escape. Lord Reinhardt sent word to three people in order to get protection for this event. A Countess from a family of Hunters that had shut herself from the world. An old friend of the Lord who traveled the world, hunting dragons. And a Monk with his Apprentice, answering to a higher calling than human.

Meanwhile the Witch of the Wilds was gathering her allies, having gotten an interesting offer from a dragon in the Black Forest. The dragon offered to lend one of their servants the powers of a dragon and give that servant into the Witches hands for the battle. The Witch was intrigued but suspicious, so she asked what the dragon wanted in return. Nothing. It wanted the greater good and it knew that the Witch wanted that too. Adlersbrunn was filled with people and people were filled with fears of the unknown. The Black Forest was filled with the unknown, and therefore they were hunted. Silver bullet battles, witch burnings and burials of the undead had plagued the creatures of the forest for long enough, and it was time for the people to leave them alone. If not by peace, then by force. Junkenstein was a great tool for the Witches cause, but she still needed more power, therefore she agreed to take the servant of the dragon onto the battlefield as her ally.

Chapter 3: Junkensteins Revenge 2, Electric Boogaloo

The fight happens almost the same as last, but this time the tables have turned. The wanderers struggle to keep up with the Summoners dragonfire blasts, the bombs lobbed by Junkenstein and the gunfire from Reapers guns. While they dont win the fight, they manage to hold them off just enough time for the townspeople to flee far away from Junkensteins grasp. Instead of a petrified Lord, Junkenstein is greeted by an empty castle. At first he seems gleeful, running to hop on the throne. Once he sits down and looks around, he bursts into tears. After all these years of pain, he doesnt even get his revenge. He doesnt get to have his victory even at his brightest moment. The monster tries to comfort its creator, succeeding just to quiet him enough for the Witch to speak. Its time for the favor he owes her.

Before, she wanted him to leave the town as well, but seeing how he was alone already she wanted something else. She wanted him to be a guardian for the black forest. No town would ever become of Adlersbrunn ever again and no one would step a foot into Black forest while the doctor was alive, to ensure that the creatures could live in peace.

He accepted, as he was to do, and remained the only human left.

Chapter 4: The time that we dont speak too much about because honestly nothing happens

Some hundred years passed in quiet. Adlersbrunn collapsed and became ruins of what it once was. Junkenstein guarded the forest and helped the creatures inside it, at one point building a bride for his monster. (Nothing too much is said about what happened to her or where she went) The monster learned and lived, helping Junkenstein with his work. Due to both of them having been revived with the spark of life, they had become immortal. (Unless killed) Witch of the Wilds passed peacefully after a long life. Reaper found his head and his curse was lifted. Life was good.

Chapter 5: Junkenstein of Eichenwalde

One day Junkenstein realizes that where Adlersbrunn once was, is now something new. People have come and started building a town, so he disguises himself and goes to investigate. These people have migrated here from the north, calling this place Eichenwalde, and seem to be very nice. They offer him food and water, the kids want to play with him and the grown ups tell stories of the North to him. He doesnt see an issue with them coming here to stay, since they seem nice and the forest has few creatures left to protect. When a little girl tries to run into the woods, Junkenstein holds her back and tells her not to go. Intrigued, the little girl asks why. The doctor starts telling about monsters and creatures to scare the kids, but they are more interested in hearing his ghost stories, so he obliges to tell them one. He tells about a mad scientist who created a monster and how the monster now lurks in the woods. The kids are excited and the adults think of it as a great legend. It becomes a habit for Junkenstein to come into the town to tell ghost stories to kids. One day, when its Halloween, he notices a difference. The town has changed their style into old fashioned clothes, their mechanical cars to wooden carriage and posters of a fake Mad scientist and a Monster litter the walls. The kids are playing as the characters from his stories and running around with mouths filled with candy. The legend has come into a tradition of a reenactment.

One day, a man arrives into the town, and raises some questions in Junkenstein. The man looks like the Lord. Speaks like the Lord. Walks like the Lord. Has the same mannerisms as the Lord. He even introduces himself as Reinhardt to the disguised Junkenstein. The Lord escaped. It would make sense for him to have started again somewhere else. This could be his descendant, without knowledge of the legend. Who would want such an odd story to be passed down to their descendants? Who would even believe it? Junkenstein keeps an eye on the man and, even when he leaves, the monster follows him for a while. It doesnt seem like he is a threat of any kind. The life goes on in Eichenwalde, with Junkenstein telling stories and living his life with the monster. Every year his story is celebrated in front of him, without any idea that it is truer than any other tale told.

The End.

It took me 3 hours to write this down and I know it starts showing at the end. Also, there are still some mysteries in the story that have absolutely no canon to even start theorizing from. (Aka The Sombra Situation. Theres literally only one spray and a skin where she is linked in any way.)

Also, some very fun theories that I didnt know how to incorporate into the story are:

McCree gets bitten by a werewolf after the first fight

The first fight is the original Junkensteins revenge-gamemode. The second fight is the Endless gamemode.

Canonically the countess killed the Monks master, and I like to think its because of this they lost. They couldnt trust eachother.

When Summoner is close by the air gets heated.(Almost Canon. It is implied in voicelines)

Junkenstein is implied to be so chatty that he keeps talking/laughing during the fight

The Countess is from a family of Vampire hunters, who was bitten by a vampire and was ashamed. The reason she joins the battle is to honor her familys name and hunt for one last time.

It took me 3 separate days to research the canon elements, put them onto a paper and theorize around them and now I finally got this written down in here.

If you are interested in the notes I have, here you can read them: (Mostly in english, but might have some finnish words in there)

Now go my children! Hyperfixate onto this and share my pain!

(Also I would appreciate that if you take this theory and post it somewhere else, that you would credit me and tell your friends I said Hi!)

#overwatch #junkensteins revenge #junkenstein #junkrat #roadhog #mercy #reaper #symmetra #halloween #hyperfixation #theory

[themaskedwriter]

Leave Me Weak

Clues

If you want to find me just look to the sky. I mainly write for Bucky but I’ve struck gold in other characters. 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (AU)

Word Count: 5045

Warnings: fluff, descriptions of blood donation (needles/blood)

Summary: Donating blood was the last thing you wanted to do but you find that something else leaves you weak.

You knew this was a mistake.

Pushing your way onto the street in the pitch black night you pass through a small crowd outside the nightclub, with clouds of smoke drying out your already tired eyes.

Even though you lived in “the city that never sleeps” it wasn’t a rule you followed. You were accustomed to a very strict sleeping schedule for work that would normally have you waking up at this time but Nakia’s bachelorette party was not something you could miss, even if you knew you’d be paying for it later.

Sometimes you missed weekends like this, where you could stay out until the sun rose in the sky, sobering up with greasy fries smothered in cheese and steaming cups of freshly brewed coffee.

Mmmm coffee. You need to have some as soon as possible, especially if you’re expected to be up for the next few hours preparing the baked goods for the crowds that filtered into the Excelsior Bakery.

You had been working there for a while before the owner Mr. Lee had asked if you were interested in taking over the business. Your passion for baking was evident and he was happy to sell to someone he trusted.

The transition from worker to owner was scary but you were lucky to have Stan stay on to help. To ensure your success he continued to come in weekly and hand paint his famous sugar cookies.

They were Excelsior’s signature hit, square shaped cookies covered in royal icing with Stan’s original characters intricately portrayed on them. You marveled at the detail he put into each cookie and loved hearing about the characters; each a superhero he made up for his children’s bedtime stories.

You rubbed the chill of the night from your bare arms as an Uber took you to work. Unlocking the side door you flipped the light on in the large kitchen. It was quiet for now though soon the additional baking staff would join you.

Entering your office you quickly swapped your champagne sequined tank top for a comfortable cotton Excelsior Bakery t-shirt and let your aching feet rest in a pair of casual slip-ons as you put your heels aside. Your dark jeans were normal enough to wear to work though after a long night of drinking and dancing you wished you had a pair of leggings instead.

As you were preparing the coffee you heard the side door open as the loud voices carried throughout the back of the bakery. In walked Scott, Clint and Vis, who were way too upbeat for this hour as they greeted you, hanging their coats on the wall.

“Mornin’ guys,” you replied, looking over your shoulder as you anxiously waited for the pot to finish brewing.

When the coffee was finished you couldn’t help but take the first large cup for yourself; your slightly buzzed and very exhausted body needed the caffeine immediately.

Leaning against the table you lifted the mug to your mouth and instantly the three men were stricken with laughter. After swallowing the delicious brew you quirked your head at the group, wondering what caused the sudden giggle outburst.

As you brought the cup down from your lips your fingers brushed against the culprit making your eyes widen in horror. Christine, a colleague of Nakia’s, had insisted everyone wear tacky penis necklaces, one you just realized you had forgotten to take off.

Vis’ grin peaked through the hands that covered his eyes, while Scott was keeled over laughing hysterically.

Clint wiped a tear from the corner of his eye as he proclaimed, “I’ll never let you live this one down, boss.”

Slamming the mug on the counter you quickly took the necklace off and shoved it in your pocket, opting to throw it out at home because you were wary of what these pranksters would do with it here.

Once they calmed down and Scott no longer resembled a tomato you all began preparing the fresh goods for the day. Soon all different types of breads and rolls were rising the oven, as you finished making crumb cake, turnovers and other pastries, yawning as you set them to bake.

Your baking was done but unfortunately you couldn’t rest yet, inventory still needed to be done along with some bookkeeping. A third cup of coffee sounded tempting but you needed to eat and while you loved all the delicious sweets you made you knew you wanted something more substantial.

The air was still chilly in the early morning so you asked to borrow Scott’s hoodie as you walked to the corner of the next block. You frequented this deli out of convenience, even though your rolls were a million times better. By the time you got back to Excelsior you had to set the sandwich aside to deal with a delivery.

The hazard lights were blinking on the large box truck as you held the door open for M’Baku, the even larger delivery driver, who kindly carried in your order of flour.

“Hey man,” Clint affectionately greeted him as he slipped outside with Scott following behind as their work was finished.

“Scott, wait!” He turned around just as he got to the sidewalk. “Your hoodie,” you shouted, gesturing to yourself still wearing it.

“Leave it in the lounge, I’ll pick it up tomorrow,” he yelled, sending back a smile.

Back inside Vis worked on baking cakes as you settled in your office. Scott’s hoodie hung over the back of the chair you sunk into as you unwrapped your sandwich. A knock at your door alerted your attention to Darcy, a long time employee you recently promoted to assistant manager. She informed you the latest hire Miles, had just arrived for his first day.

Leaving the sandwich again you greeted Miles, assuring that he was in good hands with Darcy and his other shift employee Kamala.

Miles’ father worked in the same precinct as your friend Wanda’s brother, becoming hooked on Excelsior from the moment Pietro brought in a box of pastries. Officer Davis stopped in for coffee and snacks quite often after that and when he saw the help wanted sign he told Miles to apply for the job.

Miles had a few questions and though Darcy was just as capable to answer them you did so yourself, showing him the same kindness Stan showed you when you began.

You returned to the sandwich and took an unsatisfying bite of cold eggs and cheese on a roll. Oh well. It sat mainly to the side as you went over some paperwork, stifling a yawn as your tired eyes drowned in the sea of words. You felt your head nodding forward in slow motion, and there was nothing you could do to prevent it. Your shoulders slumped down as you fell into a slightly uncomfortable but much needed rest.

The loud vibrations of your phone buzzing on the desk startled you awake and for a moment your sleep deprived mind needed to gather its bearings before realizing you were at work and not in your comfortable bed, the place you were desperately craving.

Yawning again you rubbed your eyes, acutely aware you might be smudging last night’s makeup all over your face. The phone buzzed once more as a reminder, and you picked it up finding a text from Wanda.

No.

Not today.

Any day but today.

You read over Wanda’s text reminding you about the blood drive over at the fire station this morning. You promised her you’d donate, knowing how important it was to her after Pietro had been shot on the job and blood transfusions helped save his life.

You wanted to go, you promised you would go, but you really didn’t want to go today. You were more than exhausted and needed rest, but realistically if you went home for a nap you would definitely sleep through your alarm. Donate blood, then sleep. That was the plan.

Vis began working on a large cake order for Stark Industries and asked your assistance in helping him gather the ingredients.

He entered the large walk in refrigerator to grab eggs and milk while you assembled the rest of what he needed on the large butcher block counters. You eyed the heavy bag of flour, ambitiously thinking you could lift it on limited sleep and drained energy.

Bending your knees you gripped the bag that seemed to fight against you, causing you to tug with more force, bringing only the half ripped top of the bag up with you as you stood. Clouds of white smoke surrounded you, with puffs of flour floating off of the fabric of your shirt with every move you made.

“This is not your day,” Vis commented from a distance.

Your unamused face turned towards him, saying nothing as you sighed and then began to cough as you choked on flour that you inhaled.

You cleaned yourself up as best as you could in the bathroom. Your dark jeans had a white-washed fade to them and your t-shirt was now rinsing in the sink. No amount of wet paper towel would have been enough to clean the shirt whose fibers engulfed the flour like it was their last meal.

Opening the bathroom door a crack you called out for Darcy, who eyed your mostly bare skin through the door with curious concern.

“Couldja get my top from the office? It should be in the bottom drawer with my heels?”

Darcy returned, admiring the sparkly top as she held it up before handing it to you.

Once you were certain your hair, face and the rest of your body was free from flour you exited the bathroom, letting Vis and Darcy know you were leaving.

“Bedtime?” Darcy asked, following you to your office.

“I wish,” you sighed, grabbing your phone. “I promised my friend Wanda I’d donate blood at the firehouse so I have to head there first.”

Darcy’s head shook with laughter as she pointed at your ensemble. “And you’re going there dressed like that?”

You grimaced as you thought about it; a sequined tank top was a bit extra for a blood drive. “Hmmm, you’re right. I think I’ll keep borrowing Scott’s hoodie until tomorrow,” you said, slipping your arms into the large sleeves and zipping it up all the way.

***

The strong morning sun blinded your eyes through the gaps of the skyscrapers as you walked to the fire station. It was going to be warm today, you could already feel yourself sweating in Scott’s hoodie. Grabbing your phone you texted Wanda letting her know you were on your way.

Ambulances were parked on the block leading up to the fire station though red balloons caught your attention; they were tied to a large plastic sign on the sidewalk promoting the blood drive. You checked your phone finding Wanda hadn’t texted back yet but you went inside anyway hoping by some chance she was already there.

Surprisingly a small crowd had built up despite the early morning hour. The room was packed with broad figured firefighters and paramedics lining the walls and medical students tending to people already in the process of donating. Volunteers were everywhere, serving juice and cookies at a table in the back and handling the registration process for the line you were in.

Wanda was not in sight so you texted her again warning that you’ll be donating soon and would need her by your side. You weren’t afraid of the needle going in but the idea of it sitting under your skin irked you and you needed her as a distraction.

After handing in your paperwork you were nervously bouncing your leg as you sat down and waited, checking your phone for the millionth disappointing time to see there was no response.

Upon hearing your name called you looked up and were greet by a very young looking kid. He introduced himself as Peter and though he looked seventeen his ID badge proved he was in fact a med student at Metro-General Hospital.

Your stomach twisted with nerves as you sat back on a cot, comfortably crossing your legs as you watched Peter slip his hands into latex gloves and slowly collect the items he needed to draw blood. He whispered to himself, methodically going through the steps of what he should be doing.

His meticulousness should have been comforting as he checked over his tools, allowing more time for Wanda to show up. Your nerves began to bubble over more as you worried if something happened to her.

The packaged needle crinkled in Peter’s hands but he was quickly stopped by a leggy brunette in a long white lab coat.

“Mr. Parker, did you check her blood pressure first?” the woman sternly asked, knowing her answer as she had been observing him and the other students from the center of the floor.

Peter cleared his throat nervously, “Oh, uh, no Ms. Hill. I’ll do that now.” He let out an uncomfortable chuckle and she nodded in return.

With the blood pressure cuff in his hand Peter wrapped it around your sleeve and began to pump the bulb. The cuff tightened around your arm and Peter was focused on reading the dial but Ms. Hill calling his name out interrupted the process.

“Mr. Parker, can you tell me what’s incorrect?”

Peter checked that he placed the cuff in the proper spot, his eyes running along your frame until he noticed his error.

“Oh, um, miss, could you uncross your legs?” he asked, throwing a hint of a smile towards Ms. Hill who turned away.

You felt bad for Peter as he resumed taking your blood pressure. You couldn’t imagine how stressful his job could be. Being covered in flour was annoying but the thought of blood and other body fluids getting all over you made you feel sick.

When it was time to finally take your blood Peter asked for your arm, giving him your left one after rolling up the sleeves. You squeezed a ball a few times before he tied off the top of your arm with a painful elastic that squeezed your skin.

“There’s g-going to be a little pinch, okay?” Peter said to gently warn you, though hearing the shakiness of his own voice did nothing to calm your nerves.

You turned your head away as Peter began, tightening your core at the intrusion of the needle that felt worse than a little pinch and tried to breathe through the mildly uncomfortable pain. The sharpness beneath your skin continued and though you didn’t look it felt like Peter was stabbing you internally as he searched for a vein.

Picturing the needle inside your arm did nothing to calm your nerves so you searched for something else to focus on since Wanda was not there. A loud burst of laughter caught your attention and you looked over to see a group huddled together.

There were two men in FDNY shirts that threatened to split at the seams across their massive muscles. They had similar looks with blond hair and beards though they were distinctly different. The shorter of the two by a few inches, had longer blond hair with a full dark beard, while the other’s facial hair was fairer though his cropped hair had a darker tinge to it.

Your face squeezed tightly in pain as Peter apologized, claiming he was having trouble with your veins.

“It’s okay,” you lied, focusing your attention back to the group.

Hunk 1 and Hunk 2 were talking to two other equally large and handsome men wearing shirts with an emergency services logo on the back. The loudest of the group was a dark man with the brightest smile you’d ever seen. His laughter was contagious as he tipped his head back, palming the shoulder of the long haired man next to him he looked to be teasing.

Hissing in pain at the sharpness you felt you couldn’t help but look at your arm, seeing the silver needle prodding your skin. You weren’t a medical professional by any means, in fact the only brush with saving lives you’ve had is when Scott once choked on a Tic-Tac and you gave him the Heimlich maneuver, but you could tell something was wrong.

“Umm, Peter,” you meekly spoke, “That doesn’t feel right.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m going to try the other arm, okay? I think it’s the vein,” he said, convincing himself.

He undid the elastic and you could see the difference in skin tone from where it had been cut off by the band. Withdrawing the needle from your skin, he placed a cotton ball there, applying pressure for a few minutes before he asked you to take over.

Peter grabbed a bright blue roll of a self-adherent wrap that he applied around your arm. The uncomfortable way it clung to your skin added to your ever-building nerves. Sweat pooled on the back of your neck though you found relief rolling up the other sleeve, feeling the cool air comfort you skin before the elastic wrapped around your arm again. You squeezed the ball tightly, venting all your frustrations out through every pump of your hand.

Peter opened a new needle and you caught his gaze before he began. He looked confident and so you inhaled deeply, in search once more of the hunks to distract you. They had moved closer to the refreshment table and catching your eye was the man from before, whose long chestnut hair fell in front of his face as he leaned down to grab a cup of orange juice.

When he stood up you were mesmerized by full pink lips and the brightest blue eyes you had ever seen. He was drop dead gorgeous but judging by the way he held himself it didn’t seem like he would believe you if you told him. He was the most reserved out of the group, sporting a shy smile every time Hunk 3 said something and pointed to him.

“Ow!”

You didn’t mean to shout so loud, drawing attention is the last thing you wanted. You couldn’t even bear to glance at the huddle of hunks, instead focusing on Peter who was apologizing profusely.

Reluctantly he called over Ms. Hill and she had another med student named MJ come over to have Peter observe her. She inserted the needle into your vein with ease and silently judged Peter through her side glance before leaving.

By the time you officially began donating blood you received a text from Wanda, apologizing after she was stuck on FaceTime with her mom in Sokovia for longer than she expected.

You were thankful she was alright, texting her back about your bad experience so far. You told her not to bother coming since you would be finished soon, passing the time on your phone or occasionally sneaking glances at Hunk 4; he had caught your eye the most.

It felt like you were laying there for hours as your blood flowed like sludge in a pipe. People that were seated after you were now long gone. Shifting slightly against the cot made the needle twinge inside your arm and you really couldn’t wait until this was over with. Scott’s hoodie felt like your own personal sauna and you wanted so desperately to get out of it and into pajamas.

Peter kept checking on your progress and finally when you filled the container he, with Ms. Hill shrewdly watching over his shoulder, removed the needle from your vein and placed another blue wrap around your skin.

After thanking Peter you began to walk towards the refreshment table that suddenly seemed so far away as a wave of lightheadedness washed over you. If you could just get to the juice and cookies you would be fine. You had already been here for so long you wanted to get out.

Though you were burning up your skin was clammy, and sweat beaded on your forehead but you were determined to get to the table. It was a slow trudge, like shuffling your legs through thick mud. You’re almost there. Your vision is spotty and starting to fade but if you push a little harder you could make it.

Your ears fail you as they begin to clog. A soft voice coming from the indiscernible figure beside you asks a question. It’s muffled, as if you’re underwater but you’re able to figure out what they said.

“I’m fine,” you insisted not wanting to make a scene.

The table is barely visible but you’re right there, reaching out for the cup of juice you presume is in front of you. Your hands never made it though, as your body began its descent to the ground.

***

Bright fluorescent lights were shining behind the shadowy outline that hunched over you.

“There she is,” a man said.

You blinked a few times as your vision came back fully, noticing you were lying on a cot that had been tilted so your head was down and your legs were elevated. You asked what happened as your eyes began to focus on the curtain of hair that hung in front of the figure above you. He tucked the strands behind his ears to reveal familiar blue eyes.

Oh no. Hunk 4.

“You passed out,” Hunk 4 said, “All the color was drainin’ from your face. You almost fell but I caught you in time.”

You covered your eyes with your hands out of embarrassment, hoping this was a dream. Please wake up Y/N. When you heard the hunk’s soft chuckle you knew this was unfortunately real.

“My name’s Bucky and I’m a paramedic. Is it okay if I check your vitals?”

He asked for your name and smiled when you said it. Bucky gave off a comforting vibe and even though you were incredibly embarrassed from passing out he didn’t make a big deal about it.

Beside him was a small equipment bag, those beautiful eyes made contact with your own as he dug around for a stethoscope. His lips pulled into a tender smile as he asked you to unzip your hoodie.

Inhaling deeply you looked away, too embarrassed to face him again as you exposed the sequined top that was not appropriate for a morning blood donation.

“That’s pretty,” Bucky commented, placing the end of the stethoscope above your heart. “Doesn’t match your blue bandages though.”

The laughter that floated from your lips instantly became Bucky’s favorite sound. He was drawn to the way your smile warmed your face and noticed how beautiful you were as your eyes crinkled in delight. Listening to your steady heartbeat, he was thankful you couldn’t hear the way his own had definitely skipped in rhythm.

Warmth spread throughout your body as his soft fingers pressed against your inner wrist to check your pulse. Bucky’s wide smile and twinkling eyes definitely made your heart beat faster and you hoped he couldn’t tell.

Your eyes followed the lines of his smooth skin, up his arm towards the prominent vein that spread across his bulging biceps. You regret passing out, for obvious reasons, but mainly because you missed out on what it was like to be held in those strong arms.

Bucky asked you something though you didn’t pay attention as it finally struck you, he has been staring at you at the most unflattering angle possible ever since you woke up.

“Uhh, Bucky, can I sit up now?” you practically begged.

He asked how you were feeling and no matter the truth you would have told him you were doing much better. He adjusted the cot to a sitting position and turned around, calling out a name. Suddenly Hunk 3, otherwise known as Sam, was walking towards you with a cup of juice.

“Oooh!” Sam exclaimed, taking notice of your top. “How’re you feelin’ Sparkles?” He joked a little too loudly for your liking.

“’M good, thanks,” you said, taking the cup from his hand.

Hunks 1 and 2 came over as well to check up on you and though you appreciated their concern the attention made you want to crawl into Scott’s hoodie like a turtle and never come out again. Bucky sensed your discomfort and kindly asked Sam and the other hunks to give you some space.

“Thanks. I hate making a scene,” you said, offering an appreciative smile in between sips of orange juice.

“That’s the wrong shirt to wear at a firehouse then,” he chuckled, though he was intrigued as to your choice of outfit.

Bucky’s unasked questions were answered as you explained the bachelorette party, going into details about heading straight to work, hardly eating and then leaving after the flour explosion.

“Oh, so that’s what’s on your ear!”

“What?!” you panicked, rubbing your ears with your fingers.

Bucky’s eyes crinkled tightly as laughter bubbled up from the pit of his stomach, erupting from his mouth. “I’m just kidding Y/N!”

“Don’t scare me like that!” you feigned anger through a relieved smile, “I might pass out again!” you joked.

“Yeah you just might. Why did you think it was a good idea to donate blood after a night of drinking, no sleep and not eating?”

Bucky’s question wasn’t accusatory, in fact the expression in his eyes showed just how much concern he felt for you. You began to explain Wanda and her brother, and the promise you forgot you made to donate blood today.

“That’s real sweet of ya,” he said, with the hint of a Brooklyn accent coming through. “I work the night shift a lot too so I know how easy it is to forget these things, ‘specially when you’re tired.”

“Tell me about it, I’m exhausted,” you said, covering your mouth as talking about sleep brought out a large yawn.

“I bet you are, but uh… well here’s the thing,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “Since you really didn’t eat anything today what do you say you let me take you out for breakfast?” he asked, with a hopeful smile.

Your eyes widened at his proposal and Bucky wasn’t sure if that was a positive reaction. He hadn’t asked anyone on a date in far longer than he wanted to admit and he knew he was rusty.

“As a concerned medical professional I gotta make sure you don’t pass out again,” he said, chewing on his bottom lip as he waited for your response.

A wide smile spread across your face as you accepted his offer and it felt like he could breathe again.

Bucky helped you stand, assuring that you were steady and held your hoodie up as you slipped your arms in. As you zipped yourself up he leaned over the cot, grabbing something and studying it curiously.

“Uhh… is this…” he laughed, holding out the palm of his hand to reveal the penis necklace.

They might as well take all the blood from your body since you practically died on the spot.

“This is the worst day of my life,” you deadpanned.

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh, offering his arm out for you to hold. On your way towards the door you passed by the smiling hunks with Sam smirking at you both. Bucky slapped his hand, placing the penis necklace in his palm leaving Sam very confused as the two of you walked away.

It was a quick walk to the place Bucky wanted to take you for breakfast, a trendy little spot with exposed brick and wood beams and old floors that creaked under your step. A relaxed voice from behind the counter belonging to a man with a waxed mustache told you to seat yourselves.

Leading you to a table near the window, Bucky pulled out a mismatched chair for you before he sat down. You glanced around the room, spying lights strung across the ceiling and distressed furniture repurposed as the wait stations.

Menus were brought over and reading through the details of each item made your mouth water. Your starving stomach wanted all of it as you continued to scan through every delicious offering.

“So let’s get all of it,” Bucky replied to the comment you thought you said in your head.

“What?” your head lifted to see the sincerity in Bucky’s eyes.

Though he hardly knew you, Bucky was already willing to give you the world if you asked for it.

“No! I mean, I don’t think I could eat all of it anyway. Some of it, but not all,” you joked.

Bucky’s tongue poked out to wet his lips as he chuckled. “Y/N I mean it, get whatever you want. After donating you need to indulge.”

“Paramedic’s orders?” you asked with coy glint in your eyes.

A smile cemented itself on Bucky’s face as he replied, “That’s right doll, paramedic’s orders.”

By the time your server came around you decided to order avocado toast with a fried egg along with French toast that you insisted Bucky share with you.

During the wait for food you got to know each other. Bucky was from Brooklyn where he shared an apartment with Hunk 1, otherwise known as Steve, his best friend.

“He’s a punk but I love ‘im,” Bucky said without hesitation.

You didn’t realize how long you had been smiling until your food arrived and the act of chewing hurt your sore cheeks. You couldn’t help it though, everything about Bucky made your heart sing with joy. He was handsome and kind, funny and caring. He was… disappearing from your vision as you yawned widely, covering your mouth with your hand.

You had been yawning for a while, ignoring the need for sleep to continue talking with Bucky but it was finally catching up to you.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been selfish wantin’ to talk to ya all day,” he said.

“S’okay, I really didn’t want to leave either,” you admitted, sharing a smile with him.

Before leaving you exchanged numbers. “In case you feel faint,” Bucky said, nervously running his hands through his hair.

You caught the blush on his cheeks and felt your whole body fluttering. There was no doubt you would be calling him later; it was undeniable, Bucky Barnes made you weak.

#fic

[dank-rituals]

Thoughts from the laundromat

Boy did I feel stupid sitting outside with my headset not able to enjoy the sun at all. Maybe it's because I really am broken this time, maybe all these years of staring at screens in the dark are actually having the negative effect I always claimed they cant, maybe I'm not wearing underwear and it's not ideal. Who knows?

Yesterday I told my therapist I'm writing a resignation letter and deciding whether I'm submitting it tomorrow. Still havent, this is more than usual procrastination. Im... damaged. Ik that sounds like dramatic nonsense, but I've spent the last 24 hours in a complete haze, half asleep, half pained twitching. I havent gotten real sleep in idk how long, my legs won't stop moving when I lie down and no matter what position I'm in my hands go numb. Even weed doesnt elate me anymore it's basically just sedation, so I've decided not to smoke for a little while. I finally walked to the laundromat, so I'll have clean clothes and towels at least. Need to do my blankets soon but this process is enough of a pain without my car. It's broken down twice this week for seemingly different reasons, and its hay season so idk when my dad will be able to look at it. Another layer in my shit sandwich, if I'm gonna quit and take a lame job to feed myself for the summer I'll need to be able to drive. I want to move again, but not for any good reason. It feels like this whole experiment failed despite my therapist and even my own constant reminders that this year has been a global catastrophe and nobody's life is going to plan. -insert whiny speech about my life always being like that- I cant build a community in a quarantine, but if I split the difference and find work in Batavia I think I can have the best of both worlds. More taco bell and less mighty taco but I'll deal lol if one of the damn hobby shops would hire me that could be a dream but those guys dont need help and if they did they have better options. I dont wanna do insurance and I'll never work on the phone again. Taco Bell in Warsaw is hiring, my therapist ordered me to apply. I feel sick and I know it's mostly depression but also I have my 5 year cancer checkup coming up. Usually I sort of hope the find something wrong because nobody should feel like I do all the time, but it's literally depression and anxiety and lack of fitness. I'm working on 2 of them, even I have to admit I've made a lot of progress mentally, even though I still lie in bed hoping a wraith will drive cold steel through my heart. I need to paint my nails, looks like it's a once a week thing and that's ok. I'm getting better, still not great. Need a haircut and a new dye, a new wardrobe wouldn't hurt either since I've finally committed to goth lol my doctor said it's about time. Demon's Souls is keeping me alive, I'm so unbelievably stoked. Sheds light on the financial risks I'm taking by leaving this job, but theres time. I have more money right now than I ever have, not that that's saying much. I can pay for the rest of this lease and not much more, which means I can buy out and move if I get lucky like 4 times over. 2 weeks notice buys me a paycheck and a half and should relieve pressure. I was gonna grind souls but typing this has eaten up most of my dryer time so that's kool. Not looking forward to walking home, didnt think walking around with a laundry basket would be embarrassing lol. It's not a big deal, I'll be happy to have clothes again. I wanna buy more shorts but I'm paralyzed about spending money on anything that's not food. I need a new mask though, seems I lost mine. I need to go home and apply for every job I can and write a resignation letter. Then maybe I'll watch Artemis Fowl and tear it apart. Or not. I need a lot of things I can't get, and a lot of things I can I won't try to. Gods I hate myself almost as much as this world that hates me. When i was a kid i had music and games, but even they feel hollow right now. I need more, and I guess I cant die without trying to get it. If you read this, well that was your mistake wasnt it. Should know better by now. Lords help my poor soul.

#vampirecmb #depression

[storyofmyownlife]

End of The Decade

I started this about 9 years ago for a very simple reason-I was hooked on the tv show called Akward. Jenna, the main protagonist of the show, likes to write blogs about her life as a way to cope and express how she feels. Awe inspired, I decided to create my own anonymous blog with the hopes that cathartic venting and documenting the past can help me navigate the present. For the last couple if years, l had been given many opportunities to taste the bittersweet feelings of life. Truth to be told, I have never thought I would be here writing this blog to end the decade. The earlier entries can attest to this. Ten years a go my life was in shambles. I had a broken family, broken English, and the broken will to live.

My father, two siblings and I arrived in Canada on April of 2009 to finally live with my mom. With little regards of the past, I cherished the brand new start to live a life without prejudice. I felt very little emotion when I left the Philippines because I knew deep down I could finally escape the invalidation of others of how I suppose to love. Of course, then, I was naive to think that I wouldn't felt that way ever again- I was completely wrong. It did not take long before everything start to turn sour. Us siblings did not get a long. We did not group together and we did not know how to live with one another. My mom and dad started to fight a lot. Almost every night. My dad started drinking a lot for many reasons that I know now and understood, but not completely forgiven. He misses his old life back in his home country- the life of the party and his other family. My mom push him to work and help with bills. Just like my sister and my brother and I, My mom and dad did live apart for many years. The feeling of living with my whole family was foreign to me. A month after arrival, the incident happened. The police came and for many months the social worker came and visit us. The resentment between us siblings began to build up. For many months, my brother and I blamed my sister for telling the truth. Knowing what I knew now she did the right thing. Nevertheless, my brother and I alienated her.

I also had broken English. I did not make a lot of friends in Grade 8. I was that loner kid who would spend every day during lunch alone and would walk on the school ground by himself. My sister and my brother got their own friends. I wanted to make my own but couldnt. On the bright side, my brother became friends with the guy name Denver. He is one of the only few people in our lives who never left for the past decade. He is still with us.

I started high school. I made more friends who are Filipino. We all kind of form this group. Denver is also part of it. Within that inner group, we had more inner clique called cajibo. I'm not going to disclose who they are because I no longer associate myself with them and it does not matter. There were also four girls who called themselves kimfejeny and they became part of the inner group. Regardless of what happened in the end, they taught me a lot of things about life. For the first time, they made me feel what is like to find a family in a group of random strangers. I must admit they helped us work throughout with some of the traumas. We had crazy dreams together, we spent so many adventures together, and they taught me the life is not as simple as black and white. It all ended because I cared too much and told the truth when it was not my place to do so. Inspite of if all, there were some silver linings to it.

I worked hard to improve my english and move in advance english. My ESL teacher helped me a lot. I improved my academic performance in no time. I also began to developed new relationships. My brother and I became more close to Daniel, Alen, Kith, and Alden. I also began to listen to Taylor Swift's music. She did help me cope with unreciprocated love, broken hearts, and the unpredictability of life. I swear I had crush on couple of people at my high school. I'm just gonna name them here for memories sake- adam, alden, aiah, and andrew.

As time went by, I started thinking about my future. After taking few courses, I knew that I have a passion for literature and history. During my junior and senior years, I took classes in philosophy, history, and law. I was no good in math. Science was okay. I actually got the biology award college level and made it to the honor roll in grade 11 and 12.

In my senior year, this girl name Chelsea asked me out to go to the prom with her. I tagged a long with her friends. They were also friends kimfejeny and some members of cajibo. It was an okay time. I didnt really have an ecstatic time. Suffice to say, I got to go so it was a check for one of my bucket list. Since I'm on the subject, I also went to Red tour concert instead of going to my own school prom. Ed Sheeran performed with Taylor swift! They were both great. Another item checked off!

On my last year, I was also determined to move out. My mom was very supportive of it. We started to look for school. I got in to all of the ones that I applied to. I was torn between u of t and Mac. To be honest, I would not have considered or let alone knew about mcmaster if it wasn't for Andrew. I visited both schools. I thought that u of t provide more classes and opportunities for what I wanted to do. But, I wanted to have an experience like those in movies. Also, deep down I wanted to run away in hope that I could find myself and be. I decided to go to mac

My brother and I graduated. I said goodbye to my favorite high school teach who gave my brother and I a gift. But she did not need to because she has already given me so much and more. The summer was filled with excitement and anticipation. I held a get together before I leave for college. I said goodbye to my friends and left a note for my brother to read. There were crying involve because I felt that I did not deserve them at all. They were so good to me and I was not in return. That summer was bittersweet.

I started my university experience. I would not go in a lot of details because I pretty much documented my first year here well enough. Grace, Shane, nicole and devone made a difference in life, especially Grace. She saved me from myself.

In second year, it was interesting because it started off as bad. I was seeing this guy and wanted to be with him but couldnt. I also was very insecure about myself and my sexuality. Everyone went on dates, make out with someone at the party, etc. I risked my life a couple of times in pursuit of getting the same experience. With the help of my friend and after going to group support, I got through it all. I started joining clubs: board games society, humanities,etc.

Devon came back. Turns out he is bi. I've always liked and wanted him. I had wanted his approval but It was an impossible task. He was drunk and toxic. He liked one of my roommate to who kind of like him too, but did know it was right. She was also the only person who knew about my feelings towards him. Suffice to say my relationship with Devon was severed after the end of that year. Shane was also a drunk and feel like he would not approve of my sexuality so I cut my relationship with him slowly.

I also started dating someone name T. It was an okay relationship. He was a really good guy but I don't think we were meant for each other. I loved how he held me, but I knew I was not the one for him. I was not a good boyfriend to him. I think I tried to look for things in him that I want from my partner. Older, and hopefully wiser, know now that it was wrong. I ended it.

I had great times with my friends and old roommates. Spontaneous drives, adventures, and they gave me opportunities to experience things I never experienced before. Like going to demetris, hiking to trails and falls, random trips to McDonalds etc. Alicia also became my support on my last year at mac. I also became hers as well.

When graduated, I did not find a job immediately and was kind of down. I started to work out to motivate myself. I lost about 75 pound in a couple of months. With the help of family friends, I got hired at a law firm. I learned a lot of things from there. What it's like to practice law, experience to use office equipments, how to network, etc. The perks were great. But the coworkers and the work are not as great. Couple of coworkers come and go. 2 years and a half I still work with them. I also met Ashley, Selena, clarice, bryce, mike. Fun fact: Ashley's wedding was the first wedding that I attended that was not affiliated with my family.

A year ago, I woke up one day and decided to apply to post grad HR program. I was supposed to apply right after I graduated university but I knew I needed to take some time off. But, that day, I was determined to start a new. I got in to the program but was not able to start until last january. The program taught me so much about myself and others. I worked like I've never work in my life. In the end, I got 3.64 GPA. I've made friends and enemies.

My friends from high school that I mentioned before are still with me to this very day. We've gone through so many late night adventures together! I finished my internship last week and I now work as a full time employee at COC. I've traveled couple of times outside Canada for the past 2 years.My family and I recently went to punta Cana. I'm hoping to go to either Mexico or California next year!. I know in my last post I may have mentioned my struggle with the changing times. I know everyone in my life is starting to build their own life without me and that's okay. It is part of growing up. I'm also having short term memory lost lately but hopefully I get better. I'm hoping that my friendship with mike and Bryce would last longer. I wish my family the best in this new decade.

They say, life gets tougher as you grow older. My hope is I became tougher and more resilient still. I will ride the every changing tides of time while always looking up to the daylight.

I'll tell you the truth but never goodbye.

December 31st, 2019

Ps: pic 1 shows the books that I accumulated and read over the years. Pic 2 my favorite things the I received and owned this year.

[peachymess]

The lawyer update

Well, as some of you probably saw, I had a little vent session a few days ago, about a lawyer. The most keen of you may already know I got a lawyer for something in October last year - but I suppose it’s an open secret to most of you, so I’ll just start from the top.

I’m a long time mentall health struggler, and due to this, I have ended up needing welfare for the time being. The plan is to build a solid foundation to stand and grow on. I can’t focus on recovery before my life has stability. And that’s what I’ve been working on. I went through a several years long process of applying for this and that - only to be ALLOWED to apply for welfare. It was made clear to me that it was not a matter of “if”, but “when”. I talked to my case worker about getting a loan to get a permanent apartment (moving once a year has really worn me out over the years and keeps me uprooted), and she told me it seemed like the natural progression. Long story short, I got a loan from the bank based on what I would get from welfare - AHEAD of actually GETTING welfare (yes, that is how confident my caseworker, psychologist and bank were that I’d get welfare; after all, I meet every criteria and then some)... and then I finally get my answer. I am granted welfare! Hooray! And they agree I’m 100% in need (you can be granted different %s based on how well/non-functioning you are. They gave me 100%, meaning they absolutely agree that I do not function well enough to maintain any kind of self-sustainable income.

HOWEVER... I am eligible for “young welfare” as well - basically a slightly heightened income, granted younger people on welfare. This is the same as regular welfare, just an extra 1.5k a year or so, since you tend to be sitting on less at the time of falling ill, if you fall ill early in your life. This is for people who fell ill before turned 26 and who are still “young” - criterias I meet. The only difference in criteria from young to regular, is that they are generally stricter with “young”; you have to be “like super seriously” ill, not just legitemately ill.

The loan I got at the bank was based on the income I’d get including the “young” bonus (that I was told I’d get because I am exactly the kind of person this kind of thing was created for)... but in the same letter as where they told me they’d granted me 100% welfare, they also told me they’d be denying me the young bonus. Because, and I (loosely, from memory) quote: “although we do not contest that you feel like your illness is hard to bear, we do not see that it affects you in your day to day life”. This is absolutely laughable to absolutely everyone involved, except them. I am definitely affected (as they even agree themselves, giving me full welfare). I won’t go into detail to prove I’m affected, because this is not about me defending my claim as ill because the base of this post is that I AM ill, and thus what the process has been to claim the help I need because of it. But let’s just say: I am ill, and my life consists mainly of just managing this illness. Not only did they ask me to write a several pages long essay on my day to day, in one evening, knowing full well it would be a mental strain on me, but then they proceed to not take it into consideration. I didnt know whether to laugh or to cry (- so I did both, lol). I have an inkling that they deny people young bonus on their first application because it’s more money out of their pocket to say yes, and because ill people don’t have the energy to do all the paperwork needed to complain. Not to mention, in addition to the bonus, if you are granted young welfare, they are supposed to reimburse you for the time between applying and being accepted too (which often takes up to 8 months) - and in some instances, from the time you fell ill, which in my case can potentially be a lot of money give the fact that I “fell ill” a long time ago and only gradually got worse so nobody quite knows where to pinpoint the start. But whatever, irrelevant, because I wasn’t granted young bonus anyways. Cute. I’m sure it’s got nothing to do with that.

Anyways, because of my situation, I was eligible for free justice aid. Which nobody, of course, informs you about because they don’t want you to know. But my mother stumbled accross a story about something similar to mine and so she contacted a firm and they said yep send that sucker over and we’ll help. So I got a mail from them saying I had the right to their help for free (save a 150 fee + the cost of them getting all my records from doctors, about 250USD in the end) so I signed and they set off to work... or so I thought. This was in October. I only had 30 days to send in my complaint to get a second review from the welfare guys - and the lawyers did indeed send in a letter telling them that a further complaint letter would be sent. But in November my lawyer told me she had gotten all my records and would need a few weeks to read through them... then she went silent until mid- March. Count your fingers, guys. Start of October till mid March is half a year. Minus the month she used to get all my records, she’s been leaving me on read for 5 months while my deadline for complaining ran out early November.

After calling her and mailing her a lot, she finally sent me a mail telling me she was sorry and that she had been home with sick kids and been sick herself. And you know. That’s fine. But not for half a year. Either 1. She took a sick leave, at which case she should have notificed me and/or assigned me to one of the others in the team, or 2. She didn’t transfer me because she didn’t take sickleave, in which case she should have been able to find the time to send a single mail updating me on why it was taking half a year.

In either case, thanks a lot for half a year of extra worry (why wont she answer? What if they won’t accept the complaint now since it’s been so long? What if she’s just gonna screw me over?). But whatever. What had me choking earlier this week, was that - after finally communicating with me again in March and promising to have the job done “this week” two weeks in a row - she contacted me again week 3, fishing about my job (the one I do for about 5 hours once a week and struggle to handle) until she had enough details to tell me that “oh that’s too bad, you don’t meet the requirements for rights to free justice aid now. So, you’ll have to pay me for the work I’ve done this half a year, and either do the rest of the job yourself, or keep paying me for my work going forward on top of what you owe me so I can complete the job - of which the majority still remains”. 1. I don’t have the money to pay her for half a year of jack shit. 2. If I don’t also then continue to pay her for the job I initially hired her for, I won’t win my case and get the money I’m entitled to either and this will have been a major loss, plus I’ll keep struggling to pay down my loan which is too big for me since it was based on higher income.

What’s extra bitter is I JUST blew all my savings on a vacation coming this August and I felt like an absolute ass for having spent what was apparently needed to be a buffer for shit like this, on tickets I can’t return. I had my priorities all wrong, and it made me feel like it was my fault for using my money so wastefully, even if I’ve been saving for years and going hungry a lot for when I run short. How could I complain about money to her or welfare for that matter, when I could spend my savings on a trip? I’m already feeling the consequences of my irresponsible actions and I’ll work to make up for them - however, I am making a consious choice to separate these two matters, as my rights still stand, bad prioritizing not withstanding.

The thing is, she was hired to contest the denial of money aid. She was aware from the getgo that I’d be receiving welfare (and exceed the limit of rights) come November. So she either should have not told me I’d have right to free help because she’d take more than a month to write a counter complaint (at which point my financial situation would change by about 300USD a month, which made all the difference), or she should have done the job within that allotted time. She told me I had this right going in. She did not tell me I needed to remain in the same financial situation throughout the entire case - nor did she tell me she’d use half a year and then some.

Instead of lying down and taking this beating like a dog, I have long since learned that institutions and the likes, will generally not go out of their way to help you. So I stay on my guard at all times, for better or worse. Had I not, I might be dead right now (throwback to that time I was severely siuicid and lost my right to a psychologist out of the blue because I was being transferred from one psychologist to another - que about a year and a half of “end of the rope Peach” writing complaints and making calls and working to deman that help back, I’m still so pissed that they apparently drop deathly ill patients like that; what about those not strong enough to contest this?!).

So I went to tumblr to vent about this shit situation of me suddenly oweing a lawyer an ungodly amount of money for half a year of “work” when I already only barely get by with my too big loan etc. and I was lured into it being told I would NOT have to pay. I found it hard to believe that she didn’t drag the days out just to make me enter into the new financial situation where I just barely exceeded the limit.

But while I vented, I also knew that once I was done blowing some steam, I’d get back on my horse and work until I found a solution. There is no other option. In the meantime, I sent that mail to my mother. She got in contact with my lawyer while I was having a cry, and the lawyer admitted that she didn’t know enough about the stipulations around this particular law/right, so she would send the case to her boss to have a look at.

The day after or so, she got back to us and she said that aha j/k you DO have the right to free justice aid! I’ll get right on the case and have it done within this week or the next!

See, this is the lesson, kids: don’t just lie down and take whatever people throw at you. If I had just said “ok guess I’ll just have to scrape together what I can throughout the year”, I’d have ended up in serious debt to a lawyer I didn’t even owe another penny. I’m not telling you to be difficult in every single instance (don’t become the “I want to speak to your manager about this slightly smaller than average chicken nugget”-woman); pick your battles - but do, indeed, pick some of them. The big ones. Because you don’t always have to accept all the shit you’re being presented with. Sometimes there is something in it for you to put your foot down.

TL;DR: lawyer hired to help me win a case of state withholding money I have the right to, suddenly demands a lot of extra money for her work, which would put me in severe debt. But I said um no and she retracted her demand. Bullet dodged, but oh man the unnecessary stress.

Or: the story of how I have the best mom in the world.

#personal #👍 #life is easy #so grateful i live in norway though #i am taken care of after all #it just doesnt come for free; you have to be really god damn strong to be sick

[isensmith]

Have a great holiday and we’ll see you next week.

So i just got back from the set where i did my gig as an extra. It was super fun and went even better than i hoped for!

Before Shooting:  I had a brief freak-out when i tried to tame the epic frizz in my hair with some hair oil. I made the mistake of sleeping on it wet last night and it just didn’t look good. I’ve never used hair oil before and i definitely probably should have. i used too much and my hair got over greasy. I tried blow drying and using a flat iron, but it looked worse. so with an hour to go before i had to be on set i washed it again. I quickly did my makeup and blow dried it again (since it typically takes hours to dry). I had my bag packed with my changes of wardrobe from the night before so i ran out of the house and made it to set exactly at my 1pm call time. 

At the office building location the suite number was 590 and guess what service required a keycard to work on weekends. that’s right, the elevator! so then i climbed 5 flights which was really NOT what i wanted to do before being on camera. When i finally got up there i found the tell-tail cables, sandbags, and c-stands out in the hall so i knew i’d found it. inside the suite was a long hall and lots of offices branching off and one conference room. There were sound people and a couple of lighting guys and a stressed out looking director. in the conference room were 4 other extras. We greeted each other and lamented the climb and talked about changes of clothes and what projects we’d done. 

Shortly, the extras wrangler came in and asked me if i had a jacket or something similar that i could wear over the black blouse i already had on. I said i didnt’ have a jacket exactly, but i had a silk short sleeved loose top thing (i honestly dont know what to call it, it’s open and has no fastenings and it’s flowy and pretty and goes over another shirt). I showed it to her and she said that would probably work and they were wanting me to be an ‘executive’ rather than an ‘office worker’. So i put it on and showed it to her and the director and they said that it was good. 

So then the makeup artist came in to do some touchups on the others and then they were all called away except for me. They began shooting something down the hall and walking all the way back up towards the conference room so i could see them but nothing else. Meanwhile the makeup artist came back to pay some special attention to me. He was a super sweet guy and when i told him that i was going to be an executive rather than an office worker he said “great well then you can afford to look nicer than them” lol. I had actually done some eyeshadow and eyeliner myself before i left, and and typically only do the liner, i have no idea how to do shadow. But i watched some youtube and had a go. He said it looked really good and didn’t do anything to them besides fill in my eyebrows a bit and apply some extra volume stuff to my eyelashes. He also put some peachy lip color on me which i would typically never choose, but looked really good so now i’m going to try to find some. 

While he was working i asked if he was local or maybe came down from portland. i still was thinking this was a pretty small film. he said he actually was based in LA and had been working down there for 4 years. He’s worked on Terminator 5, and X-men Days of Future Past, and Guardians of the Galaxy 2 and we talked about the tattoos for Drax that he was really involved in. He was awesome and made me feel pretty :]

The other extras came back to change their clothes and then shoot the exact same hall walking sequence again. Then they were wrapped and told they could go and it was only 1:50. And then i was alone in the conference room and waited. Two other actors showed up, one of which i found out later was actually another extra like me, but he was wearing a suit so he’d clearly been tagged for the ‘exec’ extra already. We didn’t really chat much, once the actor (a tall handsome african-american man) found out i wasn’t playing any part he turned his attention to his sides and studied his lines. The other guy was staring at his phone so i assumed he was doing the same. 

Then the actor left and there was more waiting. I began to doodle. For one thing my phone was nearly dead so i didn’t want to use it, and for another i didn’t want to get so distracted with other stuff that i wasn’t present. I filled a whole page with pen doodles. 

During Shooting:

It was close to 2:40 when i heard the director down the hall say something about extras. So i poked my head out of the conference room (the other guy had been standing in the hall watching) and sure enough they needed us to walk by the office where they were shooting a scene. Which was simple enough and yet still made me a tiny bit nervous. it’s only when you need to “walk casual” that you suddenly forget how to fcking walk at all. I didn’t look in the room while i passed of course, so i barely saw what they were doing in there. But the lighting guy was sitting on a  box just outside the room with the slate since he was on double duty. and the sound guy was sitting in front of his big sound boards rig in the office next door, and there were more cables and sandbags. 

After that scene was done then they began to pick stuff up and move down the hall towards the conference room. The makeup artist said “time for your big scene” and i was a little surprised, i nearly thought that walking by might be it and i’d be all done. I waited at the other end of the hall with the makeup artist and the extras wrangler and ate some chocolates while the crew shifted the gear. Then i saw the actor had changed his suit and i thought “oh no, this is a different day. I brought a change of wardrobe but this is the nicest stuff i brought and the other stuff is more ‘office worker-y’”. So i showed my options to the extras wrangler, i had taken photos of the outfits last night to have them on my phone so it was easy for them to choose. She picked the outfit with a white collared shirt under a sky blue sweater with the sleeves pushed up. 

I went all the way down the hall passed the conference room to find an alcove and quickly change my clothes. I could tell there wasn’t time at this point to find the bathrooms. Sure enough, as i was putting on a different necklace they were already calling for me. 

In the conference room the actor guy was sitting at the head of the table, the main character actress was to his right and me and the other guy were on his left. Initially they put me between the two men, but as they were framing the shot from the far end of the table the other guy was too big and blocking me so they had us switch. which put me closer to the camera, (!!). At the far end was the director, the camera person, the boom mic operator who had brought in a ladder to get high enough, and the DP, a woman named jessica with hot pink hair. Just outside the door were the lighting guy, the makeup artist, and the extras wrangler watching. 

While they were setting up the shot i turned to the actor guy and said “hey so i haven’t read the script, can you tell me what this scene is about?” He explained that pretty much we’d just hired the main character and were closing up our meeting and congratulating her. I also really felt like i needed something on the table in front of me so i quickly got up and grabbed the pad i’d been doodling on and the pen, i tore off the top couple pages so it was blank and quickly scribbled some fake notes. Most of it was not even real words, but one whole sentence i wrote was:

“Fifty five alligators formed a posse and it was the greatest.”

I felt much better with a prop in my hand than just sitting there.

So first we did a run-through without the camera rolling. The actor did one line and then we all sat there doing nothing since we didn’t know what else to do. And the director said “there’s more right? isn’t there” and they all consulted the script. Sure enough we were supposed to shake hands and congratulate her and there was a line of dialogue. The director said “a different executive should say that since you have a line right before” but he didn’t indicate who. There was some chatter among the sound guys and the DP and the line was read from the script “Have a great holiday and we’ll see you next week.” They asked him which person should say it and he said “i don’t know, one of them”. So i said “I’ll say it” and he looked at me and said “Ok fine.” he was clearly stressed already and it was only the first day of shooting lol. 

So then they worked a bit on framing us when we stood up to shake hands, the DP asked me to take off my heels so i’d be a little shorter. and the actress asked me if i remembered and I quickly rattled off “Have a great holiday and we’ll see you next week” which pleased her a bit. When the actress and i shook hands over the table the DP said that she got caught by the light. So i asked if i should be the one to lean in more and she said “no then you’ll be caught by the light.” so i said how about we do more reach and less lean. So we tried it again and she said “that’s good that will work.”

Then it was time for a take. Someone called “rolling”, the camera person confirmed “speed”, the sound guy said “speak” which was a call i’m not familiar with, then the lighting guy did the slate and the director said “action”. The actor removed his glasses, said his line (which now i can’t remember) and then we all stood and each shook hands with her, i was last and as i shook her hand i said my line. It was great, i’ll win an oscar for sure.

We did 4 more takes of this, 5 total, each the same and i didn’t flub the line once. I felt remarkably calm doing it. The only thing that made me worry is how much of me is in frame in the shot. I’m still pretty heavy so i’m sure i’ll look pretty fluffy on screen. oh well. #large-female-executive-representation

When we were done with the last take the director said that was it for the extras so that meant i could leave. As i was packing my stuff the boom mic operator, a wiry fit older black man, approached me and said “you’ve acted before haven’t you”, i said “eh, not really”, “but you’ve been on set before” and i replied “yes i have.” he said “you had really good instincts in there, the choices you were making were really good and you had good ideas and you got your line.” i was so flattered i shook his hand and said “thank you so much!” he said “i’m sure we’ll be seeing more of you” and i said “i think that you will!”

As i was leaving i got a handshake from the main actor guy and a hug from the makeup artist. I also got a wave from the main actress and i told her “have fun!” then i made my way to the elevator, which apparently had no issues with going down. walked the long way to my car since i was really excited and enjoying walking in the fresh warm afternoon air. and now i’m home trying to decide where to go eat for celebratory dinner. 

:]

PS. i checked the box on the release form that i wanted to be listed in the film credits. If they also feel like it, they might make me an IMBD profile, which is something of a childhood dream of mine. we’ll see :]

#isensmith is doing stuff

[glowstickhaloboy]

klance roommates au

usual disclaimer: its long as hell

keith is the newly hired, up-and-coming sales rep of his office job. hes fresh out of college, determined, and as awkward as he is in real life, he knows how to make a sale because its all scripted. his boss, doris, a wrinkly old lady who brings in cookies for the office at the end of every month, adores this strapping young man with a real work ethic.

his brother, shiro, is an ethics professor at the local university, Bullshit University (BU). while shiro is glad that keith is doing really well in life for this age, he has this annoying habit of constantly asking keith if hes alright, or if he needs anything, or if theres anything he feels like he wants to do to make himself better. keith always says no.

BU has a bs program called Apprenticeship, wherein a student will be mentored/sponsored by a professor, and the ethics department is head of the program, so shiro also hand picks his own apprentice and its a Big Deal and there are so many kids who apply for it not only because professor shirogane is hot as balls, but because this program gives out credits like candy. this semester’s lucky apprentice is none other than lance mcclain.

lance, if you ask him, will say that this all went completely according to plan and he never once doubted that shiro would pick him. on the inside, he is in an eternal state of wtf wtf wtf wtf how did i do this??!?!?!!!

keith knows that this is something shiro does because shiro likes to update keith on his life, so he’ll call and they’ll chat for a while and usually there will be some mention of an apprentice and whats going on with their studies. as the school year comes to an end, keith obligingly asks shiro who his chosen apprentice is for the upcoming year.

the line goes quiet.

“shiro? did i lose you?”

“no, im still here.”

more silence.

keith says, “what is it.”

“i have a small favor to ask of you.”

lance, if you asked him, would say that his interview with shiro went very well. he would say that he had shiro eating out of the palm of his hand. in reality, there was a lot more crying about money and family matters and anxiety for the future, and when shiro offered lance a tissue lance mistakenly grabbed shiro’s tie and blew his nose into it. two weeks later, he was asked to submit a final letter of intent, which he almost didn’t do because he was too embarrassed, then stayed up all night before the deadline because he couldnt not take a shot at it.

the problem with an apprenticeship position was that it was not like a residency staff position, wherein lance could live on campus without being charged a room & board fee, and he could not be both a part of residency staff and an apprentice. (the residency staff made his decision easy by rejecting his application, but still, it was a bummer.) that being said, lance had absolutely no money to stay on campus next year, and he could not commute because he lived four hours away from the school.

keiths apartment, shiro had not failed to notice, was a convenient 32 and a half minutes from the campus.

“you want me to what?” keith asks shiro, paling, staring into his categorized fridge. he knows where everything is. he decides where everything is. he is not sharing his living space with some kid.

“hes not some kid,” says shiro. “hes 20 years old and he needs this. i really want to make this opportunity work for him, but the school wont let him stay with me. please, keith. i think this would be good for both of you.”

“what is that supposed to mean?”

“can you honestly tell me that you arent lonely all by yourself?”

“no, im not. im comfortable and in control of my own life. i dont want one of your projects from the projects ruining everything ive worked to get, and i think its bull-headed of you to assume that you know whats best for me, like you always try to do, and i think its rude of you to invite someone to live in my apartment.” 

“he likes mus-”

keith hangs up on shiro mid-word, fumes for a few hours as he gets some work done and eats dinner, then goes to sleep.

the next day, keith feels guilty, sure, but he stands by what he said. shiro would call him in a few days and initiate the apology, and they would both put it behind them without mentioning it again. until then, he would throw himself into his work and pretend that everything was fine.

at 6pm, doris knocks on the side of his cubicle, smiling down on him in all her wrinkly glory. shes 60 going on 80 with graying hair and a cozy southern drawl. “darling, why are you still sitting at that desk? its a friday night. youre young, youre cute, you must have a sweetheart you wanna spend it with, or some friends at least.”

keith smiles politely. “thats alright, doris. id rather work, honestly.”

“you sure, honey? i admire a good worker, but if youre working good for the wrong reasons, thats nothing to be proud of. dont you have a nice girl to go home to?”

keith isnt even going to touch the last part of that statement because he doesnt know doris’s political views and doesnt have the time nor patience for a lecture from her in case her warm hospitality is all a condition of keiths being a Model Young Man. he grimaces and says, “no, i dont. and if i did have someone to go home to, it wouldnt be the start of a night going out on the town, it would be someone to have a relaxing night in with.”

“that sounds nice,” says doris, with a minor suggestion behind it that keith should get his coat and get the hell out of here.

“but id really prefer to work,” insists keith. doris clicks her tongue and tells him to suit himself.

meanwhile, lance is panicking. here he has this amazing opportunity, and no way to make it happen. hunk, allura, and pidge all live on campus, apartments nearby are way too expensive, and nobody on the forums is responding to his roommate pleas. he has made it clear that he will take literally anything, and still, no bites.

“im sorry,” shiro says at the start of their meeting. “i tried to set something up, but it fell through. there are a couple of scholarships you can try applying for, but their awards arent given out until december, so youd have to find a way to make ends meet until then.”

“and i cant be a part time student working,” says lance, “because part time students arent eligible for the internship.”

shiro sighs grimly. “thats right.” for a moment, he does nothing but frown at the wall, and lance has nothing to say so he doesnt interrupt. slowly, without explanation, shiro picks up his desk phone and dials. after a moment of patience, he sets it back down and pinches the bridge of his nose. “i want to figure something out for you, lance. do you have any ideas?”

lance shakes his head, shrugging. “i asked a couple of my friends to get an apartment with me, but two of them are residency staff, and the other one takes too many classes a semester to be able to work enough to afford an apartment.

shiro is about to say something, but the phone rings. he snatches it up. “keith? i thought you were ignoring me. oh. no, thats not it. actually, um, i have him sitting in my office with me. i was hoping you had reconsidered.” there was a very long pause. “i understand that,” says shiro. lance’s organs are all mixed up. his heart is beating in his throat and his stomach is somewhere near his feet. “i understand that,” he says again. “im sorry for what i said. you know i didnt mean it that way. i worry about you, thats all, because im a worrier. im not trying to influence your life at all, i really am just asking for a favor. ive exhausted all my other options. keith, youre all ive got.”

he covers the speaker with his mouth and looks at lance. “are you comfortable talking to him?”

lance balks. “who is it?”

“my brother, keith, the person im trying to get to let you stay with him. he wants to talk to you.”

lance holds his hand out for the phone, and shiro passes it over. lance says, “hello?”

“give me one reason why i should let you stay with me,” says a voice that is not exactly what lance is expecting, but still intimidating. “its not a trick question or a test, but it is pass-fail.”

lance’s mouth is so dry, he isnt sure he’ll be able to speak. “i,” he starts, then decides that he cant, then realizes that he has to. “i dont know what im doing. everyones trying to tell me what i should do, or what i have to do, but your brother--um, professor shirogane--is the only person whos asking me what i want to do. that means a lot to me, and so does the fact that he chose me to be his apprentice. so i want to give this my honest to god best shot to repay him, and because i need to know for myself what im capable of. so, um, sir, if you can give me my foot in the door, i promise i would be grateful for that, and if it doesnt work out, then you can kick me out, and i’ll still be grateful that you gave me the chance. um, thanks for giving me the chance to talk.”

there was a long beat of silence. shiro’s mouth was covered with his hand, so lance couldnt tell if he was smiling, but his eyes were definitely shining.

keith said, “shiro always does make people want to be the best version of themselves. dont tell him i said that. put him back on the line.”

lance shakily handed the phone back. shiro put it to his ear. “keith? uh huh.” he chuckled. “i know.” he closed his eyes, the tension seeping out of his shoulders, and lance couldnt help but feel his hopes soar. “thank you, keith. i promise i’ll pay you back for this, and you wont regret it.” he hangs up. “lance, you have a place to live next year.”

come the end of august, keiths career is running itself. he clears out the storage room in preparation for a temporary guest with the help of shiro, whose job it is not only to set up the room, but to pay lance’s half of the rent if lance should default.

two days after the bed and desk are built, lance mcclain moves in. hes weighed down by bags when keith answers the door, looking boyish and disheveled. “whoa,” he says, and stumbles back, almost loses his balance, then manages to catch himself.

keith prickles. “what?”

lance’s eyes swoop up and down keith a clean once.

“youre shiro’s younger brother,” he says, blinking in surprise. “i didnt expect you to be so... you sounded older and mea-- um, on the phone. i thought i was going to be living with a forty year old dude or something, but you’re. um. hi, im lance mcclain.”

he sticks out his hand, strapped down by bags. keith shakes it.

“keith kogane. your room is down the hall and to the left. the bathroom is the first one on the right. my bedroom is the door at the end of the hall, the one thats always shut.”

lance nods. “right,” he says, sounding choked. “i’ll just put this stuff away then...”

he gets inside his room and calls hunk, freaking out about how the guy he has to live with is a lunatic and might also be a serial killer. how else did one explain his bathroom being so freakishly clean? hunk tells lance to calm down and that its just first-day jitters. everything will feel normal once lance gets the routine down.

but lance does not get the routine down. if keith isnt telling lance not to move the milk in the fridge (lance needed somewhere for his blueberries), then he was shouting through the bathroom door to shut up (lance sang in the shower! big deal!). lance was positive that keith hated him, which, between getting his ass kicked at school and feeling like a burden at the apartment, made for a hellish first month on lance’s part. he and keith never talked to each other, because keith was always leaving for work in the mornings before lance woke up, and lance would get back sometimes at 9pm or later, when keith was already showering and getting ready for bed. on weekends, lance booked it out of there to hang out with hunk and pidge, but keith was usually still awake when lance got back, either reading or watching something on TV.

the best way to describe the tension was frigid. keith didnt acknowledge lance so long as lance kept to himself. and the biggest mistake lance made was to break that tension while keith was home.

of course, lance didnt know at the time. he was pretty sure that keith was out, but too scared to check because the door at the end of the hall was daunting, and lance was pretty sure that keith was the only one who could pass through it without damaging his soul permanently.

lance had assignments, okay? he was a music major. that involved some instruments being played from time to time. usually, he was able to work around keith’s schedule, or quiet enough that he could do it when keith was sleeping, but when he wasnt worried about it, he wasnt worried about it. which led to a high pitched scream from a certain college student as keith banged on his bedroom door.

collecting himself, lance went to open it. “sorry, i-”

“what the hell are you doing?”

lance sighed. “look, keith, im grateful that youre letting me live here, but that means letting me live here. i have assignments, and music relaxes me. so if i can put up with your alphabetical cereal boxes, i think its fair that you let me get some work done.”

“im trying to get my work done.”

“youre not even at work!”

keith pinched the bridge of his nose, a very shiro thing to do. “i dont have a problem with the music,” he said at last. “but we better not get any noise complaints from the neighbors.”

lance saluted him and shut the door, breathing a sigh of relief.

after that, tension melted a little more every day. lance’s outburst seemed to have triggered a chain reaction wherein keith and lance actually learned how to live with each other. after respectfully asking lance to remember to take his beauty products out of the bathroom when finished with them, he realized that what lance really needed was his own shelf, so he adjusted. when lance left on saturday mornings and saw keith taking his usual post at the coffee table with his stack of files, lance would ask if keith wanted anything from mcdonalds before coming home. slowly, surely, they became roommates.

until one day lance came home and saw keith watching his favorite show. it was a tidal wave of loud that keith had never had to experience before. youre only on the first season okay scoot over can i put my feet up im going to who do you like best so far what do you think of the villain isnt the actor who plays jack so hot-

they both freeze a little, lances face going red. “um,” he said. “its not like im going to be bringing any guys home, so we dont have to-”

“im gay,” keith says bluntly, because it looks like lance is about to have a heart attack. he feels a little like doris in that moment, although he doesnt know why. “yeah, hes hot.”

lance melts into the couch. “that makes that easy then,” he says. “that makes this the gay-partment. actually, we cant call it that, because im bi for real, and gay-partment doesnt sound good anyway, but you get what im-”

“i get it,” says keith, a mercy killing. he presses play with finality.

shiro checks up on keith frequently enough, but he never asks about lance any more than “is everything okay between you guys?” keith suspects that shiro does not want to push, and is waiting for keith to be the person who actually brings it up.

keith doesnt. even when he waits for lance to get home from classes so they can watch an episode together before keith goes to bed (because the last time keith watched it without him lance threw a fit), or when lance’s awful car craps out on him so they have to share for a week while the mechanic handles it, which involves a lot of carpooling and, as lance calls them “jam sessions” where he blares his horrible music and sings along (but isnt actually so bad because sometimes he improvises lines to the songs and he can be funny when he wants to be). 

keith realizes over the six days that lance is gone for thanksgiving break, not even a full week, that the apartment feels too quiet without him, and at the ripe old age of 23, he might have found his first genuine friend.

after thanksgiving, the barrier melts more. keith is cool with lance having friends over as long as he gets a heads up, and lance invites keith to his occasional open mic night performances at BU.

one day, lance comes home and sees keith hunched over some files on the kitchen table, tie loose on his neck, a half-finished bowl of leftover pasta abandoned near him. lance realizes that he has no idea what keiths job is.

“sales,” keith informs him. “i convince people that they need to buy eco-friendly plastic cups in bulk for their business or school.”

“sounds boring.”

“its not.”

“do you supply cups to my school?”

“theyre not one of my clients, no.”

“if you cant sell cups to your own brother’s school, how good of a salesman can you be?”

keith rolls his eyes and--hey, finally--looks up. “im the best in the department,” he says. “because i take my job seriously, lance. as seriously as you take your apprenticeship to shiro, which is the only reason i agreed to let you stay here.”

“wow,” says lance. “thats harsh. all work and no play makes keith revert back to his old angry self, i see.” he leaves. keith sighs, decides he can no longer focus, and packs up his files. he cleans up his wasted dinner and knocks on lance’s door. lance doesnt answer, so keith persists. when hes ignored again, he grits his teeth and says, “oh, real mature.”

he turns to go back to the living room and sees the bathroom door open. lance steps out, shirtless. “who are you talking to?” he asks, shirtless. he scratches the back of his head, shirtless.

“are you hungry?” asks keith. “i was thinking we could order a pizza and watch an episode or two.”

lance considers keith for a moment, shirtless, then rolls his eyes, still shirtless. “if thats the best you can do for apologies, mullet, then you have a lot to learn. i was going to take a shower.” he reaches around keith, shirtless, and pulls a towel off the inside of his bedroom wall. “call and order, i’ll be fast.” before he shuts the bathroom door again, he says, “i don’t are what else is on it as long as there are green peppers.” and then he’s gone, shirtless.

keith wakes up and wonders why he blacked out for a second.

the pizza arrives, and lance gets out of the shower, clothed, and one or two episodes become six or seven, with keith continuously having to pause because lance is talking and getting carried away because hes getting so excited. its thursday and keith has work tomorrow, he knows, and yet hes denying it. his stomach is full of warm pizza and lance has just stopped talking about the way it rained when they filmed this scene, but keith hasnt reached over to his play yet.

“you would be a good salesman,” he tells lance. “youve got the charisma for it.”

“keith, that is literally the meanest thing youve ever said to me. no offense, but to suggest i would spend my life sitting in a cubicle is unforgivable. to each their own, though. when all the little kids in your third grade class were saying, i want to be a firefighter! and, i want to be a princess! what made you snap up your suspenders and say, i want to sell eco-friendly plastic cups!”

“i dont wear suspenders.”

“thats not the question i was asking.”

keith shrugs. hes laying down more than hes sitting up, which as a rule, is frowned upon when using couches in this apartment. lance has been a bad influence in this regard. “its practical.”

“did you have to take business classes and everything?”

“i took them, yeah.”

lance throws his head back and groans, pokes keith’s thigh teasingly with his big toe. “man, i cant imagine going to school to actually learn a useful life skill. whats job security like?”

staring up at the ceiling, keith is unsettled to find that he knows the answer. “boring.”

lance sits up. “huh?”

“its too easy,” says keith. “every day, its just selling cups. a moron could do it. and my boss doris is a peach, but this morning she stood at karen’s cubicle across from mine for a straight hour talking about plants.”

“plants are so practical,” says lance. “you have a house plant in the corner.” he points at herman.

“his name is herman.”

lance’s eyes blow wide. “dude! no way! you named your plant! i didnt think you were the type!”

“ive never said his name out loud with another person in the room before.”

lance covers his face with both hands and wheezes. “you talk to herman when no one else is in the room.”

lance does not say that he had been calling herman shelby.

“theres a smaller one on my desk at the office named sherman,” says keith.

“not judging, dude, but why would you give so much of yourself to this job if it isnt what you want to do?”

keith shrugs again. “its practical.”

“im a music major and i dont buy that shit. why dont you do what you love? like, how does the time that you spend not doing whatever it is you love not a giant waste?”

“because...” keith feels like a robot. “its practical.”

“if practicality didnt matter, what would you do?”

keith considers lance, considers himself. he finds the answer but decides that its too scary right now. 

“i’d sell cups on the moon.”

lance busts a gut. the seriousness of the topic derailed, keith presses play, and they go back to watching the episode. lance doesnt interrupt for the remainder of the episode, and when keith looks over, he realizes its because lance has fallen asleep. with his legs spread over keith’s lap. when had they gotten there? keith couldnt move now. he had work in the morning.

he was also already in his pajamas. and the sofa was warm enough, and the heating was on in preparation for winter. and keith was already up later than he normally stayed awake...

he woke up with sunlight streaming peacefully on his eyelids. that was usually a luxury saved for the weekends. SUNLIGHT? keith’s eyes popped open, and he remembered all at once talking with lance, falling asleep, lance. last night had been a lance-heavy night. his toes were underneath keith’s shirt, his face smushed into the cushions.

keith clawed his phone out of his pocket as he extracted himself from the couch, from lance. 9:08. shit shit shit shit. 2 missed calls from doris. he ran into his room, where his alarm clock had been screaming for two and a half hours now, and threw on a dress shirt, pants, and shoes, then he rocketed out the door, his phone already pressed to his ear. hi doris sorry sorry sorry i overslept im leaving now i’ll be right here this wont happen again.

his coworkers dont let him live it down. all day its, how ya doing, keith? hows that perfect punctuality youre always harping about? crazy hook up with your take-home pile, was it? doris is the only one who is understanding, and, luckily, her opinion of the situation is all that matters.

“whatever kept you,” she says, “i hope you had fun.”

keith is exhausted by the time he gets home. he unknots his tie on the way to his room, and as he passes lance’s door, he hears the soft tones of music from inside. he pauses. knocks. lance calls, “come in.”

keith pokes his head inside. theres lance, several instruments sprawled across his floor, and him in the center of them, a ukulele in his hands. keith smiles. “sounds good,” he says.

lance gives him a sympathetic eyebrow raise. “you look like shit.”

“thanks.”

“come sit down.”

grateful for the invitation, keith obeys, unraveling his tie all the way. he likes that lance doesnt make him say anything. he goes back to playing music, singing, a soft song that has keiths eyelids fluttering shut and his shoulders relaxing before they can help it.

the next week, lance’s semester ends. he heads home to swap the old year for a new model, see his family, catch up with neighborhood friends. theres the weirdest disconnect he gets where he turns to make a comment to someone, expecting them to be someone else, and gets frustrated.

keith, meanwhile, has resorted to calling shiro at night to somehow break this god awful silence. they get together on christmas, which helps. hes ready to spend new years alone with the LGBT section of Netflix when, at 10:14 PM, his phone rings in a way it doesnt usually. He presses accept, and suddenly Lance is grinning at him in a room full of shouting Cubans.

“Keith! My man! How’s it hanging! No, shut up Marcia, I’m busy. Hey, what’s up!”

Keith is a little bewildered. “Um. Hey.”

“hold on, its super loud in here. let me get to my room so i can actually hear you.”

“why did you call?” asks keith.

lance gives him a look as he enters a much more quiet space. “because my spidey senses told me that you were sitting alone on your couch like a loser right now.”

keith frowns down at his comfortable pajamas. “i am not a loser.”

“of course not,” lance agrees. “thats thanks to me, by the way, and my amazing ability to be in two places at once, thanks to facetime.”

“hows home?” keith asks, aware that suddenly they were chatting, and that the frown he’d been carrying around for days had magically lifted itself off his face. lance is as excitable as ever, even when hes miles and miles away, and keith wonders at the idea of all this distance theyve lived with between them suddenly closed. its an interesting thought.

he doesnt realize how long lance has kept him talking until 11:59, when lance brings his attention to the countdown clock. the inside of keith’s chest feels warm and calm knowing that lance didnt want keith to be alone on new years, and that he cared enough to sit in his room for two hours talking at a screen, and that he was choosing to spend the passover to midnight with keith.

at midnight, keith clinks a glass of champagne against his phone, as does lance, and they drink together. then, lance sombers.

“hey, um. i wanted to thank you for everything you did for me last semester,” says lance. “im still trying to put things together for the spring, but if you want, i could let you know how it goes. i mean, i dont want to stop talking to you, or knowing you.”

keith is utterly lost. “what are you talking about?”

now lance looks confused. “the end of the semester,” he says.

“what about it?”

“my apprenticeship.”

Apprenticeships only lasted a semester!

keith actually slapped his forehead. “lance!” he said, sitting up and clutching his burning phone tighter. He’d had to plug it in an hour ago. “why didn’t you remind me? are you trying to tell me you left? that you literally left to go back home without saying goodbye?”

“you didnt say goodbye!” lance defends, voice getting shrill. “i thought you werent the type!”

“i thought you werent leaving! or, i mean, i thought you were coming back right after!”

“I literally packed out my whole room, keith.”

“people need things when they go home.”

lance shook his head, dumbfounded. “i cant believe we’re having this conversation. what are you going to do without me? yes, keith, im back home and scouring the forums for a new roommate next semester. im trying to have a bonding moment where i thank you for everything youve done for me, but youre ruining it by being an idiot.”

“damn it, lance. you dont have to move out. youre more than welcome to keep living here. lance? did you freeze?”

“what? no. i just. i kind of thought you hated me.”

hate? the literal opposite. keith had to fight not to be sarcastic. “i dont hate you. i want you to stay here. not as a favor, but because this place feels weird without you here now. its as much yours as it is mine. we can put you on the lease if you want.”

“keith, that is the grossest, most adult thing youve ever said to me. of course i will legally sign a binding contract with my name next to yours.”

did lance just... keith’s smaller face went red next to lance’s bigger face. keith sat up a little straighter. “um, cool. cool. when you get back, then. so, you are coming back?”

“yes,” said lance. “and thank god it means i dont have to live with smelly jeremy and his flea-ridden dogs. just your flea-ridden mullet.”

keith narrowed his eyes and hung up.

he got a text from lance saying, see yr flea-tastic self on january 25th, then marked the day down in his phone. afterward, he opened the door to lance’s room, which was indeed empty. keith’s heart went a little spastic at the thought that january 25th could have come and gone, and he would have had no idea that lance had not been planning to return. he called shiro and berated him for not talking about the apprenticeship more often, so keith would have been prepared.

lance comes back and brings the sun with him. keith, who has been this close to quitting his job every time he walks into work, could not be happier. they move lance’s things in together, which involves a lot of stopping and making fun of lance’s possessions on keith’s part. lance grins and goes for the mullet, and somehow they end up wrestling on the floor.

keith thinks, i cant not kiss him.

and then his phone vibrates against his leg. he remembers that lance is living here because he has nowhere else to go, and that putting him in this position if he doesnt feel the same way about keith is a horrible thing to do. he untangles himself, guilty.

“where are you going?” demands lance. “i was winning!”

“its doris,” says keith. “gotta take it.”

speaking of doris, she notices. at 6pm the next day, she stops by keiths cubicle. “been a while since we last met here, sugarcake. trouble at home?”

theres no one else in the office, and keith is close to a meltdown. he swivels to face doris, hangs his head, and says, “i think im in love with my roommate lance.”

her face doesnt betray an ounce of shock, but rather, shes giving him the same look shiro used to when keith would talk about nightmares. keiths heart shatters from being touched by kindness. he doesnt leave the office for another hour, not because he was working, but because that night doris lets him tell her everything.

lance is still in class when keith gets home, eats, showers, and gets ready for bed. he almost doesnt know what to do with himself now that theres a whole other conscious entity living in this house--his fucking emotions. he has his hair pulled back, his pajamas on, and hes just getting ready to call it a night when the front door opens and lance tosses his bag in its usual spot under the window.

“hey,” he says, surprised to see keith up. “dont want to miss the early bird special tomorrow. what’re you doing up?”

“can we play?” asks keith.

lance is clearly doubly surprised, but he guides keith into his room. its as blissfully messy as it was before lance left for break. “you said we. do you play?”

keith picks up a lap-sized keyboard. “i used to.”

“i didnt know that. why didnt you say?”

“because you wouldve asked me to play with you.”

“thats true.” lance picks his ukulele, and they start to improvise together, each learning how the other plays, adjusting. “you werent kidding, you really play.”

“i wasnt kidding,” says keith.

suddenly, lance stops. “hey, is everything alright? youre acting weird. dont tell me youre regretting asking me to move back in.”

“no,” keith says immediately. “no, im just wondering if maybe... are you happy here? or is this just a roommate situation?”

“what do you mean, is this just a roommate situation?”

“you know what i mean.”

“no,” says lance. “i dont.”

“i mean,” says keith, “do you actually like living here, or do you live here because im your only option?”

lance sets down his ukulele. “i like living here because the bathroom tiles are cold when i get out of the shower so i hop to the rug by the door and pray to god i dont slip and break my neck. and because the sunset turns the kitchen wall purple while i make pasta. and because im the only one who can put my feet up on the coffee table. and because the cereal is arranged in alphabetical order and the plant’s name is herman. i like living here. here feels like home.”

keith kisses him. he stands up and backs away just as quickly, guilty, unable to believe he had just crossed the line like that. god, he’s going to have to tell doris about this. she would rip his head off so politely.

“what the fuck?” says lance, blunt and surprised. keith winces, about to apologize, when suddenly he’s being crowded up against the wall of his storage room, of lance’s bedroom, and kissed like his lips leaked chocolate. he melts. lance snakes one hand behind keith’s neck and the other around his waist, and keith tugs lance closer by the hips. the hand at keith’s neck digs into his hair and pulls out the hair tie. the hair tie disappears. keith pulls lance closer. 

lance pulls back. “finally.”

“you had the option to make the first move, you know.”

“nah, not me, i’m a coward.”

“yeah, right.”

they kissed again, with keith holding tighter and lance staying longer. keith thinks, doris isnt going to believe this one.

that night, the taboo on keith’s bedroom door breaks when keith invites lance to sleep on a queen sized mattress. it takes lance a full five minutes to stop laughing at the clear cowboy paraphernalia keith inherited growing up in texas, but he doesnt mind curling up to sleep by the potted cactus on the nightstand, whose name he politely asks for.

keith stops killing himself working to sell eco-friendly plastic cups, and with all his spare time, he and lance start writing songs together. shiro, in a display of good sportsmanship, never points out that he was right.

#this is 6 thousand words #I WROTE THIS IN ONE SITTING WHEN I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DOING NANOWRIMO SHIT #'oh yea i will write 4 thousand words tonight to catch up' #JOKES ON ME I HIT 4K BUT IT WASNT FOR PETER #anyway heres klance #klance au #keith kogane #lance mcclain #im fucking SOrRY for the length #also im not proofreading it its been 4 hours #take it or leave it my friends

[c-rankin93]

SHE'S NO YOU - CH.15

A/N: I can confidently say that I have never been that sick in my life. I still have a pretty good cough left on me and Annaleigh is finally getting better. One week later, ugh! My partner only had it for 3 days... The flu absolutely bombs. I'm finally recovering and the updates shall return. Happy vibes guys! Here's a very belated, but welcomed chapter. I hope you like it. And this is the whine down of the story. P.s I will he doing 2 epilogue chapterS to this story! Years after the final chapter:) Likes always not edit. I don't have the time or energy. Maybe I should get a beta. Any volunteers HAHAHA lol:) --- CHAPTER FIFTEEN - AWAKENING LOVE --- FINN POV: Life had been a blur the past few months. Christmas wasn't celebrated, merely just acknowledge as another day. Even the new year was brush off. Everyone seemed to just move between their lives and being at the hospital like it was a regular thing. Wake up, work, hospital, home. It was a stupid mantra that my mind seemed to follow without even realising. Joshua and Ruby barely smiled, only when they would tell Rae's sleeping form about the fun things they did at school. I didn't blame them, I seemed to be more sour as well. I was without a personal assistant at work because of Olivia's very welcoming departure, and that left Archie to pick up my peices. I had refused any other applicant that had applied for the job, but do you blame me? The last bitch fucked up my marriage and it seemed that the males that did apply, didn't have the qualifications I looked for. Archie had taken the lead and downgraded his job title for now, just so he could follow me around cleaning up the messes I seem to create. Heck, even Dad seemed to have come out of retirement. I knew they were waiting for me to crumble under the weight of raising two kids and a company, but that was the last thing I needed to do. I wasn't the one broken laying in a fucking hospital bed, with a machine connected to my airways. So, I had no right to have a complete mental break down, like my body was inching towards. It was now Febuary 3rd and Ruby's birthday was only a week away. I know she wants nothing more then her mother to wake up, I hear her whisper it into Rae's ear everynight when we say our goodbyes. But, I knew that was highly unlikely. The more she stayed in this comatose state, the less likely she will ever wake up again. I was not prepared for that. They had taken her off medical sedation a little over a month ago, and still her she remained the same. Vitals never changed, and bloods always came back normal. Rae just simply wasn't ready to come back to us. I hadn't gone to work today. I woke to chaos, Ruby and Joshua fighting over the amount of time spend in the bathroom, then to who ate who's cereal. By the time I had dropped them off at school, I had sent an email to Archie telling him I was spending the day with Rae. So here I was, white walls surrounded me, the heart monitor beeping steadily and silence. I hadn't spoken since I arrived two hours ago, only too the one nurse who checked her Vitals, and once again everything was 'normal'. Normal? I didn't understand how any of this was 'normal'. Rae only moved her chest to breathe, she hadnt opened her eyes... How the fuck can that be normal? The doctors couldn't even tell me why she was still in a coma, even though she was taken off sedation. But, the only reply I every got was, 'everything seems normal sir'. My hand clutched hers, tight. My lips found hers ever so often, and the light flush on her cheeks never faded. She looked peacefully and perfecf, I was worried she didn't want to come back and I honestly wouldn't blame her. Not after the torment her heart had endured the last few years. Maybe she wasn't strong enough to brave us anymore. God was this fickle man, but I did believe that he had a plan for all of us. I just hope her story hadn't come to an end, when we were only experiencing the next chapter. "Rae" I didn't understand why I was whispering, but I was. "Hey baby, it's me. You need to wake up for me, Joshua and Ruby. You need to come back to us..." A tear streaked down my face. "You have to wake up baby, because Ruby's birthday is next week and she really wants you to be there, I really want you to be there." I breathed a steady breath trying to control my overpowering emotions. "We love you, and we need you back with us. I promise Rae if you wake up, I will be with you every step of the way. I will treat you like the princess you are, I will beg down on my knees until you agree to come back to me. I will do anything, absolutely fucking anything for us to be a family again." My head fell onto her arm. I couldn't stop the tears, I just missed her so damn much. Her body was here with my, but that soul, that charismatic personality I fell in love with was.  I was a grown man, in a Prada suit mourning my loss, whilst holding her warm body. I just felt like a little boy, broken beyond repair - unashamedly. "Do you remember the day I proposed to you?" I smiled, remembering one of the best days of my life. "I was so nervous that you would say no, I nearly didn't follow through with it. Plus, your brothers terrified me even with their blessing. Archie and Chop had practically kicked my ass when I told them about my self doubts." "I planned to wait until after dinner to ask you, but the moment I saw you come through the door of the restaurant in that black dress. Mm, you looked so good. I knew I wouldn't be able to wait. That's why the moment you stopped in front of me, I was down on my knee whipping that ring out. I think I put it on your finger before you even had the chance to say yes.." I laughed, then looked off into the distance. "When you married me 6 months later. It was the happiest I've ever been in my life thus far. Then you gave me Joshua and Ruby, and I thought my life was complete. The worst decision I ever made was hiring Olivia, and I promise I'll never make a stupid decision like that again. I promise from now on that I'll always chase you, no matter how far you run, I'll always be there. I'm not giving up again, but you have to wake up first baby... you have too..." I sobbed. "I can't do this without you..." 'Beep-beep, Beep-beep, Beep-beep' I looked to her heart monitor that was beeping a little faster, then back to her  beautiful face. The pale pigments of her skin glowed a little more brightly, light flush remained on her cheeks but deepened in colour. 'Beep-beep, Beep-beep, Beep-beep' The monitor continued to beep faster, and I was starting to get a little worried. I went to release Rae's hand so I could lean over and press the nurses button, but something stopped me. Rae's fingers twitched under my grip. Her nails lightly scratched my palm and my eyes widened. "Rae?" I kissed her forehead, brushing away the few strands of hair on her face. Her fingers move again. "NURSE!!" I shouted towards the door, then cover Rae's face with my palms. "Rae baby, can you hear me?" Then pulled away from her. "I NEED A NURSE IN HERE!" I yelled again as I watch Rae's eyelids flutter, but not open. I slammed my hand against the emergency button and within seconds nurse after nurse flooded into the room. "She's waking up! Rae, baby wake up!" "Sir, I'm going to need to step out of the room please." I scoffed, "I'm not leaving my wife when she's waking up!" I was irritated that she thought that would be the best decision. "Please sir, her blood pressure is elevated. Shes panicking because of the breathing tube in her throat." I'm panicking. The sound of her gagging was louder then what it sound be. She just wanted to breath properly, but to do that she needed to relax and let the doctors pull the tube out. "Rae!" I turned back to her and grabbed her hand. I know she could hear me. "Its alright baby, you need to relax so they can pull it out. Then you will breath. Relax-" I was forcefully pulled from her grip just as her eyes opened. I tried to pull against whoever had me, but was unsuccessful because of the two burly men that were not letting go. Her gulp of air was heaven to my ears, then her little pants soon after. The doctors had successful pulled the breathing tube from her throat without damage. "I love you!" Her eyes focused on me, but I didn't know if she could actually see me. "Remember, I love you..." "Finn?" Her voice was so soft I barely heard her. The noise from the doctors and nurses drowned out anything else she may have said to me. The door to her room slammed in my face, and there I stood in a crowed hallway just watching. Watching the madness that was happening around the once dull room. I couldn't do anything, but hope for the best. -- RAE POV: "Ms. Earl can you hear me?" A foreign voice spoke. The brightness from the light shone directly in my eyes, making it hard to see without glare. "Rachel, sweetie? My name is Barbra, I'm one of the Nurses here at Bellevue hospital, I've been caring for you for the last few months..." Months? What is she talking about? "You were involved in a car accident back in December..." The flash of a memory played in my head. Albert's crinkled smile morphed into the face of panic as the car was flipped. "Water" I croaked towards the older women, who smiled and poured some into a cup. "Here you go love. Small sips, because you'll find your throat might be sore when you swallow" Nurse Barbara cooed. My body ached, my head felt like someone had played the drums on it, but i didnt care. All I could think of was the moment I opened my eyes to see Finn standing over me. I craved the feel of his hand brushing over my dewy skin. I smiled looking towards the ceiling remembering everything he had told me this past few minutes. I never knew he was nervous to propose, because on that night he acted so confident like he usually did. My heart swelled remembering his words of love, and family. The promises. Just like the ones before that were kept, he was a man of honor. The nurses were still busy fluffing around me, checking that, doing this. I was flustered, all I wanted to do is see my family, my kids... "Finn" I whispered trying to get someone's attention. "Mr. Nelson is just standing outside the room, would you like me to go get him?" I nodded and relaxed back into the bed. A few minutes later he walked back through the door. He didn't acknowledge those around him, but me. His eyes bore into mine, a ghost of a smile kissed his lips. I couldn't think the moment he pulling my face toward his and covered my lips with his own. I savoured the sweet feeling for only a second, but i would never forget it. He smiled brightly as he pulled away and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling my hand into his lap. "You don't know how much you scared me.." he said honestly. "I thought I'd lost you that day" Finn looked at our intertwined finger, "You suffered a seizure not long after you were sedated after surgery. When they told me, I nearly broke. Loosing you... I can't even think about it, Rae." His head fell forward, his lips touched the skin on my hand. I could feel his tears, but I didn't have the energy to wipe them away. His sobs where quiet, but his body shuttered with every breath he took. "I needed you to be Ohkay..." he finally spoke, looking into my eyes. "I love you Rae" he smiled through the tears, and brushed mine away. I hadn't even realised that I was crying as well until this action. "I love you too" I croaked and swallowed hard. I meant every word I said, I truly did still love him. -- @lily-pop-2 @luly310 @tinakegg @arathewallflower @mmfdfanfic @i-dream-of-emus @l88cym @milymargot @milllott @hey1tskat1e @lurkernolonger @eveerez @mallyallyandra Did I get all the tags? Lol

#MMFD #my mad fat diary #fanfic #fan fiction #my mad fat diary fan fiction

[sweetlifetownsville]

The Massive Difference Between 'Buy Local' And 'Local Buy' ... How Mayor Mullet Has Played The Townsville Business Community For Mugs.

Jenny Hill has traded on a trick of language to fool Townsville into thinking she is a champion for local workers and business, when the exact opposite is the case. It all revolves around the Local Government Association of Queenslands business arm called Local Buy and it is a deliberate play on words to line the coffers of the LGAQ. As The Pie reports, this one looks murky indeed. Also, the Townsville Bulletin goes beyond beyond parody, with one of their biggest side-splitting bungles yet and overall, it was a week you couldnt make up unless of course, youre the Bulletin. And is rebel councillor Paul The Angry Ant Jacob shaping up to take on The Mullet well, he may well have delusions of popularity and adequacy for a tilt in 2020 but there will be one powerful group that will try to block him. Also, the funniest comment on a news story this week comes from the most unlikely place and by popular demand, our regular pictorial gallery from Trumpistan. But first The shared thought-fart of the week belongs to One Notions P Hanson and the Katteronics R Katter. No sooner had Hanson quavered tremulously over the radio that people on the dole should be put to work catching cane toads at ten cents a pop, than Katter jumped on this creaky bandwagon and and upped the ante.

Bob Katter (right). Columnist James Jeffrey once wrote the Bob uses words like a cliff in Norway uses lemmings, and during the week, the member for Kennedy obliged with proof when he gurgled, giggled, sneered and croaked out his proposal that kids should catch the toads for 40 cents a time and be armed with air rifles to get the job done. It all makes one think that both Hanson and Katter are still smarting from their latest rejection letters from The Mensa Society, but the ever-practical Bentley thinks no matter how the creatures are caught, there might be a bit of a flaw in the idea.

Gosh, kids could be recruited under the banner of The Toady Army oh, hang on, maybe not, Townsville City councillors might sue for copyright. Is The LGAQs Nice Little Earner LOCAL BUY Costing Townsville A Motza? Some well credentialed business folks around town at increasingly frustrated with the little-understood Queensland Local Government Associations business arm Buy Local. And on the face of what two well-placed identities have told The Pie, the whole set-up looks ripe for rorts of all sorts, even progressing to very serious corruption unless proper transparency is in place. First this landed in the Nests inbox from a respected and successful Townsville businessman. Just wanted to highlighta program that shows that Mayor Mullet cannot only stuff Townsville as Mayor, she is also doing it as a Director of LGAQ against local businesses who payrent/rates and employ people.Townsville City Council is among those Queensland Local Councils using LGAQ Local Buy to avoid going to tender locally, allowing them toappoint out of town contractors with the LGAQ taking a cut (understood to be 10% of any contract, which of course is just added on to what the cost would otherwise be). Townsville businesses who were previously and successfully supplying services to Council have lost out under this scheme with many being forced to the business and had to put off staff. Any complaints about the dire situation made to Richard The Screaming Midget Beckett (no longer with the council met with threats that they would be locked out of any Council tenders in the future all under the culture from the Impailer and Mayor Mullet . To be an approved Local buy supplier you have to apply and I think pay an amount to be approved and there is a period of 5 years in which other similar other local businesses cant even apply. Momentum for change must be building as this excerpt from a letter from Local Government Minister Stirling Hinchcliffe indicates, after he received a petition complaining about the situation.

Also, has anyone questioned the $400k yearly service agreement between T.C.C . and the LGAQ and does the Mullet disclose her Directors fees from LGAQ ? As a LGAQ director, Jenny Hill, pops into her purse $31,000 p.a ta very muchly. Under the circumstances, that could be seen as blood money, since she must know the hardship this state-wide legalised rort is costing Townsvilles well-being. The Nest has received a number of complaints about Local Buy, but until this week, The Pie didnt have a coherent idea of what was happening so to get an independent assessment, The Magpie asked a business professional well versed in both business and LG matters to give this over-view. Given the current climate of spite and uncertainty, the person asked to remain anonymous. Local Buy is flawed in many aspects, even if one were to concede that its creation was well intentioned.Lets give them the benefit of the doubt to start with procurement can be complex and costly. Good procurement practice (eg. due diligence, evaluation requiring technical expertise etc) could be provided as a shared service, so that smaller organisations can in effect benefit from the capabilities of a larger organisation able to hire the appropriately skilled personnel. Theres also the prospect of negotiating better aggregate rates on the basis of aggregated volume. Thats the theory. The reality is that it is nowhere near this. Im not sure about the 5-year protection racket claim, but I do know that getting on the list involves not much more than paying some fees and ticking some boxes. This means a local council is more or less free to then pick and choose from the list, subject to the requirements of the LG Act. Magpie note: This means that the TCC can choose from a list based solely on price, which often means true locals cannot compete. This raises a moral question of whether it is more desirable to pay perhaps a bit more locally and materially contribute to a more vibrant local economy than to simply save some money because outside organisations that make no real contributions to our city. And it is this part of the system that is clearly open to corrupt influences. The Pie knows of none, but its an open invitation to it. Local Buy of course takes a Commission, from memory 10%, from registered suppliers when they win work, so in the end the potential benefits of savings arent materialised. Suppliers actually add the commission in. Theres also real doubt as to whether the Local Buy organisation actually has any real procurement capability. As a result, the tendency is for increasingly standardised or vanilla offerings, because thats the nature of generalised procedures run by people with limited specialisation and knowledge of local requirements or specialist areas eg, technology. Local Buy is a misnomer, of course. It neither compels nor guarantees procurement by a local authority from suppliers located within this authoritys area. Having said that, what goes to constituting local is never actually an easy question to answer, which makes a mockery of the entire buy local trope. One other thing on the Local Buy (and council procurement in general): theres a category called standing offer arrangement. This is basically a set of approved rates for services / products that a council can basically go back to time after time, without going out to tender. In theory, not a bad thing for pencils, paper clips and such like but as is always the case in procurement easily abused or at the very least, mis-used. The Magpie thanks the author for that succinct summary. It would certainly appear that we are being dudded one way or the other, but two things raise the Magpies curiosity: what do we get for our $400k annual contribution to the LGAQ? And noted in hindsight, just as this Local Buy system was being introduced, Mayor Mullet started dropping in the odd buy local slogan the timing appears to havde been there to fool people when they started hearing about local buy. Low level chicanery at its worst, spread about at the very time it now appears the council Jenny Hill heads was doing exactly the opposite. For Jenny Hill to trumpet the buy local cry is the height of hypocrisy, anyway. One of the very first acts she did when first elected mayor was to buy her new mayoral car (a top of the line Holden at around $70-$80,000) IN BRISBANE AND STIFFED THE RATEPAYERS TO HAVE IT SHIPPED HERE. And why was this? Because she had had a previous fight with Tony Ireland of TI Holden about repairs her previous vehicle, which she had mildly pranged into a gutter _ Ireland point blank refused her request to illegally mark it down as an accident insurance claim, which it clearly wasnt. Even although the Ireland company agreed to match the Brisbane price, Jenny Hill went ahead with the Brisbane deal anyway. Shes a sweet piece of work sometimes.

So if youre ever thinking if its true that local business people are fearful of spiteful retribution if they disagree with this civic leader, just keep that in mind. And Heres An Interesting Thought Wonder if Local Buy had anything to do with the controversial choice of pipe for the new Burdekin line, and did Local Buytb have anything to do with the pipeline jobs that went to Adelaide in stead of the promised boon to Townsville? Just askin. ya know. Yes The Astonisher Has Gone Beyond Parody The satirists lot is not a happy one lately. I mean, how do you make fun of something like the Bulletin that is so unintentionally crazy-funny to start with? Is this a secret plot to spike The Magpies guns? Last Tuesday, this appeared on page 16 as the editorial page of the Townsville Bulletin.

This is a stupendous blunder in a Townsville publication, that through their typical technical ineptness, the hard copy paper had published THE CAIRNS POST EDITORIAL PAGE the community voice (supposedly) of any newspaper. The editorial was of bugger all interest here, as well as being pretty stupid, anyway. It even had the Cairns deputy iditor signing it under the Townsville Bulletin masthead.

There was a time when this bit of prize fuckwittery wouldve caused an uproar, given the sensitive feelings between the two cities, but it appears weve been bludgeoned into not caring about the Bulletin anyway. Honestly, if it were not for the circle-jerk leadership of this city, the mayor and the head of Townsville Enterprise would be so incensed by this particular A community without a responsible newspaper is like a beautiful woman with only one eye (apologies to Brillat-Savarin). But still the harmless laughs kept coming. There was this story

which included this quote from one of the ladies of the night about southern blow-in blow-job competition on the streets: Theres false advertising, they send out a photo of a really hot looking chick and when they get there its some frumpy number. The girls have had a gutful of it This has been brewing for ages. Yknow, Thd Magpie thinks the lady might have a point. What sort of deceptive, conniving, immoral low-life would stoop to such trickery. Bet it would never happen in the Townsville Bulletin, would it? Huh, what? oh, oops.

But even when credibility-destroying cock-ups are right before their eyes, they still get into the paper. One should feel sorry for a decent old-time journo like Tony Raggatt, having his pic plastered between these clearly conflicting claims (the list clearly being nothing to with him).

But The Astonisher makes it easy to err take the piss.

This reeks of wreaking havoc on the language. Is The Angry Ant About To Up The Ante?

Paul Jacob Paul Jacob knows a cushy number when he sees one he is after all a Townsville City councillor. But it would seem our man is a tad more ambitious. The Ant broke ranks against Mayor Mullets Adani airstrip rort, conveniently just before he made an abortive run for state as a Labor-aligned but not endorsed candidate. Ever since, he has been regarded as a rebel ever since among the council sheeple and certainly by head shepherd Jennifer. So when he was front-paged in todays Astonisher

calling for an easing of water restrictions, many a pundit including The Pie, immediately assumed this was the signal for a Jacob joust for the top office in Walker Street. And that will be tricky. Unless Mayor Mullet abdicates and retires to malta, or runs on a Labor senate ticket her dearest wish but said not be shared by those who could make it so Clr Jacob will come under some intense pressure and even be flattered with promises of future glory by the Labor Party. Because despite her simpering shy denials of being a Labor mayor, Jenny Hill is, and is seen as, just that, and mainly by Labor itself. The party back room boys reckon mayor is as far as shes going, so they wouldnt rock what they see as a returnable vote boat in local government in March 2020. They know poor old Dolan Hayes will need Ashley and Martin soon with all the hair-tearing last thing the already beleaguered mayor needs is a Labor split ticket. But trust the Bulletin to come galumphing on to this particular scene with a few editorial bromides, but the best being this hilarious piece of total unselfawareness in an iditorial, which clearly is not Astonisher editorial policy.

Take your own advice, dearie. But Does The Pie Detect A Sly Dissension In The Senior Ranks At The Paper? Although The Pie doubts the feeling is mutual, he has great respect for the old-style work and values of John Ando Anderson he offers a very readable weekly service to the valuable rural readership of the paper, which clearly involves actual field work, and not just a few phone calls or, heaven forbid, lazy Facebook trolling. Now, Ando is nothing if not a steadfastly loyal News Ltd man; he has reason to be, the company spared no expense successfully defending him against spurious charge brought by the DPP over a jail interview almost 20 years ago. But The Pie couldnt help wonder if he wasnt trying to get a subtle message into the editors ear when writing today about Townsvilles landscape of words, waffle and impossible dreams.

Gotta love that line Pep talks are good for morale, but in the end, they start to sound like the boy crying wolf. And that, Ando, described PRECISELY the Bulletin editorial policy. very funny. Clever too, if The Pie is right. Pop in and have a chat to , will you? For all of us. Ghosts Of Iditors Past:Theres A Reason Hes Called Typo Gleeson

Typo Gleeson leaving an unsuccessful job interview as editor of Tailor & Cutter magazine. If you believe Sky Newss squeak fest hosted by Peter Typo Gleeson (sorry, only kidding) you might think David Crisafulli is returning to town for a special job and the head of TEL has changed her name.During the week, ww were treated too a hindenberg of hot air when Lil Patty OCallaghan and state opposition pollie Kid Crisafulli fielded a number of Dorothy Dixers from Typo. But one would think it was Typo in charge of the on-screen titling.

And when they got around to realising their mistake, in typical Typo fashion, they got that wrong too.

And Another Thing .. Best comment of the week goes to the bloke who replied to a totally embarrassing piece of nonesense in the paper about whether we are a friendly city. He suggested that of course we are we even wave to you from the roof of the Cleveland Detention Centre as you drive in from the airport. Luv it! Just what such a space-waste story deserved. Finally Its Been Another week of Wall-To-Wall umm .. Wall And we start with Mexico announcing the obvious

A Final Dad Joke (Well, Worked As A Granddad Joke)

Oh dear sorry. .. Thats it for another week, were off and running for 2019, its promising to be a cracker. There are a wider variety of folks taking to comments of late, keep it up, some are thoughtful, some hilarious, so entertain and be entertained. And if you have anything left over from the festive season, a donation to support The Magpies Nest will be of great assistance, the how to donate button is below. http://www.townsvillemagpie.com.au/the-massive-difference-between-buy-local-and-local-buy-how-mayor-mullet-has-played-the-townsville-business-community-for-mugs/

[slmorganposts]

Following that, you can see layers five through

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Zobacz więcej na Following that, you can see layers five through

#Following that #you can see layers five through

[celticnoise]

Dave King cannot help himself.

He cannot help reminding the world what he is, and we all know exactly what he is.

His history haunts him, and it should.

But you know what? There are times when I kind of like the guy.

We could not have hoped for a better man to take over that club in the aftermath of the Charles Green years than this geezer.

As a Celtic fan, I wake up every day grateful for the hour in which David Cunningham King got his hands on the Ibrox NewCo. Honestly, he is the best thing to happen to us at Ibrox since Craig Whyte borrowed a quid on his way into his final meeting with David Murray.

Don’t get me wrong; Green wasn’t going to transform them into a football power.

But he and Ashley’s lieutenants at least had a plan.

They had something more going on than an appeal to the lowest common denominator.

With those guys at the helm, that club would have acted sensibly and lived within its means.

With this guy in charge, there’s no chance.

King has brought his club to the brink, and he believes demagoguery is a way to bluff and bluster his way through their situation. He is dead wrong about that. But he knows his audience, and he knows that in the absence of having a plan he can always play to the gallery.

And so it was last week that he congratulated the Ibrox fans on selling out their season tickets, and then said they have helped to make the club the biggest in the country again.

Celtic fans snorted derision.

But we were never the target audience.

He was, as ever, relying on the utter gullibility of his own customer base.

Except this time his rabble-rousing stunt didn’t have the effect he’d hoped.

Is the old magician losing his dark magic?

It appears so, because his latest crowd pleasing stunt failed to please even the crowd which usually laps up his every word.

To crow about his team being the biggest in the country is quite an incredible statement, and all the more so in the same week we finally begin to flex our considerable financial muscle.

It is fascinating to consider the level of delusion that kind of thinking requires, and it does make you wonder if he actually believes it himself.

Nothing would surprise me: I am reminded of what the South African judiciary famously said of him in 2010:

“We saw (him) testify … for four days and are unanimous in finding that he is a mendacious witness whose evidence should not be accepted on any issue unless it is supported by documents or other objective evidence. (He) showed no sign of embarrassment or any emotion when he conceded that he had lied … In our assessment he is a glib and shameless liar.”

But is he conscious of what he’s doing, or is it reflexive?

Is he oblivious to reality, or is he simply bending it to suit the needs of whatever moment he happens to be in?

It always makes me think of Orwell, of 1984, and his magnificent description of the mechanics of ‘doublethink’, the state of mind that makes King’s thought process possible.

“To know and not to know, to be conscious of complete truthfulness while telling carefully constructed lies; to hold simultaneously two opinions which cancelled out, knowing them to be contradictory and believing in both of them; to use logic against logic … to forget whatever it was necessary to forget, then to draw it back into memory again at the moment when it was needed, and then promptly to forget it again: and above all, to apply the same process to the process itself — that was the ultimate subtlety: consciously to induce unconsciousness, and then, once again, to become unconscious of the act of hypnosis you had just performed.”

Here’s what none of the slobbering nonsense from Ibrox, nor the whooping and cheering from his pals in the press boxes acknowledges, or wants to, although it’s a simple and straightforward fact, and what’s more it’s one that’s known by the club’s own fans;

King has been at Ibrox for four years now.

In that time, he has sacked three managers and hired three.

His side reached one cup final, which they lost to Hibs. They haven’t come close since.

Indeed, his tenure at Ibrox has coincided with the greatest spell of domestic dominance – for our club – ever enjoyed by any team in the game here.

Upon securing the place in the 2016 cup final, he told everyone that his club was “back” – from the dead one can presume – but instead of making good on that they have endured calamity after calamity after calamity.

They have continued to post losses, which have grown under his tenure year on year, and the “quality” of their squad remains laughably low.

And what’s more, their fans know this full well.

This summer, they have signed seven players for a combined total spend which is one tenth of what we just paid for a single footballer.

Four of these “signings” – because one of them is Steve Davis, who was there for the tail end of last season – were playing in the SPL last year, and none of them to the standard of David Turnbull, who we were ready to buy for £3.5 million.

All were available for free.

Of the other three signings, Aribo was signed on freedom of contract – but for whom they’ll have to pay a development fee – and at 22 was playing his trade in England’s third tier.

We have signed Luca Connell today from the same league; he’s 18 and already has done enough to pique our interest.

Aribo featured on the famous leaked list as a prospective target; we opted to go for Turnbull instead, and pay big for him.

There is Sheyi Ojo, on loan from Liverpool, who has been at five clubs in four years, and finally the defender, George Edmundson, who they signed from Oldham.

He is the one player they’ve actually paid a transfer fee for; £600,000 … which is a lot of money to spend on a player from English football’s fourth tier. They beat off “competition” for his signature from Peterborough.

There is no “game changer” signing; these are all squad players. No-one in that lot makes them a better team, or any more likely to overhaul the enormous gap between the clubs. This is all King can deliver for his manager, the cupboard is almost bare.

One of his most fundamental promises – to pull the club’s retail arm away from the iron grip of Mike Ashley – has failed on every level; the Sports Direct supremo has it in an ever tightening vice.

Under King, Celtic has moved further ahead – in every conceivable area.

Gerrard is about to go up against the Celtic manager with the second highest win ratio in our history. Indeed, only three Celtic managers have ever had a lower win percentage than Gerrard has at the moment, and even accounting for previous bosses at Ibrox, across the various clubs there, Ally McCoist, Mark Warburton, Pedro Caixinha, Alex McLeish and even Graeme Murty have a better wins to games average than he does.

Indeed, if you look at the histories of the various Ibrox clubs, and if you take, as a baseline, managers who have taken charge of more than 15 games whilst employed there, his record is worsted by only John Grieg, Jock Wallace, Paul Le Guen and Stuart McCall.

This is what King and his board would have you believe “progress” looks like.

They signed a defender this week from England’s fourth tier, for a few hundred thousand.

We paid £7 million for a a Ligue One player.

Their attacking midfield signing was a free transfer from Charlton.

But for a late discovery in the medical, we would have paid an additional £3.5 million for the most sought after young footballer in Scotland outside of Celtic Park.

We are on the brink of spending another £3 million on a left back.

That’s the gap, and it has massively expanded under Dave King’s “leadership.”

And King’s audience knows all of this, of course, which is why so many of them reacted with such frustration to his idiotic assertion that they are the biggest club in the country. Tom English was one of a number of media fools who giggled along with King in a manner more befitting of schoolgirls pulling a prank than serious journalists.

“Top trolling,” English called it.

“Talking crap” is how the rest of us would have put it.

Now Gerrard’s own frustrations are slowly coming to boil. He has made it clear that he still sees the need to sign a couple of “marquee” players to match the one we’ve just bought, and he and everyone else knows there are more to come at Celtic.

The difference is, even if we bring in players simply to enhance the squad as opposed to slotting right into the first team, they are still likely to be of a higher calibre than any footballer the Ibrox club is likely to sign.

Gerrard’s signings have “improved the squad” but their overall quality is about the same as what was there, and that wasn’t enough in the last campaign.

They will never be able to cope with a Celtic team that moves decisively forward, and he realises it.

If he’s feeling daring he may try to use the alleged interest from England to try and force King’s hand, but there are two problems with that; first, everyone knows the interest from Derby and Newcastle was largely nonsense in the first place, and second, King couldn’t fund him even if the bluff were not to be called.

The money to do it simply isn’t there.

By far the smartest thing people at Ibrox could do right now is learn to shut their mouths some.

Because all they are doing with the big-talk is setting themselves up for one Hell of a fall. Too many of their players are making bold predictions … the only thing that matters is what you do out on the pitch though, and that’s where they fail over and over again.

As Phil has correctly pointed out, they always win the “close season cup.”

They always win the PR war in the media. But already, in this window, all their claims to have made giant strides look kind of weak and their club kind of cheap.

King may boast that his club is the biggest in the land, but within a week of those words leaving his mouth we had paid ten times for one player what he has been able to give his manager to spend on seven of them so far.

His boast about 40,000 plus season tickets is hollow when we have 50,000 plus.

His manager’s record is horrendous where it matters and we are the club who just won the third domestic clean sweep in a row … and on his watch.

Not even the usual nodding donkeys in his own support bought it this time, and in the week since, as Celtic flexes its muscle and starts to show intent, they’ve become ever more restless, ever less sure that he really knows what he’s doing.

In short, they are worried.

And you know what?

They should be.

https://ift.tt/2KYh2hO

#CelticNoise #Celtic #CelticFC #TheCelticBlog #News

[thecurlysafari]

‘Putting yourself out there’

Break ups are never easy, but eventually, the end of something old leaves room for something new. Well the same applies for work; as you leave a job or organisation and move onto pursue something new. 

Like dating, when you interview, you are often:

Completely vulnerable and exposed!

Look inward with a microscope! 

Welcome old insecurities that you thought had long disappeared, only back to rear their ugly heads!

Like dating, interviewing also requires:

Confidence and Self Belief to walk through that door believing in yourself and your worth 

The ability to overcome nerves and present the best version of yourself 

Find the perfect match between what you want and what they want

As I have spent my entire May 2019 making applications and interviewing around the country and technically through Skype, around the World, its been a really interesting find for me. 

I left France and had one focus; I will work in Africa this year in a great role for a meaningful charity. Then narrow it down, the vision was Sub Saharan Africa on a poverty reduction programme. One goal. One focus. This clarity left no room for doubt or failure, as all efforts and mental acuity was needed to seek out the right role and find the right match for both parties. 

But as time passed by and rejections (a natural part of the game) came in, the clarity became murky and the doubt seeped in. Naturally leading to some questionable applications to low hanging fruit jobs. 

As I approached each interview; I started to create some rules for myself:

-Research who I am meeting and what I am actually going for, in depth. The credibility of the organisation, the competency level of the interviewers, the values held, the culture. I asked myself before every interview, was this the right fit for me? 

Just like dating, the professional world can often stamp this level of thought out of you. Who are you entitiled milenial to ask such questions, work is work, money, goals, pay your bills, thats it. There is a real hand to mouth unspoken culture that many fall victim to; that when you approach a potential employer, you need to wow them and prove your worth. 

But actually, the same applies both ways. You will give 40-70 weekly hours of your time to this place, sacrifice time with family and friends and commit to this new role with all you have. So, do you want to work there, with that team, doing that role, feeding into that culture? 

-Confidence in myself and my ablities, irrespective of the experience and outcome of the interview. We all know how it feels to have an interview that just tears you to shreds. The hard line of questioning, the intense looks a panel can give you. The feeling of sitting on hot coals or walking on hot needles. Last year I interviewed for an incredible job and the Chief Exec took my CV out, slashed through my life history and told me at each stage where I had gone wrong, giving me spoonfuls of confusing feedback, only to not offer me the role. We have also all been there when you walk out of the building like Jonny Bravo, really feeling yourself Beyonce style. You glimmered, glistened and gleamed, you shone at each interview stage and you had incredible rapport with the interviewers. 

Like dating. You can have an incredible date and cant help but picture the next date or next 5 years with that person. The conversation was flowing and the compatibility almost oozing out of the restaurant. 

So why then did they not call? Why was the job not offered? Why were you not even good enough to warrant feedback? 

These experiences can be really damaging to self esteem and confidence in your own abilities and skillsets. A 22k job can turn you down but a 50k job can hire you. I love cake but hate meringue. 

The point is, despite the outcome of the interview (or date) preserve the belief in yourself. Its that full tank that will enable you to get to the next window, the next seat, the next interview to find your match and land your next opportunity. 

-Preparation: We are stepping into some provocative grounds as I continue to compare dating and interviewing. Although the kind of preparations made before either appointment vary massively in some regards, the principles are the same. I know the interviews I’ve prepared at length for and still been unsuccessful, then I recall the interviews offered at short notice and doing a late notice swot only to land the job. 

But leaving these to chance and luck isnt an option for me anymore. Its important I feel prepared and ready so I give myself the very best chance to secure something I am set on. Preparing myself from the logistics, to role research, value addition propositions and proposals for role specifics. I ensure I look the part, feeling as though there is enough professionalism and appropriateness as there is character and personality. From getting the right amount of sleep before to proper nutrition of the body and the mind and spirit. 

The competence enables the confidence and the confidence is the driving force to set me up in the best position. If I dont believe in my own abilities to undertake this role, why should they hire me? Just like if we dont love ourselves, how can anyone love us?

But with these rules, came some very interesting experiences. How one interview can make you feel like a lost tourist while another can provide you with satisfaction in your own skills and abilities. How some interviewers treat you as they would in the role and that is a very good indicator to what the role and working relationship will look like. How this is all about puzzle pieces, both employers and job seekers each trying to find the right match for them as they embark on a new relationship. 

In exactly three weeks I left one role and landed my perfect next step. But in between that were so many applications, conversations, interviews and wavy levels of confidence and clarity. 

I didnt stop until I secured my right fit. I trusted my own abilities. I held the calm and deep level of faith and matched this with positive habits and endless grit and determination. 

Like dating, sometimes we have to trust in a bigger picture that the right one is coming. The deep level of faith and positive habits with the above rules can help with the dating world and as well as the interviewing world. 

So to both dating and work considerations...

1. Keep an unwaivering faith and deep belief that the right thing/ person will come to you. The books, studies, podcasts, prayers, vision boards, mantras, it will all lead to what is meant for you. 

2. Match your belief with work, research and preparation. Nothing in life is handed and the next role or person in your life deserves you, because you are magic and light in this world. So dont leave room for doubt and set yourself up for success

3. The reactions of others should never dictate the feelings of you. You may have to kiss many frogs or interview at many places, but any role or person worthy of you will treat you in a way that feels comfortable and right to you. 

4. An interview or a date shouldnt warrant a character assassination, nor should you do the same to them. Let the past be the past and dont hold any grudges of an ex or previous employer and affect how you treat the next. Heal, move forward, learn and grow. Its good to look at for similar signs, but also be willing to give this new person or role a fresh chance

5. There will be dips of motivation in both job seeking and partner seeking. Miss/Mr Independent can plummet to singing All by Myself in a very unironic manner. Thats ok. We cant be 100 all the time. But prepare for these dips and prepare for a way to overcome them and work through them

Most importantly, know that you matter, believe you were made with a purpose and go after ultimately what you believe is yours. 

For me personally, three weeks of interviews and taking the above advice, I received many invitations as well as many rejections. The winds then all of a sudden changed and I began to meet my matches. On one day, I received three incredible job offers which included two roles based in Sub Saharan Africa and I had to make a choice. I am overjoyed to say, I took the role with a meaningful grassroots charity, on a poverty reduction programme in Sub Saharan Africa....One goal with one focus with no room for failure. 

#believe #confidence #toptips #belief #dating #love #relationships #humour #motivation #determination #lifestyle #mindful

[lodelss]

The Supreme Court Didn’t Put the Nail in Civil Asset Forfeiture’s Coffin News of the death of the unjust law enforcement tactic has been greatly exaggerated.

The 84 percent of Americans who oppose civil asset forfeiture can be forgiven for having the impression that the U.S. Supreme Court ended abusive use of this practice last month in Timbs v. Indiana when it ruled that the Excessive Fines Clause of the Eighth Amendment applies to the states. Some media hailed it as a huge victory.  But the celebration is premature.

So what really happened?

The Timbs opinion recognizes that the Constitution guarantees freedom from excessive monetary sanctions as a fundamental right. But crucial questions remain about what practical difference the Supreme Court’s decision will make in ordinary people’s lives, particularly in the context of civil asset forfeiture. 

The question of whether the Excessive Fines Clause should apply to the states wasn’t a difficult one to answer. Indeed, at the oral argument, Justice Gorsuch made fun of Indiana’s Solicitor General, saying: “I mean, most … of the incorporation cases took place in like the 1940s.” Yet, he noted, that we're “still litigating incorporation of the Bill of Rights. Really?" 

The oft-divided court was able to rule unanimously in favor of the plaintiff, Tyson Timbs, partly because the narrow issue of whether the clause is “incorporated” and therefore binding on the states was the only question before it. So while the court said that the Excessive Fines Clause applies to Timbs’ civil asset forfeiture case, it didn’t say that Timbs’ forfeiture case violates the Excessive Fines Clause.

That means the case isn’t over. Instead, it will return to the Indiana Supreme Court. That court will decide whether the forfeiture of Timbs’ car violates the Eighth Amendment. And how will the Indiana court decide, and how will the rest of us know, if a forfeiture case violates the Eighth Amendment?

As we noted in our amicus brief, the historical roots of the Excessive Fines Clause indicate that courts need to consider an individual’s financial circumstances in order to evaluate whether a fine or forfeiture is excessive. But the Supreme Court has never squarely answered this crucial question, and it didn’t reach it in Timbs. So far, the court has only held that a criminal asset forfeiture violates the Excessive Fines Clause when it is “grossly disproportional to the gravity of the defendant’s offense.” 

This “grossly disproportional” standard is a start. But, as the almost entirely unchecked growth of civil asset forfeiture has shown over the last 30 years, it is too vague, too general, and too varied in application to provide a meaningful limit on asset forfeitures. The court has similarly referenced a “grossly disproportionate” standard when evaluating whether a criminal sentence violates the Eighth Amendment’s prohibition against cruel and unusual punishments.

Protections under the Cruel and Unusual Punishment Clause have been minimal in practice. Punishments struck down as grossly disproportionate are basically the equivalent of legal unicorns. Indeed, the Supreme Court has affirmed life sentences for shoplifting.

During the oral argument in Timbs, Justice Kagan addressed this concern directly, noting, “we’ve made it awfully, awfully hard to assert a disproportionality claim with respect even to imprisonment” and if the same standard applies under the Excessive Fines Clause, “we could incorporate this tomorrow and it would have no effect on anybody.” 

The Timbs opinion hints that its immediate, practical impact may be limited. The Supreme Court explains that, “all 50 States have a constitutional provision prohibiting the imposition of excessive fines either directly or by requiring proportionality.” That means even before Timbs it was clear that property owners could argue that a civil forfeiture violated their state constitutional right against excessive fines.

But these state constitutional provisions have not historically served as a bulwark against the proliferation of civil asset forfeiture. One reason is that state supreme courts often follow the lead of the U.S. Supreme Court and interpret their state constitutions as providing the same level of protection that the U.S. Constitution provides.  

When it comes to current U.S. Supreme Court case law interpreting the Eighth Amendment, that protection isn’t much.

Notwithstanding this cause for skepticism, Timbs is a 9-0 decision in favor of someone convicted of a drug crime and whose car was seized and forfeited as a result. Victories like this at the Supreme Court are rare and worthy of attention, even where their legal holding is relatively limited. Timbs can be a starting point for the work needed to establish a meaningful right to be free from excessive monetary penalties. We should treat the decision as an invitation to litigate these claims more often and push courts to make the Excessive Fines Clause a more robust protection against government overreach.

But even if we succeed at that, significant structural barriers would still stand in the way of a strong Eighth Amendment restraining civil asset forfeiture.

The biggest barrier to the Excessive Fines Clause restraining civil asset forfeiture is that owners who want their property back are not entitled to a court-appointed lawyer because the proceedings are deemed civil, not criminal. This means most people go unrepresented because it is economically irrational to hire a lawyer in cases when the value of the property taken is less than the cost of hiring a lawyer. And, as we showed in our complaint in Cox v. Voyles, when people try to represent themselves, they’re fighting against government lawyers who are expert in these systems, expert in dirty tricks, and therefore expert in defeating even meritorious claims on procedural grounds. 

More insidiously, as Cox also demonstrated, some people are justifiably afraid to fight their cases with or without a lawyer. For example, though the state law at issue in Cox has now changed as a result of our litigation, the law at the time allowed the government to recover its own attorneys’ fees from people who fought to regain their seized property and lost. But if they won, the state didn’t have to pay for the property owners’ attorneys’ fees. This meant that whatever the outcome of the case, many property owners would lose money if they dared to fight for their rights in court.

Or consider that police in Tenaha, Texas, spent years seizing property from Black and Latinx people traveling through town, threatening the travelers that if they did not turn over their cash and disclaim their rights to it, they would be arrested on money laundering charges and, in some instances, have their children taken by child protective services. 

All of this means that Timbs — bolstered by a robust Excessive Fines Clause we have yet to establish — could only restrain civil asset forfeiture, case by case, if property owners fight back in court. So long as these barriers to fighting civil forfeiture cases exist, a back-end solution is simply not enough.

There is potential, though, for a solution before the asset seizure takes place.

One of the most pernicious parts of many civil asset forfeiture laws is the profit motive baked into them. In too many states, police and prosecutors get to keep a lot of the money that they bring in through forfeiture. This creates a perverse incentive for law enforcement to make decisions that maximize their profits instead of maximizing public safety. In other words, policing for profit. This self-interest, in our view, violates the Due Process Clause of the 14th Amendment and therefore renders such arrangements susceptible to wholesale invalidation.

Getting civil forfeiture laws struck down on this basis and preventing people from unjustly losing their property in the first place would be a major step towards eliminating or seriously curtailing the abusive use of civil asset forfeiture. In Marshall v. Jerrico, the U.S. Supreme Court recognized that procedural due process imposes a limit on “scheme[s] injecting a personal interest, financial or otherwise, into the [law] enforcement process.”

The court stated that such schemes in some contexts “raise serious constitutional questions.” The court identified three factors to consider when someone alleges that a law enforcement official’s financial interest in enforcement violates the Constitution. First, whether the official stands to profit economically from vigorous enforcement. Second, whether the enforcing agent is financially dependent on the maintenance of a high level of penalties. And third, whether the law enforcement agency's budget is so dependent upon this source of income that officials have a direct financial incentive to increase enforcement efforts. Many civil asset forfeiture laws suffer from all three defects and are therefore constitutionally suspect, as we successfully argued in Cox.

So, while Timbs is far from a fatal blow to this outrageous practice, it can serve as a jumping off point for our much broader efforts to eliminate civil asset forfeiture.

Published March 16, 2019 at 02:15AM via ACLU https://ift.tt/2HxqZQO

#IFTTT #Blogger

[nancydhooper]

The Supreme Court Didn’t Put the Nail in Civil Asset Forfeiture’s Coffin

News of the death of the unjust law enforcement tactic has been greatly exaggerated.

The 84 percent of Americans who oppose civil asset forfeiture can be forgiven for having the impression that the U.S. Supreme Court ended abusive use of this practice last month in Timbs v. Indiana when it ruled that the Excessive Fines Clause of the Eighth Amendment applies to the states. Some media hailed it as a huge victory.  But the celebration is premature.

So what really happened?

The Timbs opinion recognizes that the Constitution guarantees freedom from excessive monetary sanctions as a fundamental right. But crucial questions remain about what practical difference the Supreme Court’s decision will make in ordinary people’s lives, particularly in the context of civil asset forfeiture. 

The question of whether the Excessive Fines Clause should apply to the states wasn’t a difficult one to answer. Indeed, at the oral argument, Justice Gorsuch made fun of Indiana’s Solicitor General, saying: “I mean, most … of the incorporation cases took place in like the 1940s.” Yet, he noted, that we're “still litigating incorporation of the Bill of Rights. Really?" 

The oft-divided court was able to rule unanimously in favor of the plaintiff, Tyson Timbs, partly because the narrow issue of whether the clause is “incorporated” and therefore binding on the states was the only question before it. So while the court said that the Excessive Fines Clause applies to Timbs’ civil asset forfeiture case, it didn’t say that Timbs’ forfeiture case violates the Excessive Fines Clause.

That means the case isn’t over. Instead, it will return to the Indiana Supreme Court. That court will decide whether the forfeiture of Timbs’ car violates the Eighth Amendment. And how will the Indiana court decide, and how will the rest of us know, if a forfeiture case violates the Eighth Amendment?

As we noted in our amicus brief, the historical roots of the Excessive Fines Clause indicate that courts need to consider an individual’s financial circumstances in order to evaluate whether a fine or forfeiture is excessive. But the Supreme Court has never squarely answered this crucial question, and it didn’t reach it in Timbs. So far, the court has only held that a criminal asset forfeiture violates the Excessive Fines Clause when it is “grossly disproportional to the gravity of the defendant’s offense.” 

This “grossly disproportional” standard is a start. But, as the almost entirely unchecked growth of civil asset forfeiture has shown over the last 30 years, it is too vague, too general, and too varied in application to provide a meaningful limit on asset forfeitures. The court has similarly referenced a “grossly disproportionate” standard when evaluating whether a criminal sentence violates the Eighth Amendment’s prohibition against cruel and unusual punishments.

Protections under the Cruel and Unusual Punishment Clause have been minimal in practice. Punishments struck down as grossly disproportionate are basically the equivalent of legal unicorns. Indeed, the Supreme Court has affirmed life sentences for shoplifting.

During the oral argument in Timbs, Justice Kagan addressed this concern directly, noting, “we’ve made it awfully, awfully hard to assert a disproportionality claim with respect even to imprisonment” and if the same standard applies under the Excessive Fines Clause, “we could incorporate this tomorrow and it would have no effect on anybody.” 

The Timbs opinion hints that its immediate, practical impact may be limited. The Supreme Court explains that, “all 50 States have a constitutional provision prohibiting the imposition of excessive fines either directly or by requiring proportionality.” That means even before Timbs it was clear that property owners could argue that a civil forfeiture violated their state constitutional right against excessive fines.

But these state constitutional provisions have not historically served as a bulwark against the proliferation of civil asset forfeiture. One reason is that state supreme courts often follow the lead of the U.S. Supreme Court and interpret their state constitutions as providing the same level of protection that the U.S. Constitution provides.  

When it comes to current U.S. Supreme Court case law interpreting the Eighth Amendment, that protection isn’t much.

Notwithstanding this cause for skepticism, Timbs is a 9-0 decision in favor of someone convicted of a drug crime and whose car was seized and forfeited as a result. Victories like this at the Supreme Court are rare and worthy of attention, even where their legal holding is relatively limited. Timbs can be a starting point for the work needed to establish a meaningful right to be free from excessive monetary penalties. We should treat the decision as an invitation to litigate these claims more often and push courts to make the Excessive Fines Clause a more robust protection against government overreach.

But even if we succeed at that, significant structural barriers would still stand in the way of a strong Eighth Amendment restraining civil asset forfeiture.

The biggest barrier to the Excessive Fines Clause restraining civil asset forfeiture is that owners who want their property back are not entitled to a court-appointed lawyer because the proceedings are deemed civil, not criminal. This means most people go unrepresented because it is economically irrational to hire a lawyer in cases when the value of the property taken is less than the cost of hiring a lawyer. And, as we showed in our complaint in Cox v. Voyles, when people try to represent themselves, they’re fighting against government lawyers who are expert in these systems, expert in dirty tricks, and therefore expert in defeating even meritorious claims on procedural grounds. 

More insidiously, as Cox also demonstrated, some people are justifiably afraid to fight their cases with or without a lawyer. For example, though the state law at issue in Cox has now changed as a result of our litigation, the law at the time allowed the government to recover its own attorneys’ fees from people who fought to regain their seized property and lost. But if they won, the state didn’t have to pay for the property owners’ attorneys’ fees. This meant that whatever the outcome of the case, many property owners would lose money if they dared to fight for their rights in court.

Or consider that police in Tenaha, Texas, spent years seizing property from Black and Latinx people traveling through town, threatening the travelers that if they did not turn over their cash and disclaim their rights to it, they would be arrested on money laundering charges and, in some instances, have their children taken by child protective services. 

All of this means that Timbs — bolstered by a robust Excessive Fines Clause we have yet to establish — could only restrain civil asset forfeiture, case by case, if property owners fight back in court. So long as these barriers to fighting civil forfeiture cases exist, a back-end solution is simply not enough.

There is potential, though, for a solution before the asset seizure takes place.

One of the most pernicious parts of many civil asset forfeiture laws is the profit motive baked into them. In too many states, police and prosecutors get to keep a lot of the money that they bring in through forfeiture. This creates a perverse incentive for law enforcement to make decisions that maximize their profits instead of maximizing public safety. In other words, policing for profit. This self-interest, in our view, violates the Due Process Clause of the 14th Amendment and therefore renders such arrangements susceptible to wholesale invalidation.

Getting civil forfeiture laws struck down on this basis and preventing people from unjustly losing their property in the first place would be a major step towards eliminating or seriously curtailing the abusive use of civil asset forfeiture. In Marshall v. Jerrico, the U.S. Supreme Court recognized that procedural due process imposes a limit on “scheme[s] injecting a personal interest, financial or otherwise, into the [law] enforcement process.”

The court stated that such schemes in some contexts “raise serious constitutional questions.” The court identified three factors to consider when someone alleges that a law enforcement official’s financial interest in enforcement violates the Constitution. First, whether the official stands to profit economically from vigorous enforcement. Second, whether the enforcing agent is financially dependent on the maintenance of a high level of penalties. And third, whether the law enforcement agency's budget is so dependent upon this source of income that officials have a direct financial incentive to increase enforcement efforts. Many civil asset forfeiture laws suffer from all three defects and are therefore constitutionally suspect, as we successfully argued in Cox.

So, while Timbs is far from a fatal blow to this outrageous practice, it can serve as a jumping off point for our much broader efforts to eliminate civil asset forfeiture.

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8247012 https://www.aclu.org/blog/criminal-law-reform/reforming-police-practices/supreme-court-didnt-put-nail-civil-asset via http://www.rssmix.com/