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𝐃𝐎 𝐈𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄 | Eddie Munson x reader

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summary | Eddie had taken on the responsibility of watching over you when you were younger. But, now back home after dropping out of college, watching over you seems to mean something entirely different. Alternatively, seducing your dad's best friend who just so happens to also be a virgin.

author's note | this is as close to writing eddie as i think i can get anymore hdsjfk. thanks to my wives (@gracieheartspedro, @amanitacowboy & @chaotic-mystery) for the beta & support!

content warning | 18+ MDNI, set in the early 2000s, older!eddie, virgin!eddie, the double whammy everyone needs in their life, age gap (20s & mid 30s), DBF!EDDIE!!!!, eddie knew reader as a kid but nothing nefarious, internal conflict, money issues, dropping out of college, flirting, eddie catching you half-naked, confident!reader, screwing and screwdrivers amirite, fingers, couch sex, eddie comes in a millisecond, pull out method

word count — 9.5k

The email comes through Friday night.

The college name and yours bolded at the top and a sigh slipping from your lips as you’re already anticipating the inevitable.

This email is to inform you that your enrollment is being terminated due to outstanding financial obligations on your student account, payments must be continued in a timely manner for the issue to be resolved.                       —  Warm regards

You’re packed up by Saturday afternoon and back home by midnight, settling back into the small and cozy childhood bedroom you were so desperate to leave, begging to escape the stuffy trailer park the moment you turned eighteen.

But, here you were, stuffing your feet into your fuzzy slippers as you took out the kitchen trash to the dumpster at the end of the short driveway, the frigid wind biting at your skin as you tugged the blanket tighter around your shoulders.

It was the time of year where mornings were unbearably cold and by noon, you were sweating.

The problem was that you had tried.

You sacrificed a few assignments picking up extra shifts at the diner near the edge of campus, barely minimum wage with the few and far between tips. It felt like life or death sometimes, deciding between studying, paying for a few items to enjoy a decent dinner, or paying on your tuition.

Eventually, it all became uncontrollable. It was like a giant, looming monster hovering over your shoulder at every turn, threatening you with the power it held. What came now was relief, but still the slightest hint of worry.

You had to find a job, pick up the slack—the trailer was, to no surprise, a mess.

Your father worked grueling shifts at the factory in Hawkins, twelve hours days that wore him out, enough time to grab a quick meal and shower before he was turning in for the night on the worn-out recliner in the living room despite his perfectly good bed.

He wasn’t working today, but he was having breakfast with a friend.

You got an invite but decided against, determined to make the place spotless by the time he returned and you do as much, picking up the mountains of growing trash, starting laundry, vacuuming, every possible task until the place smelt somewhat pleasant and livable, propping the windows open as the air started to warm, hearing the faint laughs coming up the drive as we’re spraying down the deck with a hose, washing away the caked up dirt between the slats of wood.

“She lives,” His voice is easily recognizable, married with the shake of metal from his litany of jewelry and trademark jacket, jingling like a cat with a bell on their collar, you’re smiling before you turn around, though it quickly fades as he continues, “how’s college been treatin’ you?”

Your dad isn’t slick, but he makes an attempt, his hand mimicking a slice over his neck as a warning for Eddie to cut the conversation dead, though he’s more focused on your face and the way it falls.

“Er, or not?” he guessed, “Or not, yeah—you doing alright?”

“I’m surprised dad didn’t spill the beans,” you admit, “an hour together and he didn’t mention his college dropout daughter and how she’s unfortunately back home, wasting away her genius,”

“Honey, you know I’m happy to have you here—if I could pay to put you through, I would,”

“I know, I know,” you soothe his worry, “so much for scholarships when schooling still costs a fucking fortune, I should’ve tried selling shit on the black market like everyone else, I can live without a kidney,”

Eddie chuckles at your efforts to lighten the mood, “Tough break, squirt,”

“Hey,” you retort quickly, “I’m not five anymore, quit it,”

“She’s all stuck up now,” your dad jokes, your mouth dropping in offense,

“Am not,” you quickly snap, “is this fucking open season on bullying me?”

“Sorry, princess,” Eddie offers a half-smirk as he shoves his hands into the pocket of his jacket before nodding a goodbye to your father, then you, softening you with a wink that has the same effect as it did on fifteen year old you, swallowing hard behind the unusual swell of nervousness in your throat.

“Language,” your father warns as he approaches, kissing the top of your head as he walks by, “and thank you, kiddo, for being’ here—cleaning up the place,”

You nod quietly, offering a smile as your eyes drag back toward Eddie’s trailer, the same one you’ve wandered toward many times before, his uncle Wayne sitting on the steps offering out a pre-packaged lollipop or candy that he never told your father about, so easily becoming a second family to you and your father, him raising you by himself from such a young age.

Unfortunately, Wayne had passed a while back.

You were nineteen now, a couple years older than your father was when you were born, kidless, and relationships nowhere near your radar for the time being, it felt odd. But, you were settled and secure with yourself in that regard, praying that things would fall into place in due time.

But, more urgently, you needed a fucking job.

–

As much as you don’t physically see Eddie the first few weeks you’re settling back in Hawkins, he’s everywhere; posters plastered on brick walls or taped up on the glass windows of stores in town, shoutouts on the local radio as you drove down the backroads to town, he’s a small celebrity around town no doubt, but to you, he was annoying Eddie Munson.

He’s the guy who liked to scare you as a child when you were giving your father a hard time about falling asleep, making up convoluted stories about monsters that came after bad kids that still had you checking over your shoulder some nights. He’s the guy who liked to tease you for being tone deaf but still insisted on teaching you how to play guitar despite you not retaining any of it.

You admired him more than you could admit—he’s never cared what people thought of him. Eddie made a habit of standing out and being confident in his choices, going against the fray of students fighting tooth and nail for college admissions.

It didn’t matter that Eddie was a super senior by the time he graduated, he’s made a name for himself now, kept to his roots, and was still the same person you knew before you could even reach his kneecaps.

It was the rare nights as you grew older, just on the cusp of seventeen and listening to your father and he relive the times before you—how wild and carefree Eddie had encouraged him to be.

It wasn’t that he’d lost his life when you arrived, he just had different reasons to be happy.

Their mouths worked in tandem as they talked through their food, enjoying a shared dinner on the couch watching an old comedy from the 70s that you couldn’t remember the name of, the men finding great humor and joy in a movie you could care less about. 

You remember the moment it happens, the skip in your heart as the smell of Eddie’s cologne wafts to your nostrils, admiring the straight edge of his defined jaw as he ate, the dimple that deepened as he smiled.

It was the same feeling you had when you found out you had a crush on sixth grade on a boy who was just as nervous to talk to you as you were to him, but this—it was in a league of its own, making you seek asylum in your room as you escape from dinner with a lazy excuse.

Eddie goes touring for the next few months after you arrive back, in and out of town, but you’re lucky enough to miss him by minutes, seconds, occasionally. Because as much as you had hoped that schoolyard crush would go away, it hadn’t.

The same sinking feeling in your gut returns with every appearance of his face, even the presence of his empty trailer, his voice echoing in the back of your head like he’s there.

You spent the most of his absence applying for jobs and praying for anything at this point, even if the pay was absolutely shit. You end up at the grocery store in town as a stocker, nothing crazy: the hours were flexible, the job was distracting, and you could keep to yourself. 

The last thing you wanted was a familiar face from high school wondering how girl genius had dropped out of college, not that it was anyone’s business, but the judgement was the last thing you needed.

When you arrive home after a longer shift, feet scraping tiredly against the pavements as your keys jingled in your hand, trying to move quietly because you knew your father was sleeping after an equally long day, you hear the whistle from a few feet away.

You could mistake it for a bird, but given the time of day, you knew it was Eddie, the melodic hum to the whistle that has a smile tugging at your face.

“Finally pullin’ your weight I see,” he remarks with a grin, arms resting over his hood as he stares, you with no response other than your lips pulling into a tight line as you slump your shoulders, “tough crowd—‘lright, fair enough.”

“Gotta start somewhere,” you respond, gravitating toward the arm of the stairs that led to the porch of the trailer, “not all of us are gifted with the ability to perform, remember?”

Eddie chuckles at the thought, watching you fumble with his guitar, “Yeah…yeah,” he nods, fiddling with his keys and the chipped guitar pick on the key ring, “but—seriously, you’re doing okay? Your dad didn’t tell me much about what happened, so…”

“There wasn’t much to tell him,” you admit, “I’m broke, stressed, and life isn’t very forgiving to some of us,”

Eddie’s eyes squint in thought, averting awkwardly.

To you it seems as if he’s trying to think of how to comfort you, campaigning his next words on his head.

But internally, he’s fighting the thoughts that this wasn’t how he pictured you ending up; not because he thought you were above it, but because he'd always imagined you running far from this place—admittedly, you tried; away from the faded street signs and rusted trailer roofs. He stops himself from saying something stupid, knows that even if the words feel gentle or caring, they'd sting.

He can’t help but admire you either, despite that nagging feeling in his chest.

You’ve changed, grown into the permanent scowl on your face that matched your feisty personality, aware of how you carried yourself with a confidence that mimics his own, fake it ‘til you make it.

“Hey,” he says finally, voice softening. “If you need anything…well, you know I’m like—down the street.” He motions vaguely toward his own trailer, and you nod knowingly, “well, across…the grass, I guess. You get the idea, dollface,”

That was a new one.

You chew at the inside of your lip to hide the grin brought on by amusement and delirium from your long shift, wondering how you were still on two feet and listening to Eddie ramble, somehow you manage the energy to be teasing, easing back into the familiar playfulness you both threw at each other when you were younger and more naive.

“And what do I owe the great Eddie Munson for his generosity?”

He gives a dramatic sigh, flicking his wrist like he's dismissing the idea, “I’m all for charity, helpin’ out the needy.. Why? You feeling needy?”

It’s your turn to squint now, the skepticism easing into a smile. There’s a comfort in this banter and it lifts the weight off your chest in a way you can’t describe, rolling your eyes at his growing smirk.

“Careful,” you warn him, a glint in his eyes, “I’ll take advantage of you if you’re offering, just like old times,”

You wrap your grin up in a perfect bow of innocence, palms meeting at your chin to frame your face up with a picture perfect smile before you’re leaving him, yearning for your bed.

Eddie recognizes you, he thinks.

It was you, personality and mannerisms to match.

But, you’re different now.

He couldn’t admit it out loud though or even begin to linger on the thought out of fear and a sudden guilt that pinged in his gut, chastising himself over it.

–

A weekend and privacy came with a much needed bath, lounging in the comfort of the tub until your muscles stopped aching, eventually wrapping yourself in a towel after a quick shower as you walked through the living room, spending most of Saturday and Sunday alone as your father had escaped for his own getaway—the only difference this time was that you didn’t need a sitter.

It was a designated job of Eddie’s for many years, always offering to keep an eye on you.

But, you are an adult now. Fully grown, filled out. The towel is shit and thin but you hold it tight to your body anyways, readjusting it over your bare chest as the front door squeaks open on the rusty hinges and—

"Jesus!" you gasped, clutching the towel tighter.

“Oh, shit!" Eddie practically jumped back, hands up as if he were surrendering. "I thought you'd be gone. Sorry, sorry!"

You’re standing wet and unsteady, staring at him with a mix of embarrassment and amusement while he’s caught red-handed, looking increasingly guilty as he covers his eyes with his hands.

“Sorry,” he repeats, “Your dad wanted me to check in on the place, figured you’d be gone,”

You force an awkward laugh, the tension dipping into something easy and familiar despite the situation, “Well, I’m not..”

He turned to look away now, the tips of his ears burning red. “Seriously, I didn’t mean to, uh—”

He uncovered his eyes slightly, peeking at you with a crooked grin as you responded with a teasing, “Obviously, Eddie.”

You swore he was blushing—you’ve never seen it before. Not like this. You raised an eyebrow, shifting your weight to one hip, watching him squirm as the towel parts slightly, revealing a risqué sliver of skin by your inner thigh.

Eddie clears his throat suddenly, looking up at the ceiling with a finger pointing randomly, like he’s doing an inspection of the place before he’s stumbling over his words, “I’m—gonna…go? Place is good, you’re good—I mean,”

“I know what you mean,” you interject, walking toward him as your fingers press against his chest on his backwards trek outside, pointing lazily toward his trailer as he fumbles for the doorknob, “now, if you don’t mind?”

Eddie knows he deserves a special spot in the worst parts of hell now, finding himself curious of how you’ve grown, something that has never plagued him until recently, seeing you back in town and nothing like the young girl he used to know.

Of course, you’re still you, but then again—not at all. 

He can’t quite place it, but he knows this is bad.

Not good.

And he returns home to take a shower of his own, longer than necessary for a number of reasons.

–

Later that night, you perch yourself in the old, plastic chair on the side of the trailer and light the rolled joint, savoring the soft hum of nature as you wrapped the blanket tighter around your body, curled up barefoot and closing your eyes as you inhale the smoke until it burns, blowing it out through your nostrils.

"Didn't know you smoked," Eddie chirps, cigarette in his mouth as he approaches quietly, startling you slightly. He’s dressed for bed—a loose, tattered old band shirt and sweats hung low on his hips, black socks with a growing rip on the side of his left foot.

He’s always been broad, but the defined muscles of his biceps were new. Thicker, a little tanned, tendrils of muscle stretching underneath the skin as he crossed one arm over his chest.

As your heart settles, you smirk and add darkly but joking, "College changes people."

"Yeah?" He exhaled a slow cloud of smoke. "Guess I never really changed, have I?"

"You still play with the band?"

You already knew the answer, making conversation.

"Yeah," he grinned. "Not famous yet, though. Maybe next year. We’re just doing shows around Indiana—pays the bills and then some."

Eddie was well enough off, you knew that. There wasn’t a single person in Hawkins who didn’t know his name, negative connotation or not—you would have to be living under a rock to not know who Eddie Munson or Corroded Coffin was.

The conversation eventually drifted into quieter places, dragging the equally dilapidated empty chair beside you, closer, knees knocking.

He asked about school; you asked about life on the road. He admitted, too easily it seemed—that he never really caught up with most of the kids he graduated with. "Most of 'em settled down," he said. "Married. Kids. Guess I just... never did."

He'd never been shy, but something in the way he said it felt more vulnerable than usual.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” you shrug, puffing quietly as his eyes track the movement, his cigarette long forgotten before you’re offering him the joint, the corners of his mouth turning upwards quickly as he snatches it from your fingers eagerly.

“Right,” he doesn’t entirely believe you, haunted by the idea of never being able to move on—stuck in this revolving circle of trying to make it big but just coming up short.

It’s been almost twenty years, something had to give way. 

"You're much better company than the guys, by the way," Eddie smirked as he took a long drag, his eyes finding yours through the haze of smoke, “you should come out to a show, too—I’ll comp your tickets.”

“I’ll make an effort,” you tell him honestly, “but—with work and trying to make sure my dad isn’t running himself into the ground…I’ll—I’ll try, I promise,”

“Do you have plans to go back?” Eddie asks, passing the joint back to you, “Like, to college?”

You shrug, “I want to, but money is tight. I’d need a fucking miracle to happen before—”

“I can pay what you owe,” he responds like it was the easiest thing in the world to offer, “if—I mean, if you want. Or, at least a chunk to help you out. It helps, living in Wayne’s old trailer. Everything is paid, I just keep the lights on and the water running.”

You stare at him, momentarily speechless.

“Eddie,” you’re unsure how to continue as his name falls out like a breath that’s been held too long, “that’s not fair to you,” you tell him, unable to ignore the weird, twisting feeling in your chest that makes your heart flutter nervously, “I can’t let you do that.” 

You knew Eddie wasn’t the type to expect anything in return, but the idea—just the thought of him helping in such a way, it was tempestuous. But, you’re stubborn.

“I think I need to give myself time,” you decide, “find out if going back is something I want to do—if it’s even worth it.”

Eddie never even attempted college, so he figures his opinion is null and void.

Instead, he pokes you with a finger to your ribs as you squirm, giggling softly.

"You should come on the road with us then. Be our groupie, for all intents and purposes." 

You laugh, not sure if he's joking or serious or somewhere in between. "You’re asking me—the daughter of one of your oldest friends, to be your groupie?"

Eddie considers how it sounds, pausing as he tries to work it out in his head before he laughs, shaking his head with amusement, “Fine—bad way to describe it. You could just…come and help, or not. We don’t really have a manager, either. We’re wingin’ it. Weren’t you going to college for something in that field?”

“A minor in music management, yeah, but—”

Eddie’s eyebrows raise in intrigue and you look away with a flurry of emotions.

Amusement, forthright. You laugh, the sound bubbling around the joint between your lips, but his eyes fall so easily on you, wide and glazed over and it makes you nervous in a way you’ve never felt.

“Your dad asked me to keep an eye on you, take care of you when I could—” Eddie begins, legs spreading out as he leans back in the chair, memorizing the subtle curl pattern to his hair and his bangs that begged for a trim.

“I’m not a kid anymore,” You remind him, tilting your head to meet his eyes as he lazily pivots his head to look at you, a distant but genuine smile on his face.

“I know,” Eddie responds, his hand rubbing gently over your knee, the cold press of his rings into your skin as his knuckles curled around the bone, “doesn’t mean I don’t care or worry about you.”

It was such an innocent touch, reassurance wrapped in a perfect bow. 

But, his hand doesn’t move immediately, slowed, almost as if hindered by the weed in his system. He watches the way your legs part, his hand slipping further to curl around the bend of your knee and around the inside of your thigh, fingers tucked between the space.

Your reaction is delayed too, eyes locked on the movement of his hand before you’re forcing yourself to kill the tension, wrapping your fingers around his own and returning the gesture with a gentle squeeze.

“I appreciate it, Ed,” it bleeds sincerity, “thank you—but, that is something I’d really have to think about.”

“No rush, dollface,” he grins, slipping his hand away casually.

He moves to stand, but you stop him, hand pressed against his chest.

“Don’t—don’t tell my dad,” even if you were an adult, your father still had his ideals, “that I—that we, you know…”

Your finger circles the general area before you pick up the small remnants of your impromptu smoke session with Eddie and his tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek as he nods.

“Seems hypocritical considering how much weed we used to smoke in high school.” Eddie reminisces and you only persist, hand still pressed against his chest until he gives you the answer you were looking for, “Oh, come on—I can keep a secret. Don’t worry.”

You nod slowly, unsure. Eddie grins again, a half smirk as his fingers wrap around your wrist and gently push your hand away, “You seem a little…agitated,” Eddie ponders, “are you sure you’re alright?”

His look is smarmy and cocky, a mixture that gets under your skin like nothing else can.

You shake your head dismissively, stumbling slightly on your feet as you stand with him.

“Sick of me, aren’t you?” he teases.

“I mean, we’ve seen more than enough of each other today.”

“That shit wasn’t intentional and you know it,” Eddie defends, not an ounce of bite in his tone. It’s rather playful, feels like a mirage as his eyes crease at the corner and he smiles again, a trademark look for him but you since the admiration in his gaze, beyond what it should be for his best friend’s daughter.

And you catch yourself thinking about it, too. Looking, considering any other possibility that could have happened—a slip of your towel, if Eddie had gotten worried and progressed further into the trailer, if you had forgotten the towel entirely.

This wasn’t innocent and it wasn’t a crush.

“Watch yourself, Munson,” you warn, flicking a finger at the necklace hanging over the soft cotton of his shirt.

Eddie can’t describe how it feels like quicksand at his feet, unable to move as you corner him where he stands, intimidated but enticed by every single aspect of you.

He’s in such deep shit.

–

Eddie disappears for a few weeks—not without warning, though.

It was a short stint of shows around Indianapolis and he had asked you to watch over his place while he was gone despite there never really being any worry around this side of town—it was quiet anymore, eerily.

Still, it integrates into your daily schedule. A quick glance inside before work and another check after your shift, taking a couple days to throw out any moldy food in the fridge or water his dying plants, surprised by the fact that he even had any—though, the cactus seemed to thrive amongst the death and decay, centered at his kitchen table with a small figurine buried in the dirt resembling a mystical dragon.

It always makes your smile so big that your nose crinkles.

Eddie hadn’t changed at all, really.

A few days before Eddie’s due to arrive back, you hear a concerning sound coming from his fridge and immediately enlist the help of your father who had the magic touch for everything. There wasn’t anything that he couldn’t fix, really. And this was no different.

You tried calling, but Eddie never answers.

He was busy—understandably. You leave him a note on the fridge indicating that your father had fixed the condenser fan and you could thank him another time.

When he does arrive back in town, he does so quietly and in the middle of the night.

You hear the roar of his engine around midnight but don’t stir, followed by the crack of metal as the driver’s side door closes, some rustling of keys, and then you’re succumbing to sleep again.

“Sweetheart, I think I left my screwdriver at Ed’s,” your dad tells you from across the trailer.

“Got it,” you answer swiftly, “I’ll bother him later.”

Later that night, you do.

Eddie looks tired upon first glance, hair tied up loosely but it is a welcomed change to his usually untamed mane.

He invited you in, beer in hand as he returned to the couch and laid his guitar across his lap, an unspoken and hefty amount of empty bottles lining the table.

“I’m fine,” he reassures your silent thought, catching his glance as you stand, arms tucked behind you back loosely, “gotta unwind somehow, right?”

You shrug, indifferent. You weren’t going to judge him.

“Uh, my dad said he left a tool here,” you finally say, “did you see a Phillips laying around anywhere?”

“Drawer at the end of the counter,” Eddie instructs, not looking up as he fiddled with the strings on his guitar, “gonna have to give it a good tug, it likes to stick,”

You nod, moving toward the draw and giving it a sharp pull, watching as the screwdriver rolled toward the front.

Perfect.

“Did you want a beer?” Eddie ask offhand, “I’ve got a few left in the fridge,”

It was a silent invitation—but for what, you weren’t sure.

Eddie often seemed lonely back home, no real purpose when he wasn’t on the road and performing, attempting to fill his days with anything that wasn’t band practice or sound checks.

“I’m not twenty-one,” you respond, laying the Phillips screwdriver on the counter.

Eddie shrugs, hands held up in defense.

“I’m not the police, dollface,” he jokes, “I won’t snitch.”

It wasn’t like you hadn’t drank in college.

Fuck it. 

The fridge cracks open as the seal separates and you reach for the bottle, finding that Eddie has approached in the flurry of motion to reach for the beer.

You watch as he brings it to his belt buckle, using it as a makeshift bottle opener before passing it back into your waiting hand.

“Show off,” you tease with faux disdain, taking a small sip from the beer as Eddie leans against the counter, one hand curling around the edge while the other nurses a bottle.

You both drank, talking about nothing in particular, until his words slurred a little and his smile turned softer, a faint flush to his cheeks.

“No plans?” he asks curiously

“It’s Friday,” you shrug, “I should make some, but I haven’t reconnected with anyone since I’ve been back.”

Except for Eddie, obviously.

“You’re all dolled up,” he notes, though there isn’t much to be considered notable aside from the dress shifting mid-thigh and your bare shoulders on display, bare-faced.

“I showered,” you laugh, brows knitting together in confusion, “but—thank you, I guess?”

He’s terrible at this, isn’t he?

Eddie clears his throat, chin tilting down as he his shoulders square and you feel the undeniable urge to tease him, though your eyes are stuck on the way the muscle moves underneath his shirt.

“You should wear your hair like that more often,” you suggest, nodding toward his messy up-do as you sip at the beer, “it’s…cute.”

“Cute?” Eddie throws his head back and laughs, watching a few strands slip from the bun as he shakes his head.

You reach forward, invading his space, brushing a hair away from his cheek as he tenses slightly, reveling in the subtle effect it had on him.

“Undeniably…adorable,” you reiterate, patting his cheek gently, his eyes trained on the way your eyes linger over his face before you smile, stepping away. 

“So, you tease me and ask me to keep your secrets,” Eddie says, counting on his fingers.

You feign innocence, looking him up and down in a way that Eddie could easily misconstrue, part of you prays that he will.

"You know," he said, gaze sliding lazily over you in a similar manner, "I always knew you'd grow up to be trouble."

"Trouble?" you laughed, but something tightened in your chest.

"Yeah." He drained the rest of his beer and set the bottle down with a thunk. 

It was like a silent challenge, begging him to elaborate.

But Eddie just smiled, lopsided and knowing. 

He leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms, nodding a subtle invitation for you to follow him to the couch, your task forgotten as Eddie shoved his guitar aside to make room for you beside him.

“How were the shows?” you ask curiously, one foot pressing to the couch as the other crossed behind your heel, separating your dress and exposing your skin, barely attempting to cover the slip of your panties underneath as the fabric fits between your thighs, your hand pressing against the cushion of the couch to keep it in place.

Eddie watches it happen, how easily you’ve slipped out of your shoes and made home on his couch, like you were always meant to be here, like this had always been your home, too.

He sinks into the couch beside you with a deep sigh, the furniture shifting with the weight.

Tipping his head back, he shrugs.

“Same old,” he replies easily, fiddling quietly with the thick skull ring on his middle finger, flexing them, your eyes watching the insistence of his movement, “things are weird though, lately—like we’re all feeling stuck but no one wants to bring it up.”

“Complacent?” you inquire and Eddie nods with a smirk.

“Complacent,” he tries the word out on his tongue as he looks over at you, an immense amount of appreciation on his face, “that’s the word—smart ass.”

“I think the words you’re looking for there are—thank you.” 

Eddie shakes his head nonchalantly and the corners of his mouth turn down, “No…no, I think you enjoy being a smart ass.”

Your fist digs into your cheek as you lean against, “Okay, well—go and run to my dad and tell him how you’re being bullied by his daughter,” you reach a finger forward and poke at the dimple in his cheek, “that you’re feeling oh so threatened by me.”

Eddie has a limit—a bullshit meter if you will.

Before, it would end with him sending you on your way back home, a smug but annoyed expression on your face. But, as you sit here now, he doesn’t feel the urge.

He reaches forward, dexterous fingers attacking the sweet spot underneath your ribs before he’s tickling you into submission, jumping forward to latch onto his right shoulder, attempting to wiggle away from his grip.

He’s relentless, though.

One hand turns into two and soon enough you’re leaning over his lap with your hands on the empty cushion beside him and panting, begging for mercy.

“Stop—stopstop,” you plead, “Eddie—fuck, please,”

Something there lingers, trying desperately to shove his hands away but finding yourself slipping backwards in the process. A soft yelp rips from your throat as you slip back, but Eddie’s already got a hand on your thigh, tight and harsh as it digs into your skin to keep you upright.

Your face morphs from momentary fear to frustration, a harmless scowl forming on your face as you shove at his chest.

“Sorry,” Eddie responds playfully, trying desperately to ignore how warm your skin feels against his palm, maneuvering you back into your spot beside him, “shut you up though, didn’t it?”

“I think if you wanted me bent over your lap you could have just asked,” you retort with a fire in your chest as you readjust your dress, fixing the straps on your shoulders.

Eddie looks surprised at your outburst, eyes wide.

You shoot him a look that tears right through his ignorance, “What? It’s not like you’re some sexless virgin, we’re both adults, aren’t we?”

The silence is especially deafening on his behalf.

You quickly come to the conclusion on your own, “You’re the lead singer of a metal band and you’ve never had sex?”

Eddie avoid answering outright and instead attacks, “Okay, now you’re just being a little shit and judgy.” 

He won’t meet your eyes as you stare at him, the faintest hint of a smile on your face, finding his innate shyness over the topic immensely endearing.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just—seriously? There’s no one just throwing themselves at you?” you ask curiously, “All this time and you’ve never once got caught up with a groupie?”

You sit back on your legs, having never been more interested in a conversation in your life, helplessly curious.

“Not ones that I want,“ Eddie admits, “besides, one thing or another happens and it just…doesn’t work out.”

Huh. 

You’re quiet, processing the information.

You’re not sure why it shocks you, but it does.

Any idea or assumption you’ve ever had about Eddie was completely shattered, like you were staring at him for the first time, eyes averted. The chain on his wrist jingled as his knee shook anxiously. 

You curl your fingers around his kneecap, similar to how he had weeks before, calming him. 

“I’m sorry…for assuming,” you apologize, “it’s just…you’re—“

“Old,” he says deadpan and you can’t help but laugh.

“You’re not old,” you reply in defense, “what do you consider old?”

“I’m the same age as your dad, dollface.”

“My dad hasn’t worn an Iron Maiden shirt since ‘95, so I think you’re still safe,” you tease, squeezing his knee.

Eddie smirks, but there’s a touch of vulnerability in his eyes that makes your chest feel strange and soft. He’s silent for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

He should cut the conversation short, but then you’re opening your mouth again.

Another question, another step further.

“So, I mean,” you pause, adjusting yourself to sit criss-cross to face him, hands resting in your lap, “what qualifies?”

“I’m not having this conversation with you,” Eddie replies like an empty threat, wincing at how eager you look to receive the information, a split second away from a sticky situation. 

“No sex,” you start to recite to yourself, thumb jutting out as you count on your hands like he had earlier, “oral is a no-go, I’m assuming,” pointer finger out as Eddie watches you work through the list in your brain and he’s nothing short of mortified as his lips part and he stares at you with a wild gaze, “fingering? What about fingering? Have you ever kissed anyone?”

You look up eventually to find him speechless, his cheeks reddening as you continue and you shrug so nonchalant he can’t believe this is reality, “What? I’m curious.”

“Well, get un-curious,” Eddie retorts with a lazy chuff of laughter.

“You were the one who asked me to be your groupie, remember?” 

Eddie scoffs, slapping your hand down gently where it was lingering near him, fingers still laid out in count, “Bad choice of words, remember? This is—”

“What? Am I not your type?”

And, there it was.

Eddie gulps, his hand curling into a fist as his knuckles dressed into his thigh, the fabric creasing under the pressure and he doesn’t answer outright.

You hold your hands up in surrender, “Okay, fair—I’m not offended if I’m not—”

“No,” Eddie quickly interjects, “it’s not that.” 

He flattens his hand against his leg, tension slowly loosening as he huffs out a breath.

So, you were his type?

“Is this a morality thing?” you cut through the tension, “Because if we want to go down the list of things that make us adults I think I might have you beat, you know—graduating, college, relationships, a steady job,”

Two of those were a shaky defense at best, but you were trying to prove a point.

Any qualms Eddie had were built solely around his hesitancy to defile his best friend’s daughter or even suggest the implication that he might want to—that he might even find your the slightest bit attractive now, grown up and incredibly sure of yourself, oozing a raw confidence that Eddie has learned to fake.

With you, it was genuine. 

You knew exactly what you wanted.

“Is it?” you repeat.

“No,” Eddie breathes out, “I mean, yes—kind of. I just don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“Oh god, Eddie,” you say, exasperated. “I’m not a fucking kid.” 

“That’s not what I meant,” he says desperately.

“Then what?” 

Eddie’s mouth opens and closes twice before giving up altogether and just staring at you.

You stare back, unyielding.

He sighs again and shakes his head, “You really don’t get it.”

“I think I do,” you insist and then you hear yourself say, the words just tumbling out, “I’m into you too.”

Eddie’s eyes widen comically. “Shit,” he mumbles.

You can see the shift in his features, the way he’s chewing at his lip like he does when he’s working out a new song or trying to find the right chord.

Eddie always had this way about him—passionate, intense. 

Your lips curl into a teasing grin, but there’s understanding behind it. 

He’s struggling, caught in the moment, unsure whether to take you seriously or play off your relentlessness with humor and break the growing tension.

“Can I try something?” you ask curiously.

“Try what?” His voice is wary, but there’s a glimmer of intrigue underneath.

You pause for the briefest of moments and then decide to seize it. 

You lean forward, resting your hands casually on his knees where he’s angled his body toward you. It’s enough to make him freeze, his eyes locked onto yours with a flicker of panic, like he’s suspended mid air and unsure if he’s going to survive the drop. 

“Don’t freak out, okay?” you murmur and Eddie nods as you grin every so slightly on your approach.

His breath catches when you close the space and press your lips to his.

It’s tentative at first, slow and steady like testing the heat of running water, but sooner than later you feel his resolve slip. His hand ghosts upward almost involuntarily, right where it should be, finding its place at the back of your neck and pulling you closer.

He inhales sharply and parts his lips to meet your tongue with his own.

Alright, he’s not clueless.

You sigh softly into his mouth as your fingers dig into his thighs, an eager pace growing as you lick into his mouth, the faintest hint of beer on his tongue and thick layer of lust invading your collective brains before Eddie was pulling you fully into his lap from where you’re already halfway leaned over him, taking his silent guidance in stride as your thighs spread out over his and your arms fall over his shoulders, taking his face between your hands as you slow the pace of the kiss.

You pull back eventually, just slightly to gauge his reaction. 

His eyes are still shut tight, as if he’s afraid that opening them will make you run for the hills.

Instead, when he finds that you’re not returning, he does.

It was tentative, a peek through one eyelid before he decided to open both.

You’re not smiling, rather observing, a curious wonder on your face.

“Your dad,” Eddie gulps, “he’s waiting for you, isn’t it?”

You nod quietly, his face still cradled in your hand.

A man you’ve admired for years suddenly feels small in your hands, delicate.

“You’re gonna go home,” Eddie instructs softly, “we’re not gonna talk about this, alright?”

Your shoulders slump in defeat but you understand—there were too many cons, too many worries. 

“Say it,” Eddie encourages.

“I’m gonna home,” you appease him, “we’re not gonna talk about this.”

“Go on, dollface,” Eddie nods toward the door, helping you off of his lap like a gentleman despite the rejection he’s throwing your way, unknowing of the immense amount of self-restraint he’s using to end this before it starts.

He watches you leave, but not before pressing a kiss into your hair.

He’s done it before, a gentle gesture.

The door locks behind you and the blinds are quick to shift closed, the lights to Eddie’s trailer turning off soon after—from your point of view, he’s resigned to bed, kicking you out for the night.

But, for Eddie, it was an attempt to control himself.

To not let things ramp up so far he couldn’t find a reason to come down.

Usually, he’ll relieve himself in the shower but his cock was straining hard under the confine of his dark-washed jeans, belt jingling loudly as he struggled to rid himself of the fabric until it pooled at his ankles, sinking back into his couch with his shirt pushed halfway up his stomach, letting out a sharp curse as he wraps his hand around his cock.

He can’t deny the fact that he’s thought about you before like this, almost a constant paint imagine of you in his head after he’d caught you at home, a few quick flashes before then that he couldn’t even bring himself to admit—ever since you had showed up in town again, you were everywhere.

He felt you in the similar sense that you did with him, but the problem for Eddie was that he didn’t have a reason for any of this—and it was a suffocation of guilt trailing his immediate need for release before he blew his load in his jeans like he was a goddamn teenager.

It was long, hurried strokes with an iron grip; Eddie knows your hands would be softer, gentler. But, he doesn’t allow himself that thought for longer than a moment, white knuckling his cock until his head looks bruised, red and pulsing. It’s embarrassing, the melody of skin against skin matched with his pathetic grunts, chest heaving with hurried breaths until his cock twitched violently, pearly white strips of cum spurting over his stomach in mindless pleasure, eyes slipping shut.

“Gah—fuck,” Eddie says in a guttural groan, “fuck!”

He’s not sure how long he lays there in the dark, breathing heavily with a slick mess coating his front and jeans still pooling around his ankles. But, he knows one thing—he couldn’t let you near him again.

–

You don’t hear from him for weeks and that’s fine.

Sort of.

Not really.

He’s been aorund the entire time, coming and going, but he’s been home.

He sees you when you’re coming back from work or when he’s leaning against the railing of his porch as he smokes his morning cigarette without anything more than a nod of acknowledgement.

Maybe you had pushed things too far, been too forward, overstepped some boundaries.

But, you know Eddie—he would have told you.

It was the weekend of your twentieth birthday when his silent treatment festers to a head, invited over by your father for a small cookout—it was only ever the three of you anymore, aside from a few lingering friendly neighbors that your father was more than happy to pass a plate or two of food too.

When you weren’t looking at him, he was always looking at you.

You feel it.

It was a heat that prickled the back of your neck and every time you turned to catch him in the act, Eddie was already haphazardly engaged in conversation with your father—talking about work or music or whatever.

An intentional silent standoff that lingered into the night, the summer bugs buzzing in the grassy courtyard as the two men and a small group of neighbors laugh amidst their supposedly riveting conversation.

You didn’t like the cake or big celebrations, so by the end of the night you were curled up on the stairs and staring down at the trail of ants that traveled through a crack in the pavement, bare feet against the grass and not hearing the voice that calls for you until the fifth try.

Your father tossed Eddie’s keys into your hand as you looked up, barely registering what was happening but able to snatch them before they hit you square in the face.

“He’s on a call,” your dad mouthed to you, “beers?”

Uninterested but compliant, you stand and make your way across the yard.

The kitchen is still close enough with the chattering of your father’s friends that you don’t hear Eddie trailing behind you until you’re stopped at the fridge, fingers curled around a handful of cold bottles.

“I got it,” he interjects and you pull a face out of habit, annoyance overtaking your features as you pull the beer away from him.

“So now you decide to talk to me?”

“I’ve been busy,” he replies defensively, scratching at his jaw. “I didn’t think—”

“You know, if you’re scared of me you could just say that—”

“Scared?” Eddie chuckles, “Of you?”

You drop the bottles on the counter, one nearly toppling over but Eddie catches it before it hits the floor. He sets it back upright and just stands there, contemplating. Eventually, he holds up a finger.

“Don’t leave, alright,” he tells you, scooping the beers into his arm, “I’ll take these to your dad and come up with some excuse—just, stay, alright?”

He’s standing there, waiting for an audible response before you eventually throw your hands up in frustration, urging him to move.

Eddie scrambles then, gone and back in under a minute, slightly out of breath as he closes the door to his trailer behind him and locks it, “I told him you needed some quiet,” Eddie explains.

“Are we…okay?” you ask impulsively, hand twisting anxiously around the edge of the counter.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?” Eddie asks, taking a seat on his couch and placing his guitar carefully against the adjacent wall.

“You haven’t spoken more than a word to me in almost a months,” you confront his facade, “I kissed you and suddenly you wanted nothing to do with me, sorry if that gave me the wrong impression but—”

“It…wasn’t that,” Eddie explains, “things have been picking up for the band lately...kinda, out of nowhere. These big record companies in LA are interested in signing us but we’re all…older and they’re hesitant. I’ve been busting my ass trying to prove our worth, but,” he throws his hands up, “seems kinda pointless.”

“That’s good though, right?” You ask, seating yourself on the arm of the couch near him, whatever frustration you had toward him dissipates quickly, “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Eddie leans his head back, eyes tracing the ceiling. “Yeah. Just didn’t think I’d have to sell my soul for it.”

“That’s a little dramatic, besides—s’kinda your brand,” You try to catch his gaze, but he’s staring to the side, lost in thought, “so you’ve just been busy?”

“Yeah,” Eddie insists, “busy.”

You study his face, trying to decide if he’s lying to you or himself.

And when he turns to you his eyes are sincere, pleading almost.

“And the kiss?” you press, unable to stop yourself. “You didn’t freak out because of that?”

Eddie sighs, his foot tapping anxiously against the leg of the coffee table. “I didn’t freak out,” he says. “I just—didn’t want to ruin things for you. I mean—your dad, and sweetheart, I’m twice your age.”

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest, looking down at him, “Well—if you make it out in Hollywood you might finally find the right one,” you tease him, “they can snatch that illustrious title from you.”

Eddie chuckles softly, “I don’t care about that,” he admits, “I never have. I don’t think about it…or talk about it. I’m not ignorant about it, you do understand that, right?”

“The way you kiss, I would fucking hope not,” you admit in a crass manner.

“Frankly, I think you’re only interested in defiling me,” Eddie jokes, your brows perking up at the mention before a laugh bubbles from your chest, “I feel like you’ve had it out for me since you got back.”

His eyes are focused on the bare skin of your thighs under your dress now, exposed by the way you were sitting, the back of your calf resting over his knee as you leg bounces idly, his hand grazing over your shin to stop that insistent movement.

“You know, I used to think it was because of what you were,” you explain openly, “I thought you were cool—cute, out of my league obviously and off limits. I dated and every time I thought I found the right one—I couldn’t help but think…well, they’re not as cool as Eddie. I had a huge crush on you but I almost admired you.”

“So, s’just because you think I’m cool?”

“I think you’re sort of an asshole now, actually,” you admit, “But, I know you think about me, too—I know you kept staring at me tonight. You always are…and the way you touch me,” your eyes linger on his hand now, his fingers molding against your skin.

“What about it?” Eddie asks.

“You’ve always taken care of me,” you remind him, ”let me take care of you.”

His thumb press gently into the sinew below your knee, his hand curling around the back of it.

Eddie slowly guides your legs apart, revealing the thin fabric covering your cunt.

His hand lingers on the inside of your thigh as if he was weighing his options. 

You know that he is. 

Too considerate and focused on all the other things surrounding you both to actually be present in what’s happening now. Always worried about the right thing to do, always considering everything.

His eyes flick up to look at you briefly, your hand pressing into the back of the couch as you lean back, balancing on the arm of the couch as you take a small breath.

“I’m just saying…this is a terrible idea,” Eddie sighs out, his voice low as he feels like a rabid animal, watching your skin tense under his touch, “we shouldn’t.”

“Suit yourself,” you tell him lazily, aware of how he hasn’t bothered to stop touching you, “but I think you’ll regret it.”

Quietly, you reach for his hand and cup your hand around the back of it, pressing his palm flat against your cunt, the heel of it adding a delicious pressure against your clit under the fabric.

Your mouth parts in anticipation, watching him repeat the action on his own a few times before he’s pushing the fabric aside on his own volition, fingers drifting through the short, but coarse patch of curls as his middle finger drags down the seam of your folds, the digit glistening with a sticky slick.

“You’ve done this before haven’t you?” you ask curiously.

“Specifically, this?” he asks, “A couple times...I’ve been told my fingers are like magic if that helps.”

You pull your lips together and let out a soft pfft as you laugh quietly, gasping when his finger breaches your hole, pressing inside with gentle pressure, wrist angled so his thumb can catch over your clit in the same, sinful motion.

“I…like more,” you direct him with a soft voice, “like, uh—”

“Like what?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“Just…more,” you explain, “I like the pressure, the stretch…it—”

“Feels good?” he finishes for you and you don’t have to look to know he’s smiling.

You nod jerkily and feel his pace quick, your head dropped back and eyes closed as his unoccupied hand holds your thigh open, the fingers digging into your flesh occasionally when you squeeze around his fingers.

“I like..the feeling,” you gulp quietly, “of being filled, you know?”

“Uh huh,” Eddie answers idly, focused intently on your pleasure alone as he pumps his finger, then two, eventually three, until your fingers are tight around his wrist and he has no other option than to focus on your clit, rubbing over it in tight, quick circles until your letting out a sharp gasp, his hand pulling away in an instant as you cunt spasms around nothing, thighs shaking as your orgasm washed over, completely unsatisfied but overwhelmed with momentary euphoria.

When you finally resurface, there isn’t a moment lost.

Eddie moves with you, just as eager. 

You quickly unbuckle the belt to his jeans, bunching your dress up and lifting it over your head as Eddie shifts his pants down, cock bobbing free against his stomach as you pause, noticing the flush in his cheeks as a smile grows on your face, his eyes locked on you.

“This is probably a bad time to mention I don’t have condoms,” Eddie jokes, your hand reaching forward to wrap around his cock, thick and uncut, pulling the skin back as your thumb swipes over the slit of his head, rubbing the precum over the top.

“You’ll pull out,” you assure him with a smile, “don’t worry.”

Eddie nods obediently, suddenly aware of how fast his heart was racing, watching you position yourself over his lap, his hands raising up to squeeze at your hips nervously, chin tilted down in awe.

“Waitwaitwait,” Eddie interjects, eagerly waving you forward with a hasty motion of his hand, “c’mere.”

You’ll bite, leaning forward obediently, he latches his lips onto your neck, gentle kisses that trail slow until he’s reached the valley of your breasts, tongue curling around your nipple before he captures it between his teeth, squeezing dutifully at the other, squealing quietly at the sharp sting of his teeth.

Slowly, his cock presses inside with your guidance.

He chokes out a gasp into your skin, wet and hot against your breasts.

“Shit,” he curses, turning his head to lean against your chest, his hands returning to your hips as you begin a slow, gentle, and manageable pace for him to adjust, but also to allow yourself to adjust to the stretch of him.

Eddie was trying so desperately to not blow his load right there, focusing intently on the steady beat of your heart, fingers tangling into his hair as you kept him tight against your chest and moving your hips in slow circles, occasionally raising your hips for the inevitable descent that made Eddie’s chest tighten. 

His moans are broken, soft gasps as you bounce on his cock with an eventual quickened pace, his hands roaming insistently for anything to anchor him, met with your softer gasps and the gentle murmur of his name, “Oh, Ed,” you whine, “you’re doin’ good, I promise.”

He nods dumbly, barely acknowledging your praise as he felt you squeeze down, a cry ripping from his chest as he squeezed tight at your hips, turning his head to look up at you, cradling his face in your hands as he stared you with glazed over eyes, lips flush and parted.

“Baby, I—” He breathes, eyes squeezing shut as your heart clenches at the sight and sound of his voice, “I’m not gonna last, m’sorry—I can’t—you’re so fucking…god,” he groans, his head falling back as he relaxed in your grip and let you take control, controlling the pace until it was nearly unbearable for him, the small hint of tears forming in his eyes as he desperately, but gently shoved you back.

He’s been in this position before, not so long ago, hand gripped tight around his cock and wish you were there—but this is reality even if it seemed like a fucking dream, jerking himself until the pressure at the base of his cock swelled and pushed to the head, coming in long, thick spurts over your stomach, his head rubbing against the skin as he squeezed from base to tip with a fucked-out expression, groaning through the high of his orgasm.

“That was fucking close,” Eddie says after a long pause, watching as you grabbed his hand—specifically a finger and dragging it through one line of his cum and gathered it on his finger, bringing it to your mouth with your tongue presented out, licking the digit clean, “oh, fuck—”

He laughs so hard it makes him cough.

“Fuck, I’m sorry—I didn’t even get to…while we…” Eddie begins, but is quickly silenced by your palm over his mouth, shaking your head insistently.

“I’ll survive,” you tell him, “seriously.”

Eddie laughs again, mostly out of disbelief.

“And here I was, thinking I’d be taking advantage of you.”

You smirked, leaning until you were a hair's breadth away from Eddie’s face, taunting, “Not a chance.”

[heartfullofleeches]

What would happen if fast food reader tried to quit?

"I quit!"

Fourty minutes in - that's a new record. You're in the middle of a transition with a customer when the newest in a line of new hires comes storming from the back, apron and badge on hand.

"In the single hour I've worked here I've been yelled at till my ears bled, pelted with plastic balls, saw my reflection drown itself in the toilets, and had my wallet and keys stolen."

"I'd say you had an okay start...." You pause for a moment, centered on the task at hand. ".....So will that be cash or card?"

Your coworker stares at you like you've grown antlers which probably wouldn't be the weirdest thing they've seen, but still up there in rankings.

"You're staying?!"

"I can't quit."

Pity flashes briefly in their eyes. "Being jobless is better than whatever this is, but I'm sure there's something else out there."

"You don't understand. I literally can't quit."

Your ex-coworker scoffs. "I know the job market is pretty rough these days, but come on..."

Sighing heavily, you carefully remove your apron- folding and setting at atop the counter along with your hat and badge. Glancing apologetically at the customer, you mutter.

"I quit."

Really, it only took the first syllable for what happened next, but it felt weird not to finish the sentence.

The entrace doors swing to a loud shut. Music playing over the speakers descends into static. Caution tape peals and tears from the walls as management's door pries it from position. Darkness oozes from the cracks as a body presses against the frame. A hand reaches out - pointing behind you.

"So!"

Your ex-coworker and the customer scream. You look over your shoulder at your manager's grinning face as they grip your shoulders.

"Please don't touch me."

Your manager laughs. "Oh, you and your silly jokes. So, I hear someone isn't having the best time. Your little friend is free to go, but you are a valued member of our team, Y/n. Anything we can do to make you stay?"

"No."

Your manager hands their head in sadness, immediately perking back up as they remove their touch from your shoulders. "I see..... Well! We'll all miss you dearly, but we respect your decision. Allow us to give you a portion of your severance in hand as thanks for your service."

"Please don't."

"Lambchop!"

The lights flicker as the freezer door slams into the adjacent wall. They continue to flicker with every heavy click of hooves on titled floors. The hulking figure ducks beneath menu signs, narrowly missing its curving horns getting stuck as it rises to full high. The reds of it beady eyes cast you in eerie glow as it stares - pupils shrunk as it turns. It seems to blink away tears as it snorts.

In a flash, the store mascot picks your ex-coworker by the throat and slams them to down on the counter. It reaches for its belt, sorting the sharpest cleaver of its artillery and sporting it against its prey's neck. Your coworker shrieks and flails, ceasing all movement as warm blood runs down their neck. As your eyes meet, you remain perfectly calm - brows raised in a sort of "I told you so look".

They pathetically beat at the goat demon's arm. "What the fuck.... what the fuck?!"

Your manager clicks their tongue. "I do apologize, but it's in their contract. Money is important, but we value something more here. As payment for self-termination from our team, Y/n here is to receive the beating hearts of everyone in the building in loo of breaking our own unless... they've changed their mind."

You shrug. "Long as you're still cool with my taking cash from the registers."

"Wonderful! Lambchop, could you please let the spoiled meat go? I'm afraid they won't be any good trying to posion our dear Y/n like that and I doubt they'll even make it out of the parking lot."

Your coworker scrambles for the door as soon as they're freed. Their blood, which you refuse to clean, paints the front door seconds later. Your manager sighs.

"Now that that's out of the way, please see to comforting Lambchop. You know how they get when you threaten to leave."

You look over at the mascot would bleats softly as they knock their head gently against the side of yours. You pet their horns as you throw your hat back on.

"Come on, Choppy. You can feed me fries in the breakroom."

Lambchop throws you over their shoulder and heads for the back as your manager takes their leave as well - leaving the customer alone in the main lobby.

"They... never gave back my card."

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Brian Barrett at Wired (02.27.2025):

If you’ve felt overwhelmed by all the DOGE news, you’re not alone. You’d need too much cork board and yarn to keep track of which agencies it has occupied by now, much less what it’s doing there. Here’s a simple rubric, though, to help contextualize the DOGE updates you do have time and energy to process: It’s worse than you think. DOGE is hard to keep track of. This is by design; the only information about the group outside of its own mistake-ridden ledger of “savings” comes from media reports. So much for being “maximally transparent,” as Elon Musk has promised. The blurriness is also partly a function of the speed and breadth with which DOGE has operated. Keeping track of the destruction is like counting individual bricks scattered around a demolition site.

You may be aware, for instance, that a 19-year-old who goes by “Big Balls” online plays some role in all this. Seems bad. But you may have missed that Edward Coristine has since been installed at the nation’s top cybersecurity agency. And the State Department and the Small Business Administration. And he has a Department of Homeland Security email address and, by the way, also had a recent side gig selling AI Discord bots to Russians. See? Worse than you think. [...] Similarly, you’ve likely heard that the United States Agency for International Development has been gutted and the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau has been put on ice. All true, all bad. But here’s what that means in practice: Fewer people globally have access to vaccines than they did a month ago. More babies are being born with HIV/AIDS. From here on out, anyone who gets ripped off by payday loan companies—or, say, social media platforms moonlighting as payments services—has lost their most capable defender. Keep going. The thousands of so-called probationary employees DOGE has fired included a significant number of experienced workers who had just been promoted or transferred. National Science Foundation staffing cuts and proposed National Institutes of Health grant limits will combine to kneecap scientific research in the United States for a generation. Terminations at the US Department of Agriculture have sent programs designed to help farmers into disarray. On Wednesday, the Food and Drug Administration canceled a meeting that would have given guidance on this year’s flu vaccine composition. It hasn’t been rescheduled.

Don’t care about science or vaccines? The Social Security Administration is reportedly going to cut its staff in half. The Department of Housing and Urban Development is going to be cut by as much as 84 percent. Hundreds of workers who keep the power grid humming in the Pacific Northwest were fired before a scramble to rehire a few of them. The National Parks Service, the Internal Revenue Service, all hit hard. So don’t make any long-term bets on getting your checks on time, keeping your lights on, buying a home for the first time, or enjoying Yosemite. Don’t assume all the things that work now will still work tomorrow.

Speaking of which, let’s not forget that DOGE has fired people working to prevent bird flu and to safeguard the US nuclear arsenal. (The problem with throwing a chainsaw around is that you don’t make clean cuts.) The agencies in question have reportedly tried to hire those workers back. Fine. But even if they’re able to, the long-term question that hasn’t been answered yet is, Who would stay? Who would work under a regime so cocksure and incompetent that it would mistakenly fire the only handful of people who actually know how to take care of the nukes? According to a recent report from The Bulwark, that brain drain is already underway. And this is all before the real reductions in force begin, mass purges of civil servants that will soon be conducted, it seems, with an assist from DOGE-modified, automated software. The US government is about to lose decades of institutional knowledge across who knows how many agencies, including specialists that aren’t readily replaced by loyalists.

Wired has a solid article on how bad the DOGE-ificiation of government has gotten.

[qrrieterisunnq]

Disneyland trip – Dawson Mercer

dawson!mercer x fem!reader summary: Your long-planned trip to Disneyland ends up being the best trip of your life when Dawson finally makes the last move for you to become a family A/N: Hi! Request that I've been working on for a while now, but it's finally done! So here you go!! requested: yes/no gif not mine likes are good, reblogs are better <3 word count: 1,25K warning(s): proposal, happy crying, Disneyland, cute Dawson, talks about the past but only a few sentences, kissing

masterlist | wip's

Sitting in the passenger seat, your leg bouncing from the excitement of visiting Disneyland. It has been your dream since you were a child, but your parents were so busy arguing your whole childhood, that they never took you there.

Your childhood wasn’t bad, but neither was good. Your weekends were spent in your room, as you played with your toys, or you were out with your friends.

Now sitting here, twenty-one years old, with your hot ass boyfriend driving you to the Disneyland in Anaheim. His hand resting on your tight, the other one gripping the steering wheel as he hums in the rhythm of the song playing on the radio. You look over at him, a loving smile forming on your lips as you place your hand on his, squeezing it.

“Thank you, Dawson,” you whisper not wanting to interrupt the pleasant silence. Dawson looks over to you, a small smile on his full lips.

“Every time, babes. You deserve the word. And I’ll do everything to give you one.” He brings your entwined hands to his mouth and kisses your every knuckle. Your cheeks redden at his words and action a quiet giggle escaping your lips. “We’re here baby.” He points towards the areal, your eyes catch the sleeping beauty castle. Your eyes light up with excitement as you bounce on the seat slightly, Dawson laughing at your excitement.

He parks the car in the empty parking space killing the engine. Before you can open your doors, he’s holding them open, helping you to get out.

“Here you go, princess.” He bows in front of you with a laugh.

“Idiot.” You giggle, closing the doors behind you. Dawson cages you between the car and his warm hard body.

“But yours baby,” he nuzzles his nose in your neck inhaling deeply. He loves how you smell. The sweet smell of your perfume and your body scent. “Only yours.” His eyes meet yours, his head bending down to connect your lips.

“Okay, let's go! I want to see everything.” You push him away after a while, almost running to buy a ticket. To your surprise, there are not many people waiting in line, so after ten minutes of waiting you and Dawson finally get your chance to buy the tickets. When the lady tells you the price, you pull your card out to pay for it only to be met with Dawson’s mobile on the payment terminal. You pour your lips, frowning at him, but you don’t say anything. With a smile and goodbye, you take the tickets finally walking towards the entrance.

You don’t what to look at first when you get in. There are so many things you want to see, but you know, you don’t have the time to see everything. You intertwine your hand with Dawson’s tugging him to the first thing you want to see. The Sleeping Beauty castle.

After an hour of walking around Disneyland, you’re having a small break to get some food and drink. You’re sitting on a bench in front of Critter Country, waiting for you to get on another attraction the many adventures of Winnie the Pooh. You’re holding a milkshake in your right hand with the left hand, you’re going through your bag to get some napkins out for you two. You look over at Dawson, who’s holding two big hotdogs in his hand, one halfway done as he chews on his bite. You took your hotdog from him, taking a bite by yourself, groaning at the taste.

“Uh, stop it!” Dawson says immediately, looking around. “That sound is only for my ears, love.” He says so seriously.

“I’m sorry, babe.” You giggle swallowing your bite.

“S’Okay, but hurry up, so we get in the house as soon as possible, okay?” Dawson stands up, and stands in front of you, shielding you from the sun. You look up at him your eyes are squinted from the light.

“Thank you.” Your words are muffled by the food in your mouth. Dawson nods his eyes, sipping from his drink.

When you’re done with your food and milkshake, you finally make your way inside the section. You’re currently walking over the human Winnie the Pooh when Dawson lets go of your hand. Not caring you keep looking around you in awe. But when you turn around after a few minutes, Winnie is in front of you, down on one knee, and in one of his hands is a black box. Confused you look around looking for Dawson. Of course when you hear his laugh, from the costume, tears sprung in your eyes.   

Dawson takes off the head, a wide smile on his lips as he’s looking up at you, sparkle in his eyes.

“Y/n we’ve been together for five years and not once I doubt your love and mine. I knew the first time I saw you dancing in that bar I knew you would somehow change my life, but I didn’t expect you to change it so much. The night I met you, my life turned from black and white into a spectrum of colors and I’m so glad for it. You taught me how to love myself, and how to be grateful for every win and loss because losing makes me stronger and wiser. Y/N I LOVE YOU MUCH. And as Leo vowed to Paige, ‘I vow to fiercely love you in all your forms, now and forever. I promise to never forget that this is a once-in-a-lifetime love,’.” He stops for a while to take in breath before he finally says the four words. You are already crying like a baby from that speech. Because fuck…you know how much he hates this film even though you love it, and he remembers the phrase. “Will you marry me?” his voice is now shaky, his hands opening the box revealing a silver ring with ruby in the middle of it.

You start nodding your head not trusting your voice. But when he stands up you let out a sob with a laugh. “Yes, yes, yes. I’ll marry you.” You hug him around his neck, pulling as close as it’s possible. Applause interrupts around you, making you two pull away. You laugh at the people watching you, some even filming this. You look at Dawson again, kissing him so passionately he stumbles backward laugh escaping his slips.

“I love you so much,” he whispers on your lips, hugging you tightly in himself. “Wanna try the ring on?” he whispers in your ear pulling away from you slightly.

“Yeah.” You nod your head wiping the tears away. Dawson takes the ring in his hand sliding it on your ring finger, your eyes welling up with tears over again. “I love you, Dawson, so much.” You choke on your sob.

“And I love you, baby. So fucking much!” he dips his head down, kissing you softly with a smile on his lips. “Let’s go enjoy the rest of the trip.” He pulls away looking over to a guy who was probably in the costume before him. He strips from it handing it to the guy thanking him.

The rest of the day, you couldn’t keep your eyes from the ring sitting on your finger, feeling so happy for the man who placed it on.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

If the Sun Starts Setting

Of Oak and Ivy, Chapter 7

Series Masterlist         Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: In college, Matt Murdock had two best friends, Foggy Nelson and you. However, life had no intention of letting you graduate with him. When he reconnects with you in adulthood, he is troubled to see the hand God has dealt you and vows to use every tool at his disposal to save you from damnation.

warnings: Swearing, family drama, characters celebrating Christmas, mom with terminal illness, crying mentions

a/n: Sorry to post this so late everyone! I have had the WORST brain fog today. I hope you enjoy! As always, comments and reblogs fuel me!

After just one semester of law school, the drive between suburban Connecticut and the Columbia campus was one you were becoming well-acquainted with. It wasn’t unbearably long, nor flooded with traffic on a dark Sunday evening. Headlights of oncoming vehicles painted swatches of light against the navy sky, a semi-urban work of art unlike anything you’d enjoyed before. Usually, it was a sight you took the time to admire. However, this particular evening you were unable to focus on anything but the tinny voice bubbling out of your phone’s speaker. 

Gritting your teeth and rolling your eyes to the heavens, you cursed the universe for a moment, tuning out the man on the other end of the line while you did so.

The sharp call of your name across the speakers regained your attention. ”Are you listening to me?“

Your father's inflection was grating on the best days. After three weeks spent waiting on him and your two ungrateful siblings while they preached about the importance of family during the holidays, you were ready to scream with every word he spat at you. The two hour drive back to campus was supposed to be the growing light at the end of the tunnel. Instead, you'd spent the last third of it arguing with your father about healthcare charges.

”Yes, I'm listening.“ ‘Unlike some of us’, you thought to yourself. ”As I said, that charge was for her brief hospital stay over Thanksgiving. I've already paid it and it might take a week or two to reflect—“

”This is a debt collection notice, hun. That means they didn't receive the payment yet. Which means they'll be coming after me when your mom inevitably cannot pay.“

Contemplating banging your head against your steering wheel just to remove the memory of this conversation, a flash of movement across the parking lot caught your eye. Expression softening, you almost sobbed in relief when you caught the two beaming expressions of your friends waving from the exterior door. Unfortunately, your father wasn't quite done arguing with you.

”Dad, I understand you don't want to be on the hook for this—“ ‘Not like you would be anyway.’

”I most certainly do not.“ He interrupted. Once again ignoring his rambling, you snatched your backpack and exited your car, slamming the door with a bit more force than usual.

”Dad, just forget about it, ok? I'll deal with it, just—“

”Well, clearly you won't deal with it in a timely fashion, which is why I'm calling...“ ‘Was he trying to kill you? It sure felt like it.’

”Ok, well I just got back to school so I need to go now.“ You tried to nudge him into polite farewells as you practically sprinted across the pavement towards your friends. As expected, he didn't take kindly to being rushed off the phone.

”Of course you do,“ He laughed incredulously. ”You know, this is your mother's livelihood we are discussing. It wouldn't kill you to be a bit more compassionate.“ ‘You're one to talk asshole.’

”You're right. I'll try to work on that this semester,“ You remarked drily. ”Gonna go inside now. Bye.“

Not bothering to listen to the screaming that answered your callous goodbye, you hung up, breaking into a strained smile as you greeted your boys. ”Why hello there, strangers.“

As if he didn't just witness you walk literally and figuratively closer to a breakdown, Foggy squealed, nearly taking you to the pavement in a tackling hug. “Welcome back, bug!”

“Christ, Fog, you're gonna crush her.” Matt laughed, hearing you grunt as you fumbled to stay upright with Foggy coiled around you like a boa constrictor.

“I missed you too, Fog.” You murmured, tears welling in your eyes at the sensation of being embraced.

You had missed them. Deeply and almost pathetically. After an entire semester at each other's sides, the few weeks in your hometown for Christmas had felt like an eternity.

After Matt and Foggy had been struck with the campus flu, the rest of the semester passed in a whirlwind. The two clingy boys had unsurprisingly infected you, meaning you were unfortunately sick for Thanksgiving and had to remain on campus to avoid passing the virus on to your immunosuppressed mother. Matt had been incredibly apologetic, and plagued with his typical Catholic guilt, so he'd stayed with you while Foggy returned to Hell's Kitchen for Turkey Day.

The next few weeks were spent cramming for finals and, eventually, celebrating the end of your first semester at Columbia—which you had all, amazingly, passed. Leaving for the lengthier winter break had been an abrupt end to the joy you felt over your grades, however.

You returned to New Haven a day earlier than expected to sit in the local hospital's oncology ward with your mother. While you were ill over Thanksgiving, she'd had a recurrence of stage 3 pancreatic cancer, which meant more frequent trips to see her doctor as well as numerous bills that neither of you could afford. Because of her declining health, your father and siblings had come to Connecticut for Christmas. The extra company meant that your holidays–which were meant to be a time for recuperation following a strenuous first semester–had been frustrating to the point of tears. Which, embarrassingly enough, Matt had been burdened with when you called him to complain.

The two of you called multiple times a week, exchanging stories and annoyances just like you did when you were living within a few blocks from each other. But it didn't stop you from missing him and Foggy fiercely for 24 excruciating days.

Swallowing a lump of pent up emotion, you huffed out a shaky exhale, your breath clouding in the frigid winter air. “Ok, Fog. You know I love you, but it's cold as fuck out here.”

“Right! Sorry.” Foggy withdrew from the embrace, blushing furiously as he scratched at the back of his neck.

Immediately replacing Foggy in front of you, Matt took a chance to hug you quickly before pulling you inside. “Glad you're finally here, I thought Nelson here was going to combust.”

Letting Matt usher you inside, you heard Foggy's baffled scoff. “Do I look like a patient man to you, Murdock?”

Matt smirked, “How would I know?”

You and Foggy both groaned loudly, looking to each other for support as Matt cackled. “C'mon, you set that one up perfectly. What's a guy to do?”

“You should've heard him over break, bug. He was driving my poor mother towards a stroke, I swear.” Foggy shook his head in feigned irritation.

“Oh please, she loved me.” Matt shoved his roommate, nearly bowling the three of you down the staircase as you trudged toward their room.

“I bet she did.” You snorted, “You probably dialed the charm up to 11.”

“Try 15.” Foggy remarked, unlocking the door and shoving it open.

Ignoring the jab, Matt held out a hand for your bag, allowing you to slip out of your coat and shoes.

“Who were you on the phone with?” His question was meant to open the can of worms in a structured way, rather than answer his own burning question. He’d bet dollars to donuts that it was–

“My father.” Came your fatigued response, confirming his suspicions. Your words were tinged with a bitterness that he’d expected, but they held a deeper upset thinly veiled by your exhaustion.  

“Is everything ok?” Foggy asked quietly, his brow pinching with worry as he studied the bags under your eyes. The blond was less informed on the hell you’d been put through over the last month or so, only picking up bits and pieces if Matt relayed them.

With a groan, you collapsed unceremoniously onto Matt’s bed beside him, leaning heavily into him as one of his arms fell across your shoulders. “Of course, it’s just…it wasn’t the pleasant send off I was hoping for.”

Your pulse jumped when you spoke, steadying out as you reached the end of your sentence. Matt already knew that things weren’t “ok” with your mom or your home life in general, but he blinked in surprise to hear the disappointment that coated your words as you referenced your father’s curt goodbye. Making a note to bring that up when you seemed more inclined to be vulnerable, he rubbed a palm over your arm in a comforting gesture.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wish it had been better.”

Huffing a tiny laugh, you let your head fall against his shoulder. “Me too. How were your holidays?”

“Pleasant.” Matt murmured at the same time Foggy clapped his hands together.

“Fantastic! I forced Matt to watch all of the Star Wars movies with me and we ate our weight in cookies.” The long-haired boy explained with genuine enthusiasm. As he began to recount the escapades from the annual Nelson holiday party, your eyes flicked upwards to look at Matt, whose arm was still moving slowly across your shoulder and back as he caressed your sleeve. His eyes were trained forward, but a muscle in his jaw twitched as you focused on him, so you had a sneaking suspicion that neither of you were listening to Foggy’s story. You’d forgotten how well he could read you, until he gave you the option to pretend everything was fine with your dad.

He knew it wasn’t, and you did too. And maybe shoving that shit deep down and pretending it didn’t exist wasn’t a healthy way of handling it, but if you met Foggy’s worried gaze right now it would make you cry, which you were not prepared for. So, whether it was a wonderful coincidence or Matt could truly read you like a picture book, you were thankful for his deflection.

Smiling softly, you looked back to Foggy, listening to him talk about his drunk aunts fawning over Matt and feeling the thick tension bleed out of your shoulders.

Eventually, Foggy took a deep breath, slapping a hand to his forehead. “Woah, head rush!”

Matt chuckled, “You didn’t even stand up, buddy. You ok over there?”

“Yah, I’m fine! Just excited!” Foggy waved a hand, unfazed.

“And I can’t wait to hear about everything, Fog. But maybe we should take a break for presents?”

“Presents?” Foggy’s eyes widened along with his grin, his behavior as animated as a child’s at the mention of gifts. “Why didn’t you lead with that?”

You laughed, prying yourself out of Matt’s secure grip and opening your bag. Tossing two wrapped bundles across the room and onto Foggy’s bed, you set the other two in Matt’s lap.

“Merry Christmas, my lovely Musketeers!” You giggled as Foggy mime-fenced toward you. As soon as the blond was finished beating you in the imaginary sword fight, he eagerly tore into the glittery wrapping paper. Next to you, Matt looked much more apprehensive about the packages in his lap.

“Go on, Matty. Open them!” You encouraged, bumping his shoulder with your own.

“But we don’t have anything for you,” Matt’s lips curled into a pout, looking like a sulking kitten as he trailed a single finger along the crisp edge of the parcel nearest to his hand.

You rolled your eyes fondly. The poor kid had a strong enough sense of justice for the whole campus. ”Matty, we're in college. And I'm the only one with a job. I didn't expect you to get me anything.“

”But—“ Matt argued, but you cut him off with a laugh.

”No more buts! I got these presents for you because I wanted to, not because I thought I’d receive something in return. Please open them?“ Though he couldn't see your face, you batted your lashes and widened your eyes, hoping he could sense the pleading expression.

With a frown, he nodded once, carefully peeling the tape from the paper as if the task required surgical precision. Grinding his teeth as the paper crinkled raucously, he slid the first gift out of its casing carefully, as if he was expecting it to shock him if he moved too quickly. Withdrawing a lump of the softest material he'd ever felt, he ran a thumb over it, trying to decipher what it was. The strip of wool was composed of thick braided stitches, promising to retain warmth in even the most bitter winter weather.

”A scarf?“ He asked, his lips pursed into a small, surprised oval. A rosy blush dusted the tops of his cheeks.

”Yes! I made one for you and one for Foggy. Except yours is a deep red and his is orange.” You spoke softly, smiling over to where the longer-haired boy was wrapping the length of yarn around his neck triumphantly.

“Our favorite colors.” Matt murmured, his fingers still tracing the fuzzy stitching. “You remembered?“

”Of course I did, trouble. That's important information. I'd be a fool to let it slip through the cracks.“ You hoped the joke would make him laugh, but he continued to stare blankly at the scarf as if it was an animal that had just died in his arms. ”If you don't like it, I can take it back, and donate it or something–“

”No!“ Matt looked up, horrified, clutching the scarf to his chest. ”No, I love it. I just...“

Turning his face back to his lap, he licked his lips before continuing. ”I've never gotten something like this before. I don't know what to say, is all.“

”No need to say anything, bub. I'm glad you like it.“ You rubbed your palm over his arm, mirroring his actions from just a moment ago.

Still focused on his own gifts, Foggy's excited screech startled both you and Matt. ”NO WAY!“

Turning to you with a dropped jaw, Foggy shook his head. ”There is no way you got this.“

”What is it, buddy?“ Matt asked, his lips curled into a soft smile as he heard Foggy open a hardcover book eagerly.

”A first edition of The Fellowship of the Ring!“ Foggy was practically giddy, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he rifled through the pages. ”How did you even get this?“

Grinning at him, you giggled. ”My mom has a friend with an extensive book collection and asked where we could find one. Turns out, the friend had one of her own and was willing to part with it for next to nothing. Guess she owed my mom a favor.”

Diving across the room to crush you in another hug, Foggy kissed the top of your head. “Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!”

Laughing brightly, you struggled to shove your friend off of you. When he was this worked up, Foggy had the tenacity of an overexcited golden retriever. As usual, Matt helped release you from his clutches. ”You're welcome, Fog. I wanted to get you a nice copy since you lost the one you brought to school.”

“I'd say you accomplished that, my lovely jitterbug.” Foggy ruffled your hair, retreating to his bed and launching himself onto the mattress–the rusted springs creaking in protest.

Giggling at him, you turned back to Matt. “Alright, Murdock. Your turn, again. After this, I promise never to put you through this torture again. Until next year.”

Matt groaned in response, snatching the second gift with more vigor. “Let's get this over with.”

Approaching the gift with the same systematic tactic as the first, he slid the paper off of the box without a single tear. Setting the wrapping aside, he opened the cardboard package and pulled out his real gift.

“Ok so, I'm not sure how helpful these will be,” You warned, fidgeting with your hands as he ran his fingers along the band connecting the ear pieces. “But, they're, um, noise-canceling headphones?”

Matt's breath caught in his throat. He was overwhelmed with guilt and affection and surprise at the present, all words of gratitude pulled back down to his vocal chords as he focused solely on not bursting into tears.

Over the past few weeks, the Nelsons had been kind enough to invite him to stay and celebrate with them. He was flattered, and so thankful, but he wasn't used to so many...people. During a few of your phone calls over the break, he'd mentioned that the excessive stimuli, mainly noise, had been getting to him and giving him headaches. And rather than chastising him for being ungrateful, you'd listened and sympathized with him over the phone, ultimately buying him a solution to the issue with your own money.

Sure, there was no guarantee that these would work for his heightened senses, but you didn't know that. And the idea that you were willing to go to such immense lengths to ensure his comfort...it was evidence of a love he hadn't experienced in a decade.

“Are you ok? Did I do something wrong?” Your worried murmur broke his train of thought.

“No,” He choked out. ”No, they're perfect. So is the scarf. Thank you, bug.“

”Of course. Merry Christmas, Matt.“ You kissed his cheek gently and he felt a flush crawling up his neck. Wrapping an arm around you, he tucked you close to his chest, hand cradling the back of your neck.

”Merry Christmas, sweetheart.“

The two of you sat there in silence, holding each other close for a minute before your phone rang. Sighing deeply, you rested your head against Matt's shoulder as you fumbled for your phone. Thankfully, the screen displayed your mom's contact information, not your father.

“Sorry, trouble. I have to take this.“ You squeezed his arm, pulling out of his embrace and stretching as you stood. ”I'll be right back. Hopefully.“

Smiling at your near-groan, Matt jerked his chin towards the door. ”We'll be here.“

Slipping into the hallway, you lowered your voice. ”Hey mama, everything ok?“

”Hey baby, everything's fine, just had a couple questions for you about bills.“ Her sweet voice was strained and you could practically see her flicking her gaze to meet your father's, his metaphorical gun to her head as she made the call.

”Ok,“ You ground out, trying not to snap at her when she wasn't the reason you were frustrated. ”Um, what questions did you have?”

“You did pay the one from November?” She asked, predictably.

“I did. It'll reflect soon and Dad has nothing to worry about. The bill is attached to our names, not his. That's why Collections isn't writing to him.“ You explained as calmly as you could, knowing that she was aware of this already, but probably had you on speakerphone. ”Was that all?“

”Not exactly.“ Her tone shifted, pitching lower and sounding almost embarrassed. A crackle rippled over the line and suddenly your father's gruff voice replaced the one you adored.

“You need to come home next weekend to help your mom with the next round of billing. I've run out of time off and can no longer assist.” He commanded, the ‘compassion’ he held for her livelihood nowhere to be found.

‘Oh because you were so helpful this month when you were ordering us around.’  You griped internally. “What round of billing? The one from Thanksgiving–”

“Was four appointments ago. These things aren't free, you know. They’re wanting us to pay for them.”

Both you and your bank account were intimately familiar with the steep cost of her treatment. Inhaling deeply, you paced a few steps from Matt and Foggy's room. “I know they aren't free. We signed her up for a payment plan two weeks ago that offers a deferral–”

“She was denied.” His laconic answer made your spirits plummet as time came to a halt. Your pounding heart froze in place, dread creeping up your spine. 

“What?” On the off chance that he was being unintentionally misleading, you needed to clarify.

Your mother's apologetic voice came over the line once again. ”I wasn't accepted into the financial assistance program, baby. But, it's ok! I can pick up more shifts–“

”No!” You exclaimed, the shrill edge of your cry echoing down the hallway. You tried again, digging your nails into the flesh of your palm as you fought to keep your voice steady.

“Don't...you don't need to do that mama. I don't want you to overwork yourself. I'll come home on Friday and we can talk about options, ok?“ You bargained, running through your work schedule in your head to create a plan.

”Are you sure, honey? Won't you be busy getting a head start on the semester?“ 

Blinking back tears at her obvious care for you, you cleared your throat before answering. “It’s alright, mama. It’s just syllabus week, I’m sure I’ll have time to come home and sort things out.”

“She’ll make time.” Your father’s promise was more for your mom than you, but it felt like a swift kick to the gut all the same. 

Because you would make time. You had to. No one else would. You were your mom’s last line of defense. Prioritizing yourself and failing to be there for her wasn’t an option you had. The emotional burden you were carrying felt impossibly heavy, as if there was a line of anvils across your shoulders and chest, slowly forcing the oxygen out of your lungs until you perished. 

“Of course I will. I’ll see you this weekend, mama. Love you.” You choked out, slapping a palm over your mouth before you broke. 

“I love you too, baby. Have a good week at school!” You could picture her tired smile as she wished you a proper goodbye, the image cracking your composure. 

You hung up before the first tear rolled down your cheek. Dropping your face into your hands, you bit your lip to stifle a sob, letting the tears flow silently instead. Falling back against the wall behind you, you let your legs give out as you collapsed to the disgusting dorm hallway carpet. 

The blood rushing in your ears drowned out the noises drifting through the thin walls, an urge to scream churned in your chest. Ugly, rage filled sobs were barreling up your throat, desperately trying to claw their way out, to make your pain known. Hunching over your knees in a pitiful crouch, you shielded your face with your arms, preventing any passersby from seeing your much-needed meltdown. 

Choking out a breath around another half-smothered sob, you nearly screamed when a warm hand landed on your shoulder. Looking up frantically, the outburst downgraded to a strangled whine when you saw Matt’s furrowed brow directed at you. 

Wordlessly, he sank down beside you, opening his arms with a frown. Throwing yourself into his embrace, you couldn’t help the hideous sounds that escaped you as he enveloped you in his muscular arms with ease. Tucking your head under his chin, you shook violently against his chest as you bawled. 

“I can’t do this, Matt. I can’t–” You gasped out, your breath stuttering as you wept forcefully into his shoulder. 

Shushing you gently, he rubbed circles into your back with his large hand.

Whimpering at the touch, you wiped at your tear-streaked face furiously. “”I’m barely an adult. How am I supposed to do this?” Your voice shattered around the words, throat constricting with anguish.

“I don’t know,” Matt cooed, stroking a fresh pair of tears away from your skin with his thumbs. “But I’ve got you, sweetheart. We’ll get through it together.” 

Burying your face into his neck miserably, you shuddered with distaste. “I can’t ask that of you.”

“You don’t have to ask.” He whispered gravely, pressing a kiss to your crown. 

With that promise, your brain seemed to shut off. Your tears gradually slowed to a halt, leaving you dazed and exhausted in Matt’s lap. Heaving out a shaky exhale, you closed your eyes, letting his soft touches wash over you like the tides. Kissing your forehead tenderly, Matt cupped your cheek. 

“Why don’t we go sit somewhere softer than this shitty floor, hmm?” His small question was meant to make you laugh, but your fatigue had chased away every other emotion. 

Nodding softly, you let Matt pull you from the ground and back into his room, welcoming the darkness after the harsh fluorescent lighting of the hallway. Sliding off his glasses and placing them on his nightstand, he guided you to Foggy’s bed. The blond frowned at you, setting his book aside. 

“You ok, bug?” He asked, sitting up to inspect your puffy eyes.

Shaking your head tiredly, you crawled onto his mattress and let him wrap you in a hug. Matt, with an impressive amount of agility, somehow leapt onto the bed behind you, snaking his arms around your middle so that you were sandwiched between him and his roommate. You listened to their steady breathing, letting the sound lull you into a more peaceful state of mind. 

Tangling his fingers with yours, Matt’s lips scratched over the back of your head. “Fog, think you could read some of your book for us?”

“Uh, yah totally.” Foggy pouted, gaze still lingering on your drained face. “Let me just find my page.”

The combination of your worn-out consciousness and the comforting presence of your two best friends was dangerous. Your eyes fluttered shut and you could feel yourself drifting off. 

As if reading your thoughts, Matt kissed your hair. “Go on, sweetheart. We’ve got you.”

Squeezing his fingers, you stopped fighting the darkness pulling at the edges of your vision, drifting off into a dreamless sleep. 

Taglist: @eugene-emt-roe@abbyhaslongshorts @mrs-bellingham @abucketofweird @yeonalie @jadeunstablexx @spider-murdock @0ctober-writes @danzer8705 @mattmurdockstateofmind

Please tell me if these tags aren't working for you all because Tumblr has been acting up :/

[thekpopgossip]

K-Pop Scandals 2024

This year on "scandals you couldn't make up" k-pop edition. There were a lot of lawsuits, between idols and companies as well as between idols and netizens, plus the regular dating "scandals" and disbandments. But I suppose the HYBE vs. Min Hee Jin fight overshadowed all the other shenanigans. Check out my annual list of the most important k-pop scandals of 2024.

Lee Kangin & Lee Naeun "Dating Scandal" RIIZE Seunghan & ILLIT Youngseo "Dating rumor, Youngseo left group" NCT Haechan "Fined for vaping indoors" INFINITE Sungjong "Terminated his contract with SPK Entertainment, lawsuit" IVE Wonyoung "Won lawsuit against YouTuber Sojang for defamation" Like A Movie Domo "Charged for faking disability to avoid enlistment" ZB1 Kim Ji Woong "Investigation showed, he didn't curse at the end of a fan call" TWS "Sajaegi accusation over digital charting" Hanteo Awards "Fans pooped and fought at the venue" Shinsadong Tiger "Passed away" aespa Karina & Lee Jaewook "Dating Scandal" LE SSERAFIM "Encore and Coachella backlash" Treasure Yoon Jaehyuk "Dating Scandal" Uniq Sungjoo "Revealed to be married with child" SHINee "Taemin, Onew left SM Entertainment" TEMPEST Hwarang "Hiatus due to clubbing scandal, left group" Ex-DIA Somyi "Convicted for making false sexual assault allegations" BabyMonster "Ahyeon rejoined group, debut date was changed" RIIZE Anton, Eunseok "Dating Rumors" Ryu Jun Yeol, Hyeri, Han So Hee "Relationship drama, broke up" Super Junior D&E "Withdraw from music shows following misogyny controversy over "GGB"" TWICE Jihyo & Yun Sungbin "Dating Scandal" T-ARA Areum "Wrongly accused ex-husband of abuse, tried to scam people, borrowed money without paying it back" TWICE Chaeyoung & Zion.T "Dating Scandal" LE SSERAFIM Kazuha & &TEAM K "Dating Rumor" Park Boram "Passed away" NCT Dream Renjun "Hiatus due health" Cherry Bullet "Disbandment" HYBE and Min Hee Jin "Fight over Ador, messy press conference" Apink Bomi & BEP Rado "Dating Scandal" NATURE "Disbandment" GRAY, Lee Hi, Simon D "Left AOMG" Lee Seo Han "Apologized for posting ‘joke’ sex video filmed at Bang Yedam’s studio" NOIR "Won lawsuit against Luk Factory" BTS "Sajaegi investigation from 2017" KEP1ER "Mashiro and Yeseo left group" NewJeans "Accused of plagiarizing girl group "Jeans" and Shakatak" Kang Daniel "Filed lawsuit against KONNECT shareholder for fraud" Yuju, Chancellor, We Dem Boyz "Left KONNECT" fromis_9 "Neglected by HYBE, no payment in 7 years" Belift Lab "Filed a complaint against Min Hee Jin on charges of obstruction of business and defamation" NMIXX "JYPE staged a sound-malfunction at a festival" NCT Johnny and Haechan "Rumor involvement with prostitution, drugs" Weki Meki "Disbandment" CBX and SM Entertainment "Contract dispute" BELIFT "Uploaded a video attacking NewJeans and MHJ" n.SSign Eddie "Hiatus due to health" BTS Jin "Fan kissed him at event, she got sued" NCT Renjun "Mistakenly exposed the phone number of an unknown person on Bubble" BlackPink Jennie "Smoked indoors in front of stylist" TWS Stylist "Alleged sexual harassment of the group" MLD Entertainment "Financial problems, unpaid wages" BTS Suga "DUI with e-scooter" New Jeans Hanni "Accused a HYBE manager of bullying" San E "Booked for assault" NCT Taeil "Left SM Entertainment and group because of SA charges" HyunA & Yong Jun Hyung "Wedding" RIIZE Seunghan "Rejoined then left group after fan protests" BoyNextDoor "Showed off their iPhones after their Samsung contract ended" Jessi "Involved in fan assault incident, terminated her contract with her agency" The New Six Kyungjun "Left group" THE BOYZ "Left IST Entertainment together" FTISLAND Minhwan "Prostitution scandal, mistreated his ex-wife, left group" HYBE "Backlash for newsletter in which other idols were insulted" Xia Junsu "Met with a BJ who then blackmailed him for years" TXT Soobin "Hiatus due health" MADEIN Gaeun "Accused 143 Entertainment CEO of sexual harassment, left group" NewJeans "Terminated contract with ADOR" fromis_9 "Disbandment" Cignature "Disbandment" VCHA "K.G. sued JYPE for abuse and left group" aespa Winter & ENHYPEN Jungwon "Dating Rumor" WINNER Mino "Early discharge from military service due mental health, attendance controversy" Rocket Punch "Disbandment" Golden Child "Disbandment"

[la-principessa-nuova]

I was a bit worried today would be too much and then it became a lot more but it went well.

All I planned on that was special was that I had a DMV appointment to change my name on my registration

But I forgot to prepare for it yesterday so I rushed to do it before leaving. And there were several sources of truth of which documents I needed, so I filled out all of them and brought them just in case. And then I went to grab my registration out of my car to bring in and realized that the “months away” that it was going to expire when I first started the legal name change process (and figured I’d just renew it while I was there) was now last week.

So I panicked and tried to renew it online but couldn’t bc it’s not linked properly due to the name being changed on my online account. When I got there, I had to find an entrance, haha, bc the one in the parking lot says VISITOR ENTRANCE set in stone like they do on fancy buildings above doors, but then you walk up to the door and there’s a paper sign that says Employee Entrance Only, haha.

And then once inside there was a queueing system and paying attention to the numbers being called was really hard because they were barely audible over the noise of the DMV, but one nice thing is it texts you when it’s your turn, so I probably could have paid less attention.

But it turned out that he was able to renew it and didn’t need any of the other forms (oh well), so I was out pretty quick.

But jumping back to before I left, my team is getting new computers at work, and the others were notified this morning that theirs were ready to pick up in the office (two of the three of us getting the computers are fully remote but live close enough to go in occasionally). But I had no such email. But my appointment was like 90% of the way to work so I brought my laptop to log on to check if it was ready and decide if I’m going in.

Well I checked afterwards and it was ready, so I went in. And I realized while driving this is the first time going to work in person since transitioning at work, which is actually kinda huge. So I did that and it went well, other than that it is warm in there and with the wig and having dressed for the still relatively cooler weather outside plus nervousness and a lot of stairs on the way in, I was drenched in sweat and then extra nervous about that so that made it worse. And I got to meet the new member of my team who works in the office in person for the first time and that was nice.

I also had a couple things I needed to adjust for today that I managed to handle without freaking out too much or having a meltdown or shutdown or anything. Like when I got to work, my ID didn’t work to get in the building so I had to talk to security and get it fixed.

And then I went to leave and there’s an entrance ramp I have to take that’s around a corner, so I turn and get on the road that leads to one interstate and then immediately fork off to the right for the entrance to the interstate that takes me home. So I went to do that and suddenly it’s all cones blocking the way and it says ramp closed, so all of the sudden I’m just getting onto a different interstate going a different direction, but I managed to not panic and activate the voice assistant on my phone to get directions home, which were annoying bc the audio wasn’t working so I had to keep glancing at the infotainment screen to see what the next move was and stay focused on where I was going the whole time.

Also my low gas indicator came on and so I figured I should address it and got gas, and when I get there, the payment terminals on the pumps aren’t working, so I had to go in and talk to the attendant, and it went well and he was nice.

[parkomax]

Custom Kiosks & Terminals: Tailored Solutions for Smart Parking & Access Management

In an increasingly automated world, businesses and municipalities are turning to custom kiosks and terminals to streamline operations, enhance user experience, and reinforce security. From smart parking systems to access control and visitor management, these customisable solutions serve as vital touchpoints for both users and operators. At Parkomax, we offer advanced custom kiosk and terminal solutions designed to meet the unique operational demands of every environment — whether it’s a mall, office complex, school, or beachfront facility.

What Are Custom Kiosks & Terminals?

Custom kiosks and terminals are standalone or integrated digital systems built with tailored software and hardware features to perform specific tasks. Unlike off-the-shelf options, custom solutions allow organisations to design interfaces, functionalities, and physical layouts that align with their brand, infrastructure, and operational workflows.

They can be configured to handle various applications, including:

Ticketless and ticket-based parking management

Employee access control

Visitor registration and validation

Payment processing

Wayfinding and information display

Key Benefits of Custom Kiosks & Terminals

1. Tailored Functionality for Unique RequirementsEach organisation has its own set of challenges and goals. Custom kiosks allow you to select and integrate only the components you need, ensuring optimal performance and avoiding unnecessary complexity. Whether you need license plate recognition, NFC payment, or biometric authentication, custom kiosks can accommodate it all.

2. Enhanced User ExperienceUser-friendliness is at the heart of a successful kiosk. Custom terminals can be designed with intuitive touchscreens, multilingual support, and ADA-compliant accessibility to create a smooth experience for all users.

3. Seamless Integration with Existing SystemsParkomax custom kiosks integrate effortlessly with your current access control systems, ERP software, or cloud-based management platforms. This makes upgrades more efficient and ensures continuity across operations.

4. Scalable and Future-readyAs your needs evolve, custom kiosks can be easily upgraded or modified to incorporate new features — such as facial recognition or AI-powered analytics — making them a future-proof investment.

5. Brand Alignment and Aesthetic ValuePhysical design plays a crucial role in brand perception. Custom terminals can be manufactured with specific colors, logos, and materials to match your organisation's branding and architectural aesthetics.

Applications Across Industries

1. Smart Parking FacilitiesCustom kiosks are essential components in modern parking systems, enabling ticketless entry, real-time slot updates, mobile payments, and automated exit validation. They reduce congestion and manual oversight, ensuring a smoother parking experience.

2. Commercial Buildings and OfficesUse customised access terminals to control employee and visitor entry, capture attendance, and manage credentials. These systems can also help meet compliance standards for data logging and security audits.

3. Shopping Malls and Entertainment VenuesMalls benefit from kiosks that provide information, validate parking, and offer loyalty program integration. Customisation ensures the kiosks blend seamlessly into the venue's branding and customer service model.

4. Schools and Educational InstitutionsControl visitor access, student attendance, and vehicle entry with custom-built terminals that support biometric recognition, ID scanning, and real-time alerts.

5. Beachfront and Outdoor FacilitiesWeather-resistant custom kiosks can be deployed at open-air locations like beaches, parks, or events, offering features like automated entry tickets, mobile payments, and usage analytics.

Why Choose Parkomax Custom Kiosks & Terminals?

At Parkomax, we specialise in delivering purpose-built kiosk solutions that combine advanced technology, elegant design, and user-centric interfaces. Here’s what sets us apart:

End-to-End Customisation: From software functionality to physical design and user flow, we tailor every component.

Robust Hardware: Our kiosks are built to last, with high-quality enclosures, vandal-proof screens, and weatherproof options.

Smart Integrations: Compatible with ANPR cameras, RFID, barcode scanners, biometric readers, and more.

24/7 Support & Maintenance: Advanced technical support ensures your systems remain functional and secure.

Proven Deployments: Trusted by organisations across the GCC for their parking and access control needs.

Conclusion

Custom kiosks and terminals are no longer a luxury — they are a necessity for modern, efficient, and secure operations. Whether you're managing a high-traffic parking lot or streamlining access to a commercial facility, a tailor-made kiosk can significantly improve both user satisfaction and operational efficiency. With Parkomax’s expertise in smart infrastructure, you can bring your ideal system to life.

Explore our full range of custom kiosk solutions today and discover how Parkomax can help you elevate your space.

[un3ndlessv0id]

Employee training manual for the studio tours of Eccentric Imagination Inc

*Employee training manual for the studio tours of Eccentric Imagination Inc, which consists of the employees guiding customers around the more historical impacts of the studio. Such as old animatronics from the Charlie's Circus of Wonders theme park [minus Charlie Chuckles himself due to the negativity he brought upon the studio] that have been restored and sketches they made of the characters*

*Quiet music begins playing, as a masculine (though slightly robotic) voice begins to narrate the video*

“Welcome new Joey, to your new horizon of work fellowship. Here you will learn leadership, responsibility, and civility. This includes following each of the rules listed below as followed. Disobedience can and will have its consequences.

“Your first step in training, is your personal appearance. For women, you must wear a corset. We are very dedicated to keeping our appearance just how it was when the show was first created. You are expected to have your uniform ironed and unscathed for each shift you attend. This applies for both men and women. For men, please have your hair neatly combed back, preferably with gel. We do not want our customers to think we are informal, do we? Finally, and most importantly, do not forget to smile! Despite any circumstances, we do not want to show any signs of distress or unease. This can make our customers uncomfortable. If needed, you may ask for a manager's permission for a 5 minute break away from customer sight to relieve emotional distress. This is only probable if there is severe emotional distress, however.”

“The second step to your journey is to complete each task at hand. Greet each customer with a smile. Be sure to smile at every man, woman, and child that walks through the door. Remember, paying customers are the ones worth serving. After you greet each customer, learn each of their names. This helps to create a more personal experience. Make sure to refer to each customer as family, as we want to make each and every one of them feel comfortable in our establishment. If you fail to complete any of these tasks, you will be faced with severe consequences. Such as suspension, demotion, or even termination.”

“The third step is your precision of dialogue as an employee, especially when interacting with customers. Always greet the customer when engaging in conversation, and never disagree with them. If they ask, ‘how much are you paid?’ you will respond with ‘payment is never necessarily a need when you are provided with all you need, which are the smiles of your darling families!’ If they ask ‘is this what you wanted?’ you will respond with ‘of course, how could you not admire such a wonderful work environment?”

*The voice pauses, as an faint image of Charlie Chuckles appears on screen*“If asked ‘Who is Charlie Chuckles?’ or ‘Where is Charlie Chuckles?’, you will respond with ‘I do not know Charlie Chuckles. Charlie Chuckles does not exist. You have been lied to about Charlie Chuckles.'

*The image of Charlie Chuckles appears more vivid, his eyes wide as his uncannily large mouth stretches into a large bloodlusting grin. His mouth begins moving, as if he is speaking. Though the audio is slightly delayed. His eyes slowly scanning from left to right*

*The voice suddenly changes, a slightly different and inverted male voice playing*

"I know who you love. I know who you loathe. I am everything and nothing at the same time. I am god, yet I am mortal. You will look into your reflection and see, there is a little bit of me in everyone."

(Lmk if I should continue this!! And yes, I took some inspiration from the mandela catalog for Charlie's quote)

[mariacallous]

If you’ve felt overwhelmed by all the DOGE news, you’re not alone. You’d need too much cork board and yarn to keep track of which agencies it has occupied by now, much less what it’s doing there. Here’s a simple rubric, though, to help contextualize the DOGE updates you do have time and energy to process: It’s worse than you think.

DOGE is hard to keep track of. This is by design; the only information about the group outside of its own mistake-ridden ledger of “savings” comes from media reports. So much for being “maximally transparent,” as Elon Musk has promised. The blurriness is also partly a function of the speed and breadth with which DOGE has operated. Keeping track of the destruction is like counting individual bricks scattered around a demolition site.

You may be aware, for instance, that a 19-year-old who goes by “Big Balls” online plays some role in all this. Seems bad. But you may have missed that Edward Coristine has since been installed at the nation’s top cybersecurity agency. And the State Department and the Small Business Administration. And he has a Department of Homeland Security email address and, by the way, also had a recent side gig selling AI Discord bots to Russians. See? Worse than you think.

Even if that feels like old news, remember that it’s actually still happening, every day a fresh incursion by Big Balls and his cohort of twentysomething technologists. (In fairness, they’re not all young; some of them are old enough to present conflicts of interest so flagrant that they literally lack modern precedent.)

Similarly, you’ve likely heard that the United States Agency for International Development has been gutted and the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau has been put on ice. All true, all bad. But here’s what that means in practice: Fewer people globally have access to vaccines than they did a month ago. More babies are being born with HIV/AIDS. From here on out, anyone who gets ripped off by payday loan companies—or, say, social media platforms moonlighting as payments services—has lost their most capable defender.

Keep going. The thousands of so-called probationary employees DOGE has fired included a significant number of experienced workers who had just been promoted or transferred. National Science Foundation staffing cuts and proposed National Institutes of Health grant limits will combine to kneecap scientific research in the United States for a generation. Terminations at the US Department of Agriculture have sent programs designed to help farmers into disarray. On Wednesday, the Food and Drug Administration canceled a meeting that would have given guidance on this year’s flu vaccine composition. It hasn’t been rescheduled.

Don’t care about science or vaccines? The Social Security Administration is reportedly going to cut its staff in half. The Department of Housing and Urban Development is going to be cut by as much as 84 percent. Hundreds of workers who keep the power grid humming in the Pacific Northwest were fired before a scramble to rehire a few of them. The National Parks Service, the Internal Revenue Service, all hit hard. So don’t make any long-term bets on getting your checks on time, keeping your lights on, buying a home for the first time, or enjoying Yosemite. Don’t assume all the things that work now will still work tomorrow.

Speaking of which, let’s not forget that DOGE has fired people working to prevent bird flu and to safeguard the US nuclear arsenal. (The problem with throwing a chainsaw around is that you don’t make clean cuts.) The agencies in question have reportedly tried to hire those workers back. Fine. But even if they’re able to, the long-term question that hasn’t been answered yet is, Who would stay? Who would work under a regime so cocksure and incompetent that it would mistakenly fire the only handful of people who actually know how to take care of the nukes? According to a recent report from The Bulwark, that brain drain is already underway.

And this is all before the real reductions in force begin, mass purges of civil servants that will soon be conducted, it seems, with an assist from DOGE-modified, automated software. The US government is about to lose decades of institutional knowledge across who knows how many agencies, including specialists that aren’t readily replaced by loyalists.

Elon Musk has, at least, acknowledged that DOGE will make mistakes, and promised fast fixes. He even called one out specifically Wednesday, the cancelation of a USAID program designed to prevent the spread of Ebola. “We restored the Ebola prevention immediately,” he said during an appearance at Trump’s first cabinet meeting. “And there was no interruption.”

This is not the case, as The Washington Post first reported. Not only has Ebola prevention not been restored—it was and remains severely diminished—but the Trump administration also said Wednesday it would terminate nearly 10,000 contracts and grants from USAID and the State Department. Many of those contracts represent an attempt to lessen some form of suffering in some part of the world. It’s too many individual stories to tell, too many tragedies unfolding too far away.

It’s worse than you think in the same way that your brain breaks a little when you try to picture how deep the ocean is. It’s worse than you think because by the time the courts catch up the damage will already have been done. It’s worse than you think because the people running the government seem to have no higher mission than to watch it burn.

Federal agencies could absolutely be more efficient, but we’re long past the point where efficiency is a plausible goal. DOGE’s cuts have no apparent regard for civil society or opportunity costs or long-term strategic thinking. Their targets are Elon Musk’s and Project 2025’s targets. They have found no fraud, just democracy at work. They’re apparently eager to see what happens when it no longer does.

It’s worse than you think because so far all DOGE has done is drop a boulder into the middle of a pond. If you think this is bad, wait for the ripples.

[spidereggs888]

Miguel bangs Dr Doom and the poor bastard asks for seconds

/j

Miguel & You

ACT 3 | INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE

Miguel O’Hara & y/n, any gender or non gender. Very casual writing style. TW Dark humor, dangerous situations, 18+ language. Y/n are sorta attracted to Miguel (why else would you be here?) but he doesn’t know you lol

(Seriously, if you haven't read ACT 1 or ACT 2, NONE of this will make sense)

≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋

“Okay? I mean you still got your job, yeah?” your friend says.

“It’s different now! I can’t- my job’s not enough- all my savings are GONE! All those data sticks were full of nontaxable credit and now it’s probably being hocked off for rapture! What the shock am I gonna do?!”

“Wait, wait! Hang on, lemme text Bryce! He gonna know something!”

“I REALLY can’t believe that O’Hara! We talked about this! I made my case pretty simple and he agreed to a follow up meeting- and now he’s just gonna CANCEL on me?!”

“Hey it’s not his fault! He doesn’t know what you’re going through.”

You are so mad you almost tell her the truth. But his secret identity could be a bargaining chip! Yeah sure that will be stooping low but he KNOWS you are one lost payment away from house hunting, which is a horrible experience in Nueva York, especially if you’re broke.

After some sounds of computer work on her end, Speshall re-emerges.

“Hold on… okay. Bryce says Mister O’Hara is back in the Alchemax Business Bureau building.”

“Good God, tell Bryce I said thanks!”

“You better hurry, cuz people who lost their shot yesterday are trying to catch him today. I don’t know how word got out that he didn’t choose anyone as a secretary, but yeah, they are scrambling to get a hold of him. You better hurry!”

You pull out your only spare jacket (the clear plastic one that only keeps off the rain), and throw on a new scarf. You are back at square one, where you gotta compete with all the other interviewees, including Suck-up Syd who’s gonna be even more desperate this time, and Beta-Brody, who just might actually appeal to O’Hara now that he’s about to have an uninterrupted audience with the guy!

Your chances are slim, but if you stand to lose everything, why the hell dwell here?!

░▒▓スパイダーマン▓▒░

When you exit the apartment complex, you run through all of the holograms offering a better life, past all the salesmen trying to convert you to the great house of Thor, and slam your palm down on the terminal button to call the apartment valet.

"Welcome back, tenant 27," the AI apartment valet greets, “Do you want-”

“YES! Give it to me!”

Your car roars out of its hiding place as if it knows today isn’t the day to worry you with her many problems. She is bright red with flaking paint, but she is here in your time of need.

“We refueled your vehicle. Do you accept the charges-”

“BILL ME TOMORROW!”

You rush and slide across the hood, executing the perfect slide and land on your feet on the other side. The door unlatches automatically and you climb in (that almost never happens), and you slam your foot down on the gas pedal.

“I’m comin’ for you, O’Hara!”

░▒▓человек-паук▓▒░

After dodging and slipping through traffic, you arrive at the Alchemax Business Bureau parking lot. The automated parking center kiosk accepts your money this time since your mom knows how to clean her gambling money (you have yet to learn this difficult process), and you get to enter the building in a more conventional way. 

The lobby is already in chaos. People are fighting over the coffee machine for some reason, slapping and hitting each other. You turn your back on it and face the old man behind the receptionist desk. He grimaces at you.

“You don’t have anything to do with the crazy shit happening over there, right?” He asks. This was the first time he’s spoken to you in a while.

“Don’t think so. Uh, has O’Hara come through?”

“Heh. What do you think?”

You cringe at the sound of a coffee pot crashing to the floor. The receptionist opens a holoscreen and looks at you through it.

“He’s up in the temp office again.”

He discreetly brings a cup of black coffee up from behind the desk and sets it near you.

“Just pushing forward a favor.”

His eyes focus on the video call that pops up between you, and he continues, “We need custodial support in the lobby. We got some broken glass and hot coffee all over the damn place.”

≋≋≋（スパイダーマン）≋≋≋

You are on the elevator, coffee in hand with a pocket full of sugars. You decide not to drink it, you plan to give it to O’Hara (everyone else must have had this same plan, hence fighting over the pitcher of coffee.) The elevator lets someone else on. The doors open and you see the smoky eyes of Suck-Up Syd.

“Ah, you got past everyone else, I see.”

You reluctantly move over as she strides in. You notice she’s wearing a backless dress before she pulls her faux fur jacket back over her shoulders. She knows you saw, she chuckles and sighs.

“Don’t ya love this day and age?” she asks innocently.

“It could be better,” you say pleasantly.

“I just love how a woman can be herself and flaunt what she’s got…” 

She waits for a word of validation but you say nothing to her. She continues.

“I got this dress from Michael, our last boss. Remember him?”

“Ah, yeah. The guy who gave me a second chance…”

“Yeah after the whole embezzling thing! Tsk, I’m so glad you didn’t get fired, you know that? Like really, you are the nicest person in this whole wide place! It would have been so unfair of him to let you go. But he’s very generous.”

You wanna say something mean to her but you are at a crucial point in your life to have stupid Suck-Up Syd karma in the mix.

The elevator door opens and you see a guy laying face down on the floor. He’s groaning in pain. It’s the nice Indian man from yesterday.

“Oh my, what happened here?” Syd asks.

“Ah just some stuff that needed settling,” says the familiar douchey voice of Brody, who walks up from the corner while rubbing his knuckles.

“Did you beat up that guy?!” You scold.

“Well, he got in my face,” he says with a matter-of-fact tone.

“I somehow doubt that!” You scoff.

 Brody smirks and takes your coffee.

“Dude, that’s mine!” you complain.

He sips it while keeping eye-contact with you. He then immediately scrunches his face.

“Ew, you don’t add anything to your coffee?!”

“That’s very rude and gross, Broly,” Syd says with sarcasm, walking away towards the glass elevator. He hands the coffee back to you and swiftly follows her, and you reluctantly follow.

“I was just playing, Sydney, lighten up! Nice dress, by the way!”

“Thank you.”

“I mean... you flaunted it for Micheal, I bet you could do the same exact routine for O’Hara and get the job instantly! That's your in-an-out plan, right?”

“Hey, if he thinks hiring me will get him there then that’s on him, not me.”

“What are you pushing 38, going on 39 any time now? You can’t use your looks forever, tick-tock tick-tock.”

“Oh wow, says the guy who believes in that Alpha Male BS. You are aware that the same guy who coined that whole thing turned around and disproved it years later, you know that, right?”

“So it’s not true for wolves, but it’s definitely true for Man.”

“You are not even close to being a Beta…” you grumble. 

He looks back at you with a fake smile. Syd laughs.

“Oh well check this out-”

He slaps the coffee down out of your hands and it gushes all over your pants and shoes. You jump back and kick your legs.

“Dude! That BURNS! What the FUCK?!”

“You got it on my dress, you fucking animal!” Syd complains, stepping back away from the dark puddle.

“Oh you were gonna take it off to show what’s left of your body anyway! Get with the now and lighten up!”

“You are SUCH an asshole!” You yell. You start kicking him in the legs. Syd joins in, thrashing him with her stiletto. The both of you back him into the corner as he tries to guard his face. The glass doors open and the three of you stop your squabbling as y’all realize there has been an audience for the last few seconds.  

The pair of security guards from yesterday are standing near the elevator, both looking somewhat amused about the elevator fight, and two men are sitting on either side of the tiny desk, one of them being O’Hara and the other is your ex boss.

“Oh… uh, hi!” Syd stammers, taken aback by the present company. Brody pushes her aside and strides across the room with his hand extended.

“Hey, Mister O’Hara! The name’s Brody Tice! Nice to meet-”

“The hell are you guys doing here?” O’Hara asks.

“Hey, yeah, I didn’t get to meet you yesterday-  had some stuff come up, but I heard you were here today, so I thought-”

“Then SIT,” O’Hara demanded.

“Actually, I do better standing!” 

“Sit the hell down, Brody,” Micheal snaps, “Now’s not the time!”

[Brody mumbles something about being fine where he is.]

“Is everything okay, Micheal?” Syd asks, defaulting to an innocent tone.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Micheal says with glossed, lazy eyes. He always had this look whenever he was forced to care, “Someone formerly in our department just complained about some old history and we are trying to smooth it out.”

"Oh, this is beyond smoothing out," O'Hara said with an unsafe tone while smiling, "Yeah, this little game you have going on comes to an end today."

"What game?!" Micheal scoffs, leaning back in his chair.

“I’ve had my AI assistant cross-reference your employment history and your payment history and I did not like what she told me," O'Hara says, putting his giant paws together, "You’ve been withholding payment from your employees by not immediately updating their salary in the system after they were given a raise. And you’d neglect doing anything until they actually confront you about it, and even then, you never paid them the missing difference. And you did this, let's say, roughly eighty times in the past four years?”

Your blood boils. This man has been a parasite this whole time while you scraped by. Micheal looks back and forth at Syd and Brody, unable to keep eye contact with O'Hara.

"Wha- WHICH of you- Syd! I thought I could TRUST you!" Micheal stammers.

"What? Micheal! No! I didn't say anything about you!"

Micheal's gaze darts to Brody, but then he swivels his head to you instead.

"Was it you?!"

"Wow, you're really just gonna look for someone to blame, huh?" Brody scoffs.

"Whoever did this doesn't know who they're messing with!" Micheal says, his face red as he shakes, "I have too much as stake to be taken down by some rat!"

“It was ME!” you yell, not willing to take anything else laying down anymore, “I confirmed what happened!”

Micheal looks genuinely surprised at you yelling. Syd just blinks awkwardly and Brody grins. O’Hara is still sitting with his elbows resting on his desk, watching from behind clasped fingers.

“What on earth did you-”

“The ultimatum you gave me! You pulled me aside into the maintenance closet and made me choose between getting fired or demoted, REMEMBER?!”

“We took you into the maintenance closet because the situation was private-”

“You just didn’t want anyone with a brain noticing you were doing something illegal!”

“He was on vacation!” Syd said defensively, “You should have just waited-”

“Oh that’s SUCH bullshit! He wanted to see how long he could go without actually paying me what I was owed!” 

“It was just a fluke in the system-”

“It was no fluke, it was CALCULATED!” You snap, stepping towards her with your finger in her face, “And you should know, Syd! You fucking stood there watching like the stupid little henchman you are! You KNEW Micheal was doing something illegal and you did NOTHING to report it! And we know why! Because you KNEW if I went down, you would instantly get my position as vice head PR accountant! You were a snake from the start and always HAVE been!”

“Oh shush! You were sniveling and crying like a BABY, begging to keep the job! I may be what I am but at least I have some dignity-”

“Sydney! Let’s not push it!” Micheal warned.

“That’s fucking laughable coming from you, y’know that?” Brody says to Syd, “You are the LAST person with any dignity around here! You dropped your panties for Ashton when I told you he was head of our department! You didn’t even try to research him or anything! You just did it because you’re a whore.”

“And you!” you yell, pointing at Brody.

“Ah, let’s hear it!” He retorts.

“You are the biggest lying asshole in this whole fucking industry! How the fuck has no one laid you out yet?! All that alpha dog bullshit has gone so far up your ass, I don’t know where your sexist bullshit ends and where your goddamn shit-eating grin begins! You gotta tear people down because you aren’t strong enough to hack it with the big dogs, are ya?! ARE YA, BRODY?! Oh, look at me! I’m Brody Tice! I’m too mean and stupid to make meaningful relationships work, so I bully others to assert a false sense of dominance! And if that don’t work, I resort to telling people I was diddled in the doo doo hole by my best friend Ashton because that’s the kind of LOSER I am!”

Brody’s pride is on the line, and he was not taking too kindly to you airing out his dirty laundry in front of O’Hara. He steps up to you, his fake smile now grinding into a dangerous sneer.

“Oh, NOBODY has laid me out yet because they CAN’T!”

“You are so full of shit!”

“Go ahead and make your move, then!”

“Everyone just stop!” Syd pleads anxiously.

“You can't always get away with everything you’ve DONE!” You say coldly. Blood is rushing in your ears and you can feel your neck getting hot. Brody jabs you in the shoulder with his knuckles.

“Make your move, bitch-” 

Having seen enough, O’Hara stands up and swiftly grabs Brody by the front of his shirt. He leads the smaller man around on his toes as they come face to face. Brody’s eyes bulge.

“Wow, man! Your hands are massive-”

 O’Hara picks the whole man up and one-arm slams Brody through the tiny desk. Just *bam* throws him down TLC style. Travel-sized bottles fly everywhere.

Brody stares up at the ceiling, making a long minuscule whining sound. The desk is finished and everyone is frozen in place. 

“Quitar este loser,” he commanded, pointing down at Brody and flicking his finger at the door. The two guards grabbed Brody and lifted him out of the rubble. 

“As for you two,” he said, turning to Syd and Michael, “clean out your desks!”

“W-why?!” Syd whined

“You can't do this!” Michael begged, his grey eyes bulging, "I have been with this department for thirty years! I was here when your father ran this place!"

O'Hara clenches his jaw and fists. His eyes flash dangerously.

"--Though you do a spectacular job as CEO, WAY better than... It-It really was an honest fluke, I get very overwhelmed with all my responsibilities- please! You can’t fire me!”

He stares down Micheal, considering him a little longer. He drops his scowl and lets his hands free.

“Relax, I’m not firing you or Miss Sarcoth here,” O’Hara says with a falsely kind tone, “I mean, you really should be fired, but a guy your age doesn’t stand a chance in the private sector, so I’m moving you both to the custodial department! They’ll love you there!”

“Oh... well alright,“ Michael mutters, eyes bugged out at the giant financial nuke that missed him by inches.

“Wait, why am I being dragged down too?!” Syd whined, “there’s no proof I was even THERE!”

“There's lots of surveillance of your complacency and possible cooperation, Miss Sarcoth. Don’t even bother trying to argue your way out of this one. Now both of you, off to your new jobs! C’mon! You only get one chance!”

O'Hara gives them both a clenched smile. Syd and Micheal exchange confused stares.

“Go on before I get pissed off,” he said in a colder tone.

They scramble to gather their coats and rush out of the room. Those two jackasses who screwed with your livelihood just to make themselves laugh are now fucking off to whatever hell hole O’Hara has decided to stuff them into.

O’Hara sighs and paces away. He grumbles about idiots fucking around with their goddamn money. You clear your throat. He straightens his anti glare lenses then looks at you.

“Have a seat, since you’re here.”

You sit down where Michael was seated before. You stare this guy down because this is it! You are ready for hellfire. You are ready for searing words and possible loss of a limb or head in the conversation to come. You squint at those red eyes behind the comically large lenses. How has nobody accused him of being a vampire? Either way, you are ready to gamble it all, to hell with being cautious!

You are gonna take this vampire down.

“You are wondering why I canceled our meeting, yeah?” He asks with raised brows.

You are relieved he brought it up first.

“Yeah. Why?”

“I decided I don’t need a secretary,” he said, “turns out it’s too damn stressful and stupid. I’ve been doing just fine with my AI assistant.”

“What about all the people who wanted to work for you?”

“They have their own jobs already, it’s not like they have nothing to go back to.”

“Well I don’t,” you say, gripping the edge of your chair. He makes a curious face.

“You have a job, what do you mean-“

“I’ve been cheated, blackmailed, rejected, declined, and robbed, all because of idiots like Michael and Syd… and that idiot Brody! I’m not about to let a dismissive playboy who fires people left and right, AND moonlights as Spider-Man kick me down without a fight-“

O’Hara comes back over and sits down in his chair quickly, making you flinch, but he’s smiling.

“So you WERE awake when I saved you!”

“Yeah,” you say quietly. You are now shaking but not breaking your stare from his amused expression.

“Now you know who I am and what I do… at least only the tip of that gargantuan iceberg… so what do you want? Money? You gonna blackmail me?”

“What fucking choice do I have?” You say heatedly, “I lost everything down there in that hell hole! My data sticks, my phone, all of that was my LIFE in order, and now I either go further into debt or I get a better job that will take care of me for the rest of my life!”

O’Hara leans back into his chair, his brow furrowed as he rubs his chin.

“Don’t think for a second I’m not grateful for you saving my life! I don’t know how you knew I needed saving but you did!”

“My AI assistant Lyla informed me your location was moving down to a notorious criminal breeding ground. I thought you were one of those Black Market Demons trying to infiltrate Alchemax for drugs.”

“What?”

“I mean the descriptors fit. I guessed you were financially unstable and turning to gambling because you had a Rapture habit. But… you didn’t seem physically unwell like a Rapture user. The only other possibility was that you were being kidnapped. Since I already met you and saw it about to happen, I just couldn’t ignore it.”

You look to the floor, feeling bad about readying yourself to fight this guy.

“I knew you needed help. I'm sorry about your data sticks and all your money. I didn’t know- you do have a bank account, right? I mean, you have a job-”

“My job salary goes there, yeah, but that goes straight into automated payments since I’m on the Alchemax home-employment plan… I have the data sticks because my bank won’t accept anything considered gambling money. And I don’t have enough earnings for an offshore account… so I kept it all on the data sticks…”

He is hanging on every word now. You look up at those sad bespectacled eyes.

“Also… I just wanted some personal spending money for myself. I just wanna wear nice stuff and eat something else besides mineral bars…��

He politely watches you try not to feel sorry for yourself. You are both quiet for a little spell. You can hear the wind outside, and an automated cleaning system starts spraying the shit out of the glass elevator. It sounds like a car wash.  All that coffee on the floor is being washed away.

He sighs and looks out the windows.

“Well, I can’t say I wasn’t impressed at the decade and a half you put into PR work for Alchemax,” he finally says. You wipe away a single tear and look up at him as he pulls up your files on his neat watch. He picks out your best work with his calloused but beautiful hands, “You started running hot meals for the Alchemax elderly program at fifteen years old… went into mail room tech for a while there, occasionally doing lobby work and handling public events… not bad at all.”

"Thanks," you say modestly.

“Most of all, I really admire that you came here. I don’t know how you knew I’d be here, but you must have some great resources to pull that off. I'm impressed.” 

You smile at him weakly. He smiles back.

“What do you think about taking Micheal's old job?” 

“Wha- REALLY?!”

“Ah I’m sure you’ll do fine! Besides, I didn’t know who I was gonna pick as head of PR account and finances, anyway! So, what do you say?”

You stand up and so does he. You extend your hand and he takes it.

“Thank you for this opportunity, sir! I won’t let you down!”

“You actually don’t have a choice.”

You smile but then feel yesterday’s emotions catch up with you. The darkness with the dead bodies and freaky black market demons. Running until your legs were on fire and your lungs hurt. Being surrounded by those demons in the darkness. You dive in for a hug.

“Thank you for saving my life…” you murmur into his shirt.

“C’mon, I’m Spider-Man, it’s what I do.”

You hold your head against those mighty pecs of his. His dress shirt is so silky and soft and smells like the kind of detergent that goes hard like crack. You go ahead and wrap the other arm around him as you behold the heartbeat of a hero, something so rare in any day and age. You will never forget this sensation as he carefully pats your back.

“Ah, okay, just take it all in… I’m only allowing this once… hey, also promise me you'll keep my secret, okay?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"I'm not kidding. If you go telling people I'm Spider-Man, I'll make you clean toilets. SPECIFICALLY toilets. And only toilets."

You start to giggle. He does too.

"Just toilets, all day and all night! I'm serious. I know we are laughing but I'm dead serious. No estoy bromeando! Comprendes?"

"Si comprendes," you manage to muffle out.

"Good, good... Okay get off me. Please.”

You smile and let him go. He gives you an awkward smile and rubs the side of his massive neck. 

"So... seeing as I'm removing Micheal and pretty much any and all staff members who conspired with him, you’ll need to hire your own assisting staff. You have anyone in mind?”

≋≋≋（蜘蛛侠）≋≋≋

“I’m going to lunch!” You call out as you leave your glass paneled office. 

“You want me to go ahead and send out this mass email, dear?” Your mother says from behind her grand desk.

“You let Speshall look at it, right?”

“It’s wordy but I’m sure it’s fine,” Speshall says from her office area. She returns to her phone, “Oh they eloped?! To where?!”

Your new staff has it's own habits but they are much better than the unjust monsters running things before. You walk onto the elevator (the only one since the other two are STILL broken), and the nice Indian man from weeks ago joins you.

"How's life, Arjuna?" You ask.

"Ah, in-laws are staying over for a month."

"Oh? Is that bad?"

"Not really. Let's say I just might jump out a window," he says, slyly.

"Well I know a few custodians perfect for the job!" you blurt out. The both of you crack up laughing. You fortunately don't have to ever see Micheal, Syd, and Brody on a daily basis since O'Hara sent them off to clean in the Alchemax Museum of Tech, but that hasn't stopped you or your friends from making them the butt of all your jokes.

You walk out into the lobby of the Alchemax Business Bureau, where you see your red Maglev Nova outside waiting in the rain. 

“All fueled up, boss!” Says the old receptionist behind the counter. He’s drinking his coffee in peace.

“Thanks, Stan!” You say.

You walk outside to your car. The paint job was redone and all her internal issues gone as she hums cleanly, awaiting your arrival. You open the door to get in.

"HEY!"

You look over the Nova. You see O'Hara across the street.

“Miguel! Hey!” 

“Hey! We doin’ this?”

“Yeah! I got some coupons for double thick enchiladas! Two for the price of one!”

“Ay, you and those coupons! I told you, I’m buying! Woah-“

He steps back as a truck flies past him. It drives right through a puddle, drenching the man. He stands there all stunned; his jacket was folded on his arm and his dress shirt soaked.

He gapes at you and you realize you are staring at the wet shirt clinging to his chiseled body. 

“We- we can stop by the dry cleaners on the way," you stammer as you politely look away.

๋࣭ ⭑🕸 fin 🕸๋࣭ ⭑

Thank you for reading.

[cleverwordsandotherstuffilike]

"The day my father died, I was at the grocery store buying bananas. I remember thinking to myself, “This is insane. Your dad just died. Why the h*** are you buying bananas?” But we needed bananas. We’d be waking up for breakfast tomorrow morning, and there wouldn’t be any bananas—so there I was.

And lots of other stuff still needed doing too, so over the coming days I would navigate parking lots, wait in restaurant lines, and sit on park benches; pushing back tears, fighting to stay upright, and in general always being seconds from a total, blubbering, room-clearing freak out. I wanted to wear a sign that said: I JUST LOST MY DAD. PLEASE GO EASY.

Unless anyone passing by looked deeply into my bloodshot eyes or noticed the occasional break in my voice and thought enough to ask, it’s not like they’d have known what’s happening inside me or around me. They wouldn’t have had any idea of the gaping sinkhole that had just opened up and swallowed the normal life of the guy next to them in the produce section.

And while I didn’t want to physically wear my actual circumstances on my chest, it probably would have caused people around me to give me space or speak softer or move more carefully,—and it might have made the impossible, almost bearable. 

Everyone around you; the people you share the grocery store line with, pass in traffic, sit next to at work, encounter on social media, and see across the kitchen table—are all experiencing the collateral damage of living. They are all grieving someone, missing someone, worried about someone. Their marriages are crumbling or their mortgage payment is late or they’re waiting on their child’s test results, or they’re getting bananas five years after a death and still pushing back tears because the loss feels as real as it did that first day.

Every single human being you pass by today is fighting to find peace and to push back fear; to get through their daily tasks without breaking down in front of the bananas or in the carpool line or at the post office. Maybe they aren’t mourning the sudden, tragic passing of a parent, but wounded, exhausted, pain-ravaged people are everywhere, everyday stumbling all around us—and yet most of the time we’re fairly oblivious to them:

- Parents whose children are terminally ill.

- Couples in the middle of divorce.

- People grieving loss of loved ones and relationships.

- Kids being bullied at school.

- Teenagers who want to end their lives.

- People marking the anniversary of a death.

- Parents worried about their depressed teenager.

- Spouses whose partners are deployed in combat.

- Families with no idea how to keep the lights on.

- Single parents with little help and little sleep.

Everyone is grieving and worried and fearful, and yet none of them wear the signs, none of them have labels, and none of them come with written warnings reading, I’M STRUGGLING. GO EASY.

And since they don’t, it’s up to you and me to look more closely and more deeply at everyone around us: at work or at the gas station or in the produce section, and to never assume they aren’t all just hanging by a thread. Because most people are hanging by a thread—and our simple kindness can be that thread. We need to remind ourselves  just how hard the hidden stories around us might be, and to approach each person as a delicate, breakable, invaluable treasure—and to handle them with care. 

As you make your way through the world today, people won’t be wearing signs to announce their mourning or to alert you to the attrition or to broadcast how terrified they are—but if you look with the right eyes, you’ll see the signs. There are grieving people all around you. Go easy."

John Pavlovitz

[zerosecurity]

LockBit Ransomware Gang Claims Responsibility for Wichita, KS Cyberattack

The notorious LockBit ransomware gang has claimed responsibility for a devastating cyberattack on the City of Wichita, Kansas, the largest city in the state with a population of nearly 400,000. This ransomware attack has forced the City's authorities to shut down crucial IT systems used for online bill payment, including court fines, water bills, and public transportation. Wichita, a major cultural, economic, and transportation hub in the region, and home to several aircraft factories, announced the disruptive ransomware attack last Sunday, May 5, 2024. In response, the City's IT specialists promptly shut down computers used in online services to contain the damage and stop the spread of the attack, as stated in their announcement: "This decision was not made lightly but was necessary to ensure that systems are securely vetted before returning to service." LockBit Ransomware Gang Threatens Data Leak Earlier today, the LockBit ransomware group added Wichita to its extortion portal, threatening to publish all stolen files on the site by May 15, 2024, unless the City pays the ransom. This unusually quick listing of a ransomware victim, merely three days after the attack, is believed to be in retaliation for the recent international law enforcement operation that named and sanctioned the leader of the LockBit ransomware operation, a 31-year-old Russian national named Dmitry Yuryevich Khoroshev, who uses the online alias "LockBitSupp."

Lockbit Lists the City of Wichita as one of its victims.

Widespread Service Disruptions in Wichita

Meanwhile, Wichita continues to face significant disruptions, with the latest status update indicating that the following services remain unavailable: - Auto payments for water bills are suspended. - Public Wi-Fi at certain locations (Airport terminal, Advanced Learning Library, Evergreen, and Walters branches of the Library). - The online catalog, databases, and some digital services of the Library. - Email communications through the city network for Library staff. - Self-service print release stations and self-check stations at the Library. - Automated materials handler at the Advanced Learning Library. - Most incoming phone call capability for the Library. - Wi-Fi and phone services at neighborhood resource centers. - Public services, including golf courses, parks, courts, and the water district, require residents to pay in cash or by check while online payment platforms are shut down. Additionally, any Request for Bid, Proposal, or Qualifications with a due date of May 10, 2024, has been deferred until May 17, 2024, and the 'Bid Opening' scheduled for Friday, May 10, 2024, has been canceled. Public safety services like the Wichita Fire Department (WFD) and Wichita Police Department (WPD) have resorted to using "pen and paper" reports, and the Wichita Transit buses and landfill services can only accept cash payments. Data Theft and Potential Leak While the City is still investigating whether data was stolen in the attack, the LockBit ransomware gang is known for stealing data before deploying their encryptors. Therefore, if a ransom is not paid, data will likely be leaked in the future on the ransomware gang's data leak site, exacerbating the already severe impact of this cyberattack on the City of Wichita. Read the full article

[jaysons-alt]

As someone who was recently a child, the only non-hostile spaces available to me were either parks that required constant supervision or places that required payment (think trampoline parks and the like.) Nowadays the only things that are kid friendly and inexpensive are online or at home. It's part of why there are so many terminally online/in game children everywhere- there's nothing left outside for them. The only game I ever played outside with a neighbor was when I was learning to use inline skates and he saw me and came out to join in. Thirteen years living on that street, and I only knew two neighbors my age, apart from the ones waiting for the bus.

you don't "hate kids," you hate being forced into a caretaking role.

you don't "hate kids," you hate censorship passed off as family values.

you don't "hate kids," you hate the constrictiveness of the nuclear family.

you don't "hate kids," you're just not used to occupying fully age diverse spaces so you're not used to the noise or the many different kinds of needs.

you don't "hate kids," most public spaces just aren't built for kids, and so the few kids you see are always uncomfortable and distressed.

you don't "hate kids," you hate the intense social rules assigned to kids and anyone who interacts with kids.

You don't "hate kids," you hate how society reproduces its most restrictive elements and how kids are powerless to resist it.

[tejastravels1]

Complete Guide to Luxury Airport Transfers in Bangalore 🚘✨

Welcome to Bangalore, a city where business meets leisure and where the first impression begins right at the airport. Whether you're a jet-setting executive, an NRI visiting family, or a luxury tourist, your airport transfer matters. Here's why opting for luxury airport transfers in Bangalore is a smart and stylish move.

Why Luxury Airport Transfers Are Taking Over Bangalore 🛬➡️🛻

Bangalore’s Kempegowda International Airport (BLR) sees over 30 million passengers annually. With such high traffic, regular taxis often fall short in terms of punctuality, cleanliness, and comfort. Enter luxury transfers — personalized, on-time, and equipped with top-tier amenities.

In cities like Mumbai and Delhi, premium transfer services have grown by 40% year-over-year (source: Statista India 2023). Bangalore is fast catching up, especially with the influx of IT professionals and global investors.

What Makes a Luxury Airport Ride Truly Premium 💺🥂

Not all "premium" rides deliver true luxury. Real luxury airport transfers in Bangalore include chauffeur-driven vehicles like Mercedes-Benz E-Class, BMW 5 Series, or Toyota Innova Crysta with leather interiors, WiFi, refreshments, real-time flight monitoring, and 24/7 service support.

Companies like Blacklane, Ola Lux, and Uber Premier offer app-based bookings but often lack the personalization and fleet diversity that brands like Tejas Travels bring.

Tejas Travels: Bangalore’s Trusted Name in Luxury Transfers 🚗🌟

When it comes to reputation, Tejas Travels, a premium tour and travels company based in Bangalore, stands out. Operating since 2000, they’ve built their name around reliability, professionalism, and a pristine luxury fleet.

From solo business travelers to families returning from overseas, Tejas offers everything — from airport pickups to wedding bus hire, all under one roof. Their chauffeurs are trained in etiquette, multi-language support, and even assist with luggage handling.

Bangalore Airport Transfers: Ola, Uber or Tejas Travels? 🤔📱

App-based services like Uber Premier or Ola Lux are easy to book but come with uncertainties — surge pricing, driver cancellations, limited luggage space. In contrast, Tejas Travels offers fixed pricing, guaranteed vehicles, and VIP treatment, including meet & greet at the terminal.

If you're arriving late night or with senior citizens, Tejas is often the more secure and professional choice.

Who Needs Luxury Airport Transfers in Bangalore? 🎯🧳

✈️ Corporate Executives heading straight to meetings at UB City or Manyata Tech Park 👨‍👩‍👧 NRI Families arriving with kids and lots of luggage 🎓 International Students arriving for the first time 👰🤵 Wedding Guests needing smooth transport from airport to venue — Tejas also provides wedding bus services 💼 Event Planners managing airport pickups for VIPs and keynote speakers

From Airport to Hotel in Style: Popular Routes & Destinations 🏨📍

Common drop points include Taj MG Road, JW Marriott Bengaluru, Brigade Gateway, and tech parks like EcoSpace. The average luxury transfer from BLR to MG Road takes around 1 hour, depending on traffic.

Tejas Travels ensures on-route comfort, including bottled water, device charging, and music preferences. A small detail, but for jetlagged travelers, it makes a big difference.

How to Book a Luxury Airport Transfer with Tejas Travels 📲✅

Booking with Tejas Travels is seamless. Visit their website or call their customer service. You can book in advance to avoid last-minute stress, especially during peak travel seasons or wedding dates.

💳 Multiple payment options available — UPI, credit card, and corporate accounts ⏰ Free waiting time for delayed flights 👔 Chauffeur name and car details are shared prior to pickup

Pricing Breakdown: What You Pay for in a Luxury Transfer 💸💼

A ride from BLR Airport to Whitefield in a BMW 5 Series costs approx ₹4500–₹6000, depending on the time and luggage. Prices are all-inclusive — no hidden tolls or surge pricing.

You can also opt for package deals if you’re booking round-trip or using multiple services like coach rental or bus hire for corporate teams.

Sustainable and Stylish: Green Luxury Travel is Here 🌱🚘

As the world moves toward sustainability, companies like Tejas Travels are introducing hybrid vehicles and EVs like MG ZS EV and Tata Nexon EV for airport transfers.

This is great for corporate clients aiming to reduce carbon footprint — a major trend among companies following ESG mandates in 2025.

The Bigger Picture: Why Tejas Travels is More Than Just a Ride 🛣️💼

From airport transfers to bus transportation, travel bus rentals, and corporate fleet management, Tejas Travels is a one-stop mobility partner. With over 1,000+ five-star reviews, they’re trusted not just for individual transfers but for large-scale transport solutions — including bus rental for weddings, team outings, and event logistics.

Final Thoughts: Travel Should Be Memorable from the First Mile 🚀✨

Whether you're landing in Bangalore for business, leisure, or a family celebration, don’t leave your airport transfer to chance. A luxury airport transfer in Bangalore isn't just about the ride — it's about how you're welcomed, how you travel, and how you arrive.

✅ Tejas Travels offers premium comfort, complete reliability, and professional service — every single time.

✈️ Make your airport journey stress-free. Choose luxury. Choose Tejas.