#we have a fucking code name to say over the pa in case someone is sexually harassing you! manager AND security will show up!!

[silverislander]

i've been thinking a lot recently abt how different my current job is to my first job and how much more i like it and why, and it really just comes down to like. basic humanity. at the hardware store, it was a really intense "time to lean time to clean" mentality, we weren't allowed to chat with the other cashiers even during slow days, we couldn't get caught reading/drawing/goofing off while on cash, we weren't even allowed to leave the corral. at the supermarket, we're expected to take our time w the customers and talk to them. the managers and other departments come out when they're bored to come chat w us! i read the local paper during slow hours and draw in between customers, and its great! everyone is also just really nice and friendly which is fantastic, i can't name one person over there i don't get along with

and i happened to remember the first meeting i had to go to for the hardware store lmfao. i showed up in uniform bc there was no indication that it was a meeting instead of a regular shift, we were basically told to go stock the shelves/face items for an hour (? still not sure why. they did this to all of us and it did Not need to be done) and while we were paid for that time i was NOT trained for it, so when customers came up and asked like "hey wheres the plumbing section" i had to go "um. i don't know :) let's go find someone else" and had no way to deal with it when they inevitably got really fucking mad w me for not being able to help them

and then when the meeting finally actually started, it opened w the manager going "ok i heard some of you had some things you wanted to discuss!" and a couple of the other cashiers reading off a list of issues they wanted to address. none of which were actually addressed. it was shit like "when you guys come down to customer service and immediately disregard the policies we've just explained, it makes us look like the bad guys and gets us treated very poorly by future customers" "ok well are we supposed do about that :)"/"you need to give us our breaks on time. if managers have to be in charge of telling us when we're allowed to go on break, they need to make sure they're not hours late when doing that" "well we're really busy so sometimes we forget but i guess we'll try :)"

... yeah. if i had been a little bit smarter at the time, i would have realized 2wks in that this was a baby union, we were being exploited and i was abt to have the shittiest fucking summer lmao

#this is a bit of a long pointless post but i was thinkin abt it the other day and just laughing #like... dude. how did i not see that as an insane red flag #those are all issues that continued throughout the summer btw :) none of it ever got fixed we were all miserable #they also had a rule that if you saw someone stealing you were supposed to CHASE THEM and i mentally checked out of that job right there #i am not going to put myself in danger over a fucking power drill or a garden light. bye #like. if someone is stealing they can just fucking have it. i hate it here anyway idc if i get fired for it #levi.txt #like seriously i am So much happier at the grocery store. this is worlds better #theyre both minimum wage theyre basically the same job (cashier) but its not even comparable #i feel like a person. i dont dread going into work. i feel like if anything happened the other employees would have my back #and so would the managers! #we have a fucking code name to say over the pa in case someone is sexually harassing you! manager AND security will show up!! #and you can LEAVE THE CASH to go calm down and take a breather when that happens!! #at the hardware store it was just. if you want to radio a supervisor abt it you can try but it might take them 15mins. if they show up #in the meantime you cant make that person leave you alone. and theyre going to know exactly who you called and why #also just on a personal note. grocery store is doing wonders for my social anxiety. its like a vr simulation for social interactions #you effectively cant fuck up the interaction too bad people will at most think youre kind of funny and then move on w their day

[anightflower]

Come and Find Me

Chapter 3: Ring, Ring!

Things are heating up my loves! 

Spencer Reid x Reader 

Warnings: Mentions of Violence, swearing

Masterlist here

“Breaking news. After countless weeks of Quantico in fear, the murderer of five innocent women has been caught. Andrew Curtis, age 29 has been accused of first degree murder and will face trial in these upcoming weeks. Curtis was caught before laying his hands on his 6th victim, 24 year old Emily Bloise-”

You groaned, awakening to the sound of the TV blasting the news. You didn’t even remember turning it on before going to bed last night. Hell, you don’t even remember falling asleep. You pulled the blankets over your head to block out the noise, as you shifted your legs, you heard a jingling of chains and became aware of the cold clasped around your ankle.

Your body jolted fully awake and you shot up as everything came crashing back to you. You hadn’t been able to sleep last night, you were too nervous for your presentation tomorrow. You were meeting with the one and only Lila Archer. She had gotten word of your design company and was so impressed with your work, she had contacted you to meet with her to discuss designing her vacation “workspace” home in Florida. This was your first celebrity job that would most certainly put you in the big leagues if you got it right or put you six feet under if she hated it. So needless to say your brain would not shut down for the night. 

You had given up on the idea of falling asleep on the rock hard bed the hotel had provided you. Instead you had thrown on some shorts and one of Spencer’s oversized t-shirts you had stolen from him and made your way to get some snacks from the convenience store that was just up the block from your hotel. 

You cautiously made your way up the street, pepper spray in hand. It was 3am and you were no idiot. You were still haunted by the Andrew Curtis case, and you knew deep down so was Spencer. He had gotten you new pepper spray, a pocket knife, and a keychain alarm after the case. He made you promise to carry it everywhere you went and you had held to that promise. It was the haunted look in his eyes that had bothered you the most. 

The bell on the door let at a shrill ring as you entered the store. You gave a small smile and a wave to the man behind the register which he returned. It looked like you were his first customer in a while. 

You wondered the aisles waiting for a snack to catch your eye, when the bell rang again signaling that someone else had entered. You didn’t really pay much attention to it, as you were focused on your very important task at hand; salty or sweet. 

That’s when you caught movement out of the corner of your eye. It was a male silhouette. You struggled to make out any of his features. He had his hood up, with a ball cap pulled low to block his face. Yet even without seeing them, you could still feel his eyes on you. 

Ice went down your spine. Something was not right about this, and you always trusted your instincts. Grabbing a random bag of chips and some chocolate covered pretzels you walked quickly over to the register. You could feel the hooded guy’s eyes burning into you even as you handed your money over to the cashier. 

The cashier didn’t seem to pick up on your discomfort and took his merry time with your purchase. You rushed out of there as soon as he handed you your change and bag. 

You had the urge to call Spencer, but you didn’t want to wake him up if you were just being paranoid, he hardly got enough sleep as it was.

 Glancing over your shoulder, you realized there was no one behind you. You slowed down a bit and caught your breath, chastising yourself for letting your fear get the best of you.

That's when you felt a muscular arm encircle your waste. You began to thrash and scream, but a cloth was thrust over your mouth and with one inhale, you were met with darkness.

And now you were here; a dingy little room with soundproof walls and chains on your ankles.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You whispered glancing around. Your fear doubled when your eyes landed on the small TV near the foot of your bed. On it was reruns of the news footage for the Andrew Curtis case. The news footage recapturing every horrific detail. 

You got out of the bed slowly, trying to figure out how to move with the chains around your ankles, and began to take stock of anything that could be made a weapon, but the room did not have much. You paused when you realized this room held details that looked like they were taken right from your home. 

The gray and white duvet was exactly like the one you had on your bed in your apartment, it’s complex design hard to miss. The lamp on the bedside table, which was unfortunately glued down, was the exact replica of the one you had found while thrifting. How this person managed to get a similar one, you had no idea. You shivered when you realized there were cameras all over the room. One in each corner of the room, one on top of the TV and one glued to the bedside table. 

You slowly made your way towards a curtain blocking off something. You took a deep breath and ripped it open, only to find a tiny bathroom with a toilet, sink, and a door. You rushed to the door and attempted to open it. The doorknob rattled, it was locked.

 A voice boomed from a PA system above. “Aw my darling, you’re awake!” The voice was clearly distorted to sound deeper. You nearly jumped out of your skin. “I’m sorry your quarters aren’t that nice, but don’t worry, after we win the game, you and I are going to go someplace where you’ll have everything you’ve ever desired.”

“Who the hell are you?” You growled, your head whipping back and forth to see if there was anyone in the room. “Someone who cares very much about you. Someone who’s been in the shadows waiting for you for a long time.”

“Why don’t you come out and show your face instead of hiding behind a little PA voice system? Only a coward hides in the shadows.” You growled trying to seem unafraid, but your body trembled. 

“Oh no my sweet, there is a game afoot and as tempted as I am to reveal myself, I have something better in mind and I can’t have you ruining it.” He purred.

“Why the fuck am I here?” 

“Because darling, I had to open your eyes. You’ve been blinded by awe for your Doctor and you need to see the truth! He doesn’t deserve you, he can’t give you what I can! He leaves you so often, discarding you like a broken toy, only to return later to pick up the pieces.” The voice hissed.

If you weren’t so terrified you would have laughed in the man’s face. “You’re wrong. Spencer is the best thing that has ever happened to me.” You argued. 

“You’re a love-struck blind bitch who can’t see the truth.” The voice snarled. “He took so much away from me and I won't let him take you away too. He disgusts me. Stumbling around spewing bullshit and everyone regards him as a God. Guess I am the devil who has to show him the truth.”

________________________________________________________________

Reid glanced around your room, he hated how nothing seemed out of place. Part of him wished it was ransacked so he could find a clue as to who the unsub was, so he could see wrath or vengeance or some sort of motive, but there was nothing. 

Instead he just saw you everywhere. You liked to joke that your room was organized chaos. You had a large calendar above your cream-colored desk with important dates and meetings on it, color coded by importance, yet your desk had your design plans and pencils strewn about it.  Pictures of you and Spencer were taped up precariously around the calendar. Cliché photo-booth pictures that you had begged Spencer for, silly selfies you had taken of the two of you, and some pictures you had snuck of Spencer when he wasn’t looking.

Spencer ripped his gaze away as his heart shattered. He instead dragged his gaze around from that glancing at your bookshelves nearby. Design, fantasy, and sci-fi books were strewn all about the shelves. Spencer dragged his hand along the spines, remembering how you had teasingly refused to read any of Spencer’s “real-world” books. “The real world is too boring, I need my escapism and magic.” You said, sticking your tongue out at him as you had gone to the adult fantasy section of your favorite bookstore. Spencer had followed you, eager to explain the science magic tricks he knew.

Spencer shook his head, he needed to focus, yet every part of your room held a precious memory. He made his way to your bed, smoothing out the ornate pattern of your gray and white duvet. Your bed was made, each fluffy blanket folded and decorative pillow in place. 

The thing that truly hit Spencer was the lone stuffed animal that sat on the bed. It was a chubby bumblebee stuffed animal. Spencer had surprised you with it, after he witnessed you squeal in delight at it through a storefront window. You had claimed it was your most prized possession and that he would be your snuggle buddy when Spencer was away on cases.

Emily popped her head in through the door. “Hey Reid, any luck? I didn’t find anything.” 

Spencer glanced up at her. “No, everything looks normal. Not a damn thing out of place.” 

“Who’s that you’re holding?” Emily asked gently. 

“Reid. (Y/N) named him that, he would be by her side when I was away. (Y/N) joked that he protected her while I was away. A lot of good he did for her.” Spencer grumbled, shoving the bee back onto the bed. 

That’s when it caught his eye. The empty picture frame. The one that usually held the photo of you and Spencer, the one that had been mutilated and sent to him in a Curtis-like box. 

Spencer observed the frame, turning it this way and that. He heard the tiniest rustling sound of something moving within the frame. He opened the back of it and a folded up piece of paper fell out. 

Emily rushed to Spencer’s side to see what it said. Spencer slowly reached to pick up the paper and opened it.

Good job Doctor! You found something. Hopefully you find her on time! Ring, ring!

Emily looked at Spencer confused. “Ring, ring?” As if on cue Spencer’s phone began to ring. “What’s up, Garcia?” Spencer asked urgently.

“You need to get back to base, now.” Garcia sounded like she was near tears.

________________________________________________________________

You tried to tear your eyes away from the screen, but you couldn’t. The news reruns had turned into home videos that Curtis had made. You remember how Reid had explained that they had found the camera Andrew Curtis had used, but no physical films had been found. “Like they had disappeared.” He had said.

 It had driven him and his team nuts because Curtis had worked alone, so who could have taken the film?

“Aren’t they beautiful darling?” The voice crackled through the PA. “Drew and I put so much work into them. It’s a work of art that Picasso would envy.”

“It’s perverse and disgusting, and it proves how truly sick you and Curtis are!.” You yelled, holding back a sob.

“Yet, part of you can’t bear to look away can you? Have you noticed yet?” He purred. 

You didn’t answer, tears flowed down your cheeks. 

He chuckled at your silence.

 “Oh you have, haven’t you? I bet you thought it was a sick coincidence that they looked like you, huh?” He mocked. “Drew told me all about the haunted looks in your Doctor’s eyes. How weak your Doctor was, how your Doctor could never find them in time. They were always dead before they got there.”

“Spencer worked his ass off to catch Curtis. He managed to stop him and he saved so many more lives than what Andrew Curtis took. Spencer is not weak for not getting there in time. Curtis is sick for killing those girls in the first place!” You snarled through your tears. 

“Ah, ah, ah darling. Drew is not a sick man, he’s a hero. He was like the big brother I never had, he protected me, he made sure even when he was caught I was not. Nobody would know I was even involved with him, so I could achieve my goal of having you- of putting that ridiculous Doctor in his place.”

You remained silent, your body trembling at his confession. Whoever this man was he had worked with Andrew Curtis and he had done it just to get you.

“Every girl was a mere tool to prepare me for when I got my hands on you. Drew told me my time would come. Even when he was caught, we wrote letters back and forth, we had a code you see. Nobody really trusts communication between a prior serial killer and innocent boy, they’ll corrupt you apparently. But we found a way around those who separated us. You see, Drew, my guide, my  brilliant mentor, the man who taught me so many things, was right, now I have you right in my hands.” 

“What are you going to do?” You asked terrified.

“Play a game.” You could hear the smile in the man’s voice.

________________________________________________________________

TAGLIST:

@andiebeaword @haylaansmi​ @parkastoria @possessedjoker @amronsparty@generaltheoristexpert @sierraraeck @coniumalces @tamedbyafox@anotherr-fine-mess @adoregin @rainsong01 @canyonnmoonn  @mggshoe @boxofsparklingmuses @richardpapensmuse @deanlenaz​ @rainsong01@goldentournesol @annesauriol @itsametaphorbriansblog@secretpickleprofessordean @shameleswhorehourstm @stepsofthefbi​ @iifloweringnightsii @mggsprettygirl​ @bravegirl221​ @messyhairday-me​ @n1ghtsh4d3-67​ @abbeypaw7​ @findmedontlooseme@hiiwouldlikesomesleepplease @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @thatsonezesty13

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #anightflowerwrites #anightflower writes #anightflowermasterlist

[archadianskies]

Whumptober Day 6

“Get it Out” + No More + “Stop, please” 

Whumptober Masterlist | 06/31 of RK900 short stories ↳ on Ao3

Tags: Medical Procedures × Medical Trauma × Non-Consensual Body Modification × Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human) × Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings × Gun Violence × Android Gore (Detroit: Become Human) × Good Parent Hank Anderson × Hostage Situations × Torture × Medical Torture × Medical Experimentation

As far as kidnappings and torture confessions go, this one’s the most confusing- it’s him and the tincan versus a failed mad scientist and his nephew.

“One of you will give up Kamski to us and we don’t care who.”

“Whom.” Tincan corrects, brow as cocky as his British accent. “We don’t care whom.” The nephew snarls and swings the bat solidly at the android’s head, and it connects with a loud smack. Androids don’t feel pain, why the fuck bother? He rolls his eyes. 

“You know this is a fucking waste of time, right?” Gavin scoffs. 

“You are Kamski’s cousin.” The mad scientist points a large syringe at him, the snarl seemingly a family trait as it twists his lips. He looks like he was on the receiving end of a beating not too long ago and Gavin should know this, why the fuck does he look so familiar?

“I haven’t spoken to Kamski since our parents died fourteen years ago, so fuck you.” Gavin drawls. It’s a half truth. The bridge he burned between them is still in the process of being painstakingly rebuilt and if he’s being really truly honest with himself, it’s him who needs to do the rebuilding entirely. It’s not public knowledge, though, that he’s trying to reconnect.

“That just leaves this one.” He points at the RK900 and the nephew grins. 

“We know you’re connected to Kamski for sure. His little doll worked on you herself when you were raised from the dead.”

“Elijah Kamski’s villa location is public knowledge.” Ronan says patiently. “That he has returned to CyberLife is also public knowledge. I haven’t the slightest clue why you’ve gone to all the trouble of inconveniencing us.”

“We need the access code to get us into Kamski’s office floor at CyberLife Tower. Where the RT600 does her work.” Mad scientist growls, and really, Gavin should know him. Even if he’s hard to identify with the bandages and purple-y yellowy blotchy bruising. 

“Well I’m doubly out because I have zero to do with CyberLife.” He drawls, slumping as far as he can on the chair he’s been tied to. There’s no ropes tying Ronan to his chair- no one’s stupid enough to try and restrain an RK900 with rope but there’s wire instead, wire with an electric current running through it.

“We will deal with you later!” Backhand, hurts double because the hand that dealt it is in a plaster cast. Fuck. 

“RK900.” The nephew seems almost giddy. “We have ways of making you talk.”

“Physical torture will not work on me, an android’s physiology is different.” Ronan says evenly, calmly, even though there’s blue running from his nose and the corner of his right eye where the bat made contact earlier. 

“They can’t feel pain, oh my god.” Gavin taps his foot impatiently. Mad scientist smiles and it’s a creepy twist of his mouth, upper lip swollen from a cut.

“Is that what you think, Detective Reed? That they can’t feel pain?” He taps tincan’s LED. “This one is deviant. Deviants feel pain, don’t you know? Their programming’s all muddled. They believe emotions and sensations are real, and no longer just data.”

“It’s not the same, you’re both correct.” Nephew nods. “It’s not like, say, cutting a human-” He moves fast and the knife slices into his upper arm and the yelp escapes his mouth before he can process what’s happened. 

“The method has to be different, because they’re built differently from us. Biomimicry, yes, but not a perfect copy.” Mad scientist taps the turkey-baster sized syringe rhythmically against his palm. “I discovered a lot during my experiments on the deviants who came to me. I’ve perfected quite the method of extracting information with pain.”

Zlatko and Alexei Andronikov. The names pop up in his head as he finally recognises them. The House of Horrors case. No body was found despite there being evidence of severe human injury taking place out in the front yard. Nephew was suspected of running a black market ops for android parts though nothing could be pinned to him. The puzzle pieces fall into place; they want CyberLife’s tech and not just any tech- they want Eli’s special super secret tech. Barbie bot’s tech. 

“You see this?” Zlatko waves the fat syringe in front of Ronan’s face and when Gavin looks, when he really looks, he swears there’s things inside the liquid. Moving things. “This is how I make you talk.”

“Detective Reed, come watch the show!” Alexei laughs, gripping the back of his chair and angling him so he has a perfect view of the android. “They’re starving.” Just the tone of his voice, coupled with the little black wriggling things in the syringe manage to drop ice down his spine. Even the tincan looks mildly affected, and he knows it takes a lot to make him look mildly affected. 

The knife is still stained with his blood, and it smudges red on all that white as Alexei cuts Ronan’s uniform jacket and shirt off. A cable is jammed none too gently into his nape and Ronan frowns, LED swirling yellow.

“Do not.” A warning in his tone.

“You don’t get to give the orders.” Zlatko laughs, patting his head patronisingly. He taps away on a tablet and Ronan’s body seizes up. Gavin feels disgust coat his tongue like a bitter film. It’s not...right. It feels like the tincan’s being violated. Ronan winces, tilting his head this way and that. 

“Get out.” He hisses, gritting his teeth. 

“Ah, there we are.” There’s a hiss and the tincan’s stomach just...opens up. A hatch slides open and Gavin’s looking right into him, into a cavern of glowing blues and tubes and wires and a big round ring pulsing like a heartbeat. Belatedly he realises this is why Connor was winded when he punched him in the stomach what feels like a lifetime ago in the breakroom. He didn’t punch his stomach, he punched his heart-thing.

“Last chance, RK900.” Alexei taunts in a sing-song voice. “You have security clearance because of your personal connection to the RT600. What’s the code to the office? They’re going to eat you up otherwise, and you’ll be begging for mercy.”

“Hey-” Gavin feels sweat dotting his brow, “hey what the fuck is happening here?”

“These are reprogrammed nanites.” Zlatko waves the syringe in his face and yeah, definitely definitely wriggly things in there. “They’re used in nano-surgery for remote microscopic procedures when not even androids can manage such a small scale.”

“Only these ones have been programmed to destroy anything with an electric current by chewing through it.” Alexei grins and Gavin feels his heart drop into his stomach. That’s all of Ronan. 

“So. One last time, RK900.” Zlatko says patiently, smoothing his hair back like one might pet a dog. “Access code to Kamski’s office?”

Ronan’s LED blinks red for a fraction of a second but there’s no waver in his voice. “No.”

“Don’t say we didn’t give you a chance.” The glowing ring is pulled out with a sickening wet pop, the syringe goes in, and Gavin watches as the plunger is pushed and the clear liquid with the black wriggly things disappears into Ronan’s body. Syringe empty, Zlatko tosses it aside before jamming the pulsing heart-thing back into him. There’s a pause where nothing happens and Gavin thinks it’s a fluke, it’s a bluff.

And then Ronan screams. 

“NO! GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT!” He’s never heard him scream it’s not- it sounds so human and not human at the same time. It sounds like someone screaming over a PA system: too loud and slightly static-y. His LED burns like a brand at his temple and he looks- he looks like he’s in agony and Gavin’s trying not to think of those tiny tiny wriggly things crawling inside- oh fuck- fuck he’s going to be sick oh fuck-

“STOP, PLEASE! NO MORE! GET IT OUT!”

“The code! Give us the code!” Zlatko yells and Ronan’s entire body is thrashing against the electric wire, damaging himself further and he’s wrong, he realises, he’s been wrong the whole time, fuck they can feel pain, they can feel-

“Leave him alone!” Gavin shouts, sick to his stomach, gagging, because honest to god he can- he can see the wriggly things in his tubing he can see them them like tiny baby spiders from hell or demon tadpoles or- turning his head he vomits and he’s dizzy with nausea and Ronan’s still screaming, he’s screaming and begging and- and-

“DETROIT POLICE!” The door slams open and gunshots dispatch the two fuckers who crumple to the floor like cut puppets. “Oh my god-” 

Hank and the other tincan to the rescue. 

“Uh-” he swallows dryly and his mouth tastes horrid, “nanites. They put nanites inside.”

Connor’s face turns into a mask of horror as he grips his brother’s shoulders. “Ronan! Ronan you have to go into emergency shutdown! We have to get you to CyberLife!”

Ronan looks up at Connor and there’s tears streaming down his face, LED so bright Gavin thinks he can hear it emitting a high-pitched whine. “It hurts it hurts Connor it hurts so much I can’t- it’s overriding everything, I can’t control anything I-” Connor presses two fingers to his brother’s LED and then a moment later Ronan slumps unconscious. 

“Remote for the wire’s in Alexei’s pocket.” Gavin tries to gesture with his head. Hank picks up the knife from the floor as Connor digs through Alexei’s pockets, cutting him free from the chair.

“You alright?” He asks gruffly and Gavin Reed is far from alright.

“Uh, yeah.” Fucking liar. 

“Stay here. Chen’s coming with Miller. Allen’s cavalry is securing the site.” Hank gestures awkwardly as Gavin wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. There’s blood smeared there. Huh. 

“Yeah yeah.” God why can’t he behave like a normal person? Hank gives him a look he can’t quite decipher, before he follows Connor out as the tincan carries his unconscious brother away. 

Gavin looks at the syringe on the floor and well, his stomach’s already empty but he gags again anyway because all he can think of, all he can see, all he can hear, is Ronan screaming and screaming and screaming with those things wriggling inside of him and it’s something straight out of a horror film and he’s just never going to sleep again is he?

*~*~* 

Ronan thinks he can still feel them, the squirming, the wriggling in his tubing as they gnawed on whatever they could latch onto. They’re not there anymore, he’s run a full system diagnostic eighty-five times now, and each one has come back all clear. He can still feel them though, somehow. He must be going mad.

“I’m so sorry.” Chloe looks mournful as she sits by his side, gently fussing with his hair. It feels completely different from the patronising way Zlatko had touched him, like one might pat an animal instead of the tender, soothing way Chloe’s fingers card through the strands. “They were after me, and they tried to use you to get to me.”

“I’d never let it happen, I’d never betray you like that, ever.” He spits, the anger raising his stress levels. Chloe’s expression is pained as she wraps her arms around him, pressing a kiss to his LED.

“I know, Ronan. I know, sweet thing.” She pulls away, managing a soft smile. “Your brother’s about to break down this door if I don’t let him in within the next ninety seconds, so I best unlock it.”

It’s true- Connor bolts inside the moment the door slides open just enough to fit him in. He latches onto him, arms squeezing tightly and Ronan feels his stress levels plummet to zero.

“Hello.” Closing his eyes, he tucks his head in the crook of his shoulder and clutches the back of Connor’s jacket tightly

“Hi.” Connor mumbles, voice muffled into his hair. “They’re dead and SWAT unit 32 took care of their base. They’ll never hurt anyone ever again- not them, nor their lackeys.”

“Good.” Ronan says simply, tugging insistently until Connor crawls onto the hospital bed, shuffling to sit beside him so they’re pressed shoulder to thigh, right hand tangled with his left. He opens a communication channel and Connor sends wave after wave of affection and relief and it flushes out the trauma, the residue, the paranoia that those things are somehow still crawling inside. “Thank you for rescuing me.”

Connor smiles tiredly, bumping his head lightly against his. “Anytime, little brother.” 

#rk900 #gavin reed #hank anderson #connor rk800 #Detroit: Become Human #chloe rt600 #whumptober #annie writes: dbh

[if-the-crown-fits-translate-it]

Discord pt 93

[Date: 18/03, 05:45 PM GMT - 18/03, 06:29 PM GMT]

[Prior to the below conversation, Maxwell and the people from the server were discussing how the liquid from the cut-off bud from the previous day appears to be red to Maxwell, yet it had appeared as white in color to Marcus and the others after the bud was cut. The bud was also fairly large, about half the size of Maxwell’s thumb, and may have been one of the calendula marigolds, not the freesias. The flower petals can be around like a normal petal, but they’re still metal. The bud hadn’t wilted]

Maxwell: “so....

whats this about”

|[Little-K1ng: “I wish I hadn’t snapped at fetch like that… maybe when he comes back I can give him a proper apology”

Maxwell: “hm perhaps that would be good

family should get along”]|

Marcus: “.....

..we didn't want to worry you”

Jack the Observer: “that was the spoilered image from yesterday afternoon. Mona decided it would be beneficial not to let you know.

you know. seeing as it was rather uncharacteristic.”

donti (e): “... yea”

Marcus: “...seeing as you had already spoken ender”

Maxwell: “i...i dont remember saying that”

Jack the Observer: “i doubt it was actually you who said it.

much more likely it was some partial incarnation of Page.”

Marcus: “....it didn't sound like you”

Maxwell: “the fuck do you mean it didnt sound like me

I....”

Marcus: “i mean it didn't sound like you, Max”

Maxwell: “why didnt you tell me!”

Marcus: “we didn't want to worry you!”

Maxwell: “want me to worry?! about what! that Im gonna end up back with crown even if I dont wanna be! I already know that!”

donti (e): “heey hey they.. didnt want to worry you

everything else was already stressful..”

Marcus: “...”

Jack the Observer: “donti.

your goody goody nice-talk is not helpful here.”

Marcus: “max”

donti (e): “... alright.”

Marcus: “im sorry”

Maxwell: “.....

look i just

i hate being treated like a child

i mean

Its like the whole circlet argument all over again!”

Marcus: “....the

max?”

Maxwell: “what”

Marcus: “how do you

how do you know about that argument”

Maxwell: “I DONT KNOW OKAY”

Marcus: “max what else do you remember”

Maxwell: “IVE-- ive been remembering random things while forgetting others i cant tell anymore”

Marcus: “......

why didn't you... tell us?

how long”

Maxwell: “I just thought they were dreams or nightmares

i dont know....ever since the trial maybe?”

Marcus: “..

max”

Maxwell: “what...”

Marcus: “i'm sorry”

Maxwell: “FOR WHAT WHY CANT YOU JUST TELL ME”

Marcus: “everything

for everything okay!

i'm sorry we didn't tell you about the voice thing last night

i'm sorry fetch tried to lie about the buds in your hair!

i'm sorry that you and i got into that stupid argument and that we had to leave our family because i wouldnt tell you something!”

Maxwell: “I hate this....why does everyhting think they have to keep things from me”

Marcus: “I'm sorry”

Maxwell: “I aint a god damn kid....i havent been for a while....”

Marcus: “I know that Max

I know”

Maxwell: “.....you....”

Marcus: “....”

Maxwell: “marcus

stand in the light for a sec”

Marcus: “im sorry

what?”

Maxwell: “please please just stand in the sunlight for a moment”

Marcus: “max..?”

Maxwell: “.....I think I know why you've been so tired....”

Marcus: “stress?”

Maxwell: “no...

i...im sorry me getting made probably brought it on im so fucking sorry--”

Marcus: “..max?”

Maxwell: “the leaves”

Marcus: “the what”

Jack the Observer: “huh.

marcus is also growing a wreath.”

Maxwell: “the leaves have sprouted”

disks and the color red |Stars: “thats unfortunate”

Maxwell: “im sorry im sorry im so fucking sorry”

Jack the Observer: “interesting”

LLyr: “max, this isnt your fault”

Marcus: “i...”

donti (e): “heeeyy thats kinda rude guysss”

Marcus: “max why would this be your fault”

LLyr: “there’s no way you could have prevented or made this happen”

Jack the Observer: “[i whisper to dave] i wonder how much it will effect him, considering the circlet did little to nothing”

Maxwell: “but it happened after we started arguing after I upset you im so fucking sorry oh my god”

[donti (e): “heeeyy thats kinda rude guysss”]

LLyr: “thats just how they are :3″

emuhlee: “this isn't very pleasant :(”

donti (e): “yea.”

Marcus: “max it isn't your fault”

Maxwell: “but arent you in pain?!”

Marcus: “um

not..really?”

Jack the Observer: “well. it makes sense that the "happiness wreaths" grow off of negative emotions.”

Maxwell: “......what...”

Marcus: “i didn't even notice it happened”

Maxwell: “you...how--

syd screamed in pain I had headaches for days and even fetch is hurting...”

Marcus: “i dont... i don't know max

i don't have answers”

Jack the Observer: “oh, you're only partially immune”

Marcus: “immune???”

Jack the Observer: “should've guessed – you still lost your memories after all.”

Raeva: “It could be because you've spent much more time with Crown than the rest of them”

Jack the Observer: “the circlet only worked partially. of course this wreath only works partially as well.”

[Jack the Observer: “[i whisper to dave] i wonder how much it will effect him, considering the circlet did little to nothing”]

disks and the color red |Stars: “dunno. i still think he wont go with the rest of them though [he whispers back]”

Marcus: “.........”

Jack the Observer: “if that were the case, the circlets should have less effect on Prince and Baron as well

not to mention Countess.”

Marcus: “....oh that's your assumption...”

donti (e): “... they didnt need the laurels though”

Maxwell: “hm...”

Jack the Observer: “based on historical evidence, i would guess that Crown effects you less, in particular”

Marcus: “max...

max what are you humming?”

donti (e): “uh

Jack the Observer : “if you're taken again, remember morse code :)”

Maxwell: “....what...”

donti (e): “... didnt crown figure out the morse code?”

Marcus: “..hm..hm...”

donti (e): “he used it in an ask of his own?”

Raeva: “Now you're both humming?”

Marcus: “max how do you know that tune?”

Marcus: “you've never...

max?”

Maxwell: “......know that I'm with you the only way that I can.....”

Marcus: “....Until you're in my arms again....”

disks and the color red |Stars: “...interesting”

Maxwell: “.....remember me.....”

Marcus: “.....max”

Maxwell: “.....i dont know....

i cant tell whats my memories and whats....his”

Marcus: “....sometimes I can't either”

Maxwell: “I hate it....it hurts...”

Marcus: “...I'm sorry”

Maxwell: “its not you...I'm....Im happy I met you guys...”

Marcus: “i'm glad i met you too..”

Baroness: “Hello Page and Viscount. :)”

Marcus: “the real you”

Maxwell: “ugh god, fuck off baroness...”

Marcus: “what the fuck are you doing in here”

Maxwell: “we aint in the mood”

Maxwell: “okay wait how the fuck did you get into the god damn house”

Baroness: “I just thought I'd come by and see how things were growing. It looks like we're becoming a family again. :)”

[Maxwell: “okay wait how the fuck did you get into the god damn house”]

Baroness: “Hmm, i think the door was unlocked. Funny that. :)”

Maxwell: “what”

Maxwell: “oh....mona left it unlocked in case fetch came back...”

Marcus: “......”

emuhlee: “.... :(”

Baroness: “So, it looks like you're starting to bloom Viscount. Are you excited? :)”

Marcus: “.......”

Maxwell: “leave him alone you piece of shit

or else ill be the one biting at you”

Marcus: “..max”

Maxwell: “STOP CALLING HIM THAT”

Baroness: “Calling him what? his name? tell me, do you feel more like a Page or a Maxwell right now?”

Maxwell: “maxwell you dumb bitch”

Marcus: “.......”

Baroness: “Alright. I'm sure that will change soon. :)”

Marcus: “Pa- max don't antagonize her, please”

Maxwell: “you piece of shit you do anything to my family [deleted shortly afterwards] friends AND ILL KILL YOU”

donti (e): “heeey maxx chill

we should.. not do anything.. we will regret

haha

hi baroness”

Marcus: “...”

Baroness: “I'm not doing anything.

The bloom will happen and spring will come.

You can't stop the changing of the seasons. :)

donti (e): “very poetic.. thank you”

Baroness: “I'm just here to tend to the flowers. :)”

LLyr: “i mean with that logic winter will come eventually, won’t it?”

Maxwell: “no BUT I CAN SHOVE MY FIST DOWN YOUR THROAT”

Marcus: “Page- Max please stop yelling”

Maxwell: “.....”

donti (e): “hEYyyyYYYYyyyyyyyy heeeyyy everyone caaaallllmmmmm dooownnnn no need to yell”

[Maxwell: “no BUT I CAN SHOVE MY FIST DOWN YOUR THROAT”]

Baroness: “Page, Page, Page. Is that any way to speak to your family?”

Maxwell: “YOU AINT MY FAMILY YOU PIECE OF SHIT”

Void: “for someone so concerned with a happy family baroness is awfully good at sowing discord and unhappiness”

donti (e): “heyy heyy no need for sniping comments”

Marcus: “..not the time for puns, donti”

[Void: “for someone so concerned with a happy family baroness is awfully good at sowing discord and unhappiness”’

Baroness: “Sometimes you have to snip a few weeds for beautiful flowers to grow. :)”

Void: “hm. don't like that.”

[Maxwell: “YOU AINT MY FAMILY YOU PIECE OF SHIT]

Baroness: “:)”

Marcus: “.....”

#on:discord #by:maxwell #by:marcus #by:baroness #if the crown fits

[mimedusa-blog]

a low-profile extortion by the name of JANG YEONGMIN as decreed by Hydrus, presided over by MIDNIGHT and FALLACY  (@myeongchokrp )

some people go back to school to advance their careers. others go to career and skills workshops to get the promotions they want.

this isn’t any different.

medusa knows that murder can’t be all there is, and once she begins thinking about being told what to do – no matter how much she enjoys doing it – it often niggles at the back of her head like a centipede crawling into her ear and twisting around in her brain. as much as she loves her work, and as much as she’s proud of it, her father had larger plans for her. in a different world, perhaps her ambitions would align more with a perfectly acceptable position for a sociopath; like, say, a CEO. like all others, however, it seems she has to work her way from the bottom.

still, she takes instructions with a grain of salt and a healthy degree of interest. when she asked to be trained in this, she decided that she would excel in it, no matter who she had to kill – but this doesn’t involve that (unfortunately). it’s far more boring than she expected, but she won’t back out now, or ever. she still has her pride to uphold.

her supervisor, a senior extortionist going by ‘midnight’, eases her nerves before they go into the shop, saying it’s just like murder. no – no, hold on. it isn’t nerves. it’s boredom. no matter what information she gets from their backup hacker, ‘fallacy’, it just seems so boring. this is small fish, and she’s casting her net wide, but she supposes it’s better than nothing. one target at a time. maybe it’s cumulative.

she nods when midnight pats her on the back before they enter the small barbershop, located at a side street in yeongi. “just a good word?” she asks, raising an eyebrow and laughing a little, rolling her neck and her shoulders, taking it as a challenge. “how about a bonus?”

her senior probably says something, but it doesn’t quite register when she’s already walking away and pulling a new mask over her face; she also has some really nice shades on for the occasion (this time, it’s a face mask with the ‘uwu’ emoji on it. it’s cute, and goddamnit, if it’s a job, she might as well look presentable.) probably something about her finances. you don’t need more money, or something preposterous like that. how stupid. she always wants more money, and that’s the issue.

she steps inside the barbershop, even going “hello!” as if it’s a great day; as if she’s still obligated to be friendly. there’s only the two of them here now. behind her, she clicks the dial to a locked position and turns the sign to ‘closed’.

her target is a middle-aged man named jang yeongmin. his business isn’t too big, and he owns another apartment that he rents out to visitors. (it’s not doing well.) his barbershop is decent, but vacant on a wednesday afternoon. most appointments are closer to the weekend, and the middle of the week, during these hours, is quiet, with only the low thrum of the fan in the corner of the ceiling and the idle chatter of a small, indistinguishable TV behind the tall counter to keep their silence company. it stinks of hairspray and shaving cream. there are three security cameras in the establishment that run on a rudimentary closed system, and she hopes fallacy is as good at their job as they say they are.  

she expected to see a short, stout old man. instead, yeongmin is tall and middle-aged. he has the face of a rat, she notices, when he looks up from the TV. he freezes when he hears the lock click closed and she draws a gun. “hands up, buddy. c’mere and have a seat,” she instructs, cheery as ever, patting an aged leather chair in the middle of the row. there are three. he knows how to listens to instructions, it seems, when there’s a gun pointed at his face.

he walks over cautiously, saying, “i – i don’t know what you want from me, but –,”

god, even his voice is grating. she could kill him now if she wanted. if she could. she should. she’d be doing hydrus a favour. but, in a show of great restraint, she just lets him ramble on about how he has money, how he can pay her, etcetera etcetera. he’s still sitting down on the chair, and she keeps the gun pointed at him when she sharply interjects, “so how do you do this whole… shaving thing?” medusa heads to the nearby drawer. there’s some shaving cream, some old-fashioned razors meant for shaving. she takes out the set, the cream, and lays it out in front of the mirror, in front of him. “is this it?”

he looks confused, but nods. “wh-what…”

“you have a very annoying goatee.” with one hand, she takes the razor; with the other, she tucks her gun behind her back. that same free hand takes hold of his hair and pulls it back just enough for him to expose his neck and be able to look at his reflection. “and a very annoying voice.” she presses the blade to his adam’s apple; it bobs as his eyes water up.

“i have children!” he blurts out tearfully. his voice even trembles.

“i…don’t want them?” she answers right back, slightly confused. is he offering them? she isn’t usually in the business of killing those. they have more time to make mistakes, and they aren’t nearly as satisfying to kill. “look,” she continues, pulling her head back as if that’ll make it so that she doesn’t have to hear him crying when he does start to sob. she even lets go of his hair, but keeps the blade to his neck, and places her hand on his shoulder. just in case. “you owe hydrus a debt. i don’t know how stupid you have to be to do that, but you do, and you’re a fucking idiot, and we know that, right?”

oh, he’s really sobbing, now. it would be so. easy. to swipe the blade through his skin and muscle and windpipe right now. but he nods, like he can even hear her through his sniffling. “y—i – hic – d-don’t have en-n-nough to pa-ay th-is month – pl-please – oh g-ohu-ood –!”

oh my god. oh my god, he’s so annoying. is that the test? to see if she can withstand the job without killing anybody?

damn, that’s good.

“it’s not money we’re after,” she tries to say past all that, moving her hand to his hair again and pulling hard. “although…yeah, i heard you owe us. kinda have to grab the rest of what’s in your cashier after this, but – will you shut up?!” she presses the blade harder against his skin. he bleeds, but stops crying, seemingly trying to hold it behind a closed mouth. good enough. “look, someone who knows someone who knows someone knows that a certain police officer passed by here and blabbed about where they’re hitting us next. so, you need to tell me that, and y–,”

“the docks! the – fu-ohhuuhuhu – oh g-go-od, don’t kill me – god help me! – it’s the docks! w-warehouse… five or – or ten – or three – one of th-those!”

“and the code to your register! will you let me finish?! – actually,” she amends, “you better open it for me, so i know you won’t do anything even more stupid, like call the police.”

what he says isn’t lost on her. it’s not entirely useless, which is good for him, and she makes a mental note of it. he follows her instructions like a trembling, frightened old dog. for good measure and to motivate him further once the blade is off his neck, she takes out her gun and presses it against his back as they walk behind the counter.

someone laughs in the tv as the register dings open.

“and everything in your – i don’t know what you call it. the other money that’s not here that you keep, you know? you know what i’m talking about, right?”

he nods, bends down and opens the little cabinet under the register. there’s a fat stack of rubber-banded cash. she should know what it’s called, working for jieun’s little boutique now, but she doesn’t, and she won’t bother to. it’s money that shouldn’t be touched, and that’s all she knows, but she knows now that all shops have to have them. float, or sink, or something like that.

“put it in a bag.”

he does. it’s for the little cosmetics that not many people buy from a barbershop – hair wax, gel, 2-in-1 shampoos – and would rather buy from other local stores. she takes it from him and sighs a sigh of relief. finally.

medusa takes a step back and grins. not that he could see it. “now close your eyes and do the macarena.”

she takes another step back, and another away from the counter to move in front of it. the man is sobbing, now, and actually dancing the macarena, even singing it tearfully. she takes a video of it and lets him do the rest, walking back to the door slowly. when she opens it, his eyes dare flutter open, and his arms stop mid-raise, but she quickly shoots her gun at the ceiling and snaps, “did i tell you to stop, dickhead?”

he sobs harder and continues, absolutely butchering the song, even as she tucks the gun behind her back (it burns a little) and lets the door close. to the rest of the street, she’s walking out with just a bag and looking absolutely cute. as soon as she gets back in the car with midnight and fallacy, she’s greeted with laughter and praise.

“yeah, shit, i know, right?!” she laughs right back, finally letting it out and giving the bag to midnight, wheezing a little, having had to hold it in. “fuck, let’s get outta here.”

maybe this gig isn’t so bad, after all.

#so.low #mi:prompt2 #tw: mentions of violence

[veteran-shipper]

Voltron’s Anatomy

part 2 of ???

so i realize that doing all how-many-bajillion episodes of grey’s anatomy is an improbable task. i’ll probably be mixing and matching episodes because ain’t nobody got time for that, least of all me. plus, let’s be real. we were really only in it for Der and Mer’s Epic Love Story. 

alternatively titled: never air to breathe (never inbetweens).

Pidge slams her locker shut in frustration. “I have got to move out from my parents’ place,” she announces, yanking viciously at her shoelaces. 

“What’s up?” Hunk asks, his forehead creased with concern. 

“Nothing,” she says. “I’m just sick and tired of all the tension because my brother Matt has been MIA. It feels like I’ve been walking on eggshells ever since I moved back for residency. They’re being overprotective, and as much as I understand, I’m a god damn adult, and I can handle the shifts I signed on for. The fact that they also work here is literally my worst nightmare. I can’t believe I agreed to come back.” 

“Why don’t you move into my place, then?” Keith suggests, shrugging his white coat on. “I have the space.”

“I thought you were trying to sell it?” Hunk says, mildly surprised. “What changed?”

Keith shrugs. “I just never got around to it. Plus, I moved back here, didn’t I? Might as well keep it around and get some roommates. It’s practically a family heirloom at this point. What do you say? I’ll keep rent reasonable.”

“I’ll think about it,” Pidge says with a shrug. 

“Sure, just let me know whenever. I have two rooms up for grabs if you want in, too, Hunk,” Keith adds. 

“It would be nice to be in a full house again,” Hunk says wistfully. “I’ve basically been crashing on my uncle’s couch since moving here from Hawaii.” 

The three of them approach Altea for their assignments of the day. Altea’s eyes narrow. “Where’s Lance?” she asks. Keith shoves his hands in his coat pockets and shrugs. 

“Dr. Altea! Sorry to keep you waiting!” Lance skids to a stop, just barely keeping a tray of coffees from tipping over. “I brought you a coffee--mocha, soy, just the way you like it.” 

Altea looks slightly mollified as she plucks the coffee out of the tray. “Thank you, Lance, but next time, apologize by being on time,” she says dryly. “You’re on code team. Keith, take the trauma pager. Pidge, deliver the weekend lab results to their patients. Hunk, you’re on sutures.” She turns on her heels and starts to walk away. 

“Dr. Altea!” Lance says, stopping her in her tracks. “I was wondering if I could assist you in the OR today? I think I’m ready. You know, for a minor procedure or something like that.” 

“Hey! If he gets to cut, I want to cut, too!” Pidge says, elbowing Lance out of the way.

“Me too!” Keith interjects. 

Hunk gulps. “Yeah, I guess,” he adds lamely.

“Okay, stop.” Altea puts her hands on her hips, eyes blue steel. “Every intern wants a chance to perform their first surgery. But that’s not your job. Do you know what your job is? To make me happy. Do I look happy? No, because my interns aren’t doing the jobs I told them to do. Nobody gets to even touch a cadaver until I think you’re ready, understand?” 

“Yes ma’am,” the interns mumble collectively. 

“Now move!” Altea makes a shooing motion with her hands, and the interns scatter off to their various jobs. “Vrepit Sal’s Dead Baby Bike Race starts in six hours and I need my weekend labs run and my code team staffed!”

Shiro was idly tapping on his phone when he spots Keith pressing the button for the elevator. Pocketing his phone, he saunters as casually as he can until he’s within an arm’s length of Keith’s shoulder. “I didn’t know you rode a bike,” he says in Keith’s ear, trying for casual. 

“Doesn’t everyone?” Keith asks, not diverting his attention away from the ticker. 

“No, I mean, a motorbike--a motorcycle,” Shiro backtracks with an internal grimace. The elevator dings, signalling its arrival. Ah, saved by the bell, he thinks to himself. “I have one, too. Never expected Nevada to be such a good place to go for a late night ride.” 

Keith tries to suppress his smile as the elevator’s occupants file out. He and Shiro get on together and stand side by side as they wait for the doors to close. Shiro continues to ramble. “Now I have to like it here. I’m from Seattle. I’m not supposed to like how dry and deserted it is here. I have a thing for motorcycles,” he finishes lamely as the doors close and the serene elevator music starts up. 

“I’m not going out with you,” Keith says to break the monotony of the music.

“Did I ask you do go out with me?” Shiro mentally palms himself in the face. Yes you did, you idiot, he chastises himself. “Do you want to go out with me?”

“I’m not dating you,” Keith reiterates. “And I’m definitely not sleeping with you again. You’re my boss.” 

“I’m your boss’ boss,” Shiro corrects before he can help himself. Idiot! That makes nothing better, his inner monologue whacks him over the head. 

“Regardless, this is inappropriate,” Keith says firmly. “This is grounds for sexual harassment.”

 Shiro turns to face him. “I’m riding an elevator,” he says mildly. 

“Don’t come any closer,” Keith says, a flush riding high on his cheeks, clashing horribly with the orange scrubs. 

“Red’s a good closer on you,” Shiro says, and closes the gap between them, tangling one hand in Keith’s hair, dislodging the little pony tail, and wrapping the other around his waist. Keith flips their positions and pushes Shiro against the elevator wall, smashing his charts haphazardly between their chests as he fights to get closer to Shiro’s mouth. He reaches up to tug Shiro down by the back of his neck, biting gently on his bottom lip, gasping softly at the feel of the cool metal of the prosthetic sliding lower and playing with the waistband of his thin scrubs. 

Just as Shiro’s about to go for the full on ass grab, the elevator dings, and they hastily break apart, Keith’s files spilling onto the floor between the two of them. 

“Oh fuck,” Keith rasps, gathering up the files as quickly as he can and marching off to see his patients. Shiro’s gaze follows him, dazed and forlorn as nurses and other hospital staff file in, none the wiser.

Keith walks into a room filled with nurses and PAs rushing around, a hand absentmindedly on his bottom lip, mind a million floors away with Dr. Shirogane. 

“There you are!” A harried looking PA comes into his field of view. “We’ve got a rape victim. She came in with a GCS of six, BP eighty over sixty. Exam is significant for blunt head trauma, unequal breath sounds, right pupil is dilated. We think she ran right into the bike race,” he rattles off. “She’s ready for x-ray. You ready to roll?” 

Keith blankly surveys the room, taking in the blood on the body, the ruined shoes that haven’t yet been bagged, and--

“Hey!”

“Is that a penis?” Keith asks, peering into the kidney tray. It’s resting on ice, and definitely looking worse for wear. “Yeah/ Call ahead to CT. Let them know I’m coming. Load a portable monitor, and call Respiratory for a ventilator,” he orders, checking her eyes himself and her breathing tube. “I’ll do x-rays while I’m down there.”

The PA grunts in amusement. “Tough lady. Bit it right off. We found it in her mouth.”

“What a warrior,” Keith murmurs softly, checking her chart.

He takes responsibility over her and follows her from her scans into emergency surgery, where he and a couple of the less busy interns observe as Shirogane, Iverson, and Coran work to set her bones back in place and fix the internal bleeding. Shirogane lets out a low whistle as he works on setting her arm. “He really did a number on her. What is she? Five foot two, not even a hundred pounds?”

“Yeah, she’s going to spend a helluva time in recovery,” Coran says, jovial as always. “Really gave him a good walloping, though. Clearly a case of ‘You should see the other guy.’ I heard the rape kit came back negative.” 

“She bit his penis off,” Keith offers. “It was in a kidney dish when I went to go get her for scans.” 

The three attendings heads swivel to look at him, their hands never stopping their work. “What in tarnation?” Iverson says, incredulous. 

“Jesus,” Coran says. “Well, if she can fight off the infection, she can fight off anything.”

They start to close on the patient, and before Keith can slip out to round, he hears Iverson call his name. Or, more accurately, his “designated Intern number assigned by the one-and-only Coran.”

“Intern number 3!” Keith pauses. “I need you to stay with the penis until the police arrive. Chain of custody rules, and all,” he barks. 

Keith blanches. “Seriously?” he asks, looking at the small cooler they’d placed the severed body part in.

“That’s an order, intern!” Iverson says, pulling closed a stitch. Keith sighs and grabs the cooler before exiting. 

Over at the HUB, Pidge sorts through the labs while Lance toys with his pager and gloats about his assignment.

“Code team rocks,” he says with a smug grin. “One minute I get to shock a heart back to life, and the next minute I have my arms full of grateful daughters and sisters.”

Pidge stacks a lab report a little harder than necessary on top of her growing stack. “You know, I have an MD/PhD from Stanford, and I’m delivering patient labs. This is going to take me all day,” she says, annoyed.

Altea whisks by briskly. “Better get started then!” she says, sipping daintily at her mocha latte. “Lance, with me!” she says. “I need as many hands as I can find, and since you’re not doing anything, you’re going to help me wade through this disaster coming in.” Lance’s expression brightens and he hurries after her, pager beeping.

“Oh! Uh, I wasn’t complaining,” Pidge says weakly, grabbing her stack of labs and hurrying off. If she's fast enough, she decides, she might be able to put staples in someone’s wound.

Cooler in hand, Keith runs into the ER just in time to see multiple stretchers being brought in. “Keith!” Altea says. “Excellent timing! I need you to help Hunk with some suturing and debridement in beds four through 8! What is that?” she asks, pointing at the the cooler. 

“I’m babysitting a penis until the police get here,” Keith says, already moving towards bed four, where Hunk is dealing with a particularly rowdy bicyclist who didn’t seem particularly interested in staying for x-rays.

Along the way, he sees Shiro, sitting with his unconscious patient, flipping through her chart, though he chooses not to stop in favor of setting the cooler down and grabbing a suture kit. 

“Sir, I highly recommend that you stay for X-rays,” Hunk says, a firm hand on the bicyclist’s shoulder. 

“What? No! I need to get back to the race!”

“Sir, please,” Hunk says again. “You might have internal bleeding. I don’t feel comfortable taking those bike spokes out until you’ve had a thorough check up.”

His patient rolls his eyes. Then, he grits his teeth and, before Hunk and Keith can do any more than exclaim in alarm, grasps the bike spokes, pulling all four of them out with a grunt. “See?” he says, with a ta-dah wave of his hands. “No swooning, no fainting. I’m fine.”

Hunk shakes his head, holding a kidney tray for him to place the metal spikes. “Keith, this guy’s all yours. I’m going to move on to the next one.”

“Ah! Hunk!” Coran catches Hunk before he can check on the brain dead guy in bed 5. “Just the doctor I wanted to see! I’m going to be stuck in the OR all day today doing repairs, and I need someone I can rely on to check on my pre- and post-op patients. Can you do that for me?” 

“Uh, yes sir!” Hunk says.

“Oh, and one of them, Mr. Mackie, is a good friend of mine. Make sure you get him everything he needs.”

“Got it,” Hunk says, leaving Keith behind to deal with the victims of the race.

Keith sutures Impatient Biker Dude closed and is smoothing the bandage over the area when he opens his mouth to speak.

“Hey, you’ve got a really nice touch, and you are a rockin’ babe. Why don’t you let me take you out sometime?”

“Excuse me?” Keith raises an eyebrow but otherwise tries not to let his annoyance show and turns to grab his patient’s chart. “I don’t date my patients. If you insist on leaving, you’ll be doing so against the doctor’s orders, so you’ll have to sign this form saying that you understand the consequences.”

“Darling, I will do what ever you want,” he purrs, taking the form. “I have to get back to the race.”

“Look,” Keith tries again. “One CT scan. You’ll be in and out in thirty minutes.” 

“No can do, babe,” his patient says again, handing the form back. “I’ve got a race to finish.” He swings his legs over the side of the hospital bed and gets up. “There’s a party at the end, you know,” he says. “Maybe I’ll see you there?” 

Keith rolls his eyes and turns away, only to feel a hand grab him by the waist and spin him around. He feels his patient’s lips meet his and pull him into a deep lip lock, and he freezes, indignation bubbling up behind his rib cage. “What the fuck?” he demands once his patient lets him go. 

“One for luck,” he says with a jaunty wave and a wink. “You’ll be seeing me again soon.”

“For your sake, I hope you don’t!”

He whirls around, and accidentally makes eye contact with Shirogane, whose eyes look filled with hurt. Shiro gets up from his station near his comatose patient and intercepts Keith before he can get to Mr. Brain Dead in bed 5. With dismay, he watches as Lance and Altea start the next round of tests on him.

“What was that?” Shiro demands. “Are you kissing patients now?”

“For the record, he kissed me, and I definitely did not want to kiss that guy.” Keith tries to move onto bed 6, but Shiro blocks his way. “Oh come on! Dr. Shirogane, are you jealous? This is highly unprofessional.”

“I am not jealous!” The faint flush across the bridge of his nose bringing out his scar says otherwise. “Go out with me,” he says instead. 

“No! You’re my boss! It’s against the rules.” Keith signs off on the chart. “We had sex once and we made out in an elevator once. That’s not going to happen again.” Keith tries again to move to bed 6, wanting the conversation to end.

Lance and Altea are debating over what they should do with Brain Dead. 

“I think we should harvest his organs,” Altea says. 

“What?” Lance exclaims. “He has a family!”

“Great!” Altea says cheerily. “Find them, and get their consent.”

“What? No! Come on, he’s got six hours.”

“Okay, fine,” Altea says decisively. “We’ll let the family make the decision.”

Lance narrows his eyes. “You just want a harvest surgery.” 

“Don’t you?” Altea asks. 

“I--” Lance throws his hands up, conflicted.

“Dr. Shirogane!” Altea motions for Shiro to come take a look. 

“Just a minute!” he says normally, before lowering his voice again. “‘It’s against the rules?’ You don’t take me as a by-the-books kind of guy,” he says to Keith.

“Look, you’re an attending. I’m your intern. Unlike you, I still have something to prove. Now, I really need to get to Ms. Ho before she bleeds out.” Keith puts a hand on Shiro’s upper arm and pushes him towards Bed 5. “Go deal with Mr. Brain Dead.”

Pidge finishes with her lab deliveries just in time to watch as a car screeches into the front of the hospital, and a man stumble out of the driver’s side covered in blood from the waist down. She catches a nurse by the arm. “Get a stretcher--he’s hurt!” she orders, and motions two other nurses to come help her get him inside and onto the waiting stretcher. They get him hooked up to a heart rate monitor and a breathing tube before cutting him out of his clothes. “Oh my God!” she yelps, looking at the bloody mess of his groin. “Somebody call security!”

She ends up getting to observe the surgery that Iverson performs on the bloody John Doe. 

“Medicine’s a funny business,” he comments as he cauterizes a blood vessel. “One minute you get to save the life of someone who fought off an attack, and the next, you’re trying to save the life of the attacker. Intern, why aren’t we trying to reattached this penis?” he barks at Pidge.

“Teeth tear, but reattachments need clean cuts. If she’d taken a knife to his penis, he might still be able to save it, but since she bit it off, plus the digestive enzymes in the mouth, there’s no way he’s ever going to get to pee like a normal person again,” she says, trying to keep the smugness out of her voice.

“Hmm, a moment of silence for this poor guy,” Iverson says, rolling his eyes unsympathetically, cauterizing the final blood vessel. Pidge can’t help but agree. Good riddance. 

As Vrepit Sal’s Dead Baby Bike Race ends, so does the endless stream of injured bikers, and the interns finally get a chance to trudge wearily back to the locker rooms to freshen up and change into a fresh set of scrubs. 

“I need a bed,” Pidge moans, lying on a bench in the locker rooms wearing just her sports bra. “Or a drink and a massage. Or a drunken massage on a bed.” She sits up with groan and starts wrestling her scrub top back over her head.

“I lost five patients today on the code team,” Lance moans at his reflection. 

“Lance, ninety-five percent of code patients can’t be revived. They’re seriously dead before you even get there.” 

“What?” Lance exclaims. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“Because,” Pidge says loftily. “I’m Pidge, and you’re Lance.”

Hunk trudges in, looking somewhat disgruntled. “Mr. Mackie won’t stop hitting on me, and I don’t know how to tell him I’m not interested. He’s Coran’s VIP, for crying out loud.” He sits down heavily next to Pidge. “At least we found a match for him.” 

“Oh yeah? Who?” Lance asks, splashing water onto his face.

“Oh, just some brain dead guy from earlier. When I told him, he cried and then tried to ask me out again.”

“Nice!” Lance gives Hunk a fist bump. “That was Allura and my’s first patient together!”

“Allura? Since when did she start letting you call her Allura?”

“Oh, she hasn’t. I just call her that in my head.”

“A patient kissed me today,” Keith announces, moodily playing with the handle of the cooler. “I wish I’d shown him the severed penis just to freak him out, but I didn’t think about that until it was too late. Plus, I don’t think it would have stopped him.”

Hunk makes a noise of sympathy. Lance, ever the incorrigible romantic, asks, “And what did Shiro think of that?” 

“He asked me out again.” 

Pidge groans. “Men,” she says. “They think they can just get away with anything.”

Lance, Hunk, and Keith all make indignant noises. 

“I got to watch Iverson cauterize the penis of a rapist today,” she continues as if they hadn’t said anything. “Simultaneously the best and the worst thing I’ve seen today, and I had to endure twenty-seven patients’ family members hug me with joy.” 

“Aw come on!” Lance interjects. “I should’ve gotten that job! I love hugs!”

“Does that mean I’m finally going to get to not babysit a penis anymore?” Keith asks, perking up at the thought. 

“Keith, it’s 2AM. They’re not sending someone over at 2AM.”

Keith drops his head into his hands and groans. “Fuck me,” he mutters.

“I mean, since you asked so nicely,” Lance starts. Pidge sticks her foot out and trips him.

“Thanks, Pidge.”

“Any time, bud.”

When Keith passes by the unconscious patient again in the morning, Shiro is still there and he looks like he hasn’t slept. He has, however, moved to the HUB, where he can simultaneously keep an eye on the patient and work on charting on the computer. Keith sets the penis cooler down on the counter. “Have you been here all night?”

“Yeah.” Shiro barely spares him a glance, and he rubs at the scar across the bridge of his nose. “You know, I grew in a family of all boys. All brothers. I can’t imagine what it’s like to not have anyone waiting for me when I wake up.”

“I can,” Keith says. Shiro looks up at him then, and stands to go make himself a cup of coffee, eyes soft.

“So,” he says, coming back with two paper cups of the hospital’s cheap free brew. “We’re kissing, but we’re not dating?”

Keith made a sound of annoyance. “I knew this would come up,” he says, accepting one of the cups.

“Don’t get me wrong, I like the kissing. More kissing, any day, I say,” Shiro says. 

Keith rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his coffee. “You sound like Coran,” he teases.

“I just want to know if this is going to happen again in the future. If it is, I’m gonna need to carry around breath mints. Maybe a,” Shiro lowers his voice, “condom in my wallet?”

“Shut up,” Keith whispers back, finishing off his coffee. Together, they stare at the patient in silence. All the monitors start beeping at once, and Keith and Shiro immediately move into action, calling for nurses and equipment.

“Prepare for an emergency craniotomy!” Shiro yells at a nearby nurse, who nods. Together, they mobilize the hospital bed into the OR, and Keith waits anxiously outside until Shiro’s done, looking more worn than ever. 

“We had to leave the top of her skull flap off,” he tells Keith. “Until the swelling in her brain goes down.”

Keith sighs. “She’s not going to make it is she?” he asks. 

“She’ll be fine,” Shiro replies, with a soft smile. “Come on. You have rounds. Don’t forget your penis.”

Keith sighs, shooting the cooler a look of distaste. “I just want the damn police to show up already,” he says in annoyance, heading back toward the HUB to catch up on some charting.

As soon as he reaches the HUB, however, a nurse motions him over. “The police have arrived to take custody of the evidence,” she tells him pointing over to where two uniformed men stand.

“Oh sweet! Thanks, Nyma,” he says, making his way over to the cops standing near the water cooler. “Hello sirs, I’m Dr. Kogane. I hear you’re here to collect my penis?”

The two cops look distinctly uncomfortable for a split second, before one of them notices the cooler in Keith’s hand. “Oh! Yeah, you just need to sign a couple of forms, and we’ll be out of your hair,” he says.

Keith gladly takes the paperwork and fills it out, handing both the forms and the cooler over to the cops. He runs into Pidge and Hunk halfway through rounds and they both give him high fives when they realize he’s no longer holding onto the penis cooler any more.

“Hey, so about those rooms,” Pidge says. “I’m in.”

“Yeah, me too,” Hunk adds. “I think I’m ready to give up my uncle’s couch.”

“Oh okay, cool,” Keith says. “I just need to get a few copies of my key made for you guys, and then you can move in whenever.” 

Pidge and Hunk cheer loudly and get shushed by Mrs. Cobb in bed 9.

#sheith #voltron's anatomy #voltron #vld #grey's anatomy au #grey's anatomy #slow burn #fanfiction #allurance #multiship #everyone's going to sleep with everybody #let's be real #it's grey's anatomy

[vagrantblvrd]

Learn from the Sky (1/1)

Summary: Technically, the first time Michael gets kidnapped after moving to Los Santos is at the hands of the Fakes.

AO3

Michael's minding his business driving home from work and some dickhead hops into the passenger seat because the power locks on his car don't work and Michael's an idiot.

The guy's got perfect hair and a pleasant smile on his face while he points the gun in his hand at Michael's.

“Oh, I hope I'm not interrupting,“ he says, bright and cheery when he realizes Michael's on speakerphone with his mom.

She's reading some news article she found somewhere talking about the incredibly high crime rate in Los Santos as a not-so-subtle hint for him to move back home for a bit.

“Gotta go mom,” Michael says, careful not to make sudden movements and keeping his hands where the guy can see them. “I'll call you back later.”

“She's right, you know,” the guy says, unnervingly cheerful and perky for someone with a gun. “There are just loads of criminals just running around all willy nilly here.”

What the actual fuck?

“Wow, really?” Michael says, hands tightening on his steering wheel, wondering if maybe his mom has a point after all. “I hadn't realized.”

The guy hums, something that Michael suspects is a bastardized version of a pop hit, and gestures at the intersection coming up.

“Take a right here, please.”

Michael does as he's told, following directions until they end up somewhere in the industrial district. Warehouses with boarded up windows quietly rusting away. Goddamned dogs barking somewhere in the distance and Michael finally catches a glimpse of one of the freight trains he always hears but never sees.

“Oh, this is it,” the guy says, still smiling as he gestures at a building.

Michael pulls over to the curb and turns the car off, handing the guy the keys when he makes a little gimme motion with his hand, and gets out with the guy when he clears his throat pointedly.

“You're going to need your little kit,” the guy says, tipping his chin to Michael's bag in the backseat. “Things are kind of...messy inside.”

Michael looks at the building, just like all the other warehouses around here. Slanted roof and faded lettering. Busted streetlight out front that may or may not be deliberate. Couple of cars he can just see parked around back.

Like something out of a movie, the kind where some idiot goes to check a strange noise and gets brutally murdered for his trouble.

And this is where the dickhead wanted Michael to drive them, all cheerful and perky and Jesus fucking Christ.

Michael's mom is going to be so fucking impossible when he gets killed here and she gets to be all, “I warned him, but did he listen to me? Not one fucking bit and just look what happened!”

“You want to tell me what I'm getting into here?” Michael asks, wishing he hadn't taken his jacket off for the drive home with the way the temperature's dropped since the sun went down.

The guy hums again, something strained to it as he gestures for Michael to go first with a little wave of his gun.

“A little bit of this, a little bit of that,” he says, and Michael bites back a sigh because that probably wouldn't be smart in this situation, now would it.

They head around back and Michael glances toward the cars. One of them looks like it's been rolled a few time, sitting low on its suspension, broken windows, mangled bumpers, and missing fender. Sees sees the shattered windshield on one, cracks spider-webbing outward from a single point.

“Sniper,” the guy says, when he sees Michael looking. “Not the best really, bless their heart, but they tried.”

Michael's eyebrows go up because the spot the bullet hit -

“You'll have to meet ours sometime,” the guy says, something sharp to it. “He's much, much better.”

Michael doesn't know what to say to that - the implication that he might leave here alive - but from the amused twist to the guy's mouth, he notices.

“If you can keep a secret, that is,” he adds, and Michael, okay, Michael is tired and more than a little annoyed.

“Cross my heart and hope to die?” he asks, some bite to it that has the guy outright grinning at him, something appraising to the look he gives Michael.

“Ooh, feisty. We like that.”

Christ.

Thankfully the guy doesn't have any other creepy, cryptic things to say when they reach the door. Shots Michael a look before angling his body to keep Michael from seeing whatever the code is when he punches it in.

Stepping inside, Michael realizes someone's put a lot money into the place. That it isn't just another rundown warehouse from a bankrupt company wasting away out here.

The place is sectioned off, mechanic bays and some sort of workshop at the back. Racks and cases with weapons and God only knows what off to their left and rows of desks with computers and other equipment nearby.

Off to their right -

“Jesus Christ,” Michael mutters.

Someone's cleared the area for the handful of injured people he can see. Various injuries from what looks like broken bones to gunshot wounds.

There's someone else seeing to the injured, movements brisk and efficient and exhausted. A familiar enough sight, really.

More so, when he looks up and Michael fucking recognizes him. Fucking Phil from work who's transferring out of Los Santos at the end of the month to be close to his parents or some bullshit.

Nice guy. Quiet, keeps to himself for the most part. Showed Michael the ropes the first week before he got his assignment and honestly seemed...not boring, okay, just. Sure as hell not fucking this.

“He needed another pair of hands,” the guy says. “Mentioned you by name, which is pretty high praise coming from him.”

Michel slides a look at him, sees the exhaustion he's doing a damn good job of hiding himself. Strain to the smile he's been wearing like a mask this whole time.

“Sure,” Michael says, already stepping towards Phil and the injured he's treating. Figures he won't get shot in the back for doing what the guy brought him here to do, because talk about being counterproductive. “Coming from a guy who has pictures of his plants in his wallet, that means a lot to me.”

He hears the guy laugh behind him, but tunes it out when he gets to Phil who fills him in on what's going on. Leads him over to a kid trying to keep their blood inside where it belongs and looking annoyed at having been shot. (Fucking relatable, actually.)

“Try not to kill them,” Phil says, deadly serious as he claps a hand on Michael's shoulder and heads back to the bickering idiots.

Michael looks down at the kid who looks back. So very young and stupid, and sighs.

“Tell me where it hurts,” he says just to be an asshole, and gets to work.

It's ugly and messy and none of the people he treats complains. Just sit there and do what he asks, this same little light in their eyes. Stubborn fuckers every single one of them and that sticks in his head as he moves from one patient to the next.

Phil leaves sometime around midnight. Gives Michael a look, before the guy shuts the door after him and Michael -

He's past tired, well into exhausted and that's not good really.

The injured are either sleeping or resting quietly and the others just watch when the guy takes Michael over to an office of sorts.

There are model rockets and framed blueprints on the walls. A little table tucked into a corner with a model of the solar system on it -

“That's my orrery,” the guy says, odd little smile on his face when he looks at Michael. “A friend got it for me.”

Okay?

“Nice,” Michael says, because really, what do you say to that?

The guy's acting like there aren't people a few rooms away with gunshot wounds and other injuries. Like they clearly aren't criminals- like he didn't kidnap Michael.

Fucking model rockets, what the fuck?

“Michael Jones,” the guy says, and Michael's attention snaps back to him because he hadn't addressed Michael by name before now.

Must have gotten it from Phil, sure, but until now -

“I trust you understand that if you tell anyone about all this, well. It wouldn't be the best idea, you know.”

No fucking shit.

“I figured, yeah,” Michael says.

Doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that one out, and goddamn, he's so fucking tired to be thinking that.

“Can I go?” Michael asks, trying not to think about what happens if the guy says no.

Thinks Michael won't keep his mouth shut about this, might just run to the cops and spill what he knows – which, honestly isn't much, but he knows where this place is, and that -

“Yes,” the guy says, “but we'll be watching you.”

Michael stares at the guy for a long moment, and then snorts, because Jesus fucking Christ.

“You practice that in front of a mirror?” he asks, because what the hell, why not at this point really.

The guy stares at him for a beat, and then looks around as though there's anyone else in the damn office with them and asks, just above a whisper, “How did you know?”

Michael resists the urge to facepalm because no and lets the guy lead him back the way the way they came.

Stops Michael with a hand on his shoulder before he walks out of the building and hands him a fucking business card.

“Thank you,” he says, honest and sincere in a way that hurts to hear.

Michael swallows, eyes sliding away from his and shrugs.

“Yeah, well. Thanks for not killing me. Means a lot.”

The guy laughs and says, “Don't make me regret it!” and shuts the door in Michael's face.

Michael stares at the door, takes a few steps back and looks at the building. Rundown warehouse like all the others out here from the inside, whole lot of trouble on the inside.

========

Michael has no idea if Trevor ever told Ryan about kidnapping him way back when after B Team got a little fucked up dealing with a rival crew.

But the thing is, when they officially meet, Trevor gives no sign of ever having met Michael before, let along shoving a gun in his face, so  -

You know, maybe not.

Maybe it's some unspoken rule with these idiots? A social faux pas to bring up the fact that the guy shaking your hand and telling you how nice it is to finally meet you once actually kidnapped you? Who the fuck even knows with them.

Still, Michael thinks about telling Ryan when the idiot's getting so worked up about about a little incident that happened earlier that day that he's pacing. Long strides, breathing a little rough because he's still fucking healing and Michael knows reminding him that oh, hey, Los Santos isn't the safest city around won't help.

Not with Ryan telling Michael to take his safety more seriously. That he can't just open his door to every Tom, Dick, and wanted criminal in the city just because they happen to be shot or stabbed or otherwise fucked up, fuck's sake, Michael -

“Alright, asshole,” Michael says, stepping in front of Ryan who seems hellbent on wearing a groove in the floor of Michael's place, look at how much better he's doing and everything. “First of all, I've never done that, second of all - “

Ryan's looking at him with these eyes, all worried and scared because someone grabbed Michael after work.

Pulled a gun on him, hands shaking and terrified and desperate, made Michael drive to some rundown office building slated for demolition and his buddy who'd gotten into a fight with people he probably shouldn't have.

Pale and bleeding and so, so small despite the fact he probably had a foot Michael.

Couple of no-name criminals in a city that spits on people like them, and what was Michael supposed to do?

“Second of all,” Michael continues, anger bleeding out of him because he gets it, alright? He does. “Second of all, who do we both know who broke into my place to bleed all over my furniture?”

Ryan blinks, like he'd forgotten that bit. Opens his mouth like he's going to defend himself, use some lame excuse because he's an idiot and a dork and just real dumb for someone so smart. Or maybe, and the odds are actually decent on this one, use that as a reason why Michael should take the Fakes' offer of finding him a new place to live.

Somewhere with better security and blahblahblah like Michael hasn't already said yes. Isn't waiting for the paperwork to go through at work for his new promotion and working with Jack and Gavin on finding a place he can afford with the pay raise when it kicks in that they can all agree on. That won't leave Michael feeling indebted to anyone, even if they won't see it that way.

“I don't know!” Ryan says,  throwing his hands in the air like he's wracking his brain trying to remember if he's heard anything about some other asshole without a working understanding of personal boundaries and shit. Frowns, eyes narrowing. “Was it Gavin?”

That's actually a good guess. (Accurate as hell, too, but Michael promised Gavin not to rat him out to Ryan on that one, so.)

“I'm talking about you, you dumbass,” Michael says, lips twitching at the look of sudden realization on Ryan's face.

“...Oh.”

“Yeah, 'Oh',” Michael mimics, grinning at the annoyed huff Ryan gives him because Michael's never been kind when he does his impression of Ryan.

Ryan sighs, and something about it tugs at the little black lump that's Michael's heart because this idiot, okay. This idiot.

“He was scared,” Michael says, wanting Ryan to get this, to understand even though some part of him already does. Has to, because he's not that much of an idiot. “He was scared and did the only thing he could think of - “

“Michael - “

“ - and the safety was on the whole fucking time.”

Michael may not be a fan of people waving guns in his face - seriously, who the hell is? - but he's had the basics down for a while now. Knows how to tell when some idiot – or just a scared kid – leaves the safety of their gun on thanks to a couple of friends he grew up with who became cops. (There's a bit of irony in there somewhere, or maybe it's a metaphor. Michael doesn't really give a shit either way.)

Ryan's staring at him.

“What?”

“He wasn't going to shoot me,” Michael says, remembering the poor kid's stuttered apologies after Michael patched his friend up, so stupidly young both of them. “He just needed help.”

Something harder to come by in Los Santos than anywhere else Michael's been. Most people here only out for themselves, stepping on everyone on their way to wherever it is they think they're headed.

“Michael,” Ryan says, looking like he doesn't know what to do with Michael some days. “You - “

“I'll be careful,” Michael says, reaching out to put a hand on Ryan's shoulder, nudging him towards the couch because he's doing better sure, but he's not a hundred percent yet. Keeps pushing himself more than he should, and this isn't really helping.

“More careful,” he amends, when Ryan looks like he thinks Michael's just humoring him right now.

Which, he's not really.

Michael's very much aware things could have gone a different way earlier, that the kid could have been one of the stone-cold killers this city loves so much. Could have seen Michael as a useful enough tool, but something of a loose end, still. Could have put a bullet in his head the moment he was finished helping his friend.

And just because it hadn't, doesn't mean it won't some day.

Still, it's not like Michael can just say no when someone comes to him needing help like that kid. That he could have turned his back on Ryan when the asshole showed up at Michael's place all that time ago. That he's going to stop now just because the Fake AH Crew have put some kind of claim on him and people are bound to notice.

“I promise,” Michael says, because Ryan doesn't look like he believes him, which is bullshit because the fucker's being a major goddamned hypocrite but you don't see Michael calling him on it, now do you? “I'll be more careful if you are too, asshole.”  

Oh, wait.

“I - “

“Yeah, yeah,” Michael says, because Ryan sees himself as the last (only) line of defense between his crew and anyone looking to touch one of them. Always throwing himself between them and trouble and ignoring the part where they've never asked that of him. “You're an idiot, I get that. Just. You know, fucking try, okay?”

Best anyone can do in this city really, and that's all either of them want.

========

The thing Gavin and Jeremy do from time to time doesn't really count as being kidnapped in Michael's opinion.

Not when one of them will randomly pop up and poke him in the back like they're holding a gun on him and say things like, “Hands in the air, this is a stick-up!” because it's a Sunday and Michael's at an ATM getting cash.

“Fucking hell, really?”

“That's what they say in the movies, isn't it?” Gavin asks, stepping back to let Michael turn around. “I've always wanted to say that.”

Michael squints at Gavin who is looking far too awake this early in the morning. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and disgusting, really.

Michael's getting to know Gavin and Jeremy a little better since the two of them seem keen on sticking their noses into Ryan's business. Making sure Michael's not the “love 'em and leave 'em sort” according to Jeremy, but really, they're just nosy bastards.

The way Ryan talks about them, fond exasperation and no little bit resignation, they've always been like that. Fearless little bastards with no sense of boundaries and protective as hell of their weird little family.

The thing about it, though, is that he's learning that Ryan's not the only idiot who doesn't look after himself the way he should. That that little trait seems to be a common thread with the Fakes as a whole, and Gavin's one of the worst offenders.

“Have you even been to sleep yet?”

Gavin shrugs, gaze wandering away from Michael's to land on that dumb little Blista he loves so much parked down the street.

“...Yes?” Gavin says, turning it into a question towards the end as though he's genuinely unsure of the answer but knows Michael's feelings on the matter.

“Right,” Michael says, running a hand through his hair as he watches Gavin.

Restless energy running through him that has him fidgeting a little where he stands, eyes flicking from spot to spot as he tries not to let Michael see how wired he is. Coffee and energy drinks that he might as well just inject into his veins when he's working on something, and goddamn this little idiot.

“I was headed to get some kolaches,” he says. “You want to come with me?”

Gavin perks up because he's mooched some off Michael before. Might as well take him to the source so he can pay for his own.

“They only take cash,” Michael warns.

It's a small shop, family-run, and usually Michael makes sure to have cash on him for his Sunday run down there.

Gavin cocks his head, and smirks before brandishing his “gun” at Michael.

“Gavin - “

“Michael, no,” he says, chastising tone to his voice. “You're doing it all wrong.”

Michael sighs as he holds his hands up, and lets Gavin prod him over to the Blista.

“Are you really kidnapping me for fucking kolaches?”

Gavin hums, bright grin on his face when he opens the passenger door for Michael, so polite for a kidnapper.

“They're very good kolaches, Michael,” he says by way of answer, and honestly, he’s not wrong, so.

“Fucking incredible,” Michael mutters, because really.

========

“Ooh, kolaches,” Ryan says, face lighting up as he catches sight of the box Michael's holding.

Gavin laughs around the one he has stuffed in his mouth and wanders off to do Gavin things with a little wave.

Michael rolls his eyes and fends Ryan off with his shoulder until he can set the damn box on the coffee table. He takes a seat on the couch and watches Ryan, something warm and stupidly fond in his chest because Ryan has standards when it comes to kolaches it seems. Muttering to himself as he roots through the box looking for an acceptable choice and honestly, this is the guy the city's so fucking scared of?

Still half sleep, hair this ungodly mess, and wearing some stupid shirt one of the others must have gotten him with a cartoonish version of the Vagabond cackling madly in front of an explosion. (At least Michael hopes that's the case, otherwise he's going to have to talk to Ryan about it.)

Ryan finally finds The One and turns back to Michael, chewing happily.

“I thought you had 'shit to do' today,” he says, words garbled but Michael can hear the air quotes just fine even so.

Michael shrugs, because he did, but getting kidnapped like this kind of makes the errands he was planning on taking care of seem unimportant. Things he can do another day, because this right here isn't so bad.

“Eh,” he says, smile tugging at his mouth. “It can wait.”

========

Jeremy's just a horrible human being all around.

Will do things like break into Michael's place even thought they've talked about that shit, and shakes him awake somewhere around four in the morning.

“The fuck do you want?”

Jeremy's smiling. All pent up energy like that stupid lapdog one of Michael's aunts had when he was a kid. Tiny and loud and annoying.

Watching Jeremy babbling about Geoff and some new cars he got while he all but bounces around Michael's place, Michael can't help but notice the similarities.

“Jeremy.”

“We're going for a ride!” he says, and Michael's brain stumbles.

“...What?”

“Come on, come on, Michael Jones. Get dressed, Gav's got everything set up, we're going to be late!”

Michael stares at Jeremy for a long, long moment, certain he's dreaming this whole thing up because what the fuck?

But no, because Jeremy sighs and starts pushing Michael towards his bedroom, hands warm and real on his shoulders as he shoves Michael along.

“Hurry u,. Who knows what Gavin might do if he gets bored.”

That -

It's a legitimate concern, and dream or not, Michael doesn't want to find out the hard way. He gets dressed and meets Jeremy back in his living room and lets the little bastard guide him downstairs to the horrific thing he calls a car.

Might as well have vandalized that sweet little X80 of his with its new paint job.

“Jesus, put the poor thing out of its misery already, I can't stand to see it suffer  like this.”

Jeremy makes an annoyed sound because he thinks orange and purple actually look good together, and hell, why not throw in some yellow while he's at it?

“Shut up, she's beautiful,” Jeremy says, running a hand over the X80's hood before hopping into the drive's seat. “Also get in.”

Michael sighs, looking over his shoulder at his building and the bed he left behind.

Jeremy honks the horn, and Michael sighs, Hating himself just a little as he slides into the passenger seat, because why. Why does he do these things?

Jeremy doesn't seem to notice Michael's train of thought as he turns on the radio and starts singing along to whatever song is playing as they head out of the city.

North-ish from the look of things, sky lightening as the miles go by and the scenery goes from big city to the suburbs to scrub country.

“The hell are we going?”

Jeremy grins as they blow past a group of eighteen-wheelers traveling in a convoy.

“There's an old airfield out here,” he says, and pats the X80's steering wheel fondly. “Plenty of room to open her up, let her run.”

That's nice, but Michael doesn't see what it has to do with him, really.

At least not until they reach the airfield and Jeremy stops beside Gavin who's waiting for them and leaning against an Adder.

Not the fastest car around anymore, maybe, but Michael's always appreciated the way it looks. Muscle to it for something as fast as it is, and supposedly handles like a dream.

“Michael boi!” Gavin calls, a little too smug when he sees the way Michael's looking at the damn Adder. “Care to go for a test drive?”

Michael looks at Gavin, all sunshine and sweetness like he didn't steal one of Geoff's new cars. Looks to Jeremy, who's just annoyingly smug, like he's not Gavin's accomplice and Michael's erstwhile kidnapper.

The X80's far and away the fastest thing out there these days, will absolutely leave the Adder in the dust, but Michael's not interested in winning any races at the moment. Would give a hell of a lot to be behind the wheel of that Adder.

“I mean, sure,” he says, catching the keys Gavin tosses to him. “Might as well, right?”

========

Ryan sidles up to Michael.

Eyes sliding left, sliding right, to make sure they're alone, and leans down to whisper, “I have a Zentorno.”

Michael looks at him, sees the smile on his face. Like some kid with a secret he wants to share, all excited and shit.

“In your pants? And here I thought you were happy to see me.”

“No! Yes?” Ryan frowns, because he's an idiot. “Wait, I mean. I don't have a Zentorno in my pants, but I am happy to see you?”

Goddamn, the man's an idiot.

Loves his bikes from that shiny little nerd bike he has from that shitty sci-fi movie sequel to the stupid thing with the skulls on it “for the aesthetic”, sure. But he's he's got a special spot in his heart for his Zentorno.

Fast little car Michael's seen on the news during a high-speed chase, all sharp and sleek like a shark zipping through the streets of Los Santos or some shit.

“Good for you,” Michael says, because he's not about to make this easy for Ryan.

And Ryan, he sighs. Face in his hands and clearly despairing of his life choices, which you know, only fair really.

“Michael,” he says, voice muffled by his hands and horrible life choices.

“Yes, Ryan?”

Another sigh, familiar blue peeking through Ryan's fingers from where he's sneaking a look at Michael.

“Why are you like this?” he asks, like it's not his own fucking fault.

Michael takes pity on Ryan because the guy's just kind of sad like this. Pathetic, even.

Pats his shoulder and leans in to whisper, “Sure, I'll look at your etchings,” and cackles at the defeated sigh from Ryan.

========

Yeah, no.

The thing Gavin and Jeremy do from time to time have nothing on shit like this, that's for damn sure.

Michael's arms are bound behind his back and his shoulders ache.

“A million dollars, but - “ Gavin's saying, flat on his back and staring up at the ceiling above them like this is just another one of his little games.

Like he didn't get shot earlier, the makeshift bandage Michael had slapped on him before the goons grabbed both of them stained red.

Michael regrets, a little, letting Gavin snatch him up off the street to play with another one of Geoff's cars at the airfield. Jeremy already waiting when they pulled up, something about coming off a job for the Fakes and needing time to wind down, so why not race unbelievably expensive cars around an old airfield?

Michael clenches his hands, focusing on the way his wrists sting – torn skin from the rough handling  these guys seem to specialize in.

Tries real hard not to think about Jeremy taking a bullet to the chest before Gavin pulled Michael to cover. Gavin's frantically hissed, “Vest, Michael, he's still wearing his vest!” keeping Michael from doing something stupid when these fuckers showed up out of nowhere, guns blazing.

The door to the room they were thrown in opens and a pair of the goons from earlier walk in.

Idiots, really.

Walking around like they own the damn city. Shiny little guns and mean eyes and so fucking small in the grand scheme of things.

The goon in front walks over to Gavin, looming over him because that's what guys like him do. Play-act at being big and tough when hey have the upper hand, let whoever they think they have under their heel squirm.

“Free,” he says, something satisfied to his voice that Michael's not a fan of, honestly. “Boss wants to talk to you.”

Gavin looks at the guy, gives him a lazy once-over, and smirks.

“So you're the errand boy today then, Ricky?” he asks, and of course the little shit knows these guys, of course he does.

The guy scowls, hand going to the gun at his waist like he's going to finish the job, just fucking kill Gavin right then and there, but doesn't.

Breathes hard through his nose, eyes moving to Michael, this look in them Michael doesn't like.

“Keep talking like that, your friend pays for it,” he says, a bully through and through. “You want that, Free?”

Gavin raises an eyebrow.

“Who, him?” he asks, like he has no damn idea who good old Ricky's talking about. “We're not friends, Ricky. Barely know the bastard.”

Oh, well okay then.

Michael raises his eyebrows when Ricky looks at him, this little scowl on his face like he thinks Gavin's lying to him.

“What? I can't fuckin' stand the asshole.”

Ricky gets this suspicious look to him, head cocked to the side. Michael stares back because he's not lying just as much as Gavin is.

They're not friends, exactly, and God knows Michael hasn't gone and shared his life story with the little shit. There are definitely times Michael cannot fucking stand Gavin and the shit he pulls, all wide smiles and cocky grin and no goddamned common sense.

“Then why - “

“I patch those fuckers up,” Michael says, tossing in a sneer just for the hell of it. “You think they keep me around for my sparkling personality?”

...And now Ricky's looking at Michael thoughtfully, gaze flicking towards Gavin for a moment. Maybe thinking he can get the poor idiot civilian in over his head here to flip on Gavin and the Fakes if he plays his cards right. (Or, you know, forces the issue.)

“Oi!”

Ricky snorts, looking over his shoulder where a pair of goons are lurking and waiting for orders.

“Get him up,” he snaps. Glances at Michael as the goons pass by like he doesn't quite buy what he and Gavin are selling him, but hey, he has all the time in the world to figure it out since no one knows where they are and all.

Michael waits for a bit until he's sure he doesn't hear anything outside, and then a bit long just in case these guys are even a little bit smart.

There's no actual moment when he goes A-ha, now is the perfect time for this bullshit! when he sets to getting out of the zip ties because of course they sprang for the heavy-duty ones. He's not as flexible as he was when he was a kid, hell even a few years ago, but he's not such a piece of shit he can't get out of this mess.

Just, you know. It might take a few minutes.

========

Tweedledee and Tweedledum bring Gavin back a few hours later. Toss him in and loom when Gavin pushes himself into a sitting position, wall at his back.

There's more blood on him – from exacerbating his injury or something new, Michael can't tell just yet.

“Boss wants answers, Free,” Tweedledee says, derisive little sneer on his face. “Give 'em to him, or your buddy here goes next.”

The smart thing to do here would probably be to keep his mouth shut. Just sit there and look like the helpless civilian he's supposed to be. All meek and and shit.

But then Tweedledum smirks when he looks over at Michael. Trying to act big, tough, when all it does is show how much of an asshole he is.

“I'm from Jersey, you fucks. You think two-bit shitbags like you compare to what we have there?”

Michael isn't even talking about the criminals, is the thing.

Tweedledum scowls, makes like he's going remind Michael who's in charge here, but Tweedledee barks out his name, calls him to heel.

“We'll be back,” Tweedledee says, mouth twisting a little when he looks at Michael. “Hope your memory improves before then, Free.”

The idiots slam the door behind them, like everything they know about being a big-shot comes from the movies. All dramatic posing and cliché threats and fucking toddlers throwing tantrums shit.

“Christ,” Michael mutters, shifting around to look at Gavin, who's looking back at him with this little grin on his face.

“That wasn't very smart, Michael,” he chides, like he has any room to talk.

Michael rolls his eyes and makes his way over to Gavin. “Shut the fuck up.”

Gavin looks like shit, which.

You know.

Not too far from the way he normally does because he's an idiot who acts like he's invincible half the time. Doesn't need to bother with things mere mortals do like sleep and food.

Gavin's eyes light up when he realizes Michael's hands are free, zip ties little more than shitty bracelets at the moment.

“Michael.”

“You owe me new shoelaces, asshole,” Michael says, checking Gavin over, angry at the bruises he finds, but grateful there's nothing worse.

Gavin hums, leaning on him a bit as he plots.

“They're not very smart,” Gavin says, looking at Michael. “And I am injured.”

Michael frowns, confused by the upwards lilt to Gavin's voice – the little eyebrow waggle he throws in when he sees Michael's frown.

“There's no way that's going to work,” he says when realization hits because no one's that dumb outside of movies.

“Oh, I wouldn't say that,” he says. “They're really not that smart.”

========

Michael is starting to think there's something in the water in Los Santos.

There's really no explanation as to why these idiots fall for Gavin's stupid plan.

Practically come running when Michael kicks up a fuss about Gavin dying, spouting medical bullshit from medical dramas on television he's suffered through in the past.

Look like they're panicking at the thought of having a dead Fake on their hands even though they were so goddamned keen to make that happen themselves not that long ago.

Makes it real easy for Michael and Gavin to get one over on them, little practical application of fists to faces and down they go.

No one else around, and Gavin takes the lead. Little smile on his face as he tells Michael to stay low and follow him and they'll be out of this place in no time.

The worst thing about it all is that he's right.

There aren't a lot of people around to start with, so that helps.

Just Ricky and the Tweedles and a few others, including this Boss Michael never saw.

“Oh, that's just rude of them,” Gavin says, when they come across Geoff's car these guys took as a reward.

Looks like someone took affront to the Fake AH Logo on the hood and went at it with spray paint.

The rest of the car looks to be in one piece, though, which is the important part. Michael leaves Gavin to fuss over the car while Michael takes care of the others parked nearby. Uses a knife he took off one of the Tweedles and slashes tires here and there and everywhere.

Gives Gavin a look when he makes his way back to him and shrugs. “Jersey, remember?”

Gavin snorts because he knows Michael's hardly from one of the more crime-riddled parts of Jersey. That people tend to forget Jersey's a fucking state, but you know. Why remind them when you ca let them think whatever they want? Let them come to their own damn conclusions and play off of that.

“Let's get out of here, yeah?”

========

They run into a goddamn fleet of cars half a mile out. Fake AH Crew logos on half of them, and a sleek black Zentorno at the front of the pack.

“God's sake,” Gavin laughs, because there's another hideous purple and orange car flanking it.

Michael doesn't look over at Gavin, no, because that laugh's a little too loud, wild, and it's been a hell of a day for them.

Michael watches the cars ahead of him. Sees Ryan get out of his Zentorno, Jeremy a beat behind him.

Gavin makes this little noise in his throat, eyes glued to Jeremy keeping pace with Ryan. (Michael doesn't say anything about that either.)

Jeremy might have been wearing body armor when he got hit, but that shit fails sometimes. Defects in the manufacturing process you don't know about until it's too late or maybe something else goes wrong  and you don't shrug off that bullet the way you think you can.

And Gavin, okay.

Gavin's been acting this whole time like he knew without a doubt Jeremy was fine. That the fucking vest had done its job, kept him safe and alive, but the fact of the matter is that he didn't.

Neither of them did, and Jeremy hadn't gotten up after he'd been hit. Had just laid there on the ground while Gavin did his best to protect Michael until there was no choice left but to go with Ricky and the Tweedles.

“Hey,” Michael says, because Gavin's just watching Ryan and Jeremy get closer, makes no move of his own to get out and meet them. “You guys ever think about holding an intervention for Jeremy about this whole 'Rimmy Tim' bullshit?”

Gavin snorts, fucking chokes on his laughter. Gives Michael an attempt at a reproving look, but it's Gavin so it's nowhere as effective as he thinks it is.

“Didn't take,” he says, like that's just how it is with Jeremy, and honestly, Michael didn't expect anything else. “He's a stubborn bastard.”

Like that's a bad thing to be in a city like this.

========

“For the record,” Michael says, preemptive on his part even though he knows it won't do any good, “they didn't show up at my place, so you can save the part of the lecture about how shit the security is there, if it's all the same to you.”

Ryan looks a little like he wants to throttle Michael, which you know. Fair, really.

“Also - “

Ryan's hand flashes out, and Michael holds still when he feels fingers wrap around his forearm, careful, gentle.

“Ryan - “

“Your security's still shit,” Ryan says, absently, almost like a reflex as he examines the marks on Michael's wrists, red and raw and stinging like a motherfucker even now. “But I get your point.”

There's no such thing as a safe place in Los Santos – anywhere, really – so you do what you can to minimize potential risks. Play it safe, smart, and hope like hell that's going to be enough.

There's something in the way Ryan looks at him that has Michael's eyes narrowing.

“Whatever you're thinking, knock it off.”

Ryan sighs, and releases his hold on Michael.

“They didn't know who you are this time,” he says, weight to his words like he knows how this goes. “That's going to change.”

The Fakes have made a lot of enemies over the years to get where they are. Michael's heard about a few of them, stories one of them will tell, offhand comments about some incident. Michael not being a complete idiot and doing a little research into them, Los Santos back when all of this started.

It's...sweet that Ryan's trying to warn Michael off like this. Let him know that hey, he's in pretty deep with these idiots and that probably wasn't the smartest move on Michael's part. That maybe he should be thinking of cutting his losses while he can and all that bullshit, you know? Be smart about things.

Problem is, if Michael was smart he never would have stayed in Los Santos. Would have gone back home to Jersey, sucked it up and gotten his old job back. Toed the line and played it safe and been the most miserable piece of shit on the planet.

“No shit,” Michael says, because fucking really.

Ryan looks...confused, as though this little talk he had planned isn't really going the way he expected.

“Look,” Michael says, tries to use small words because Ryan looks like he needs them right now. “You think I don't know that? You think I didn't consider it after that first time you broke into my place?”

Only an idiot wouldn't have, getting some fucker like the Vagabond in their face and this unspoken understanding that if anyone found out it was the last thing they'd do?

Yeah.

Michael knew back then, saw it in the way Ryan watched everything he did like a hawk. This bit of steel in his eyes even when he was being an arrogant prick, expecting his reputation to spook Michael into playing nice for him.

And maybe he should be more concerned about this, all the ties with the Fakes he has now. Not just this thing between him and Ryan but the way Gavin and Jeremy have of butting into his life. Jack and Geoff and even fucking Trevor and Lindsay from time to time. The members of B Team who give him secretive little smiles that drive Ryan nuts because there's no way any of them should have met Michael before. Should be worried about how it's all going to bite him in the ass one day, but he isn't.

Or, okay, that's a fucking lie, because he is, just -

You do what you can to minimize the risk sure, but you don't turn your back on something good because there's a possibility it might go bad on you if you want to live a life worth living. Don't let it become a regret to take with you when all's said and done.

“You're an idiot,” Michael says, because those are small words Ryan's familiar with coming from him. Should be able to get through that thick skull of his, understand on some level. “But I knew that going into this, so I guess that makes me just as bad.”

Ryan's looking at Michael like he still doesn't get why Michael hasn't done the smart thing and left. Fucking cannot comprehend what possible reason Michael has for staying here and making a target of himself the longer he does.

Asshole breaks Michael's heart when he gets like this, because there's a reason for it. Same one that had Gavin and Jeremy goddamned stalking him at the beginning of this. Doing their best to protect Ryan from getting in too deep with Michael - getting hurt – before they realized there was really only one way to do that.

“Yeah, we're real dumb,” Ryan says, like he's still expecting Michael to come to his senses one day and so damn guilty that he hasn't, taking what he thinks he can get and grateful for it and so fucking stupid. “Like. Unbelievably so.”

Michael smiles, crooked little thing, because Ryan's killing him with this bullshit. So clueless and breaking his heart all over again.

“Shut the fuck up,” Michael says, and drags Ryan down for a kiss because maybe one day Ryan will fucking understand why Michael refuses to give this up so easily.

Steady As You Go

#myan #jerevin #ragehappy #Crinkle Dot #vagrant fic #¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[flowercuco]

fellowship 6

after two weeks because of @misanthrobot going on vacation, we return to our fellowship planning their infiltration of Magica Mechanica University via complimentary tours

We start in Vapor’s apartment, getting clothes for the Aisa Parenting Plan... Aisa and Armistice attempt to team up to try to unlock Vapors backstory, but Vapor sandbags them horribly.

Aisa uses wizardry to see into Vapor’s private workshop, and finds a bunch of arms and other limbs, when Armistice and her try to press Vapor, she says that they have more important things to do, which they do, Armistice and her get into a bit of a tiff and as a result Vapor charges into her room to get changed.

Armistice’s disguised as Camilla Delaflore, an elf, she’s wearing ugg boots, a cardigan, a turtleneck sweater, mom jeans, sunglasses, and she has two purses. Armistice decided to forgo smuggling weapons on campus, because she’s a dragon.

Vapor is disguised as Golden Geri Galliano Arcus, she’s in orc pta clothes, so ones that arent supposed to be set on fire, though Vapors still offer some protection. White button up, cute vest, grey button up slacks, comfortable shoes, overall a very normie option without any jokes rip. She also has a nice handbag with her moonshine in it, and probably a weapon or two. 

Aisa is wearing her very special wizard robes for special occasions! It’s like a three piece suit, with a vest, dress shirt, black and gold with embroideries around the cuffs and collar and buttons. Nice slacks, and on the back of the cape is a phoenix. 

Vapor gets Aisa a pennant with the schools college mascot, a wrench with stringy arms and angry eyebrows, his names Boltso. 

Meanwhile, Theo and Califax go for their big cool tour for dignitaries, we need to figure out where to start because I’m a dumbass. Carrock Celvin Caldera Frost, is Theo’s tourguide and they go on for a bit before finding Mordred reluctantly wearing a polo shirt, getting a can of Mtn Dew Code Red. Caldera is upset at Mordred just Going Around and asks if he wants to go on the tour with Theo, which Theo is Fine With. Mordred asks if Theo wants a drink, to which they answer with a “surprise me”. Mordred picks Ginger Ale after some pondering, Character Building.

Aisa Parenteam contents for a while with Genny Gregora Goyan Ummahni, an administrator type person who’s vetting them for, their parental interview and is generally unnerved by this happy family. Goyan has her doubts, doubting that someone as, poised, as Aisa is going to be an engineer, but is quickly put in place by Armistice and Vapor’s Powerful Mom Energy. We ask about extra curricular and decide what orc sports are. The team gets the okay to go to the engineering department.

Theo and Mordred, in the previous scene, decided their points of interest are the Historical and Engineering Departments in that order. They’re in a cool historical library just chilling, with Mordred mostly observing empire and elven books. Theo gets the orcish perspective on various historical stuff. Mordred tries to get some books on the down low, and Theo spies on him, learning that Mordred wanted any books on dragons and somewhat distressingly, what orcs knew about souls! Mordred then noticed Theo when Caldera, shocked from the question, knocks some books off the shelf, and reveals a spying Theo, who is reading a book on elven magitek and splinters in their societies. Mordred nods, asking about Drow stuff and generally being a friendly boy, including doing a fistbump. Theo’s response to Mordred, generally, has been Deadpan, its great.

Realizing that if they go into the engineering department, they might have to actually interact with people who know who Vapor is who aren’t incapable of recognizing people, Vapor splits off the group, leaving Aisa and Armistice alone with the tour, led by Rookie Wallop, an undergrad. Rookie initially questions Vapor’s absence, but then time resets when we realize she wouldn’t give a shit, and instead we invent a hen harpy halfling, Karen Cavendish, to be the general heckler of this situation. She shits on Aisa and Armistice over Vapor’s absence as Rookie tries to keep things civil. Aisa asks about the successes and dangers of the university, with the greatest success being the stability of the school, metaphorical and literal, while the failures of course being the frequent explosions.

On cue, one such explosion happens, blasting a door out of a classroom. That’s just how it is.

The group asks about the fire crystal, which Karen takes as a point to mock, Armistice attempts to intimidate the mother who is starting shit, and effortlessly lifts a door to show Karen which mom would win a throw down. Rookie tells people to calm down so we can see the head of the engineering department!

Meanwhile, Vapor sneaks around campus, pretending to be lost, quickly realizing that they’ve moved the Fire Crystal away from the lab room that was using it, something no one checked despite me implying that was the case multiple times. While searching for a student to harass about its location, Vapor notices a solar scout with a bag full of energy drinks and tea that Vapor Knows is meant for Augusta, her boss she doesn’t like but doesn’t know is evil yet. Vapor follows the scout after much railroading, and then Vapor starts to get her ass kicked by a new enemy.

Weighing in at “taller than Vapor”, with a deep voice, and wearing what is basically saiyan armor is a Sailor Scout Super Ultra, a new breed of sailor scout, enhanced by Augusta, something that Vapor scoffs before they start kicking her ass.

Back with Theo, he gets in a visit with Augusta, talking with the head of engineering herself, and generally being a cool diplomat. They talk shop about the school, engineering, and about potentially sharing knowledge via an exchange program. Eventually, the pretenses drop a little, and Augusta asks what Theo Actually Wants, which is of course, the Fire Crystal. Augusta allows Theo to see it, though the initial price she puts on it, Drow DNA, is too high, and instead Theo opts to pay her a favor later. Presumably, he won’t actually get to do so. 

At that moment, Aisa and Armistice’s tour enter, causing Rookie to panic, did she make a mistake??? Theo takes this moment to exit with the ability to see the crystal, as Mordred almost notices Armistice, but she manages to somewhat hide, he will notice at some later point...

Augusta interviews the prospective students until she gets to Aisa. She asks about her reasons for wanting to come to the school, Augusta is delighted with Aisa’s answer of maths, but then reacts with confusion when Aisa starts to talk about Conspiracy Wizard Shit. After explaining Snowball Earth Theory, the room is silent, and Armistice pulls Aisa out, and the two decide to go find Vapor. Also, Aisa knows Augusta is evil now. As Armistice asks Aisa to find Vapor, she hears a call on the PA for her (in her disguise name) and Aisa, but she decides that Vapor is more important, after all, they aren’t actually calling for her!

Vapor is in a spot, getting just fucking wrecked by these three very large plant mens. Vapor notices that the Violence is causing the smaller solar scouts distress, and they are calling for help, slowly, on a smart phone they don’t know how to use well. Wanting to get some leverage on the situation, Vapor pulls out her flamethrower, she’s burned down this department before, she’s not afraid to do it again.

in the final scene of the session, Theo and Mordred are allowed to enter the unused lab in which the Fire Crystal is being held and Theo notices that the room is being used not only to contain the Fire Crystal, but to extract some of its energies. Mordred and Theo talk about not just the crystals, but the various energies that they’re familiar with, with Theo worldbuilding more Drow stuff, such as their cool sunken sun and their cool golden city, which Mordred is getting more and more interested in! On the tail of their conversation, Mordred realizes that he DID see Armistice, and asks Theo if they want to see a dragon, if they’ve ever seen one. Theo says, that they’ve never seen a dragon before, because they definitely aren’t friends with Armistice already, and manages to convince Mordred to go off and start looking for Armistice while they use Califax to get the word out on the situation vis-a-vis Fire Crystal.

Next time! Finale at Orc Town, there’s still like, one more thing I want to get out of this basically now that I’ve unleashed my Solar Scouts Super Ultra.

#followship 2020

[throwingideasatthewall]

The Clone Wars    Senate Murders

          (Season 2 Episode 15)

Ack      ....  So     are     we    going     to    address     the     guy      that    got     killed?      . .      Oh      This   is a new one       . . .         Oh       No       . . .        The        Bab        ies        -      Will       Only    Pro     Long

  Oh good

 [I was worried      I was going to have to pull out  The old   “Amidala kills children,”      Thing,]

   Any way,      That’s            Good        I like        babies not getting         hurt,         [Cute things in      general]    

      Oof           That’s           Not-

     [pretty sure       that’s the            point]

       Whelp

Well I have teased       Amidala pretty       unmercifully,      Regarding       That        Episode,        I do    still give her       a bit of slack          (Age    appropriate)       Because she still    has a chance to        un-feck the situation      [In the       story]

 Least we know    it      isn’t her getting   poison      ed this time,

 Oh,   never     mind,

That actually    did   apparently   help     (slightly)     (in the   unaccountable)        (Slightly           less       toxicity          in         air)

     Smooth

      Hold             Up           Wait,          Wasn’t              Ready           (Sus             Pect-           Ing-       Animation           That       smooth,

      I          think that was      Sa-        tine          -            Good         ref      (erence)          Picking       up        right       where       he      left        off  

   C-3PO

   Nice

  Whelp

-Windows        -

   Okay,        Minor        Issue?

  ?

  Oh it’s a whole bunch of them

   That’s nice-

      Senator            Stonk

“what will the public think   if I don’t want to make child soldiers,?”

     -Boomer

    (Probably)

   “But he wants to know    how very sorry he is,”

    Haha

      That   is the correct tone

  “Sorry-”

   Sorry doesn’t get you anything

   It’s an attempt to control the     narr-     ative

And    nothing else

 (If you screw up just      fix the problem     don’t keep dragging the tox,”

   Votes

  That’s nice

This is a very non-toxic         healthy tea

  (I know he’s kind of assuming authority          here

    But they   seem to be pretty close friends-

   Who are covered under the friend-      ship rules

“ A.k.a. not doing it to a random stranger who doesn’t like it,”

 Good rule

Oh God      It’s        

THAT

fucker..  

   ?

With the line about   convincing     other people of good?

I-

 Nope-

Note; this isn’t an official X

 It’s just a show my venomous   hatred of this guy..

And the episode he   Spawned    from

 Which was the first one to     earn a strike from me...

For normalizing    abuse...

With that in mind I give this episode the benefit of the     doubt...

  Even with that     concerning opening line

  So I will acknowledge I am slightly doubtful

 [not quite   putting on the   SWAT gear,    maybe just     a bat]

With that-     in mind- let’s continue...

... .

Mistakes       ...     

Em-     That at least counts as   one tox

Bring up the previous   things you did wrong     does not fix it

It’s guilt tripping

And an attempt to get the other party to validate   your toxicity

Dude’s      Towing..

Just after a joke   about how sorry doesn’t do anything

I hope the writers can see the irony in that

(Utilize          It)

  Peace         -         Dick

  Ah

   Hey-

[Repeat generations/friends can be friends with older     members,      just      Weird,]         -        Any       ,Way-

  Aight

  Ni’     gh    t’

 Ah- did they skip over to it or they   going?

“exciting isn’t quite the word   I would use,”

Toxic,     authority assuming,     enabling,

Authority assume     is not ok  regardless of what generation you   are

[Dude’s going to be a Traitor,        Isn’t he?

  They focused on him

  Might be actually a good bit of tension    if he didn’t      (Former   Separatist)

Terri-fying

Yeah surrounded by a bunch of toxic boomers   who will   feel free.    To be as doubting       distrustful.    negative     and overall unhelpful

As you allow

And they feel like pushing the   boundary...

Mind

Or-     gana

Dick move

It’s her     personal opinion       -      and it ain’t   tox?

People can have   dislikes

Not like she called you an   Overinvolved boomer       —        or held you to any   accountability       (Yet)          ...    

 Who order-

[This is getting really     tox

and I don’t trust the   writers           ✖️ Just   putting      it     over        there         in       case      I need it           .....

 Hm

 You

 ..  [Grooming        isn’t cool

 Self deprecation       isn’t either]

  Aight

  Hm

 Also there’s a process you need to go to to speak?

Money doesn’t   matter -

Killing    -      and     hatred      but       the   pacifistic        bitch        vilified

*Spoken   in  complement

She kicked     ASS   last episode

*sorry   for the vulgarity       I’m excited      . .       Also,    so is this     Padme’s episode.

 Cause        Neat.

 Good

 But are votes   casted by     clapping?

(I’m not sure)

 Okay

  Whelp

That’s     either a bad guy       or damn good red   herring

I’m intrigued

Also, whatever happened to     Clovis?

Like,      he still a        senator?

He get   kicked?

Uhm

Dude,

 False   appreciation

Also yeah     what was with that dude       earlier?

[Uncle what’s his name apologize to him for Padme’s comment despite Uncle what’s his name being the one who made it, implying dude took a serious issue with it,]

Also,   Oo, is this working of the previous quote about the line between friends and foes being blurred.

              [I like                  consistency]

So it has to be one of those guys,

The ones in the   room with her,

I’m putting a guess on   Senator-

 The one uncle       what’s- his-name         apologized to

      That guy

[Or it could be that guy that]

No actually he’s probably   abstain        ed for that reason

Sorry      I’m getting ahead          -     But it does say     “Murder,”

   And        I      am    curious        .     Really   going   over       -         Also    why   is that guy   bowing?

[Tran-slation?]

Right        .        obvious     villain       .

 Also   light bullshit..

There’s no-   way guy could’ve made it over there

The thing is still in session

We saw him less than a    minute ago

 And she just came in directly

[He’d be         halfway down the hallway]

For likely scope

Yeah, this dude is totally a     Red     Herring       -        He’s    way    too    over     the     top       ...    I’m putting my bets      On that human Senator          Guy           .       CHILD SOLDIERS      ARE BAD!       [sorry I just   felt the need to say that,]

  Okay,    Uncle-what’s his name-

Other person

 That guy-

  Drink      -ing!

  Nice

  Vi-ctory

   Oh, this looks like a problem

    Child groomers          In-       corporate-

    Off

Second Red herring!

(It’s that guy   and I’m sticking with        it)

  Private

  Yeah,  like how did he even get into the room without a key card?

  I know Amidala’s a senator and      by that,               A public      servant,         But you figure if they’re bringing out the    alcohol, they’d shut the door

   -Declare      off hours

  -For the celeb     ration-

 Separatist      Con        Spiracy-

   She has a     point-

   You did a     hundred percent enable his behavior

    (No argument            there)

      Pro- separatist

Ah, uncle back stabber there would contradict you

   Not sure if you’re the same species

But,       you do know about his bullshit,

Don’t assume accountability       free snarking             Territory           (They’re all enablers so I’m not even going to bother with the math,      About who screwed up more,          All the   elders   here are held to the same standard,       About,

 Uncle Backstabber a little more

   *Since I know what he did,

Account

From the most bastard,       of the group,

Who’s the next Red herring?

It’s that dude     I swear      Soon

Yeah child soldiering is a bitch

As is enabling

But she has no idea what’s going to happen     being the past.

Dick,    whelp,

Poor       Frita       (I think)

He’s going       he’s going to get roped into this too     isn’t he?

      “ We you must be doing something right,”

Nah,  enabling abusers  never a good idea

   But then again there’s no rules for dealing with trauma individuals because they aren’t supposed to be any

   How long that takes and what it entails

   Is down to who ever is        asserting accountability     (Excluding      the actual accountability, cutting      Them off)

That’s unnegotiable

(And it can’t involve   death)

Too.     harsh-

No you haven’t-

Well, yeah

But that’s     accessory at best     ... Ono you’ve done a wonderful job

No he hasn’t

Don’t coddle   the abuser

 He’s screwed up pretty consistently

 Pretty sure       it’s more than five

And was leading to let the future get     hecked         ...

 Very       Likely

He wasn’t hurt

The other lady   spent a lot more time defending

She should get the ‘don’t listen to them’

If anything just    ‘reflect the bitch’          (Neutral)          Aight    

     Too          Late!

      Can someone stop      playing the sad music?

      This isn’t sad

     And you can’t make me       sympathize for the abuser

   (I- don’t trust this     writer)

    That Dude sus

    Aight

  Faker-

He’s dying you        dumb ass

(Having a      heart attack       probably

  All the stress            of denial)

   Whelp

Call!

 Please

 Whelp

 -Oh wait      bitch is dead?

Uhm.

DING DONG THE WITCH IS DEAD  the WICKED WITCH IS DEAD!    

 (I know that seems really harsh-            But dude- deserved it

And I never have to deal with that character        anymore!

So,

 Al-      right       the      funeral;

 Um,

DING DONG THE WITCH IS DEAD  the WICKED WITCH IS DEAD!

 (I’m sorry I really hated that      character-)

* In reality      the loss of life is a very serious thing and      I don’t mean to make light of it

 But no one is required      to feel sad about their abusers-         Nor toxic individuals        Nor anyone else        Yes the loss of life is a     serious thing           But it should not             And could not         control a person’s life

I’ve always played accountability    over death          Or death   penalty           ...

“...was is a flawed man,”

  He tried to sell someone into   slavery...

  The fact that Amidala was an adult           and could get out of the situation           Doesn’t forgive        how terrible that situation was.

    Un-healthy           And        Wrong

   “Own    mistakes”

 And he tried to guilt trip everyone       into giving him validation

    Specifically           Amidala

      Every        occasion

    [Also      flawed          Some          one        breaking            the           code           once             or           twice,           (Under            five)            Is        flawed,

       This         dude          tox,  

       He should’ve been sentenced     to      accountability along time ago

    For trying to make the world      a generally terrible place for someone

    Multiple times-

  That’s not okay

   [and he clearly         didn’t learn his lesson]

    [Note; whether a person “learned their lesson” or not, ��          Is irrelevant

   [They already    knew the rules before]

But he never compromised his principles-

    HaHAha,

    What?

That’s because   dude didn’t have any principles

He broke them long before,

Also why the frick does Master Yoda care?

Dude    was          a      politic,

 The     Fuck,

He engaging this propaganda?

Why?

Why does he care about any of this.

Why does   ANY     one

[Satine, alright, hermen got murdered and she might be looking for evidence on who-done-it   That’s fair

?

Oh says it’s an everyone event

That makes sense

Guessing the Jedi are required   to come or else the branded as that asshole

Fair

 Eyes

Aight

What-      ever-

   ?

Why the guard?

Like cultural customs

Aren’t honor guards          for veterans      (And possibly extremely         high positions,      Like         Chancellor?

As technical commander of the army?

Like,      Explain?

That guy-

 Sus

 Very       Sus-

   Pas-         sed

    I’d say      to find his killer

     But yeah I can’t really   blame anyone for not    caring that much     about that dude

   Specifically      Amidala

(Though     accountability law..

   D

   Frita is honestly my favorite        character

   I don’t know       why.

     Possibly his relation to the           chancellor and how      he still a good natured guy,

     Aight

     Yeah     he was a dick,

Hope those aren’t memories     [also        totally the        Kamooin               B-            Right?

                    [Like                         I’m totally still after                          Dude, ]

But she’s   the only one that     touched the bottle]

That we saw?

Dude did suggest it

      Still        heavily          sussing              him                .          No           Face               .              Also       is that his wife?

     (Don’t think it was         ever established)

     I-

    Mentor

     ?

   How old is this person?

I’m gonna assume     adult

 So.

He toxically asserted   authority over me.

Or wrong choice of words and they meant like     “best friend”

 Cause that’s kind of     tox,

Me?

  - -

  This is     getting       Hella          tox

    You’re       a      person

    Yeah you might miss him   and that’s totally fine

     But-

You’re still a person completely able to   self determine.

   ‘ take his place,’

   Oh no

   Oh no

   Shit

   Just what she needs         overinvolvement 

   Right

   Not        threatening at all    

    Oh         Red           .         We        never       see      them      enter            .         Right            .            Well this turned from a private party     to a    Conference

   I thought he was just calling    to offer condolences.

   Questions.

Oh,    Did you not tell the loud ones what happened to their loved one?

  (Like normally I’m all for no one should      witness anyone else’s death          Or that news be public

   But this is assumed authority.         And that stuff is pretty normal

     Regardless       of how terrible.       Senator Fa

This guy seems like a drip

[Guessing that’s the reason why       Amidala is going to end up taking charge,]

Because      the Chancellor     hired a sham detector    Whelp

   Dick way to put it

  True, the protocol for murder          isn’t cutting and clear

   Dragging random people into it, isn’t

   You see it          you’re        immediately accountable,

      (Only by view of the body,          Not by word of mouth)

Because this kind of approach is super          in-effective,

  Whelp        Great

  Also there were thousands of       senators in that building that could screw up the thing

Only five

(I’ll give the        murder        mystery            It’s             Dues,           And           let it          continue,             But       (im-probabilit-           ies is not a good thing)

        Might              Want                    To                  Avoid

(Also     if that’s the     qualification;       I’m sussing         Amidala,          Dude      was                 a           dick           to          her)

    THOUGH              I’M STILL-         SUSS      -ING           DUDE       IN           Blue?     dude with the    beard

   That      one.

   Build-ing    <—-    He          Sus

   Him

—-

 Ha!

Here

Hey   that was almost emotion,      Nice

(also, dang how frequent are   murders?

Him

<—-

  He          Sus

   He didn’t take a seat         like everyone else

   [Also, it was purple    Dude wearing purple     that’s who I’m talking about]

Also are you going to introduce him as the     detective ?

‘cause you’re kind of   screwing with these people

Not   telling them what’s going on

Answering in vague Snark

Him.    ...

For no reason

Considering he was an uncountable toxic frick who allowed it lots of people to get hurt-

  I’m       mad,

 A ight

Right..

 And

Okay, He’s got a point

Immediate accountability     is the case murder     for good reason

Surprised they didn’t start       this right after the     murder

When it happened

Dude- [i’m not going to criticize       the spatial awareness]

Him

<—-

 Right         there

  Murder

A good point since     they really haven’t explained anything?

   Okay,         Right

Or anyone     stealthy

  Though yeah I guess    politicians

  [just don’t like the        generalization]

   Someone good        With he rbs..

  Okay.

  Neat.

  Insult.

Poor.   Frita

  He didn’t deserve     this,

(Well yeah he’s an enabler,)

But       He’s the least toxic..

[Also poor Frita,       Always       getting sucked into these mysteries

   He’s the shaggy        of this damn group

   [Likes food          and hanging out with people,          Gets dragged into      bullshit,

 Rip

Insulting     the whole damn room             .....            This character is                 obnoxious

            But in a fun way

             The narr              -atives-            clearly having fun

Ono        yeah       he   was    an   open   dick

  [Seriously they’re treating him    like-]

  ?

 No it couldn’t possibly be because he was an       ex separatist,

Open book         Case,

Con-troversial

 Politicians      arguing over basic human decency

   And common sense

    ‘Do we really.. Ok        that’s enough politic jokes

   The movie started it         so I had to finish it.

  Now on with.

      Dude drunk

     Dick

  “ I’m        totally-”

 Um, this is     delicious corruption

How long until     Amidala figures what’s going on?

  Whelp

He just     left?

   He really is a       quack

    Did you find him         on       fakedetectives.com?

     Palpatine?

    Crud

    Okay,

    That guy,

    Target

   Good

  Aight

Also it’s that guy     Authority ass-     umer sus,

  No       No,

Good plan

Ono

  Good      plan

  Evil.

  Aight

    .

  Good

In-vestigation

   Yes-       Good

    Let’s           Do           It           ...

    It’s that guy

    Him

He     -a dick

Also not to claim authority over   him

Not, not to be     cu-     rious-    -

No-pe

Authority   figures     don’t 

 He was an ass

Also yeah just     put   all the possible suspects in the room      -         That       Guy

Uhm

Ty-pho

Agana!

  That       fricker

   Onu          looked         at him         before         his death                 -             He came back last       to the party-

       He was the first             to suggest opening the drinks             -              Also the thing with the detective       and him just trying to get over as quickly as possible

        He sus,  

Aight,   

Right,       -       Don’t - get stabbed

Um-

Aight

Wha-

 Ha, such a red         herring-

 Okay-

Oh, Red herring        Co-nference

  Didn’t notice the     snake lady          (Kamoin)     Empty     Chair       -        Also     they know each other?

  Good,        evil for them,

  Fair

 Aight

Also yeah the         boomers here didn’t do it       -         More     likely someone from the Present     Gen.. . 

Theory

That      Guy..

Guy’s like damn

Like just give her your time and your place and       your alibi.

Whelp,       Aight

So I’m pretty sure if I had paid attention to the     bottles,        That wouldn’t have   matched up       ...

Yeah he was a separatist

              DAMN

    Like I saw the hand on the dock            But I thought it was an assassin        or team up

                But  

                 DAMN

                               I feel                                   verified

              Until it played music                       victory music                         Over the arrest                       of a distressed                        and less toxic                            person

*While   painting      the      toxic     person           as a        saint

                  Which I cannot                          condone

         As such;

                  it earns my most                             regretful                              strike;

Official;

   For attempting to     excuse a toxic       person’s          actions

* I want to emphasize that this is not ok, a person does not get off for un- accountable actions, simply by apologizing, never mind the fact          - that it is an attempt    to guilt-trip       Invalidate          And      Gas-    light               The       Recipient,       But also should not apply to someone that has repeatedly attempt to Gaslight, guilt trip and sell a person into slavery;         (Crossing more than five accounts)

[never mind the selectivi       ty of what it is applied        “Ano” getting away         With slavery, be        -cause he        Was “So-      rry,” gun        held to      (-near)        his       Back      While      Lolo       doesn’t     just   mummer      sorry)

         That once you commit harm              against another person.. it can                not be taken back, the victim       owes you no sympathy, no    right to their emotions, and        certainly, no un      accountability-       Forgive      Ness-      From what you have done.

   You must live with what you have        commit

   Regard        Less

[iammarylastar]

5. Boo and Cupcake.

Jack hasn’t unclenched his teeth for miles. Norhis fists which are slowly but surely pulverizing the steering wheel.  He has spent most of the ride staring at the rear-view, desperately trying to catch Shade’s eyes. The three times he succeeded, her green glance was desperate and wet.  He has to fight the urge to slam on the brakes, slam the car’s door, slam his palm on her face, slam his lips on hers.

Anna is sleeping like the baby she still is, curled up against her ma, clinging to the fluffy rabbit John bought her during their last stop for gas.  She’s his baby. He has been a father for 5 fucking years and he has known nothing about it. Fucking Shade. And she’s the one who complains.  OK he was gone for months but she could have left a note, a text, anything. Even months after. So he could have known about Anna. His baby girl. His angel.  Shade opted for a rougher way to announce his fatherhood. Oops I forgot: you’re a dad fucking asshole!

He grits his teeth and digs his nails further in the wheel.

Shade forces her stare out the window, avoiding Jack’s murder glare. His usual blue eyes turned ice black by anger. How could he blame her for Anna? He left without a word, a note, a text, any fucking thing.  After a whole month waiting for him, worrying to death, she started doubting.  She thought he has gone for a mission, that’s the job, but they had their secret code.  She has checked all her official and unofficial e-mails, twice, ten times a day. Nothing.  She ran to the general delivery of their 5 secret spots where they spent romantic getaways. No tracks. She begged, she cried, she yelled at McKay to glean some crumbles. No news.

She thought he was dead. And cried. She found out she was pregnant. And burst into more tears. She found the engagement ring, and she lost her mind.

And now she’s here, main witness in a dangerous drug case, threatened to death with her daughter by some old Mafioso and his squad, forced to run and breathe close to the man she hated the most. Forced to somehow live with him for her own safety. Forced to tell him about his daughter. Their daughter.

With Jack’s stare caressing her face, she feelsher hate vanish, then multiply with each breath.

The atmosphere in the car is so thick and sticky, anyone could feel the electricity in the air.

John gets bored with the heavy silence and opens his mouth to practice his main skill :sticking his foot in his mouth.

“Kids, you are stupid. Talk, kiss, fuck, whatever you need but this is fucking unbearable.” He points to the two of them.

“FUCK YOU JOHN!” is the only answer he had.

* They had driven for two days, the safe house they are sent to is located in the next state. Safety rules keep them from riding the highway 15, which would have saved one day of torture. John thinks to himself these are the longest two days ever. Even being threatening to death by a gun or jump blindly from the top of a building would be more fun and entertaining than this fucking trip.

Last time they had a stop for the night, Jack went to the reception and paid for two rooms. One for the girls, one for the McClanes, not to draw attention on them. But they actually stayed the four of them in the same room, the witness protection program forced Jack to keep an eye on Shade and Anna 24/7. Shade and Anna slept in the bed, John snored onthe sofa. Jack couldn’t sleep a wink at night, obsessed by the news Shade has delivered. He’s Anna’s father.

He kept his mouth shut, despite his need to scream his guts out.  He had sworn to himself since he was 8 that he ’d never be a missing dad. He decided to never become a father after Shade left him, devastated and desperate with love.

John felt sad to see those two sneaking around, too shy and stubborn to tell the other how they felt. They haven’t sleep nor eat a bit for days and were low company. John was the only one able to look after Anna, and as he told to McKay, was very skilled at tickling the little girl and incredibly talented in storytelling. He wisely took Anna out for a walk, there was always a playground near the motel.

Left alone in the room, it was worse. Shade wanted to run away from Jack but was irresistibly attracted to him. His presence and sadness made her want to hug and cuddle him and stay glued to his skin forever.

Jack was hurt, deep and dirty. But he was ready to make a step forward, for Shade and Anna. She was flipping through the TV channel, watching nothing in particular, only interested in looking busy and unapproachable.

Gathering his thoughts and his courage, Jack opened his mouth, ready to open his heart.

“Shade…” he started.

Startling at the soft ton of his voice, she quickly looked around for an exit, and rushed in the bathroom, slamming the door in his face. Leaning on the door, forehead touching, he fisted his hands then relaxed them, fisted them again as the burn in his stomach yelled at him to smash the door down and fall on his knees before her. Before a naked her. He listened to the water running, picturing the ride of each drop of water along her spine to her plump ass, cascading from her hair to her shoulders, slaloming through her collarbone to vanish between the valley of her breasts and further down. He swallowed hard, unable to take it anymore and softly called her name, shyly knocking at the door.

“Shade?”

He tried twice then a third attempt, speaking loudly but never got an answer. Had he dared to open the door, he would have found her, sitting down on the tiles of the shower, her knees curled up under her chin, crying her eyes out, biting her forearm to muffle her cries. Instead, he ran outside breaking the elementary rules of witness protection. God could blame him for that, striking him dead. He doubted he honestly could spend one more minute in the same room, his hardness keeping all his blood down, making thinking clearly impossible.

He ran his fingers through his short hair, tore whatever hair he could grab and screamed his guts out. He had all he ever wanted. Someone he loved beyond reason and a child. But not the way he wanted. The love of his life hated him and his own child knew nothing about him. Such a waste was nonsense.

He howled a last deep low grunt and came back to the room, determined to tell her a few home truths.

He stopped straight in his tracks just a step farther from the door frame. Shade just came out of the shower, hot and wet, wrapped in the thin towel which could be so easy to rip off while he’d bend her on the ground and fuck her senselessly.

She looked up at him, eyes locking his, both red from too much tears. Jack looked miserable, as much as she felt.  She noticed his clenched fists and jaws, it seemed he has forgotten how to breathe.

He walked straight towards her, stopped at her feet, dipped his eyes into hers. She could hear him as he subtly sniffed her scent and swallowed back a grunt of desire, reaching his hand out to land on her hip or the small of her back. Then giving up, fisting again as Jack brushed past her and slammed the bathroom door shut, making the walls rattle.

She felt so much guilt. She fucked up with him. She kept him from being a father; she kept Anna from having one.

After a long and quite helpful cold shower, Jack came out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped low on his hips. Shade was leaning on the bed, her hair still damp from the shower tangled over her face. She had changed into shorts and tank top and was sleeping on her side. Jack sat carefully on the edge of the bed and finally dared brushing his fingertips along her arm to her hand. Gently squeezing it, he watched her slowly breathing.

“Shade…” he just whispered as if her simple name could sum up all the feelings he wanted to tell her.

She opened her eye just enough to see his frame, hidden behind her hair. She was doing her best to keep her breath steady, deep and slow like someone deep asleep. But inside she was a mess. Angst slowly had left place for something softer and warmer. She refused to call it love but it was how it felt like. At one point they would have to forgive each other and decide what to do with their lives.  But not now. She glanced carefully at Jack as he put his clothes on, her hands getting wet, remembering each lines of his muscular body.

Jack stood up and took his wallet. He needed fresh air. He needed a walk. He needed a smoke, even if it’d kill him.

John was playing cards with Anna, waiting for their parents to have a talk in the room next door. He liked the girl, she was smart and funny, and he had shared and spent more time with her in two days than with John Junior in his entire life. The advantage of being a grand pa.

“John, may I ask you something?” Anna shyly said.

“Of course darlin. Whatever you want.” He was surprisingly soft.

“You’re my grand pa, right?”

“Yes I am.” John shows of under the new rank.

“Do you love me? ”

“Oh yes I love you Princess. I’m glad we finally met. ” he confessed, his heart pounding.

“And Jack is my dad, isn’t he?”

“ Absolutely, Jack is your dad. ”

“Why doesn’t my Dad love me?” The little girl so seriously worried.

“Oh, Anna! Of course he loves you. Why do you think so?” Her little face was heartbreaking.

“He barely spoke with me. I thought he’d be happy to know me. But I think he’s mad at me. Did I say or do something wrong?” She was fighting to keep tears at bay.

John sighed and dropped his cards on the bed where they were sitting.

“ Come here!” He patted his hand on his lap.

The little girl jumped from the bed and climbed on John’s knees.

“Listen. There are things you have to discuss with your mom and dad, but I swear Jack is the happiest dad in the world. He’s struggling with his feelings right now. He’s surely mad at your mom, foremost mad at himself. Your mom and dad made some mistakes and hurt themselves, but that was before you were born.”

Anna lifted her big blue eyes up to John’s and asked:

“That’s not my fault if they’re grumpy all the time? It seems both are sad and I know mom can’t stop crying at night. She thinks I’m asleep but I just close my eyes and pretend I’m sleeping.”

“Anna, your parents have to talk about a lot of things. They have to forgive themselves from the mistakes they made. But they’re too stubborn to say how they feel for each other.”

“I really think Jack should kiss mom. It could be nice!” She smiled.

“Yippi-kay-yay baby!” John laughed. “Yippi-yay-kak Pops!” Anna repeated, having her grand pa rolling on the bed, laughing.

@kenzieam @jaihardi @frecklefaceb @oddsnendsfanfics @pathybo @beautifulramblingbrains @bookwarm85 @badassbaker @angelswannawearmyredshooz @jojuarez @beltz2016 @writingismyhappytime @societalfailure

@red-diary

@tigpooh67

#live and die hard #jack mcclane #jai courtney #jack and shade #5 #boo and cupcake

[roidespd-blog]

Chapter Seventeen : FRANCE IN THE BEFORE

This ain’t no punk ass patriotic bullshit about our supposedly great country. Just breathe. For the next three days, we’re talking how the country of the bread, the cheese and the Love handled its queers and how it can improve. Today, it’s all about the past. Tomorrow, an important milestone. The Day after Tomorrow, we’re talking present and future.

First and foremost, I urge you to read a little book called “Le Rose et Le Noir”, written by Frédéric Martel (1996), which explains in deeper ways the journey LGBTQ+ People went through in this land. Every single Queer French individual should read it once. That being said, let’s dig in. Beware, There’s a LOT a dates.

THE REVOLUTION

The Nation was never in favor of homosexuality. I know, it sound obvious but it needs to be written. Voltaire said of homosexuality “a disgusting abomination and an attack against the laws of nature”. A fellow 18th century writer was quoted calling it the “abominable lust” and argued the death penalty for the guilty, comparing it to bestiality, prostitution and incest. With the French revolution of 1789 and the adoption of the Penal Code, homosexuality was no longer considered a crime per say BUT (and it’s a big butt) sodomy was still illegal (and will stay illegal for quite a while). A special police force was put together around that time. They created a dossier of every known homosexual, gay prostitutes and transvestites (I’m surprised transvestites were a thing back then) living in or around Paris, calling it the “registre des pédérastes”. Up until 1981 (important date, remember it), that dossier was used by the police to blackmail homosexuals. In 1942 — I know, flashforward, we’re on the fast lane — the Vichy regime implemented a new twist to the law, stating that the legal age of consent ought to be 13 (changing to 15 a few years later) for people having sex with someone of the opposite gender, and 21 for citizens having sex with people of the same sex as them. The adult in this situation could take as much as three years of prison and a 6000 francs fine. The fine grew to 15 000 francs after a new amendment signed by the Général De Gaulle.

Nevertheless, the first French homophile association called Arcadie was created in 1954. Their purpose was to “present homosexuals as respectable, cultured and dignified individuals deserving of greater social tolerance”. It went on to have its own publication of the same name, until its end in 1982.

To put it briefly, although homosexuality was not a crime, every christian moral codes were protected through very intelligent maneuvers from french governments, keeping homosexual on a leach and in fear of constant consequences for their actions. Example, Donatien Alphonse François de Sade, or Le Marquis de Sade wrote numerous times about homosexual acts (120 journées de Sodome, 1785, Philosophie dans le Boudoir, 1795) and he spent thirteen years in prison.

THE SECOND REVOLUTION (BUT FIRST ONE FOR THE QUEERS)

1968, France. Strikes. Manifestations. Social changes. 1969, New York. Stonewall Riots. Birth of the Gay Rights Movement.

1971, France. Creation of the Front Homosexuel d’Action Révolutionnaire, or FHAR (pompous French queers). To many, a very controversial association mostly because it did not make a distinction between homosexuals and pedophiles, leaving these said pedophiles many occasions to speak out and plead their case. To that, I say Fuck. You. FHAR. On the political side , The Right considered homosexuals as perverts. The Left was unofficially okay with them as long as it stayed an undisclosed private matter. The workers were against them. The Communists were against them as well. Not. A. Great. Start. No one was taking them seriously. When one member of FHAR asked a question to Jacques Duclos, Leader of the French Communist Party, he responded “How dare you asking me a question, faggot ? Go get some help (…) men are supposed to love women”.

In 1972, Le Nouvel Observateur published an article written by young writer-to-be Guy Hocquenghem in which he publicly came out. It is considered to be the homosexual version of the “Appel du 18 Juin”. Hocquenghem is a very face-slapping figure in the gay social movement in France. I covered his life in a post from last year and even then, I wasn’t sure he deserved it that much. That guy was always looking for the wrong words that would ignite the fire even bigger.

But for that gesture of bravery on January 10, 1972, I salute him.

In order to survive, FHAR went hand in hand with another brand new association called the MLF (Mouvement de Libération des Femmes) which included a certain amount of lesbian women. FHAR was present during the first official MLF manifestation of November 1971. Soon enough, a new fringe movement called “Les Gouines Rouges” would distance themselves from the MLF and would prove to be a disruptive force in the political scape.

The public’s acknowledgement of LGBTQ+ people were slowly but surely growing. In 1973, “La Cage aux Folles” became a theatre sensation and a special issue of Recherches called “Three Billions of Perverts” was published — the editor of the magazine would later be condemned for “Outrage aux bonnes moeurs”.

By February 1974, FHAR was dead, replaced by the Groupe de Libération Homosexuel, or GLH. One of the historical figures of this group went on to be writer Jean-Louis Bory, who is the author of my favorite queer quote of all time “Je n’avoue pas que je suis homosexuel parce que je n’en ai pas honte. Je ne proclame pas que je suis homosexuel, parce que j’en suis pas fier. Je dis que je suis homosexuel parce que cela est.”. That quote is the perfect example of philosophical differences between FHAR and GLH. While FHAR was trying its best to be showy, outrageous and getting recognition through provocation, GLH was calling for the right to indifference. Also, GLH was smart enough to distance itself from the Pedophiles subgroups and to that, I say good for you, GLH. Bory committed suicide in 1979.

On June 25th, 1977, the first Gay pride was organized, through the support of the MLF. Seeing the rise of the gay rights movement, politicians weren’t bending. Most of the gay magazines created during the 70s were banned by the Ministre de l’Intérieur in 1978. The movement didn’t bend either. The following year was created the magazine “Gai Pied”, an institution that would last until 1991.

As the world was changing and the gay movement was growing, equal rights and recognition from the government became a key factor in the 1981 presidential election.

During his presidential campaign, François Mitterrand announced that his future government would implement changes to the treatments of homosexuals in France. First, the special police put together by the government decades ago to surveil homosexuals would be disbanded for good. Second, the dossier linked to that special brigade would continue to exist but only in a limited form. Third, homosexuality would no longer be considered as a mental illness by the OMS. Fourth, presidential pardon to every homosexual crimes to previous felons.

Mitterrand was elected in May of 1981. By August, all of those promises were kept. But don’t go and cheer for that sweet man. He later became guilty of the same crime as his american counterpart of the time, Ronald Reagan, and ignored the AIDS epidemic for way too long. I’m not trying to spit on his memory but let’s be real : he used our people to get elected and then let them die in a corner. That’s the tea. It wouldn’t take long for those crimes for as of December 31, 17 cases of HIV/AIDS infections were found in France.

THE AIDS EPIDEMIC IN FRANCE

While the Association des Médecins Gays was putting together seminars to form doctors on how to deal with the new disease and GHL created an alert system to keep inform as many homosexuals as possible, 31 new cases were announced by the end of 1983, 92 by December 1984. Meanwhile, the government did little to nothing to prevent the spreading of the disease. Despite the OMS’ advice of implementing blood transfusion safety procedures, one of the 80s’ greatest scandals showed its face : L’Affaire du Sang Contaminé. It would later be denounced as a major crime from the government and multiple heads would fall and condemned for “involuntary main slaughter”.

The non-profit organization AIDES was created in 1984 by Daniel Defert after the death of his partner Michel Foucault (who was a founding member and regular contributor of Gai Pied). It became an urgency to have a platform dedicated to prevent but also inform and help patients with HIV/AIDS. By December 1985, 959 french citizens were diagnosed with HIV. The government, now with Jacques Chirac as Premier Ministre, was still not contributing in any way shape or form.

We had to wait until April 27, 1987 to see the first first government prevention campaign. “Le Sida ne passera pas par moi”. By then, over 4000 french people were infected.

Just like in the rest of the world, LGBTQ+ people were left to die, silenced by their own “cancer”. By the end of the century, 51400 cases of HIV/AIDS were found in the country. Even with the creation of ACT UP in 1989, the numerous efforts of Aides and the sudden realization by the french government that their citizens were in mortal danger, it was too little too late.

MEANWHILE IN PARTNERSHIP AREAS

What ? Did you think HIV/AIDS was just an 80s problem ? Bish, please. While people kept dying and activists kept fighting, many non Aids-related decisions were being made.

In 1989, The court of cassation refused all recognition of homosexual partnership in the eyes of the law. From that moment on, every year a new development in a Civic Union Partnership would be talked about or offered to the Parliament. The Petit Robert dictionary adapted its definition of “Love” from “relationship between a man and a woman” to “relationship between two individuals” in 1993. Nice. In 1994, The European Parliament advised all members of the E.U. to adopt anti-discriminations legislations in order to protect every citizen’s rights, no matter their sexual orientations. (SPOILER ALERT : It would take 10 years for France to wake the fuck up) In 1995, Tétu launched its first issue while Canal+ aired “La Nuit Gay” one full evening about homosexuality. In 1998, the term PACS (or Pacte Civil de Solidarité) appeared on the news. Equal but separate, a first step towards actual civil rights. The Laws of Commission adopted the law in September, but the Assembly rejected the proposal, mostly due to the lack of support from the Right and some much absentee deputies from the left that day. Fucking cowards. In December, the law is offered again to the assembly and passed after 64 hours and 30 minutes of debate. On January 30, 1999, over 100,000 people got to the street to oppose the PACS proposal. Christine Boutin is their unofficial leader, with slogans like “PACS=PD” or “LET’S BURN THOSE FAGGOTS”. In March, the Senate rejected for the first time the PACS. The Law would go to the Senate four times until October of the same year to be approved, after a change is its legislation that would not explicitly talk about homosexuals but would open the PACS to everyone. 

On October 13th, with 315 votes yes and 249 for a no, the PACS is approved. It became a law on November 15th, 1999. The First PACS was signed on November 22nd. 28,000 will follow in the spam of five months. In case you didn’t know, a PACS contract afforded you most of the legal protections, rights and responsibilities of marriage, except when it comes to actually calling it marriage or adopt or use artificial insemination. Also, until 2005, you couldn’t file a joint tax returns — the only real benefit of marriage, by the fucking way.

Very quickly, The Parliament added sexual identity to the protected grounds of discrimination in French Law in July of 2012. Yes, sexual identity. We are only protected and able to sue against discrimination based on our sexual identity for the past seven years. And Lawmakers controversially used “sexual” identity instead of “gender” identity. Because fuck those transgender people ? More on that later. All of that followed an 2004 amendment making homophobic comments illegal with maximum penalty of 45,000 euros fine and/or 12 months imprisonment.

Finally, In the 2008–2009 school year, a policy fighting all forms of discriminations, including homophobia, in schools was announced and implemented. And now, everything is fine.

Oh, and yes, Faggots kept on dying, whether through complications due to AIDS, suicide or violence towards them.

Tomorrow, we’ll go deep into 2012–2013, such a fun time to be Queer in France. Until then, bye.

[fuck-customers]

actually i lied, i do have a story of my own. no specific incident or anything, just an overall low-key shitty experience.

so back in 2010 i was working at the rite of shops (i believe the chain is in ny/pa/ma/possibly some other states). i started in produce, which was fantastic, because i didn't have to deal with people much, i got some exercise moving between the back room and the produce section, the other couple of employees close to my age were great for conversation and laughs while we were all prepping the boxed and shrink-wrapped produce, etc. i started keeping a teeny notebook in the pocket on my work apron so i could go through the whole section and write down what we needed more of; it was a nice, quiet kind of order, and helped me remember what i needed to cart out there, because my brain is garbage.

i worked produce fooooor... three months? something like that. and then they were like "okay well we're gonna cross-train you on cashiering, just so you know how in case we're short staffed or there's an emergency or we're super busy or something". okay, fine; my prior job had been at pier 1 imports (fab job, i loved it so much and i wish i were physically capable of it now), where everyone did everything, stocking, ringing up, cleaning, everything. different, less specialized computer system at the rite of shops, but i learned it okay.

except then they just stopped scheduling me for produce and only scheduled me for front end (cashiering).

and then, a week into the dedicated front end, they changed the entire computer system. so we all had to learn the new system at the same time, and while it was big touchscreen buttons where the old one was a lot of manually entering codes, it was still a rough transition, probably moreso for all the people who had been working for months or years there already and were way more used to the old system than i was.

also: the front end manager was a bitch (although given that i'm currently 73 pages back reading here, i see that it could have been far, far worse). never smiled, never approved, never had a single encouraging word for anyone. i think a fellow cashier said maybe a divorce was behind the shitty attitude? but that still doesn't entitle someone to treat others like crap. anyway, front end manager (her name was katrina, which was the only joy i had because we weren't that far out from hurricane katrina and it seemed an apt comparison) ran a tight, joyless ship that i hated immediately. we weren't allowed to have bottled water at our registers. we weren't allowed to lean on shit at our station, and the option of having something to sit on was absolutely out of the question. if we weren't actively ringing, we had to "look busy", which in my experience just led to customers being confused about whether or not i was open. (fun fact: if i see a cashier wiping down their belt and looking peeved, i assume they're not open and can't leave soon enough.) i finally started saying "yeah i'm open, we just have to look busy". if we had to speak to another cashier or to katrina, and there was more than one lane between us, we had to physically go and speak to whoever, or get someone closer to get their attention. we couldn't raise our voices or anything.

i finally had to put in my two weeks, because at that point i was on the road of doctors and specialists trying to determine why the fuck i was constantly exhausted and in pain, and 4-5 hours standing still at a register was leaving me incapable of getting out of bed the next day from standing with my knees locked and hyperextended the whole time (surprise, i have a connective tissue disorder! [themoreyouknow.png]). they'd already replaced me in produce at that point, and the only available positions elsewhere were for things i really didn't feel like i would be able to manage (bakery, deli), so i quit. christmas eve 2010 was my last shift, and i basically was flying through the whole thing. i counted my drawer, took my christmas light earrings and santa hat, and basically peaced out and told everyone else working that they were all lovely people and i never wanted to see any of them again, it was fantastic. (i didn't actually say that but i was visibly relieved to be leaving, and thank fuck the bitch wasn't working that night.) i'm on ssi now, because i now can't and won't ever be able to work anything but an extremely specific handful of jobs that aren't anywhere near me, but i do miss working, pier 1 was fun and rewarding and awesome, and i worked after the rite of shops at a local health food store where the owner fully understood my needs and limitations and was totally cool with whatever i needed to do to remain comfortable. but they weren't getting enough business after summer/autumn was over and they were basically paying me to sit and do nothing for four hours, so they had to let me go, and eventually the store had to close. i miss those two jobs, but not the rite of shops, that latter half of that one one can go fuck itself.

i maintain what i said in my ask on 5/10/17 - all of you working because you have to, and working shit jobs with shit pay and shit hours and awful coworkers and managers, all because you have to feed yourself and your family and keep a roof overhead, you are doing thankless work driven mostly by capitalism but partially by classism as well, and while not enough people appreciate all you do, there are some who REALLY do. there are enough good stories mixed in with the bad here to give me a little hope for humanity, and ever since my pier 1 job i've maintained that everyone should experience at least like, a part-time seasonal retail job, once in their life, just so they know that side of it and hopefully don't treat people so horribly. also my parents raised me to not be an asshole and to be nice to people. employees in the mart of walls especially seem surprised if they're pulling a huge thing of stock and i get the fuck out of their way, and even more so when they're like "sorry" and i'm like "hey, you're doing your job, no need to apologize". and that's sad, to me, that that's unusual for people to give a shit about someone just trying to earn their shitty minimum wage. anyway, you're all doing a fantastic job keeping it together and putting up with the levels of bullshit i've been reading about here, and i appreciate ALL of you but most especially the ones in fast food and big-box retail, you definitely have it the worst, and i'm sorry for that, truly. you're all awesome <3

#submissions #fuck retail #fuck managers #submission

[wellimhavinga3outof10day]

Lost Lullabies - Chapter Twelve

Description: Mickey Milkovich, former child star turned action movie star, runs into his old co-star, Ian Gallagher, out on the street in the middle of a winter night. When Mickey takes him in, he doesn’t realize that Ian has the power to completely turn his new life upside down.

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Read on AO3

Ian didn’t want to go back to set at all. It had only taken him a week to realize what a terrible fucking idea it had been to accept the role, but by then he’d already signed his life away. It was a lot of money. It was more money than he’d ever had in his entire life – hell, more money than his entire family had had in their collective lives. But that didn’t mean he was ready to see all the people he had run away from, all the people who had tried to help him after the show went down the drain, all the people who used to think he’d be the big name and Mickey would be the coked-up one-hit-wonder. It didn’t mean he would ever be ready to walk back onto a set opposite Mickey Milkovich and act like the guy was his best friend.

           He’d lost track of how many times he’d apologized, how many voicemails he’d left. The week he’d spent in Mickey’s apartment felt like a dream. How close they’d been to crossing the line between friends and lovers felt like a fucking hallucination. Ian had never in his life been more sure that Mickey hated him and that included the moment when Ian had come out to him.

           He remembered it now, on his way to the set on a bus. He was standing, one hand on the wobbly handhold that didn’t really help his balance at all. He kept getting shaken out of the memory by the movements of the bus, but the moment played back like it’d happened yesterday.

           Ten years old, sitting across from each other on Ian’s bed, whispering so that they wouldn’t wake his brothers. It was the first time Mickey had spent the night. Fiona had walked him over to his house after dinner, heard something she didn’t like the sound of, and marched him right back. Ian had never been happier to see Mickey, even if Mickey had looked smaller than ever, eyes on the floor, tears glistening in his blue eyes. And this, the boy who hadn’t been able to cry on command no matter what the director said to him.

           Ian had coaxed Mickey out of his shell, out of whatever horror he was hiding from, and had gotten him wrapped up in a heated game of truth or dare. A game of truth or dare too explicit for their ages, but they’d grown up in the Southside. Hell, Ian had seen his parents having sex in the kitchen by that age. Mickey had seen a lot worse.

           The question had been would you rather fuck Tabitha or Christie? and Ian had answered honestly with the word, neither. Mickey had stared at him for a long moment like he had just admitted to giving away nuclear launch codes. Before he could ask what the fuck was wrong with Ian, Ian had said, I think I like boys.

           Mickey had then let loose a thread of curses so violent Ian hadn’t even heard most of them before. Then he refused to sleep in Ian’s bed, demanded to be taken home that instant, made such a racket that Lip had woken up and thrown a pillow at them. Ian didn’t say a word, just waited until Fiona had come to check on them and taken Mickey home when he begged her to.

           Ian remembered the first day on set after that less clearly. He remembered the director telling Mickey to perk up, that Ian was his best friend, remember? He remembered three weeks where Mickey didn’t talk to him outside of rehearsing lines or taping scenes. Then he remembered coming out to one of the producers when they told him that the plot line between him and Christie was going to start getting more romantic. When they threatened to fire him, he remembered Mickey cussing them out and saying he’d quit on the spot if that happened.

           Mickey had always had his back, just like Ian had always had his. Until the moment that they hadn’t, things had gone to shit, and nine years had passed without them seeing each other. Ian wondered if today on set would be better or worse than the day after he told Mickey he was gay.

           The bus came to a stop five blocks from the studio and Ian jumped off. He walked the rest of the way, picked up his pace when he checked the time, and arrived at the gate with the tips of his fingers frozen blue. The guard let him in, called someone in a golf cart to pick him up and bring him to the set, and then he was dropped off at the doors.

           He remembered the set blurrily, like even being there years earlier had been a dream, and shook off the feeling. Without the drugs, he’d been having some weird withdrawal symptoms. Blurred vision. Nausea. Racing thoughts. Rapid speech. A libido through the fucking roof. He hadn’t been sleeping well either, but maybe that was the reason for the other symptoms.

           A PA greeted him at the door and walked him around the set. As he went, he waved to the other actors he passed. He found he recognized most of them – Gabe, who’d played his dad, Christie, his love interest, even Mark, who’d been their third friend – but they didn’t wave back. The chilly reception didn’t surprise him. He’d made the rest of them look bad when he went off the rails.

           He was dropped at the door to his dressing room with a copy of the schedule for the day. He paused to read it, ticked off the scenes in his head. He had memorized most of the script a week ago but still had it with him just in case the atmosphere of the set threw him off. And it was throwing him off big time. Being in the same place made him feel like he was having déjà vu or a weird dream. He wished they had chosen a different building.

           No one spoke to him until he got over to Set C – the coffee shop. There the director ran him through the things he should have been told yesterday – what colour tape was his mark, how many cameras they were working with, what he could and couldn’t touch on set. He knew asking to start late had been a bad idea but yesterday had been Carl’s last day of leave from military school. He hadn’t wanted to miss him.

           About ten minutes into the set rundown, Mickey appeared and Ian stopped hearing anything the director said. His heart started to beat harder in his chest and he had to swallow the lump in his throat. It had been a month. A month without Mickey and somehow Mickey managed to look even better in that time. Maybe when he was on set, he was on a diet, and therefore immediately looked better, but Ian didn’t know if that was it. It just seemed like Mickey glowed. Maybe his natural place was on a movie set. Maybe he had found his calling early on in life.

           “Hey,” Mickey said when he reached them. He gave Ian a brief nod and then focused his attention on the director. Ian followed his lead even though part of him just wanted to pull Mickey aside and apologize profusely and promise to never talk to him again as long as he didn’t ignore him for the entire three months they were filming.

           The director finished his spiel – he had a lot of tips on how to do the scene right and Ian immediately remembered why he had hated the guy – and waved them onto their marks so the cameras could set up.

           Ian let the silence linger between him and Mickey for just a touch longer than was comfortable. Then he said, “So, about the whole kind of forcing you into this thing—”

           “Don’t mention it.” Mickey looked at his feet.

           “I’m sorry.”

           “Don’t be,” Mickey said. He met Ian’s eyes briefly, then looked away. “Disney pays, man.”

           “I know.”

           A hint of a smile crept onto Mickey’s lips. “You’re doing good?”

           “I’m clean.”

           “Good.”

           “Mick, I—”

           “Ready?” The director called. Ian shut his mouth. “Set. Action!”

           They dove into the scene – an argument that happened about halfway through the movie over the fact that Mickey’s character, Lance, wanted to drop out of the babysitting business in order to “really start his life.” Ian had taken issue with this part of the script because, well, the fact that two grown men had been running a babysitting business throughout all of college was creepy as fuck. The response he’d gotten was “get your mind out of the gutter, this is Disney.”

           The director called cut on them several times, got them to start at different points in the scene. To Mickey’s credit, he didn’t break once, had all his lines memorized, and didn’t even trip over a single word. Ian thought that, due to his lack of experience, he was keeping up pretty well. He didn’t really know why the director kept telling them to restart.

           They’d been at it almost half an hour and barely managed to get past the first three lines of the five minute scene. When the director yelled cut again, Mickey stepped back and rubbed his hand over his lips. “Again,” the director called, “from the top.”

           “Fuck that,” Mickey said.

           Ian knew he had no standing to agree, but he was glad Mickey’d finally opened his mouth about it. He was getting tired from being on his feet, from the bright stage lights, from saying the same twelve words over and over and over again. He felt like he was wearing a hole in his vocal chords.

           Mickey stepped towards the director, but not off set. “At least tell us what’s fucking wrong this time so we can stop this bullshit.”

           The director almost looked shocked, then he seemed to remember who he was working with. After a moment, he nodded and got up off his chair to join them on set. “You wanna know what you’re doing wrong?” he said, like it was a challenge. “You really want me to spell it out for you?”

           Mickey took a step towards the guy, looked ready to fucking deck him. Ian placed a hand on his shoulder to pull him back.

           “This,” the director said, gesturing to where they were touching, “is the fucking problem.”

           Mickey glanced over his shoulder at Ian, like he hadn’t registered the pressure of his hand at all. Instead of shaking him off, he looked back at the director. “The problem is that we’re touching each other? I haven’t touched him fucking once.”

           “The problem is you two look like you’re about five seconds from going at it against the fucking windows.”

           Mickey raised his eyebrows.

           Ian blinked and spared a glance at the tired extras.

           “Excuse me?” Mickey said.

           “Look, I couldn’t tell you this when you were kids, because it would have been inappropriate, but we’re all grown-ups now, right? So you wanna know the real reason they cancelled your show? It’s because they couldn’t tape two fucking seconds of film where the two of you didn’t look like you were head over heels for each other. But, reboot, they thought, hey, they’re older and haven’t seen each other in ten years and even if they still have feelings for each other, they might be able to fucking hide it better now. But apparently not.”

           Mickey looked away with a shocked expression and then looked back up with the kind of smile on his face that Ian knew meant back the fuck up. He tightened his grip on Mickey’s shoulder, but didn’t know what good it would do. After all, Mickey was the star. Maybe if he decked the director, the director would be fired, not him.

           “If this was the kind of perverted shit going on in your head when we were kids, I don’t wanna know what’s in your brain now,” Mickey said. “But I’ll tell you—”

           “No.” The director held up a hand that miraculously silenced Mickey. “I’ll tell you. You might be a big fucking name, but I’ve been in this business longer. You wanna hit me? Fine. It’s not gonna fix anything. So you want to know what I really wanted to scream at you when you two little shits were filming scenes nine years ago?” The director raised an eyebrow like he was waiting for one of them to ask. Ian looked to Mickey. Mickey glared daggers at the director. “Fine. I’ll tell you. Either learn to goddamn act or go fuck it out of your system.”

           Mickey’s silence was icy, burning.

           Ian took his hand off of him.

           “Take five,” the director said. “Come back without the fucking puppy dog eyes.”

           Mickey stormed off. Ian hesitated a moment before going after him.

<<Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen>>

#gallavich #shameless #Ian Gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #mine #3outof10 fanfic #chapter twelve #lost lullabies

[adambstingus]

24 HILARIOUS Times People Rage Quit Their Job The Way Everyone’s Wanted To

1. Does His Best By Quitting

17, hole in the wall popular non-chain fast food place. Worked 3 to 11.

A Friday. We needed a MINIMUM of 4 people to run the place. And that’s with everything getting totally trashed. 6-7 people was really what was needed.

Nobody showed up but me. Previous shift went home.Called the manager. No answer. Called the owner. ‘Just do the best you can’.

Turned off the lights, locked the door, put a sticky note on it that said ‘I quit’. And went home.

I did the best I could.

theawesomethatis

2. Quitting By Proxy

I knew a guy in high school who hated working at a movie theater. Called his boss and told him he wasn’t feeling well because he went hiking, got swarmed by bats, and got bit by one. Shows up later that evening to watch a movie with a cape and fake fangs in his mouth. Fired on the spot.

RIPmyFartbox

3. Last Day Making Pizzas

I used to work at a place that rhymes with “Pizza Hut” and the managers there were real cheapskates.

There was this nice old man that would come in every Sunday and order a triple extra cheese pizza and while they charged him for the 3x cheese, they would forbid us from ever actually putting that much cheese on a pizza because apparently cheese in the pizza selling world is akin to gold.

So instead of 3x extra cheese he would really be getting what the instructions would qualify as barely enough for a regular cheese pizza.

On the day my 2 weeks notice ended the old guy just happened to be my last order so I went into the walk-in and grabbed an entire box of cheese, proceeded to dump the entire thing onto his pizza and tossed it into oven. It was stacked so high that it couldn’t even fit into it and half of it was scraped off.

Anyways, the look on the old guy’s face when he saw me do this made it all worth it (imagine pure excitement). Needless to say I didn’t put the correct phone number down for future job references.

Not_A_Doctor_Venture

4. Popcorn And VHS

There was a UPS strike in the 90s and I was employed by them in high school as a sorter. Blockbuster Video at the time had this mail order deal where you’d get a VHS tape and bags of popcorn. Like a proto-Netflix thing I guess. Anyway, all these boxes full of microwave popcorn and VHS tapes would slide down the belt and about half of the popcorn bags would explode or break. After about an hour there was popcorn dust all over. I asked my boss for a mask, and he said that they didn’t have any. Some of the drivers walked by wearing masks, and I followed them and found a full cabinet full of masks. I confronted my boss, and he was like “the masks are for drivers, only”.

So I went back to the sorting area and just stopped working. I just stood there. The belts were backing up with these boxes of popcorn and they would burst and clouds of powdered popcorn butter would fill the air. I waited about 45 minutes before the belt shut off.

I walked out through a haze of popcorn dust, with alarms blaring, people running everywhere trying to figure out what was going on. A lot of people didn’t get their VHS tapes that week.

rikers_evil_twin

5.A “Certain” Coffee Chain

My wife worked for a certain chain coffee shop a few years back. She got another job, so requested reduced hours. This didn’t happen for 3 straight weeks.

During that third week, she had a soccer mom from hell try to get her attention, by throwing fucking snowballs at her through the drive-thru window. My wife then stopped what she was doing and tossed this soccer mom’s iced tea at her (which exploded everywhere) and slammed the window.

5 minutes later she had written her letter of resignation, with the only things she could find: a purple crayon and a sticky note.

The_MonBear

6. A Race To Quit First

Worked as a teller at a bank for a few years, GM and supervisor were both kind of crappy in their own ways. My buddy there was also a teller who felt similarly and wanted to get out. We started applying to places and both got interviews at the same company. As luck would have it, we both got hired and got phone calls about 10 minutes apart.

There was only one other teller aside from us and when it got busy, supervisor usually had to jump in as well (and usually hated it). It felt like we were constantly short staffed and days when 1 person would call out sick or be on vacation would suck. Being down 2 people was the worst.

Naturally when we both got hired, it became a race to see who could turn in their two weeks notice first. He printed his off and raced into GM’s office, walking out with a big smile. GM calls me in and offers me full time hours (after I had been requesting them for months).

I jumped in saying “Let me stop you right there, I’m also turning in my two weeks notice.”

Remembering that look of disbelief will make me smile every time. A solid professional Eff You is just as enjoyable to me as going out with a bang.

spikey182

7. Middle Management At Its Dumbest

Wrote a normal letter of resignation before I got in the shower one morning. No big deal. Got into the office and was straight ignored by management. Oh well, told you when my last day was.

Fast forward 3 days they pull me into a conference room to ask what it would take to keep me. I say nothing but don’t want to ruin them (sole IT manager for a staff of 70) and would be willing to consult part time. They liked that idea and said they’d be willing to pay me my current hourly as a consultant. I was prepared for this and told them that wasn’t what I said. I said that i would consult and my consulting rate was $200/hr. They were flabbergasted and insulted (I was making about $18/hr salary).

They thought it was insane even though they’d pay a consulting firm $600/hr when I was on vacation. Needless to say, having planned to quit it was no skin off my back and laughed about it. They didn’t take kindly to me laughing about their anger and told me to pack my shit. I did so, got an extra 10 days vacation paid out of it.

Cypher1710

8. AM Country Gold

1992: I was 19 and working at the most pissant radio station imaginable, “AM Country Gold”. The notoriously cheap, abusive and dishonest owner, a fella named “Wes,” had just screwed me out of a promised bonus. It was the latest in a long line of dishonest acts and I had had enough.

The rest of the sales team was afraid to stand up to Wes and he screamed abuse at them constantly (except the lone woman, who he sexually harassed). They were all in their 30’s & 40’s, working the same garbage job I was, but desperately needed it. I did not. So I engaged in a very public shouting match with Wes in the lobby, saying all the things everyone there had always wanted to say. Then I swept the contents of the front desk onto the floor and stormed out.

Instead of leaving, I went around the side of the building to a pay phone and called the radio station request line. In a fake Southern accent, I said, “Hey y’all, I just told my cheap, no good, lying piece of human garbage boss to go to hell. Play me out with, “Take this Job and Shove It,” and dedicate it to my former boss, Wes!”

The disc jockey had no idea what had just happened in the lobby, or that my Wes was “the” Wes, so he enthusiastically played my recorded dedication and added, “This one is for you Wes, choke on it you sack of crap!”

The building had speakers inside and out constantly playing the radio feed, so I got to hear Wes get clowned by his own radio station before driving off into the sunset.

LAND0KARDASHIAN

9. Over The P.A. System

Someone at my previous workplace (a huge grocery store in a large mall) went to the PA system we use to issue messages to the whole mall, and said something along the lines of “dear customers, managers and co-workers. I fucking quit”, and then proceeded to leave.

Focie

10. The Family Business

I used to work for my Father. It was probably the worst time of my life. He treated me like absolute shit, paid me very poorly, and made me work 70+ hours a week. I was young, just out of high school, and I complained about my predicament quite a lot. His response was always “if you don’t like it, there’s the door.”

6 months before I quit, he made me run his night shift, which meant 6PM -6:30AM Monday through Saturday. I was very unhappy about this, so I applied for another job. I got it, and went to my Father’s office with a list of demands, he responded with his usual reply, so I said, “Alright, I’ve gotten a job offer somewhere else, fuck you, I quit.”

The look on his face was priceless. He truly believed that because I had amazing job security that I’d be willing to put up with anything and that I’d stay there for my entire career. In one short, sweet instant, I proved to him that this was not the case, and he lost his most valuable employee.

The icing on the cake was the fact that the job that I left him for is at the company that manufactures the very machinery and software he relies on in business. So any time something goes wrong in his factory, he has to call me to fix it for him.

Your_Lower_Back

11. Using A Hidden Code

I wrote a respectful letter thanking them for the opportunity and all they’ve taught me.

The first letter of every sentence spelled out “Fuck <boss>”.

Nobody noticed.

InternetSpaceship

12. The Price You Have To Pay

I went up to HR to give my two weeks’ notice GTFO but before I could even get a word out, the HR lady flapped her hand at me and told me to come back in an hour because she was going on lunch. So I wrote “I QUIT!” on a piece of paper, signed and dated it, and left it on her desk.

She called me later to let me know that since I didn’t give two weeks’ notice, I would never be eligible to work for Kaufmann’s or Macy’s ever again. I told her I’d just have to live with that.

thebloodofthematador

13. “I Can’t Do This Anymore”

Worked in a video store when there was such a thing. My co-worker showed up very, very high. He was also about 6’3″ and 140 pounds, so he stood out in a crowd to begin with. Anyway, he came in for a 4 hour shift, stood in the middle of our bank of checkout registers…and just ate chips. Like, 6 bags of chips back to back, and he ate them SLOW, and savored the shit out of each bite. The whole time he had zero facial expression, think of the dull stare of a chewing dairy cow.

After about 3 hours he calmly turns to me and says “I can’t do this anymore”…gently sets down his bag of chips, and walks out the door. We never saw him in the store again.

Leumas_

14. A Total Mutiny

First job when i was 15 for a discount clothing brand store. Head manager was the aunt of our store manager who was 19. Our store manager did nothing most of the time and used to chat to her boyfriend and friends loudly on the store phone…much to the annoyance of everybody.

One night its come closing, we are grabbing our coats and getting ready to leave after a really busy day and the store manager storms in, telling us how she’s lowered the shutters and wont let us leave until we have helped her finish the one job she had all day to do cos her aunt is doing a “surprise” inspection in the morning. Everyone is pissed, especially the people who have had to watch her do literally nothing all day. She turns spiteful, threatening to delay our pays, dock our wages etc etc. All bullshit. For one woman it was the last straw (she had a kid to pick up from a club) so she waited till she left us alone to work, walked up to the shutters and pulled them up manually by hand. All of us crawled out to freedom.

We left her a note saying “Good luck explaining to your aunt why four people just quit.”

Cactusface987

15. Held Hostage

I was working for Argos as a Christmas job while studying. After a while it was becoming too much as I had to stay in work until deliveries were unpacked; this meant that some days I was leaving for college at 8.30am and not getting home until 1am that night.

One night it was a particularly large delivery and it was getting very late with no end in sight. I decided I’d had enough and told the supervisor I was finished, didn’t want to do the job anymore and wanted to go home. He rejected this and said that I was going nowhere until the delivery was unpacked. I stood in front of him and repeated that I quit therefore I don’t care about the delivery, completing my studies was more important to me than earning a bit of extra cash. He still said I was going nowhere and refused to unlock the door to let me out.

Despite feeling I had a case for false imprisonment I decided to take matters in to my own hands; I ran out the fire escape door and down the street never to return. I’ll always remember the sound of the fire escape door making a big DOOONG as it hit the metal railings and I made my escape to freedom.

StreakyMcMeeky

16. Burning Bridges With Jet Fuel

I worked for a law firm doing research and analysis. I wrote a custom program, on my own time, that would automate editing down these huge lists we’d get from an outside vendor, boiling it down to only what we wanted. First, only my team used the code. By the time I left, over 150 people were using it. Sounds minimal but it was actual a huge time saver. The program would boil down a list ~100 pages long down to about ~10 pages; a process we used to do manually a couple times a day.

A layoff was announced, I was part of the outplacement, but the firm wanted to continue using my program. I asked if there would be compensation as it was coded on my own time, never paid for it, etc. I was told no and “besides, there’s really nothing keeping us from still using it when you’re gone.”

For the remainder of my time (2 years), I would create patches whenever the format of the data changed. With my last patch, I put in code that would disable the program and erase key parts of the program one month after my last day. From what I understand from people still with the firm, on day X everyone came in, booted their machines, and the program was simply gone. Efficiency fell through the floor, delaying opening cases, billing clients, etc. I wanted 10k, they lost more than that in the first week without the program.

Photog1981

17. A Parting Gift To Her Co-Workers

During my exit interview I told HR the real reason I was leaving was due to the quality of the office chairs. I said they were an eyesore, uncomfortable and made me ashamed to come to work and resulted in sub-par job satisfaction.

Two weeks later I was told by previous co-workers everyone got brand new, top of the line office chairs.

jphiz

18. Don’t Piss Off Your Only Cook

At 16 I worked at a Dairy Queen Brazier in Texas. My Manager, was a jerk. One night, I sliced a good chunk of my thumb off because they did not have the proper safety equipment. After being out of work for 3 weeks, I returned to work. My thumb was still pretty screwed up, but I was trying. My Manager kept riding my ass, telling me I had to move faster (I was the only short order cook). When I saw three GreyHound buses pull up, I knew I was in trouble. She came back into the kitchen and said if I didn’t move fast for these buses she’d find someone who would. That was the last straw – I knew no one in the entire restaurant could cook. So I took her up on her threat and simply walked out the back door. She flipped me off as I drove away. My friends told me they hardly got any orders out and the buses left since they couldn’t get the food out. I felt bad for the people on the buses, but was sick of being berated by management.

sunrein

19. Out The Window

I got this.

Worked as a teen for McDonald’s for a month or two during the winter in the 90’s. We were understaffed and they usually had me working the deep sink and taking money at the drive thru. One day I come in at 4pm and the breakfast stuff is pilled to the ceiling at the sink because the day shift rolled out without taking care of it, as per usual.

There was a snowstorm this particular day and with the amount of dishes to do and the increasing frequency of running over and taking money from the window during the dinner rush my hands were beginning to hurt, then going completely numb. I let the manager know this wasn’t working out today and get blown off.

Fuck it, I crawl straight the fuck out of the money window without anyone noticing, at least no one on the staff. I get in my car and drive to the parking lot across the street and watch that dinner rush drive thru line back up out of the lot and down the street.

Seadgs

20. “I Don’t Want To Hear This”

I used to work for a telecommunications company.

My mom was very sick over the last 3 months of her life, so I had to go home most weekends to see her, it’s a 6 hour journey to get from where I worked to the town where I’m from. When her birthday came around, I requested a couple of days off that I had saved for this specific occasion. Yet, the days off were denied because we were approaching a busy time of year for sales. At this point, I hadn’t mentioned what was happening at home, because well, I was always taught that you keep your work and personal lives separate. But I said it to my boss, who, at the time, I saw as a pretty compassionate person. She never took any issue when I got sick or was late for whatever reason. But when I told her, she just looked at me point blank and said “I don’t want to hear this”.

After that meeting, I went back to my desk and sat there for about 20 minutes, thinking of a solution. That solution was to get my things, and just leave. I said goodbye to my friends on my way out, flipped my boss off and just walked out. I went straight to my car and drove back to my home town that night. It was the best decision I ever made.

I got to spend all my time with my mom before she went. We even got to go on a vacation and spend one last week away together because I had the time to do so. I’ll never, ever regret walking out that day.

Not exactly “hilarious”, but I had a good chuckle to myself on that drive home. The look on my boss’s face will never leave me. It was sweet.

IThinkIAmASofa

21. Work Night Turns Into Movie And A Beer

Worked in the cinema as a teenager. Came in late for work after they changed my schedule during my days off and didn’t think to mention it to me. Boss lost it and started shouting at me, as far as I’m concerned if you need to shout I ain’t listening. So let her rant away for a good 15 mins while I was at my locker clearing it out. When it finally clicked that I wasn’t listening or getting ready to work she stopped and asked what I’m doing I said ”going to see Lord of the Rings with the lads who’ve just finished as I’m doing nothing else with my evening. May go for a pint after. What’s your plans?”

definitelynotme_

22. Best Sales Day On His Last Day

I managed to find a telemarketing job as one of my first jobs. It sucked and we were treated like animals, but it was close enough that I could walk there from home. I only intended to stay long enough to afford a car.

One day, I realized that I had reached my set dollar amount for a car purchase. As a joke, I strayed as far from the sales pitch as possible. I changed my greeting to things like “Hey.” or “‘Sup?” I impersonated celebrity voices. People stopped working around me. They just listened in shock.

But it completely backfired.

It was my highest day of sales ever. I sold 10 times my average. The pit boss was bewildered, which is why I wasn’t fired right away (he listened in on all my calls that day). He begged me to stay, but I was out.

ShrugCorporation

23. Fighting The System By Using The System

My boss was a cunt, had me on a disciplinary for something that wasn’t my fault, and had my bonus taken off me. So i found a new job, threw out 2,500 worth of stock as technically the food hadn’t been stored away correctly, went above my boss and got head offices backing, then handed my notice in, knowing that id fucked his bonus up to. FUCK. THAT. GUY.

ssuperhanzz

24. This One Will Renew Your Faith In Humanity

My job at Chick-Fil-A had a tradition of pieing people in the face on their last day. Now I was the manager and didn’t trust the kids not to pie me when taking a complaint or during a rush or something, so I promised them if they’d wait until close in the parking lot, and if they got done cleaning on time, we’d do something special.

So I present to you: The Pie Gauntlet

I love my Chick-Fil-A family. Thanks for a great last closing. After 4 years of giving out my fair share of “Last Day Surprise Pies” we hosted THE GAUNTLET. Love and miss you guys.

A video posted by Alex Bennett (@spideybennett) on Jul 9, 2015 at 7:42pm PDT

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/11/30/24-hilarious-times-people-rage-quit-their-job-the-way-everyones-wanted-to/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/168027990232

[samanthasroberts]

24 HILARIOUS Times People Rage Quit Their Job The Way Everyone’s Wanted To

1. Does His Best By Quitting

17, hole in the wall popular non-chain fast food place. Worked 3 to 11.

A Friday. We needed a MINIMUM of 4 people to run the place. And that’s with everything getting totally trashed. 6-7 people was really what was needed.

Nobody showed up but me. Previous shift went home.Called the manager. No answer. Called the owner. ‘Just do the best you can’.

Turned off the lights, locked the door, put a sticky note on it that said ‘I quit’. And went home.

I did the best I could.

theawesomethatis

2. Quitting By Proxy

I knew a guy in high school who hated working at a movie theater. Called his boss and told him he wasn’t feeling well because he went hiking, got swarmed by bats, and got bit by one. Shows up later that evening to watch a movie with a cape and fake fangs in his mouth. Fired on the spot.

RIPmyFartbox

3. Last Day Making Pizzas

I used to work at a place that rhymes with “Pizza Hut” and the managers there were real cheapskates.

There was this nice old man that would come in every Sunday and order a triple extra cheese pizza and while they charged him for the 3x cheese, they would forbid us from ever actually putting that much cheese on a pizza because apparently cheese in the pizza selling world is akin to gold.

So instead of 3x extra cheese he would really be getting what the instructions would qualify as barely enough for a regular cheese pizza.

On the day my 2 weeks notice ended the old guy just happened to be my last order so I went into the walk-in and grabbed an entire box of cheese, proceeded to dump the entire thing onto his pizza and tossed it into oven. It was stacked so high that it couldn’t even fit into it and half of it was scraped off.

Anyways, the look on the old guy’s face when he saw me do this made it all worth it (imagine pure excitement). Needless to say I didn’t put the correct phone number down for future job references.

Not_A_Doctor_Venture

4. Popcorn And VHS

There was a UPS strike in the 90s and I was employed by them in high school as a sorter. Blockbuster Video at the time had this mail order deal where you’d get a VHS tape and bags of popcorn. Like a proto-Netflix thing I guess. Anyway, all these boxes full of microwave popcorn and VHS tapes would slide down the belt and about half of the popcorn bags would explode or break. After about an hour there was popcorn dust all over. I asked my boss for a mask, and he said that they didn’t have any. Some of the drivers walked by wearing masks, and I followed them and found a full cabinet full of masks. I confronted my boss, and he was like “the masks are for drivers, only”.

So I went back to the sorting area and just stopped working. I just stood there. The belts were backing up with these boxes of popcorn and they would burst and clouds of powdered popcorn butter would fill the air. I waited about 45 minutes before the belt shut off.

I walked out through a haze of popcorn dust, with alarms blaring, people running everywhere trying to figure out what was going on. A lot of people didn’t get their VHS tapes that week.

rikers_evil_twin

5.A “Certain” Coffee Chain

My wife worked for a certain chain coffee shop a few years back. She got another job, so requested reduced hours. This didn’t happen for 3 straight weeks.

During that third week, she had a soccer mom from hell try to get her attention, by throwing fucking snowballs at her through the drive-thru window. My wife then stopped what she was doing and tossed this soccer mom’s iced tea at her (which exploded everywhere) and slammed the window.

5 minutes later she had written her letter of resignation, with the only things she could find: a purple crayon and a sticky note.

The_MonBear

6. A Race To Quit First

Worked as a teller at a bank for a few years, GM and supervisor were both kind of crappy in their own ways. My buddy there was also a teller who felt similarly and wanted to get out. We started applying to places and both got interviews at the same company. As luck would have it, we both got hired and got phone calls about 10 minutes apart.

There was only one other teller aside from us and when it got busy, supervisor usually had to jump in as well (and usually hated it). It felt like we were constantly short staffed and days when 1 person would call out sick or be on vacation would suck. Being down 2 people was the worst.

Naturally when we both got hired, it became a race to see who could turn in their two weeks notice first. He printed his off and raced into GM’s office, walking out with a big smile. GM calls me in and offers me full time hours (after I had been requesting them for months).

I jumped in saying “Let me stop you right there, I’m also turning in my two weeks notice.”

Remembering that look of disbelief will make me smile every time. A solid professional Eff You is just as enjoyable to me as going out with a bang.

spikey182

7. Middle Management At Its Dumbest

Wrote a normal letter of resignation before I got in the shower one morning. No big deal. Got into the office and was straight ignored by management. Oh well, told you when my last day was.

Fast forward 3 days they pull me into a conference room to ask what it would take to keep me. I say nothing but don’t want to ruin them (sole IT manager for a staff of 70) and would be willing to consult part time. They liked that idea and said they’d be willing to pay me my current hourly as a consultant. I was prepared for this and told them that wasn’t what I said. I said that i would consult and my consulting rate was $200/hr. They were flabbergasted and insulted (I was making about $18/hr salary).

They thought it was insane even though they’d pay a consulting firm $600/hr when I was on vacation. Needless to say, having planned to quit it was no skin off my back and laughed about it. They didn’t take kindly to me laughing about their anger and told me to pack my shit. I did so, got an extra 10 days vacation paid out of it.

Cypher1710

8. AM Country Gold

1992: I was 19 and working at the most pissant radio station imaginable, “AM Country Gold”. The notoriously cheap, abusive and dishonest owner, a fella named “Wes,” had just screwed me out of a promised bonus. It was the latest in a long line of dishonest acts and I had had enough.

The rest of the sales team was afraid to stand up to Wes and he screamed abuse at them constantly (except the lone woman, who he sexually harassed). They were all in their 30’s & 40’s, working the same garbage job I was, but desperately needed it. I did not. So I engaged in a very public shouting match with Wes in the lobby, saying all the things everyone there had always wanted to say. Then I swept the contents of the front desk onto the floor and stormed out.

Instead of leaving, I went around the side of the building to a pay phone and called the radio station request line. In a fake Southern accent, I said, “Hey y’all, I just told my cheap, no good, lying piece of human garbage boss to go to hell. Play me out with, “Take this Job and Shove It,” and dedicate it to my former boss, Wes!”

The disc jockey had no idea what had just happened in the lobby, or that my Wes was “the” Wes, so he enthusiastically played my recorded dedication and added, “This one is for you Wes, choke on it you sack of crap!”

The building had speakers inside and out constantly playing the radio feed, so I got to hear Wes get clowned by his own radio station before driving off into the sunset.

LAND0KARDASHIAN

9. Over The P.A. System

Someone at my previous workplace (a huge grocery store in a large mall) went to the PA system we use to issue messages to the whole mall, and said something along the lines of “dear customers, managers and co-workers. I fucking quit”, and then proceeded to leave.

Focie

10. The Family Business

I used to work for my Father. It was probably the worst time of my life. He treated me like absolute shit, paid me very poorly, and made me work 70+ hours a week. I was young, just out of high school, and I complained about my predicament quite a lot. His response was always “if you don’t like it, there’s the door.”

6 months before I quit, he made me run his night shift, which meant 6PM -6:30AM Monday through Saturday. I was very unhappy about this, so I applied for another job. I got it, and went to my Father’s office with a list of demands, he responded with his usual reply, so I said, “Alright, I’ve gotten a job offer somewhere else, fuck you, I quit.”

The look on his face was priceless. He truly believed that because I had amazing job security that I’d be willing to put up with anything and that I’d stay there for my entire career. In one short, sweet instant, I proved to him that this was not the case, and he lost his most valuable employee.

The icing on the cake was the fact that the job that I left him for is at the company that manufactures the very machinery and software he relies on in business. So any time something goes wrong in his factory, he has to call me to fix it for him.

Your_Lower_Back

11. Using A Hidden Code

I wrote a respectful letter thanking them for the opportunity and all they’ve taught me.

The first letter of every sentence spelled out “Fuck <boss>”.

Nobody noticed.

InternetSpaceship

12. The Price You Have To Pay

I went up to HR to give my two weeks’ notice GTFO but before I could even get a word out, the HR lady flapped her hand at me and told me to come back in an hour because she was going on lunch. So I wrote “I QUIT!” on a piece of paper, signed and dated it, and left it on her desk.

She called me later to let me know that since I didn’t give two weeks’ notice, I would never be eligible to work for Kaufmann’s or Macy’s ever again. I told her I’d just have to live with that.

thebloodofthematador

13. “I Can’t Do This Anymore”

Worked in a video store when there was such a thing. My co-worker showed up very, very high. He was also about 6’3″ and 140 pounds, so he stood out in a crowd to begin with. Anyway, he came in for a 4 hour shift, stood in the middle of our bank of checkout registers…and just ate chips. Like, 6 bags of chips back to back, and he ate them SLOW, and savored the shit out of each bite. The whole time he had zero facial expression, think of the dull stare of a chewing dairy cow.

After about 3 hours he calmly turns to me and says “I can’t do this anymore”…gently sets down his bag of chips, and walks out the door. We never saw him in the store again.

Leumas_

14. A Total Mutiny

First job when i was 15 for a discount clothing brand store. Head manager was the aunt of our store manager who was 19. Our store manager did nothing most of the time and used to chat to her boyfriend and friends loudly on the store phone…much to the annoyance of everybody.

One night its come closing, we are grabbing our coats and getting ready to leave after a really busy day and the store manager storms in, telling us how she’s lowered the shutters and wont let us leave until we have helped her finish the one job she had all day to do cos her aunt is doing a “surprise” inspection in the morning. Everyone is pissed, especially the people who have had to watch her do literally nothing all day. She turns spiteful, threatening to delay our pays, dock our wages etc etc. All bullshit. For one woman it was the last straw (she had a kid to pick up from a club) so she waited till she left us alone to work, walked up to the shutters and pulled them up manually by hand. All of us crawled out to freedom.

We left her a note saying “Good luck explaining to your aunt why four people just quit.”

Cactusface987

15. Held Hostage

I was working for Argos as a Christmas job while studying. After a while it was becoming too much as I had to stay in work until deliveries were unpacked; this meant that some days I was leaving for college at 8.30am and not getting home until 1am that night.

One night it was a particularly large delivery and it was getting very late with no end in sight. I decided I’d had enough and told the supervisor I was finished, didn’t want to do the job anymore and wanted to go home. He rejected this and said that I was going nowhere until the delivery was unpacked. I stood in front of him and repeated that I quit therefore I don’t care about the delivery, completing my studies was more important to me than earning a bit of extra cash. He still said I was going nowhere and refused to unlock the door to let me out.

Despite feeling I had a case for false imprisonment I decided to take matters in to my own hands; I ran out the fire escape door and down the street never to return. I’ll always remember the sound of the fire escape door making a big DOOONG as it hit the metal railings and I made my escape to freedom.

StreakyMcMeeky

16. Burning Bridges With Jet Fuel

I worked for a law firm doing research and analysis. I wrote a custom program, on my own time, that would automate editing down these huge lists we’d get from an outside vendor, boiling it down to only what we wanted. First, only my team used the code. By the time I left, over 150 people were using it. Sounds minimal but it was actual a huge time saver. The program would boil down a list ~100 pages long down to about ~10 pages; a process we used to do manually a couple times a day.

A layoff was announced, I was part of the outplacement, but the firm wanted to continue using my program. I asked if there would be compensation as it was coded on my own time, never paid for it, etc. I was told no and “besides, there’s really nothing keeping us from still using it when you’re gone.”

For the remainder of my time (2 years), I would create patches whenever the format of the data changed. With my last patch, I put in code that would disable the program and erase key parts of the program one month after my last day. From what I understand from people still with the firm, on day X everyone came in, booted their machines, and the program was simply gone. Efficiency fell through the floor, delaying opening cases, billing clients, etc. I wanted 10k, they lost more than that in the first week without the program.

Photog1981

17. A Parting Gift To Her Co-Workers

During my exit interview I told HR the real reason I was leaving was due to the quality of the office chairs. I said they were an eyesore, uncomfortable and made me ashamed to come to work and resulted in sub-par job satisfaction.

Two weeks later I was told by previous co-workers everyone got brand new, top of the line office chairs.

jphiz

18. Don’t Piss Off Your Only Cook

At 16 I worked at a Dairy Queen Brazier in Texas. My Manager, was a jerk. One night, I sliced a good chunk of my thumb off because they did not have the proper safety equipment. After being out of work for 3 weeks, I returned to work. My thumb was still pretty screwed up, but I was trying. My Manager kept riding my ass, telling me I had to move faster (I was the only short order cook). When I saw three GreyHound buses pull up, I knew I was in trouble. She came back into the kitchen and said if I didn’t move fast for these buses she’d find someone who would. That was the last straw – I knew no one in the entire restaurant could cook. So I took her up on her threat and simply walked out the back door. She flipped me off as I drove away. My friends told me they hardly got any orders out and the buses left since they couldn’t get the food out. I felt bad for the people on the buses, but was sick of being berated by management.

sunrein

19. Out The Window

I got this.

Worked as a teen for McDonald’s for a month or two during the winter in the 90’s. We were understaffed and they usually had me working the deep sink and taking money at the drive thru. One day I come in at 4pm and the breakfast stuff is pilled to the ceiling at the sink because the day shift rolled out without taking care of it, as per usual.

There was a snowstorm this particular day and with the amount of dishes to do and the increasing frequency of running over and taking money from the window during the dinner rush my hands were beginning to hurt, then going completely numb. I let the manager know this wasn’t working out today and get blown off.

Fuck it, I crawl straight the fuck out of the money window without anyone noticing, at least no one on the staff. I get in my car and drive to the parking lot across the street and watch that dinner rush drive thru line back up out of the lot and down the street.

Seadgs

20. “I Don’t Want To Hear This”

I used to work for a telecommunications company.

My mom was very sick over the last 3 months of her life, so I had to go home most weekends to see her, it’s a 6 hour journey to get from where I worked to the town where I’m from. When her birthday came around, I requested a couple of days off that I had saved for this specific occasion. Yet, the days off were denied because we were approaching a busy time of year for sales. At this point, I hadn’t mentioned what was happening at home, because well, I was always taught that you keep your work and personal lives separate. But I said it to my boss, who, at the time, I saw as a pretty compassionate person. She never took any issue when I got sick or was late for whatever reason. But when I told her, she just looked at me point blank and said “I don’t want to hear this”.

After that meeting, I went back to my desk and sat there for about 20 minutes, thinking of a solution. That solution was to get my things, and just leave. I said goodbye to my friends on my way out, flipped my boss off and just walked out. I went straight to my car and drove back to my home town that night. It was the best decision I ever made.

I got to spend all my time with my mom before she went. We even got to go on a vacation and spend one last week away together because I had the time to do so. I’ll never, ever regret walking out that day.

Not exactly “hilarious”, but I had a good chuckle to myself on that drive home. The look on my boss’s face will never leave me. It was sweet.

IThinkIAmASofa

21. Work Night Turns Into Movie And A Beer

Worked in the cinema as a teenager. Came in late for work after they changed my schedule during my days off and didn’t think to mention it to me. Boss lost it and started shouting at me, as far as I’m concerned if you need to shout I ain’t listening. So let her rant away for a good 15 mins while I was at my locker clearing it out. When it finally clicked that I wasn’t listening or getting ready to work she stopped and asked what I’m doing I said ”going to see Lord of the Rings with the lads who’ve just finished as I’m doing nothing else with my evening. May go for a pint after. What’s your plans?”

definitelynotme_

22. Best Sales Day On His Last Day

I managed to find a telemarketing job as one of my first jobs. It sucked and we were treated like animals, but it was close enough that I could walk there from home. I only intended to stay long enough to afford a car.

One day, I realized that I had reached my set dollar amount for a car purchase. As a joke, I strayed as far from the sales pitch as possible. I changed my greeting to things like “Hey.” or “‘Sup?” I impersonated celebrity voices. People stopped working around me. They just listened in shock.

But it completely backfired.

It was my highest day of sales ever. I sold 10 times my average. The pit boss was bewildered, which is why I wasn’t fired right away (he listened in on all my calls that day). He begged me to stay, but I was out.

ShrugCorporation

23. Fighting The System By Using The System

My boss was a cunt, had me on a disciplinary for something that wasn’t my fault, and had my bonus taken off me. So i found a new job, threw out 2,500 worth of stock as technically the food hadn’t been stored away correctly, went above my boss and got head offices backing, then handed my notice in, knowing that id fucked his bonus up to. FUCK. THAT. GUY.

ssuperhanzz

24. This One Will Renew Your Faith In Humanity

My job at Chick-Fil-A had a tradition of pieing people in the face on their last day. Now I was the manager and didn’t trust the kids not to pie me when taking a complaint or during a rush or something, so I promised them if they’d wait until close in the parking lot, and if they got done cleaning on time, we’d do something special.

So I present to you: The Pie Gauntlet

I love my Chick-Fil-A family. Thanks for a great last closing. After 4 years of giving out my fair share of "Last Day Surprise Pies" we hosted THE GAUNTLET. Love and miss you guys.

A video posted by Alex Bennett (@spideybennett) on Jul 9, 2015 at 7:42pm PDT

Source: http://allofbeer.com/2017/11/30/24-hilarious-times-people-rage-quit-their-job-the-way-everyones-wanted-to/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/11/30/24-hilarious-times-people-rage-quit-their-job-the-way-everyones-wanted-to/

[allofbeercom]

24 HILARIOUS Times People Rage Quit Their Job The Way Everyone’s Wanted To

1. Does His Best By Quitting

17, hole in the wall popular non-chain fast food place. Worked 3 to 11.

A Friday. We needed a MINIMUM of 4 people to run the place. And that’s with everything getting totally trashed. 6-7 people was really what was needed.

Nobody showed up but me. Previous shift went home.Called the manager. No answer. Called the owner. ‘Just do the best you can’.

Turned off the lights, locked the door, put a sticky note on it that said ‘I quit’. And went home.

I did the best I could.

theawesomethatis

2. Quitting By Proxy

I knew a guy in high school who hated working at a movie theater. Called his boss and told him he wasn’t feeling well because he went hiking, got swarmed by bats, and got bit by one. Shows up later that evening to watch a movie with a cape and fake fangs in his mouth. Fired on the spot.

RIPmyFartbox

3. Last Day Making Pizzas

I used to work at a place that rhymes with “Pizza Hut” and the managers there were real cheapskates.

There was this nice old man that would come in every Sunday and order a triple extra cheese pizza and while they charged him for the 3x cheese, they would forbid us from ever actually putting that much cheese on a pizza because apparently cheese in the pizza selling world is akin to gold.

So instead of 3x extra cheese he would really be getting what the instructions would qualify as barely enough for a regular cheese pizza.

On the day my 2 weeks notice ended the old guy just happened to be my last order so I went into the walk-in and grabbed an entire box of cheese, proceeded to dump the entire thing onto his pizza and tossed it into oven. It was stacked so high that it couldn’t even fit into it and half of it was scraped off.

Anyways, the look on the old guy’s face when he saw me do this made it all worth it (imagine pure excitement). Needless to say I didn’t put the correct phone number down for future job references.

Not_A_Doctor_Venture

4. Popcorn And VHS

There was a UPS strike in the 90s and I was employed by them in high school as a sorter. Blockbuster Video at the time had this mail order deal where you’d get a VHS tape and bags of popcorn. Like a proto-Netflix thing I guess. Anyway, all these boxes full of microwave popcorn and VHS tapes would slide down the belt and about half of the popcorn bags would explode or break. After about an hour there was popcorn dust all over. I asked my boss for a mask, and he said that they didn’t have any. Some of the drivers walked by wearing masks, and I followed them and found a full cabinet full of masks. I confronted my boss, and he was like “the masks are for drivers, only”.

So I went back to the sorting area and just stopped working. I just stood there. The belts were backing up with these boxes of popcorn and they would burst and clouds of powdered popcorn butter would fill the air. I waited about 45 minutes before the belt shut off.

I walked out through a haze of popcorn dust, with alarms blaring, people running everywhere trying to figure out what was going on. A lot of people didn’t get their VHS tapes that week.

rikers_evil_twin

5.A “Certain” Coffee Chain

My wife worked for a certain chain coffee shop a few years back. She got another job, so requested reduced hours. This didn’t happen for 3 straight weeks.

During that third week, she had a soccer mom from hell try to get her attention, by throwing fucking snowballs at her through the drive-thru window. My wife then stopped what she was doing and tossed this soccer mom’s iced tea at her (which exploded everywhere) and slammed the window.

5 minutes later she had written her letter of resignation, with the only things she could find: a purple crayon and a sticky note.

The_MonBear

6. A Race To Quit First

Worked as a teller at a bank for a few years, GM and supervisor were both kind of crappy in their own ways. My buddy there was also a teller who felt similarly and wanted to get out. We started applying to places and both got interviews at the same company. As luck would have it, we both got hired and got phone calls about 10 minutes apart.

There was only one other teller aside from us and when it got busy, supervisor usually had to jump in as well (and usually hated it). It felt like we were constantly short staffed and days when 1 person would call out sick or be on vacation would suck. Being down 2 people was the worst.

Naturally when we both got hired, it became a race to see who could turn in their two weeks notice first. He printed his off and raced into GM’s office, walking out with a big smile. GM calls me in and offers me full time hours (after I had been requesting them for months).

I jumped in saying “Let me stop you right there, I’m also turning in my two weeks notice.”

Remembering that look of disbelief will make me smile every time. A solid professional Eff You is just as enjoyable to me as going out with a bang.

spikey182

7. Middle Management At Its Dumbest

Wrote a normal letter of resignation before I got in the shower one morning. No big deal. Got into the office and was straight ignored by management. Oh well, told you when my last day was.

Fast forward 3 days they pull me into a conference room to ask what it would take to keep me. I say nothing but don’t want to ruin them (sole IT manager for a staff of 70) and would be willing to consult part time. They liked that idea and said they’d be willing to pay me my current hourly as a consultant. I was prepared for this and told them that wasn’t what I said. I said that i would consult and my consulting rate was $200/hr. They were flabbergasted and insulted (I was making about $18/hr salary).

They thought it was insane even though they’d pay a consulting firm $600/hr when I was on vacation. Needless to say, having planned to quit it was no skin off my back and laughed about it. They didn’t take kindly to me laughing about their anger and told me to pack my shit. I did so, got an extra 10 days vacation paid out of it.

Cypher1710

8. AM Country Gold

1992: I was 19 and working at the most pissant radio station imaginable, “AM Country Gold”. The notoriously cheap, abusive and dishonest owner, a fella named “Wes,” had just screwed me out of a promised bonus. It was the latest in a long line of dishonest acts and I had had enough.

The rest of the sales team was afraid to stand up to Wes and he screamed abuse at them constantly (except the lone woman, who he sexually harassed). They were all in their 30’s & 40’s, working the same garbage job I was, but desperately needed it. I did not. So I engaged in a very public shouting match with Wes in the lobby, saying all the things everyone there had always wanted to say. Then I swept the contents of the front desk onto the floor and stormed out.

Instead of leaving, I went around the side of the building to a pay phone and called the radio station request line. In a fake Southern accent, I said, “Hey y’all, I just told my cheap, no good, lying piece of human garbage boss to go to hell. Play me out with, “Take this Job and Shove It,” and dedicate it to my former boss, Wes!”

The disc jockey had no idea what had just happened in the lobby, or that my Wes was “the” Wes, so he enthusiastically played my recorded dedication and added, “This one is for you Wes, choke on it you sack of crap!”

The building had speakers inside and out constantly playing the radio feed, so I got to hear Wes get clowned by his own radio station before driving off into the sunset.

LAND0KARDASHIAN

9. Over The P.A. System

Someone at my previous workplace (a huge grocery store in a large mall) went to the PA system we use to issue messages to the whole mall, and said something along the lines of “dear customers, managers and co-workers. I fucking quit”, and then proceeded to leave.

Focie

10. The Family Business

I used to work for my Father. It was probably the worst time of my life. He treated me like absolute shit, paid me very poorly, and made me work 70+ hours a week. I was young, just out of high school, and I complained about my predicament quite a lot. His response was always “if you don’t like it, there’s the door.”

6 months before I quit, he made me run his night shift, which meant 6PM -6:30AM Monday through Saturday. I was very unhappy about this, so I applied for another job. I got it, and went to my Father’s office with a list of demands, he responded with his usual reply, so I said, “Alright, I’ve gotten a job offer somewhere else, fuck you, I quit.”

The look on his face was priceless. He truly believed that because I had amazing job security that I’d be willing to put up with anything and that I’d stay there for my entire career. In one short, sweet instant, I proved to him that this was not the case, and he lost his most valuable employee.

The icing on the cake was the fact that the job that I left him for is at the company that manufactures the very machinery and software he relies on in business. So any time something goes wrong in his factory, he has to call me to fix it for him.

Your_Lower_Back

11. Using A Hidden Code

I wrote a respectful letter thanking them for the opportunity and all they’ve taught me.

The first letter of every sentence spelled out “Fuck <boss>”.

Nobody noticed.

InternetSpaceship

12. The Price You Have To Pay

I went up to HR to give my two weeks’ notice GTFO but before I could even get a word out, the HR lady flapped her hand at me and told me to come back in an hour because she was going on lunch. So I wrote “I QUIT!” on a piece of paper, signed and dated it, and left it on her desk.

She called me later to let me know that since I didn’t give two weeks’ notice, I would never be eligible to work for Kaufmann’s or Macy’s ever again. I told her I’d just have to live with that.

thebloodofthematador

13. “I Can’t Do This Anymore”

Worked in a video store when there was such a thing. My co-worker showed up very, very high. He was also about 6’3″ and 140 pounds, so he stood out in a crowd to begin with. Anyway, he came in for a 4 hour shift, stood in the middle of our bank of checkout registers…and just ate chips. Like, 6 bags of chips back to back, and he ate them SLOW, and savored the shit out of each bite. The whole time he had zero facial expression, think of the dull stare of a chewing dairy cow.

After about 3 hours he calmly turns to me and says “I can’t do this anymore”…gently sets down his bag of chips, and walks out the door. We never saw him in the store again.

Leumas_

14. A Total Mutiny

First job when i was 15 for a discount clothing brand store. Head manager was the aunt of our store manager who was 19. Our store manager did nothing most of the time and used to chat to her boyfriend and friends loudly on the store phone…much to the annoyance of everybody.

One night its come closing, we are grabbing our coats and getting ready to leave after a really busy day and the store manager storms in, telling us how she’s lowered the shutters and wont let us leave until we have helped her finish the one job she had all day to do cos her aunt is doing a “surprise” inspection in the morning. Everyone is pissed, especially the people who have had to watch her do literally nothing all day. She turns spiteful, threatening to delay our pays, dock our wages etc etc. All bullshit. For one woman it was the last straw (she had a kid to pick up from a club) so she waited till she left us alone to work, walked up to the shutters and pulled them up manually by hand. All of us crawled out to freedom.

We left her a note saying “Good luck explaining to your aunt why four people just quit.”

Cactusface987

15. Held Hostage

I was working for Argos as a Christmas job while studying. After a while it was becoming too much as I had to stay in work until deliveries were unpacked; this meant that some days I was leaving for college at 8.30am and not getting home until 1am that night.

One night it was a particularly large delivery and it was getting very late with no end in sight. I decided I’d had enough and told the supervisor I was finished, didn’t want to do the job anymore and wanted to go home. He rejected this and said that I was going nowhere until the delivery was unpacked. I stood in front of him and repeated that I quit therefore I don’t care about the delivery, completing my studies was more important to me than earning a bit of extra cash. He still said I was going nowhere and refused to unlock the door to let me out.

Despite feeling I had a case for false imprisonment I decided to take matters in to my own hands; I ran out the fire escape door and down the street never to return. I’ll always remember the sound of the fire escape door making a big DOOONG as it hit the metal railings and I made my escape to freedom.

StreakyMcMeeky

16. Burning Bridges With Jet Fuel

I worked for a law firm doing research and analysis. I wrote a custom program, on my own time, that would automate editing down these huge lists we’d get from an outside vendor, boiling it down to only what we wanted. First, only my team used the code. By the time I left, over 150 people were using it. Sounds minimal but it was actual a huge time saver. The program would boil down a list ~100 pages long down to about ~10 pages; a process we used to do manually a couple times a day.

A layoff was announced, I was part of the outplacement, but the firm wanted to continue using my program. I asked if there would be compensation as it was coded on my own time, never paid for it, etc. I was told no and “besides, there’s really nothing keeping us from still using it when you’re gone.”

For the remainder of my time (2 years), I would create patches whenever the format of the data changed. With my last patch, I put in code that would disable the program and erase key parts of the program one month after my last day. From what I understand from people still with the firm, on day X everyone came in, booted their machines, and the program was simply gone. Efficiency fell through the floor, delaying opening cases, billing clients, etc. I wanted 10k, they lost more than that in the first week without the program.

Photog1981

17. A Parting Gift To Her Co-Workers

During my exit interview I told HR the real reason I was leaving was due to the quality of the office chairs. I said they were an eyesore, uncomfortable and made me ashamed to come to work and resulted in sub-par job satisfaction.

Two weeks later I was told by previous co-workers everyone got brand new, top of the line office chairs.

jphiz

18. Don’t Piss Off Your Only Cook

At 16 I worked at a Dairy Queen Brazier in Texas. My Manager, was a jerk. One night, I sliced a good chunk of my thumb off because they did not have the proper safety equipment. After being out of work for 3 weeks, I returned to work. My thumb was still pretty screwed up, but I was trying. My Manager kept riding my ass, telling me I had to move faster (I was the only short order cook). When I saw three GreyHound buses pull up, I knew I was in trouble. She came back into the kitchen and said if I didn’t move fast for these buses she’d find someone who would. That was the last straw – I knew no one in the entire restaurant could cook. So I took her up on her threat and simply walked out the back door. She flipped me off as I drove away. My friends told me they hardly got any orders out and the buses left since they couldn’t get the food out. I felt bad for the people on the buses, but was sick of being berated by management.

sunrein

19. Out The Window

I got this.

Worked as a teen for McDonald’s for a month or two during the winter in the 90’s. We were understaffed and they usually had me working the deep sink and taking money at the drive thru. One day I come in at 4pm and the breakfast stuff is pilled to the ceiling at the sink because the day shift rolled out without taking care of it, as per usual.

There was a snowstorm this particular day and with the amount of dishes to do and the increasing frequency of running over and taking money from the window during the dinner rush my hands were beginning to hurt, then going completely numb. I let the manager know this wasn’t working out today and get blown off.

Fuck it, I crawl straight the fuck out of the money window without anyone noticing, at least no one on the staff. I get in my car and drive to the parking lot across the street and watch that dinner rush drive thru line back up out of the lot and down the street.

Seadgs

20. “I Don’t Want To Hear This”

I used to work for a telecommunications company.

My mom was very sick over the last 3 months of her life, so I had to go home most weekends to see her, it’s a 6 hour journey to get from where I worked to the town where I’m from. When her birthday came around, I requested a couple of days off that I had saved for this specific occasion. Yet, the days off were denied because we were approaching a busy time of year for sales. At this point, I hadn’t mentioned what was happening at home, because well, I was always taught that you keep your work and personal lives separate. But I said it to my boss, who, at the time, I saw as a pretty compassionate person. She never took any issue when I got sick or was late for whatever reason. But when I told her, she just looked at me point blank and said “I don’t want to hear this”.

After that meeting, I went back to my desk and sat there for about 20 minutes, thinking of a solution. That solution was to get my things, and just leave. I said goodbye to my friends on my way out, flipped my boss off and just walked out. I went straight to my car and drove back to my home town that night. It was the best decision I ever made.

I got to spend all my time with my mom before she went. We even got to go on a vacation and spend one last week away together because I had the time to do so. I’ll never, ever regret walking out that day.

Not exactly “hilarious”, but I had a good chuckle to myself on that drive home. The look on my boss’s face will never leave me. It was sweet.

IThinkIAmASofa

21. Work Night Turns Into Movie And A Beer

Worked in the cinema as a teenager. Came in late for work after they changed my schedule during my days off and didn’t think to mention it to me. Boss lost it and started shouting at me, as far as I’m concerned if you need to shout I ain’t listening. So let her rant away for a good 15 mins while I was at my locker clearing it out. When it finally clicked that I wasn’t listening or getting ready to work she stopped and asked what I’m doing I said ”going to see Lord of the Rings with the lads who’ve just finished as I’m doing nothing else with my evening. May go for a pint after. What’s your plans?”

definitelynotme_

22. Best Sales Day On His Last Day

I managed to find a telemarketing job as one of my first jobs. It sucked and we were treated like animals, but it was close enough that I could walk there from home. I only intended to stay long enough to afford a car.

One day, I realized that I had reached my set dollar amount for a car purchase. As a joke, I strayed as far from the sales pitch as possible. I changed my greeting to things like “Hey.” or “‘Sup?” I impersonated celebrity voices. People stopped working around me. They just listened in shock.

But it completely backfired.

It was my highest day of sales ever. I sold 10 times my average. The pit boss was bewildered, which is why I wasn’t fired right away (he listened in on all my calls that day). He begged me to stay, but I was out.

ShrugCorporation

23. Fighting The System By Using The System

My boss was a cunt, had me on a disciplinary for something that wasn’t my fault, and had my bonus taken off me. So i found a new job, threw out 2,500 worth of stock as technically the food hadn’t been stored away correctly, went above my boss and got head offices backing, then handed my notice in, knowing that id fucked his bonus up to. FUCK. THAT. GUY.

ssuperhanzz

24. This One Will Renew Your Faith In Humanity

My job at Chick-Fil-A had a tradition of pieing people in the face on their last day. Now I was the manager and didn’t trust the kids not to pie me when taking a complaint or during a rush or something, so I promised them if they’d wait until close in the parking lot, and if they got done cleaning on time, we’d do something special.

So I present to you: The Pie Gauntlet

I love my Chick-Fil-A family. Thanks for a great last closing. After 4 years of giving out my fair share of "Last Day Surprise Pies" we hosted THE GAUNTLET. Love and miss you guys.

A video posted by Alex Bennett (@spideybennett) on Jul 9, 2015 at 7:42pm PDT

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/11/30/24-hilarious-times-people-rage-quit-their-job-the-way-everyones-wanted-to/