#I am disabled and walk with a cane and they knew that when they hired me

[woodscreature]

fuck me I do NOT want to job hunt again. but my job is giving me less and less hours and keeps passing me over for shit

[zamoimagines]

Someone Else’s Baby  (Venable x Reader oneshot)

Pairing: Reader x Venable, OC

Word count: 3,121

Inspired by: Baby by Marina (song)

Warning: Angst

Plot:  Venable broke up with you after receiving a promotion at her job, but she soon realizes that leaving you was the biggest mistake of her life. She sees you out one night and plans to approach you, but she sees you kissing a new woman. 

A/N: Hey guys, this is something that I’ve been wanting to write up for a while. My hiatus is TBD right now, as I’m working as a dishwasher right now on top of trying to keep up with school. It’s been crazy. Anyway, at least there’s this oneshot for ya’ll! Thank you guys for being so supportive and understanding, as always, I love all of you. 

Wilhelmina stared blankly at the iPad screen in front of her. She knew she had orders to fulfill and even more work to take care of, but she couldn’t bring herself to even move. Her whole body felt paralyzed with pain. This time it wasn’t her back, though. This feeling was new to her. She’d never experienced heartbreak before. The worst part was that it was all her fault.

She remembered every detail of that night.

“Mina, honey, why don’t you leave that awful place? They treat you terribly.”

“This will be different, darling, it’s a promotion! I’ve been waiting for this.”

“I-I know, love… But I’m worried that they’re going to use you again.”

The way that Mina looked at Y/N was almost heartless. How could Y/N be so heartless?

“It’s a promotion. Why can’t you just be fucking happy for me?”

“I… I thought you were putting in your two weeks. I already booked our flight so we could look at apartments-”

“Well, things have changed!”

A silence hung in the air. They were on opposite sides of the room, and while they were standing close, they had never felt so far away from each other. Tears filled Y/N’s eyes.

“So, you’re just going to let them walk all over you? What if this job is just a glorified secretary position? What nothing changes?”

“You don’t understand. Why would you! You’re not as dedicated to anything as I am!”

Y/N had a fire in her eyes. Mina could see her feelings being completely shattered.

“That’s a lie, Wilhelmina. I’m dedicated to you. Not to some stupid job, or to the city, I’m dedicated to you.”

“Y/N… I- I didn’t mean that-”

“Maybe I should just go.”

Another long pause fell between the two. Why had Mina ever believed that love was something she could handle? Everyone left her in the end. Y/N was no different.

“Maybe you should.”

Y/N had tears running down her cheeks. She left the room to gather her things, which were already neatly packed into a suitcase. She just didn’t know she would have to be leaving on her own.

When she reentered the room, her eyes gazed back to Mina’s. It was almost as if she were waiting for Mina to say something… Anything.

In return, Wilhelmina slowly turned her back away from Y/N. The grip on her cane tightened. She was at a loss for words. All she could hear was the sniffling coming from Y/N.

“I hope you’re happy. Congratulations on your promotion.”

Mina wanted to turn around, but she found that she couldn’t. The front door swung open gradually.

“Goodbye, Miss Venable.”

That was the last thing she said before she left. Venable found that she couldn’t stop thinking about it since that day. Suddenly, she felt something tickling her cheek. When she touched her skin, it was just a little wet. A single tear had fallen from her tired eyes. Mina quickly tried to wipe it away.

Before she could look somewhat put together, Mutt and Jeff both walked in. She hoped to whatever higher power that they hadn’t seen anything. To her dismay, they had both watched her slip into this daydream once again. Mutt rolled his eyes.

“This is the seventh time this week that she’s done this. What the hell is wrong with her?” he whispered.

Jeff shook his head. “I think it’s still her ex. She’s been acting this way for months, dude.”

Venable’s mouth tightened into a line. She hated whenever she could hear them talking about her.

“I may be disabled, but I’m not deaf, Mr. Pfitser.”

“Woah! She can talk again! It’s a fucking miracle.” Mutt joked.

Y/N was right about the job. Rather than a business associate, she had bumped up to a glorified personal assistant. The only authority she really had was over the various “coffee girls” they hired every other week. That and her desk had moved closer to their office.

“What gives, Venable? I give you a promotion and all you do is mope around.” Jeff piped up.

“Yes, and what a promotion it was.” she mumbled under her breath as she pretended to pull up the unfinished order forms.

Mutt took a seat in one of the chairs in front of her.

“Seriously, Venable, we run a very prestigious company. We need a nice face for people to see when they come in for business, but instead they get this… this depressed, purple shell of a person.”

“Mutt! Shut the fuck up!”

“Well! Someone had to say it!”

Venable wasn’t the least bit offended. They were much too incompetent to form actual insults.

“I appreciate the sympathy, Mr. Nutter, but I have some work to finish.” she replied.

Jeff sat down in the other chair and folded his arms.

“Venable, you can’t let this woman bother you this much. We can find you a new girlfriend! The next bitch that walks through those doors is all yours. Maybe she’ll be even prettier than what’s her face… what the fuck was her name?”

“Who gives a shit?” Mutt shrugged, “Anyone would be better than that dirtbag-”

“If you talk that way about Y/N again, I will throw the next shipment of cocaine out of that goddamn window!” Mina shouted over them. It made her blood boil whenever they talked about her ex in such ways. The men went silent.

“Venable… I know you act all mysterious or whatever, but you’ve been wearing your heart on your sleeve. We know that you’re going through hell right now.” Jeff said. “Maybe moving on would help you?”

Mina glanced down at the floor. She didn’t like talking about her feelings to anyone, let alone her own bosses. Though, she didn’t feel like she had much of a choice.

“She was the one… And I lost her.” Her eyes met them once again. “There’s no one else for me.”

Jeff and Mutt never really tried to sympathize with Venable before, but they hated seeing her like this. It was miserable to watch. Mutt sighed heavily.

“Wilhelmina Venable, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you phased by anything. When we hired you, we figured there wasn’t a sensitive bone in your body. But… this is the first time I’ve seen you bothered by anything.” He gave a look to Jeff as if a lightbulb had popped up above his head.

“Do you still love her?”

“W.. What do you mean?” Venable muttered.

“It’s a pretty simple question, Miss Venable.” Jeff replied, “Do you still love her?”

“I mean… Of course I do.”

“Then you can’t just sit here!” Mutt exclaimed. He stood up in an instant and ripped the iPad away from her hands.

“You have to go after her. If she’s the one, then you have to go find her!”

A wide smile spread across Jeff’s face. Venable, on the other hand, looked completely confused.

“Give me my equipment back-”

“Nope!” Jeff chimed in. “You can’t have it. You have to go find her. She’s gotta be around town somewhere. I know LA is pretty big, but we can track her down somehow!”

“Don’t be fucking ridiculous,” Venable was getting irritated now, “She left the state.”

“So where is she?”

“I don’t know. Last I heard, she left for Missouri.”

“Well then, what are you waiting for! Get your crooked ass on a plane and go after her!” Mutt cried out.

“Mr. Nutter, I am much too occupied with my work-”

“No you’re not.” Jeff cut her off. “You’re not allowed to come back to work until you’ve gone to see her.”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“Not in the slightest. Consider it a business trip. Hell, we’ll even pay for your ticket!” Mutt added. “Go home, pack as fast as you can, and we’ll have a car pick you up at 1:30 sharp.”

“Mr. Nutter, Mr. Pfitser, I understand your concern, but I’m not going-”

“If you don’t, then you’re fired.”

The two men were all grins. Venable was still a little dumbfounded.

“You’ll fire me?”

“Yes, we will fire you. You can’t come back until you’ve at least tried to talk to her.” Jeff said.

Mutt nearly giggled. It was clear that the two of them were extremely excited for her. Though, Venable wasn’t sure what to think. So much could go wrong… But at the same time, what did she have to lose?

They stared at her as they awaited her response. She groaned.

“Fine! I’ll go.”

Mutt and Jeff hollered. They began to dance around and act like complete children. Though, Venable couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“What are you still doing here?” Mutt cried. “Go! Get the fuck out of here!”

“You have a plane to catch!” Jeff added.

“I guess I do.” Venable replied. Venable replied. In an instant, she stood up from her desk, her cane and her purse in hand. As she made her way out of the room, she could hear the cheers and hoots coming from Mutt and Jeff. Her smile turned into the biggest grin. She hadn’t felt this alive in some time, and she was determined to not mess it up this time.

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

The plane ride had been long and tedious. But just as Mutt and Jeff said, a car showed up in front of her apartment at 1:30 PM. Now, here she was in the Midwest. She always despised the humidity, but this time of year, it was getting much drier with the cold weather moving in. She could almost admit that it was just as beautiful here as Y/N had told her.

The hotel that was booked was quaint, but she didn’t mind that. Venable was much too nervous to care about anything except finding Y/N.

All she could remember about this town was the little coffee shop that Y/N always talked about taking her to. Luckily, she remembered the name.

The next day, Venable woke up to the sound of storms. The rain outside was far from a light shower. It was as if today was the perfect day to go. For the first time in a while, Venable felt good. Maybe even a little hopeful.

She put on her favorite lavender turtleneck with her work skirt, but this time, she decided to ditch the belt. Her hair remained in the same tight ponytail that she always wore. As she finished up her makeup, she gazed at herself in the mirror.

Everything will work out.  

She took a deep breath before leaving her room. When she arrived at the coffee shop, she made sure to walk in slowly. Her cane struck the floor gently as she made her way to the counter.

“Hi there!” A barista greeted her. “What can I get started for you?”

Venable tried to smile. She had to admit, she was more nervous than she thought she’d be.

“Hello… Uh… just a black coffee for today.”

“Sure thing!”

As she waited for her drink, she took a seat. People would come in, some would go out. No sign of Y/N. An hour went by. She ordered another coffee. Another hour. Another coffee. The rain only continued to get heavier.

After the fourth round of coffee, she couldn’t even bring herself to leave her seat. Maybe this was the wrong place? Or worse, what if Y/N had moved to another state completely? The hopelessness was setting in yet again.

“This was stupid.” she said to herself under her breath. Just as she said this, she heard the door swing open. Glancing up, she could feel her heart stop. There she was.

“Hey, I didn’t think you were making it today!” the barista said.

“You think I’d just skip a day?” Y/N said with a small giggle. “I had to walk here today, but I made it.”

“I shouldn’t have doubted you. The usual?”

“Yes, please. I need it with this weather.”

Y/N still looked as beautiful as ever. She was wearing a big sweater with some leggings and the scarf that Venable had given Y/N for her birthday. Venable had never seen a woman so beautiful in her life. As quick as she could, she stood up and used her cane to balance herself.

With the sound of the familiar sound of Venable’s cane, Y/N looked in her direction. Her eyes locked with the redhead’s. She looked like she was in such a state of disbelief that she couldn’t move. In all fairness, Venable didn’t think she could move either.

“Mina?” Y/N said softly.

“Hello, darling.” Venable replied. “I… I wasn’t sure if this was the right place.”

As they stared back at each other, the baristas gazed at them as if they were watching a soap opera.

“Mina… How… I thought you were still back in Los Angeles?” she said, stepping closer to Wilhelmina.

“I… I am. I came here to see you.”

Both of them seemed to have a mix of various emotions. Venable gave Y/N a small laugh.

“Sorry… I didn’t think I’d make it this far.”

“Well, you look great. Did the promotion end up working out?” Y/N replied. Venable could hear the nervousness in her voice.

“Somewhat. Mutt and Jeff told me to tell you hi.”

“Ah,” Y/N smiled a little. “Tell them I say hi. Are you getting along better with them now that you’re a business associate for the company?”

“You could say that.”

Another long pang of silence. Venable took Y/N’s hand in her own.

“Is… Is there any way we could talk? I have so much to say.”

Y/N hesitated. Feeling her hand against her own skin melted Venable’s cold heart.

“I… I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Mina.”

“I flew all this way, please… At least hear what I have to say.”

“I would, Mina, but this really isn’t a great time.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

The barista cleared her throat. “Y/N, your two vanilla lattes are ready.”

Venable chuckled. “You got two?” She grinned a little. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were a coffee addict.”

The door swung open again. A blonde woman rushed inside and out of the rain. She was pretty, to say the least. The stranger had a much more curvaceous build than Venable did, and she wore her hair in a loose, curly lob. She even dressed way better than Venable ever had in her life. This woman was truly like a beam of light. The stranger came up to Y/N and pressed a kiss to her head.

“I’m so sorry, honey, I tried to get out as soon as I could. The restaurant was really backed up today.” she spoke. Even her voice was like a breath of fresh air.

“No, it’s okay, I actually just got here.” Y/N replied. Her hand pulled away from Venable’s touch. “Uh… Miss Venable, this is Keri. My girlfriend.”

Venable’s heart sank in her chest. It felt as if she cracked in two.

“Oh! Miss Venable, your old boss?” Keri said in a bubbly tone. “I never thought I’d be able to meet you! How’s Los Angeles treating you?”

Venable couldn’t find words. The baristas had now stood back away from the counter, watching in horror.

“Los Angeles is wonderful. It’s… It’s nice to meet you, Keri.”

Y/N’s eyes were wide. The whole situation made her uncomfortable.

“I wish I could go. I’ve been begging Y/N to take me so I could see the city!” Keri’s smile was bigger than ever. “What a coincidence that we ran into you. What brings you into town?”

Venable met Y/N’s eyes. She was trying hard not to show any emotion.

“I-I’m visiting someone. I think maybe I went to the wrong establishment.” Venable murmured in a monotone voice.

“Oh, there’s a Starbucks down the road, maybe you’re thinking of that one?”

“Perhaps.”

Keri noticed that there was a strange energy in the room. She even glanced back to Y/N and saw that she looked a little off.

Y/N remained silent.

“Well… We’ve got some errands to run, yeah?” Keri mentioned.

Y/N nodded a little. “Yeah… We have some grocery shopping to do.”

“We’re hosting a little get together tonight,” Keri turned to Venable, “You stop by! I’m making homemade tacos!”

Venable clutched her cane. She wasn’t sure she would be able to stand.

“That’s alright. I… I’m actually leaving tonight.”

Y/N’s eyes softened. There was so much they wanted to say, but there was nothing else either one of them could do. She gazed longingly at Venable.

“Oh… That’s too bad.” Keri wrapped her arm around Y/N’s waist. Venable held back the tears that were beginning to well up in her eyes.

“Maybe you can stop by next time?”

“Yes… Maybe.”

Y/N looked paralyzed. Despite the tension, Keri placed a small kiss to Y/N’s lips before pulling away.

“I’ll get our coffee, okay?” The blonde then turned to Venable. “It was nice to finally meet you!”

“Likewise.” Venable replied.

Y/N tried to reach out for the other woman.

“Mina, I-”

“It’s fine, Y/N.” Venable whispered. “I’m glad that you found someone.”

Y/N frowned before turning to Keri.

“Ready?”

“Yeah, let’s get out of here before the storm gets any worse.”

Y/N attempted to smile at Venable.

“Goodbye, Miss Venable.”

Hearing those words left a pang in Wilhelmina’s chest. She couldn’t even say anything.

Wilhelmina watched Y/N walk out with the new woman. Keri let out a loud giggle as the rain pelted both of them. As they got into a white car, Venable watched them share a passionate kiss. Her cheek got that same odd, ticklish feeling. Touching her cheek, she realized that it was another tear.

The baristas felt terrible. One had his hand over his mouth, and the other bit her index finger.

“Ma’am… I can get you a coffee to go?” She began. “It’s on the house.”

Venable shook her head.

“That’s quite alright… I shouldn’t have come here in the first place.” she replied. She wobbled out of the shop with more tears falling down her face. As she made it outside, she couldn’t tell if tears or rain were covering her face.

This had all been a mistake. Mutt and Jeff got her hopes up all for nothing.

Her heart felt even more broken than before. Wilhelmina would never get Y/N back, and she had to live with knowing that the love of her life now belonged to another woman.

She was too late.

REQUEST MORE IMAGINES HERE!

[missizzy]

Fic: Habeas for Superheroes, Part 10: An Inquiry Involving the Punisher (Daredevil, Matt/Foggy)

A few days later there came an evening where Foggy and Matt got to walk home together for once, without any plans on Matt's part to go anywhere until after breakfast the following morning. It was all so ideal it gave Foggy the ominous feeling that someone was going to waiting for them in their apartment again.

Still, it was startling when Matt stopped on the stairwell. But after a moment, Foggy gathered herself together and asked, "Okay, who's waiting for us up there?"

A moment later, however, he relaxed, and said, "It’s just Karen." They continued up the stairs then, even as Matt said, "She's really anxious, though. Pacing." That could be for any number of reasons, none of them good.

By the time they'd reached their floor, Matt himself was looking very anxious indeed. Foggy was imagining Karen about to ask them to help on a completely new quest for justice, telling them the killed Watchdogs were definitely the ones who'd attacked her, telling them the killed Watchdogs were definitely not the ones who'd attacked her, or even having another possibly-illegal deed to confess to.

"Karen?" Matt called as they stepped into the apartment. "What.s wrong?"

"You'd better sit down," she said. "You might want to get alcohol first, too." She gestured to the counter; she'd brought them beer.

When they were all sitting down, drinks in their hands, she said, "Frank paid me a visit yesterday."

Instantly Matt was demanding, "What? What did he want? He wasn't expecting you to thank him, was he? Are you afraid he'll come back?"

"No, no, he wasn't going to...I did tell him he shouldn't have killed those men, but he kind of ignored me there...someone knew he was alive. He wanted to know if I'd told anybody. I, uh, I did tell him I told you, but I insisted to him you wouldn't have told anyone, that I'd even gotten a promise from you to consider it privileged, Foggy."

"I don't think he trusts us that easily, Karen," said Matt.

"Yeah, he said that, that he trusts me, but not you. I might have given him an earful on that subject too in response." She actually smiled a little.

"You think any of it took?" Foggy asked. To her surprise, she felt a little indignant at Frank. Karen kept saying he was a man of his own code of honor; how could he have not recognized and respected the fact that his two lawyers were the same?

"I don't know," she said. "He wants me to help with this guy who seems to be stalking him, but the only moniker he's got for him is 'Micro.'"

"You're not seriously thinking about helping him, are you?" Foggy wouldn't have thought she would, but now...

Karen looked down for a moment, then said, "There's something going on here. I'm not even sure what it is, but...Micro managed to contact Frank, and he called himself another 'dead man,' another 'ghost in New York.' That could mean any number of things...but why would he contact Frank like this when he clearly doesn't know him, which means he only knows what the world's said about him, which would lead him to think Frank would definitely kill him? What kind of man would take that chance?"

It was Matt who answered: "A desperate one."

That did seem very possible, but Foggy had to say, "Or an extremely dangerous one. Look, Karen, even if you trust Frank..."

"Well, if this guy's stalking him, he might even know about me, anyway. It's only sensible I try to find some information out about him, know what we're dealing with. You might have to deal with him too, you know."

"Are you going to tell Frank about whatever you find?" Matt asked. "At least if you don't think he's in serious danger with this guy and he needs to know about that?"

"I don't know," said Karen, which sounded way too much like a yes, even when she added, "I'll probably decide once I know what there is to tell." She probably genuinely believed that right now. "Who knows, maybe I'll be able to help him and we won't have to get Frank involved." That, obviously not so much.

"You've been keeping an ear out for Frank, right, Matt?" Foggy asked. Matt had actually gone out for the first few nights after the Watchdogs had turned out dead mostly for that.

"I have," said Matt. "I haven't found a hint of him doing anything of remark besides killing these men, and even that I didn't have confirmed, although if he didn't deny it to you, Karen...I don't think he's even killed anyone else in a while; I've started to doubt there are any members of those gangs he was after left. I'm not quite sure where he's living. I think it's probably not in Hell's Kitchen itself. I do know he's gotten hired from a construction project down in the Lower East Side where they pay in cash, and that he often stays there after hours, even when they refuse to pay him for it." He shook his head. "Under different circumstances I'd be talking to him about how he really shouldn't be letting them exploit his labor like that, especially since at least some of his co-workers actually believe he's intellectually disabled."

A soft "oh" came out of Karen. It was obvious enough how they could've arrived at such a conclusion.

"I could probably look into this Micro myself," Matt continued. "Especially if you can get any more on him or how to identify him."

"You should definitely give us that," Foggy said to Karen.

"Of course I will," she said. Guessing Foggy's next question, she added, "I suppose I can hold off contacting Frank again until we've talked about whatever I find. It might take a little bit of time for him to respond, anyway. I'm afraid the only method of contact he left me was a pot of flowers to put in my window."

Foggy actually laughed. She couldn't help it.

But Matt frowned, and said, "That won't work without him at least semi-stalking you, which puts you at risk for being suspected to be his accomplice."

"Not necessarily," said Karen. "He's all too good at going undetected, and remember, everyone except the three of us and this one guy still thinks he's dead."

Matt looked like he wanted to argue further, but Foggy could tell it wouldn't do anything. So she just said, "Better get this done quickly, then."

"As fast as I can manage," Karen said, too quickly. Foggy didn't doubt she would try to get this done as fast as she could, but perhaps she would regret it. It was no secret that Frank Castle meant a lot to her, way more than he should, way more than either of them had ever intended for. Even under these circumstances, she must have been very happy to see him, and when this was done, who knew if she ever would again.

Matt insisted on shadowing her home. "For all we know, this Micro might have identified you already."

"Well," Foggy noted, "that would make it easy to find him, wouldn't it?"

With his costume over at Jessica's, Matt went to dress in black, while Foggy and Karen used the few minutes to wash out the used glasses. "Karen..." Foggy started when they were done.

"I may not know exactly what I'm doing," said Karen, "but there are some things you just have to do in life, and some people you just have to do them for-Matt's one of those people for both of us, and we're two of them for him. Like it or not, Frank's another one of them for me. I don't even entirely know why, Foggy, he just is."

Foggy couldn't say she didn't understand the feeling. "Just...be careful," she said. "Remember who he is and what he's done, and especially what he may be doing right now. Even if you don't do anything about it, don't actually forget that."

"I know," Karen sighed. "I'll try."

So Foggy was left alone that evening after all; she didn't even expect Matt to come back for a long while. But the conversation with Karen seemed to have already taken a bit out of her. Making herself a quick dinner and reviewing the latest filings from the government's lawyers easily did the rest. When she started to nod off while trying to read them, she put herself to bed, and was sound asleep within moments.

Later That Night

When the footsteps first woke Foggy, of course she assumed they were Matt, though when she tapped the clock, the time it gave out was earlier than she would've expected. Hastily she jumped out of bed and ran into the living room, calling, "Matt, are you okay? Did you run into..."

Then she saw who was standing there, and hastily grabbed Matt's cane, the easiest weapon on hand.

Frank put his hands up. "I'm not here to hurt you," he said. "You ain't someone I'm ever gonna hurt. Your husband wouldn't be either, but...well, that he's not here right now makes me pretty damn sure he happens to be someone I have already when he was wearing a mask, am I right?"

"I'm not confirming anything," Foggy snapped. She mostly believed him, but that just left her very annoyed at him. So she added, "But if it was true, surely it would occur to you that, really, having one vigilante continually coming in to wake me up at night is enough!"

"Look, I just need to talk to you two," he said. "Karen said she didn't want any more secrets between the three of you, even mine."

"She's only told us the ones that directly involved her," said Foggy. "Given the kind of turmoil some of that shit's caused her? You couldn't just demand she suffer in silence. And believe it or not, Mr. Castle, some lawyers actually have ethics, and as I'm sure she's told you, mine keep me from breathing a word about you to anyone, and Matt...well, I think he's pretty much decided to treat it the same way, and anyway, the three of us have taken to keeping each other's secrets beyond that."

Foggy thought she was convincing him, and for a moment she thought he might even just go away. But then he said, "If I'm right...Red's got really good hearing, hasn't he? Maybe to the point he might already know I'm here?"

"Still not confirming anything; please cease and desist with such questions." She even managed to keep her lawyer's face and tone in place, fat lot of good they were probably doing.

Except it seemed Matt would rather the Punisher know his secret than Foggy be left alone with him, because just then came the telltale thump on the roof, and Frank had the nerve to actually smile. "Red?" he called.

Matt had gone to Jessica's and changed into his proper armor, but he didn't even keep the mask on, hastening down with it held in his hands, which Foggy would've thought would've made it harder for him to fight. That left her so put out she just sighed, "You did not have to, Matt. Did you even think this through?"

"Foggy," he sighed back, "when the Punisher surprises your wife in your apartment, and your wife is also a lawyer working at a firm that has made some very morally dubious choices in its time, you are not taking any chances. Also, Frank, I want to know what I can do to get you to leave Karen out of this."

Frank shook his head. "It's her decision to help, Red. Only way we could've controlled that was I not tell her anything, so now..."

"He's got a point there, Matt," said Foggy, "much as I hate to say it. And you know to some extent Karen can take care of herself."

"To some extent," they heard Frank mutter under his breath. Well, a little too late for him to be lamenting who Karen was.

"Still," said Matt, "If maybe by lending you a hand, I can get her out of this quicker..."

Frank spared Foggy to need to yell it by saying it himself: "That's not how this works, Red. You wouldn't be able to let me kill anyone, I know that. Like I told you that one time..."

"Are you sure you're going to have to kill anyone on this one, Frank? I mean, I think if this Micro was intending to go after you, the last thing he would've done was put you on your guard."

"That assumes his behavior makes sense. He could be one of those crazy-ass villains who likes taunting people in very stupid ways."

"And if Karen finds something that indicates he's not?" Matt persisted.

Frank considered it. "Okay, maybe this'll end up being something you can help me on. Hell, you might know before I do, since I'm pretty sure Karen'll report to you before she does to me. That's fine, I ain't gonna push her on that one."

Sometimes Foggy forgot that Frank Castle could be a very smart man when he wanted to be. He would've first been caught a lot earlier if he hadn't been, after all. He probably also knew that Karen was more likely than not to tell him, and if for some reason she didn't, she'd almost certainly come to that decision completely on her own.

"Until then," said Frank, "I'll stay out of your way. If someone else attacks Karen, I'd appreciate it if you returned the favor."

"You do realize," Foggy said, "that she didn't want you to kill people for her? I know she told you that you shouldn't have killed those Watchdogs."

"And what if they come after her again? Those bastards have killed people who haven't done anything more than accidentally acquire superpowers, and next time they go after her she might not get as lucky, and I just can't..." He shook his head and made a frustrated noise.

So desperate to protect the life of someone reckless with it that he'd kill to do it, even against their wishes. And Foggy couldn't protest further without being a hypocrite.

Especially when her husband had folded his arms and said to the Punisher, "I'm not going to make any such promise."

But Frank just shrugged and said, "Your choice, then," and turned and headed out the way he had come. Foggy supposed they could've tried to detain him and call the police, but it honestly felt wrong to, and they probably wouldn't have succeeded anyway.

The Next Morning

Foggy definitely wanted to tell Karen about Frank's visit, but she was now too paranoid to even hint about it over the phone. So she just told her she'd like to meet her for lunch, and Karen only replied that she didn't know if she'd have time for it that day, and Foggy couldn't even tell her that the presumed reason for that was what she wanted to talk to her about.

So instead there was an ordinary morning, at least as much as they had those these days. Matt had gone back out after Frank's departure, but Foggy thought he'd pretty much just gone to Jessica's and back. He'd woken up the next day very broody, but he'd always done that a lot. And he did look a bit more cheerful after he'd had some coffee.

It was nice enough a day to walk to work, which Foggy made a point of still doing sometimes. It would get hotter later that day, and the humidity wasn't all that promising, but it wasn't doing anything to her hair that couldn't be smoothed out on the elevator ride up.

She was walking into the building when her phone rang. Seeing is was Alias Investigations' number, Foggy sidled over to a corner of the lobby while she answered it.

"Hey, Ms. Nelson, it's Malcolm Ducasse. We've been working on who leaked those emails, and it looks like they were linked by people either in or linked to the Department of Homeland Security. We've got emails that go all the way up to Carson Wolf, the Special Agent in Charge for New York."

"What kind of emails?" Foggy forced her voice to remain neutral.

"Nothing that proves anything yet, unfortunately, though it is Ms. Jones' professional opinion," from the humor in his voice Foggy could imagine just how professionally that opinion had originally been delivered, "that they make it hard to believe he wasn't at least in the know, and possibly the main guy behind the leaks. Unfortunately, he also think he's very good at getting out of trouble; he even got the Bulletin to not run a story at one point."

"Really?" Karen would be all over that, obviously. "Any idea of what that might have been about?"

"Well, at a guess, I would think it was about the supposed criminal that Wolf shot and killed out in the street last October, because he did do that. A guy called Lieberman, had been working for the NSA. White guy, too, so I don't think Wolf murdered him just for kicks. Probably whatever really happened's classified."

There were reasons someone might ask the head of a newspaper not to publish something. Some of them were even legitimate, though most of those wouldn't want a story withheld from the public forever, just until an investigation concluded, or something like that. Foggy didn't think this was a case of that. "Well," she said, "thanks for telling us all that. I'll talk to my three colleagues, and then call you or Jessica again later?"

Although since the four of them had pretty much agreed they could tell Karen who leaked the emails, the first thing she did after hanging up was text her, We really do need that lunch. And can you hold off on your latest project until then? Of course, they'd be in trouble anyway if the wrong person had been listening in or her and Malcolm, or listened into the upcoming conference call that now had to happen, but at least it would be a little harder for Wolf to use that against them publicly, and texts also remained riskier than phone calls anyway. Thankfully Karen's response was a simple acquiescence, arriving as she stood in the elevator.

She then texted both Matt and Jennifer, telling them only that she had news and to call into Marci's number for a conference call. She spotted Jose working on something with one of the other PAs, which probably made things easier. Cheryl would arrive in about half an hour, by which time Foggy hoped to have a better idea of how to explain this one to her. Though if the likes of Carson Wolf ever even breathed the names of her children, Foggy would wrangle out of the law every way she could find to heap as much misery on him as possible.

When she called Marci's name, the door opened, and her friend said to her "Whatever's happening today..."

"Involves us being wronged by someone powerful. React to that how you will."

"Oh dear..." was how she reacted to that. That was pretty understandable.

Matt had already called in, and Jennifer did so pretty quickly, so Foggy was able to tell all three of them at once. Jennifer's reaction involved a surprising amount of swear words, while Matt didn't say anything immediately. Marci just stood there with her brow furrowed, and Foggy found herself thinking she just might be the first of them to devise a plan that had a real chance of getting something accomplished.

Maybe she would have, too, if Matt hadn't said, "Maybe we need to get our hands on more of Wolf's email. Marci, Jennifer, if Foggy and I said we might know someone who might be able to get them but that we can't tell you any more, would you be willing to trust us?"

Marci looked up at Foggy, and Foggy had absolutely no idea how she kept a straight face on, or really, how she managed to not drop her jaw in complete and utter shock that Matt would make this suggestion. Maybe he didn't mean who she thought he meant, she told herself. Maybe he was hoping to get into contact with Romanov or something.

That was probably what Marci thought he was planning to do when she said, "Well, I trust Foggy at least." Great, more for Foggy to feel guilty over.

At least until she got that wicked grin, and said, "Do you think you could ask your hacker friend to get the embarrassing emails? See if maybe he committed crimes purely for himself; that would be more likely to bring him down."

"I'll certainly put in that request," said Matt, and he sounded far too happy. Foggy had been right to worry about him and Marci putting their heads together.

As soon as she was out of Marci's office afterwards, she texted Matt, We talk before you do anything. At least this time he too quickly acquiesced. Although just after she'd sat down in her own office, he then texted, All three of us should do lunch today. He'd already texted Karen, too, and when her agreement came on his heels, Foggy decided not to argue.

Lunchtime

This had swiftly become the kind of lunch where they didn't want anyone overhearing them, so they ended up first in Matt and Foggy's apartment, then up on the roof when Matt was confident they wouldn't be overheard there. The summer was starting to come on, and soon it would be too hot out for this. But on that day, noontime found the temperature pleasant enough, and Matt had made them all turkey sandwiches with the perfect amount of mayo. Foggy would've enjoyed it if it wasn't for the pair of conversations she was facing.

Except they ended up getting unintentionally merged when, having heard first about Frank's night visit without comment, and then about Carson Wolf, Karen asked, "If we find this Micro person and he turns out to be a hacker, are you going to ask him for help with that? I think that might get us all tangled up together where I, and probably Frank too, will find out more about what's going on than you'd want, just to warn you."

"If Matt has been thinking of that," said Foggy, wishing for the umpteenth time these two people of hers weren't so alike, "hopefully that would be one of the many things to give him pause."

"Maybe," said Karen, "but the other side is already breaking the rules, so can't you at least bend them? You don't have to actually tell me anything, you know."

"Unless not knowing it endangers your life," Foggy countered,"which, by the way, is one of those ethical dilemmas I've had nightmares about from the time I decided I wanted to become a lawyer, but you getting tangled up in the matter of Carson Wolf takes it from something that could possibly someday happen to something that seems all too likely to happen."

"I think," Matt said quietly at this point, "that such a dilemma is not one that would last very long, Foggy."

Of course it wouldn't. Of course Matt would take care of it for her. She felt like an idiot for not realizing that already. Which only left her angrier at them both.

And much more so at Matt. Whirling on him, she said, "Since we don't known about any imminent threats to any of our lives just this moment, in front of Karen I will say only that you are a reckless idiot who decides to do something and doesn't stop to consider even the most obvious reasons for it being a terrible idea, and when the potential consequences for this one..."

"The way I see it," said Karen, who, Foggy supposed, could answer freely when Matt couldn't, "you're going up against the powerful, and you've already relied on one ally with a lot of technical ability whom you could never really trust fully. If, perfectly hypothetically, you're now going to bring in another one, well, there's a good chance such an individual would be a better person than Tony Stark, at least."

There was a genuine chance of that, but Foggy had more doubts than Karen did. "Of course if we were doing anything," she said, "I doubt Marci would agree to let us to confirm a thing to you about how until we've got more reportable information, so..."

"I'll go ahead and talk to Ellison about Wolf, then?" Karen asked. "Maybe he'll even have more information about this guy he gunned down. Shows a nasty pattern of consistent behavior, in any case."

She was even nice enough to clear out a little early, and Foggy and Matt were finally left alone. It wasn't five seconds after she left the roof that he said, "Look, I know this Micro might not turn out to be someone we want to trust at all, and if so, he'll never hear about any of this."

"And how much are you going to investigate and how much are you just going to rely on your gut?" she countered. "Especially if you aren't going to let Marci or Jennifer be involved in that decision-hell, will you even let me have my say, or will you just make up your mind when you run into him in the middle of only you the Devil knows where..."

"I can keep from doing that," said Matt. "It might not be just me monitoring him anyway-or me and Frank either," because he knew what Foggy would think of that, "I think Rand's likely to get himself involved in this too, sooner or later. Ever since Karen was attacked he's been trying to keep an eye on just about everything south of Central Park."

"That's not of much comfort, quite frankly," said Foggy. "Not when I've had Colleen argue to me that he's even worse than you. Besides, we don't know what would happen if he and Frank ran into each other, and maybe it would be better to not find out, you know?"

"Yeah," Matt nodded. "Although who knows, maybe Frank'll end up getting mixed up with Carson Wolf as well. Karen told you that there's evidence the Department of Homeland Security was connected to that sting operation gone wrong, right?"

"Oh, come on," Foggy sighed. "Surely our lives aren't going to turn out to be that crazy...."

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Blue Sky Eyes... teaser

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

The beat up truck rattled terribly as it made its way toward his house. Between the rust and the blue smoke of burning oil, Bucky was surprised it ran at all, but behind the spider web of cracks through the windshield, he could just make out the image of the woman driving.

Shy of five am by all of ten minutes, he arched an intrigued brow and leaned on the rail of his homes wrap around porch. The old farmhouse had gone through many reincarnations throughout its life, from one bedroom to two, from a single story to one and a half, and finally into what Bucky had envisioned for it all his life. Open plan, wide plank hand scraped hardwood floors, lots of glass, plenty of chrome and stone surfaces. It wasn't a typical ranchman's house of walls of wood and animal heads, but then he'd never professed to being the typical rancher. Unlike plenty in these parts, he had money. Not buckets of it, but enough to buy back the family ranch and make of it what he wished. 

Still, he didn't know anyone with a truck that old or a face that pretty. When she finally pulled up in front of the house, the dogs that had been barking at the barn had made it to her door and were barking at her window.

He tilted his head and watched her stare at his two Wolfhounds and three Russian Hounds in fear before her eyes darted back to him.

Bucky let out a piercing whistle and called the pack back to the porch where a soft word of Russian had them all settling to lay alertly at the base of the stairs. He returned his attention to the woman and gave her a nod. In all honesty, they were friendly. It would take special command or act of aggression to have the hounds tearing into a person. And when she pushed open the shrieking, rusty door of her dying pickup, Bucky knew he'd never want to see his dogs sink teeth into her milk-pale skin. She clung to the door, and he noted the pink colouring her shoulders.

This was not a woman used to being in the sun. Or anywhere near a ranch if he judged her by her footwear. Flip flops were not appropriate anywhere around the grounds.

She'd yet to step out from behind the truck door, and Bucky finally called out, “Help you, ma'am?”

She took a limping step forward. “I'm… I'm looking for Mr. Barnes? Mr. James Barnes.”

It had been a lot of years since he'd been called James. Not since his mama was alive and giving him hell. “That depends on if you're lookin’ for senior or junior. If you're after senior, you missed him about six miles back when you passed Our Lady of Mercy Cemetery. If its junior you're after, you're lookin’ at him.”

She took another limping step, still clutching the door. “I suppose its junior then. I hear you need a cook, Mr. Barnes.”

He straightened and tipped his hat back. “That I do, ma'am, but I'm not one to have this sort of conversation across thirty feet of lawn. C'mon in the house and we can discuss it.”

He turned to head for the door when she called out, “Wait! What about the dogs?”

“They won't hurt you long as you ain't got a mind to hurt anyone else,” Bucky said frowning a little.

“They won't jump up will they?”

Bucky peered at her for a long moment. In the rising sun, her hair was a glow, a halo of platinum that couldn't be natural. She stood clinging to the door in a white peasant blouse and long jean shorts, her right leg slightly bent and hidden behind the door frame.

“They won't bother you if you don't bother them,” he assured her.

She looked skeptical for a moment before limping back to the pickup and pulling something from within. It wasn't until she swung the door shut with a slam and the pole landed that he realized why she'd been worried. The silver forearm crutch caught the light and sent it flashing back at him as she made her way slowly across the grass.

“Myesto. Tikho,” he murmured to the dogs, telling them to stay and to be quiet. They wouldn't move without his express permission now, no more than to catch her scent as she went by. Then he made his way to the bottom of the stairs and waited for her. When she arrived, he held out his hand.

“I know how to climb stairs,” she said still eyeing his dogs.

There was no heat in her statement, and he figured she was used to people offering her pity, trying to do everything for her because of her disability, but that wasn't his intention. “And I know a handrail would make all the difference in assisting you with that, but as I've yet to get around to puttin’ a rail up on these extra wide steps, my hand will have to do,” he said softly, his tone without condemnation or pity.

She looked up at him, and Bucky felt a fist punch him in the stomach. Her eyes were the bluest he'd ever seen. They were blue. Sky blue. Like the vast expanse above them. Big sky eyes. The kind you could drown in. The kind a man could lose himself in.

She seemed to search his for a minute before she took his offered hand. “Thank you, Mr. Barnes. I'm not used to simple kindness.”

“It's Bucky, and thanks isn't necessary if I can get your name.”

“Maybe.”

He gave a small smile. “Are you a fairy that givin’ up your name gives me power over you?” he asked, teasing her just a little.

She gave a disgruntled sigh and finished the last uncomfortable step. “No. My name is Maybe. Maybe Cole.”

That put a full smile on his lips. “Well, Miss Maybe. Welcome to Red Star Ranch. Let’s head inside, and we can talk.” He led the way and held the door before calling softly, “Faina.” One of the wolfish looking Russian Hounds lifted her head and then came to his side. “Vernut'sya v saray,” he said to the others, sending them back to the barn and to guarding his livelihood while he kept the sweet bitch with him. Out of the pack, she was the calmest yet the most fierce when it came to protecting what Bucky claimed as his.

He had a feeling about Maybe. A feeling he hadn’t felt in years. One that stirred his protective instincts while setting an alarm bell screaming. The woman was trouble with a capital T. He just didn’t know why yet.

She’d stopped to gape in amazement a few feet in the door. “Wow. This was not what I expected when they said your ranch was looking for a cook.”

Bucky chuckled softly and walked across the open expanse of living and dining room to the granite and maple kitchen where he took down a second cup and poured her a mug of coffee. “I like my living state of the art. I’m citified that way.”

Faina bumped his leg with her nose, and he took a dog biscuit out of a jar. “Sidet’.” She sat and waited patiently until he handed her the cookie. “Good girl.” Bucky scratched her ear and watched fondly as she trotted off with her treat to flop on the big pillow by the window and munch.

When he looked up, Maybe was still standing by the door. “Would you be more comfortable on the sofa?”

She seemed to shake herself awake from watching his dog and made her way across the room, her limp prominent. “Counter’s fine. I’m sorry, I’ve never seen dogs like yours before.”

“Most people haven’t. The three reds are Russian Hounds. Great for guarding and hunting. The two big greys are Irish Wolfhounds. Excellent protectors. The keep away the predators.”

She sat and nodded, accepting the coffee he nudged her way. “So… about the job?”

“Who sent you?”

“Mary, down at Sherman’s Dinner. I went in looking for work, but…” She lightly shook her cane. “People have a hard time hiring cripples.”

“Can’t image waitressin’ would be easy with only one hand.”

She frowned at him, likely trying to figure out if he was making fun of her or being serious. “I went in for a cook job. I can work just fine.”

“I’m sure you can. You taught yourself to drive with your left foot after all.”

She looked surprised before a small smile flitted across her face. “Yes, that I did.”

“What qualifications do you have?” he asked.

A shadow flitted over her features. “Big family dinners where I learned to cook at my grandmother’s elbow. I went to culinary school in New York, worked a couple of different restaurants in the big city before deciding that life wasn’t for me. Struck out west, moved around a bit, wound up in Easthallow and they sent me out here.”

“At five am?”

She shrugged. “It’s a ranch. I expected you to be up and started early. I didn’t want to interrupt a day in progress. Figured it was best to catch you at sun up.”

By the look of the bags beneath her eyes, she hadn’t been sleeping anyway. Bucky took in her face. It was delicate, elegant, like fine but brittle china with sharp angles and edges. There was a whole lot of bravado happening, but he could tell she was exhausted. Tired of life, of running, of continually being scared. He’d seen it all before. Some he’d seen on his own face when he’d looked in the mirror.

But her shoulders were straight, her spine stiff, and her blue eyes never wavered. They made her appear like the fairy he’d named her, as did the white blonde hair that matched her eyebrows. She was a bit otherworldly in her appearance.

“I’m feeding a crew of fifteen at the moment.”

“I can handle that,” she murmured.

“Just lunch though. Breakfast and dinners are only gonna be seven. I’ve five crew that live on site. The other ten have places in town. You’ll need to stay here. I can provide you with ground floor accommodations. There’s a ranch truck you can use for grocery runs. The store in town knows to put it on my tab.” He took his cup to the sink and rinsed it out. “Have a look around. If there’s anything you need, write a list. I’ll see it gets ordered in, or have someone run over to the Walmart in Gainesville. We’ll want good, hearty meals. None of that skimpy New York plating.” 

“What would you know of New York plating?” she asked.

“You’d be surprised. I told you I got citified enough to do this to my house,” Bucky chuckled.

Maybe sat quietly for a moment, just observing him, her mind working hard and only Faina’s chewing to break the silence. “You’re not going to ask for references?”

“Nope.” He shook his head. “Though you’ll be gettin’ the chance to audition when you make lunch for the hands today.”

Her brows shot up to her hairline. “And my leg? You’re not at all curious?”

Bucky cocked his head to the side. “You’ll tell me when you want to. I do have one question though.”

“Shoot,” she nodded.

“Is the thing you’re runnin’ from gonna come looking for you here, and if it does, will it be dangerous?”

The blood fled her face. “It shouldn’t,” she whispered. “But if it does? Yes. There will be danger.” She rose and looked away, shame paling her further. “I shouldn’t be here. I’ll go.”

“Maybe.” He stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. She immediately stiffened causing Bucky to release her. “I didn’t tell you to go. I’m only asking to be prepared. You stayin’ in town?”

She shook her head. “Everything’s in my truck.”

“Let’s get your stuff. I’ll show you where you’ll be staying, and you can start on that list. And if you don’t have boots, you’d best add those to the list. You can’t work here without boots.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Nah, doll. It’s just Bucky.” He held the door open for her. “Sir was my pops, and he’s not around anymore.”

“Alright… Bucky,” she murmured, a smile curling her lips. “Thank you for this chance.”

“We’re gonna make you work for it, darlin’. My men eat like elephants.”

“That’s okay. I’m used to feeding the masses.” At the stairs when he held out his hand, she took it without hesitation. “My disability really doesn’t bother you?”

“Not one bit.”

A genuine, full smile broke on her lips. “Thank you.”

“Maybe,” he grinned at her, “if your cooking is half as strong as your determination, I’m gonna be thanking you come lunch time.”  

***

That’s it. The plot bunny in progress. When I have more put together, I’ll start the story.

T~

[betta-resplendent]

I am just a little irritated. It’s long, so I’ll put it under a thing. I just really, really have to rant.

Last week, I went to a neurologist to figure out what to do about my brain. I was told that, for the most part I’ll be fine, and if it gets worse I can explore more options. I’ll be going to physical therapy to help combat my lack of balance. 

For context, I walk with a cane. I really have no choice in the matter anymore, for two reasons: One, the teetering gets pretty scary sometimes and the cane helps me keep myself upright when I feel myself going. 

Two, there are days where my back/leg hurts so bad I can hardly bring myself to get out of bed. A lot of the time I’m confined to a chair, and have to do my daily chores in small, 5-10 minute intervals before wobbling my ass back to a chair to sit while I try not to cry. A few months ago I was walking just fine, just had to be kinda careful about how I moved and how much I moved. I was exercising. I was losing weight. Then I leaned over in just the wrong way to look at something at the store, and insisted that I was fine because everybody else was having fun and I didn’t want to be the one to break it up. I was alone all through high school because of this shit, because nobody wanted to ‘bother me’. No, they didn’t want me ruining their fun and I don’t blame them, but they never even invited me to things to see if I’d be okay to go. They wouldn’t tell me things were happening, I’d find out from my friend, who of course was going. I didn’t want to be ‘that guy’. Not again. 

This was nearly two months ago. 

It’s become extremely obvious that this shit’s not gonna go away. I’m always gonna have to be super careful about what I do. I can lose the weight, sure, but first I have to be able to fuckin walk in the first place. I try to go to stores and shit over the weekend, but I have to pop a stupid amount of pain meds to do so...which I can’t do anymore because my liver’s fucked from 7 years of use. None of the ‘safe’ things work. The stretches aren’t working. The walking is only making small steps to progress. I do water changes with help because I can’t lift the fucking bucket. I sit in a chair to drain the water because otherwise it’s standing there for ~5 minutes trying to keep my shitty leg off the ground. I sure as fuck can’t afford fusion, and I don’t WANT to have it if I don’t need it. We can’t afford more doctors visits. We just can’t, and I can’t deal with the guilt of being another added fucking expense. 

So, while I look for a job that I can actually DO, I contacted the doctor I’d just seen last week, the DAY OF appointment, to see if one: he would be able to pretty much vouch for me once I get a job that yes, I have things going on that restrict my movement. And two: Would I qualify for disability?

I’ve been going back and forth and back again for three years about pursuing that path. I feel useless. Actually, no, it’s more than that: I feel worthless. I can’t do jack shit without wanting to cry. I can’t do the things I enjoy without pain, and I have to sit do to most of them (gardening, fish keeping), and even sitting and playing games hurts like a motherfucker. I have to keep adjusting, keep fixing my leg positions, keep turning myself, because when I find myself comfortable in one position, less than ten minutes later that position hurts too. The stigma against disability was mostly what pushed me away. I see so much vitriol about people outraged that unemployed people apply for disability. 

“Get a fucking job!”

I’m trying, asshat. You try it when 10-20lbs is your weight limit and you can’t stand/sit for long periods of time. See how fucking easy it is finding somebody willing to do more than glance at a resume. Get back to me on that.

Even better when they see you’re fat! “Bitch probably hurts because she’s too fat”

Sure, that’s part of it. Also my spinal canal was narrow since birth. Sure tho, completely my fault. Mea culpa. 

I get it. I’m fat, and I’m disabled. They’re related, but it doesn’t have to be caused by it. Fuck’s sake, I was trying to fix it. I lost nearly 40lbs in 4 months. It isn’t supersonic speed by any means, but it was getting there. Considering I was combating that stupid leg, I felt I was on the right track.

Anyway. So I kicked anxiety in the dick to send that message. I’m pretty sure I knew the answer from the front, since the doc didn’t seem to like the idea of letting me speak for the first few minutes of the visit. Kept talking over me, interrupting me, ignoring me when he spoke to my parents...and then proceeding to interrupt my mother. Like, fucking really?

But I tried anyway, because ‘fuck it’. The worst they can say is no.

Oh boy. Lemme tell you, somehow they absolutely did make it worse. Not only did they say ‘no’ (again, fine, fair enough), but when I sent the message I was told ‘1-2 business days’. Every other office I’ve send messages to, I get a response back in that time. Maybe 3 days, which is fine. I get it, shit gets crazy sometimes. 

I send this message and wait. And wait. I figure ‘well shit I guess that’s lost in the aether now’ and don’t bother sending another one because I don’t want to be a bother. They’ll get to it eventually. 

I wait a week. I initially sent 3 sentences, one is particularly long, but one is particularly short. Quick, to the point, but detailed for my questions. A week passes, and this is what I get. 

“No. I don’t think so”

Typed exactly like this. Just like that. That’s it. No explanation, no ‘sorry’, no ‘go fuck yourself’, nothing. A week, for that. 

I don’t know why I’m angry. I’m sure I sound like an entitled twat. Fine, whatever. I’ve been dealing with this bullshit for 7 fucking years. I’ve been rejected for countless jobs. I’ve outright been told ‘we aren’t hiring’ when a ‘now hiring’ sign is in the fucking window. 

Honestly I’m more angry about the long wait for poorly constructed response than the ‘no’. I expected the ‘no’. The ‘no’ is fine.

So, that’s that then. I’ll just have to deal with it from here like I always have. All I can do is hope for the best. I’m just tired now. I’m not even going to bother asking for clarification because I know it won’t be worth it. It’s just another week of wasted time.

/rant.