#and bitch I have good insurance!!! I have an open access plan!! let me the fuck IN GODDAMMIT

[kiska-enthusiast]

i love living in a state with zero reproductive rights

[moyaca]

September 22nd

To stay consistent with these blogs I am hoping to start writing very frequently. After I lost my job, my mind went to a really dark place. Luckily I have a wife and a group of loving friends to back me up. When things get tough it's possible to rely on them. But my mind won't let me. Instead it holds everything in, thoughts cause me to sink deeper and deeper into worrying waters. Waters so deep and black you can't see just below the surface. Phrases like “im fine” and “don't worry” are all that come out. I am by no means self harming, but I worry if I dont pull myself out of this nosedive that I will head in that direction. When things get tough or I need to get out of my head, distractions like video games get my focus on things other than the thoughts that bubble up when I am alone in my silence. 

This is my new normal. I do not know how long this will last, but I need to get a job soon. Therapy needs to be my immediate first step once I secure the job. That was the plan with this previous job. The insurance was awesome, but having to share a car with my wife prevented me from having time to get to an appointment. I was starting to see the sun on the horizon when it was all snatched. Literally the week that my wife got a new mode of transportation from her job, the company canned me. I have been at fault for getting up late of course, but the job had an “laxed start time” so i thought nothing of it. 

Apparently that was the straw that broke the camel's back and they proceeded with termination. That word still hurts to this day. Literal heart break when i heard those words. I felt my ears swelling shut and words changed to mush when all i could ask was “why?” I think that my lead just did not like me as a person. I am really good at following directions, I am really good at picking up new information. But what I am not good at is listening apparently. Im told i am reactive, defensive, argumentative. All of the “ives”. I think that's what really lost me the job. I was not the same as him. I was outgoing and conversed with the rest of the office. I would participate in activities and conversations around the office. When it was time to work, I was fast, I got the job done correctly, and was open to criticism because I was obviously new. How would I know what's right or not? Things were great at the start but it was around the 60 day mark that it went way worse. I made the mistake of eating at my desk during breaks to have access to the internet. The optics of the situation were ultimately what led to my downfall. I took just as long a break as everyone else, but they weren't  in their first 90 days. So Monkey See Monkey Do doesn't really apply in the job world. Which is bullshit really, but what am I gonna do about it? Probably just bitch up a storm or suffocate in the voices of everything I did wrong. 

My self esteem took a huge dive.

I barely remember how I got home that day. I do remember that word though, terminating. Still like a spike in the back of my head. The pain travels straight to my heart and cuts open the scarred tissue. I get heart broken all over again. Its been happening less and less as the days go by of course. Things get easier, but that makes other things harder. I just hope things stabilize soon. This is my new normal…

Thanks for reading,

Chris.

[neonponders]

Head canon time:

Okay okay okay okayokayokay so this post has super cute art, but the reblog comment on it aligned with something that’s been percolating in my brain for a ~while~ now:

Eleven as Steve’s sister.

Obviously neither Steve nor Eleven have any idea. From the time El escapes the lab, they don’t interact much. Even if they’re in the same room, they kind of bounce around each other, because...why else would they? Steve’s at least five years older and she’s still building her social skills/confidence, especially around men.

But then Steve gets his hair cut short, and the back likes to curl very similarly to how El’s did when hers was short. Their hair needs its own weight to pull it straight.

And it’s dark brown. Followed by clear brown eyes.

It’s not enough for anyone to connect the dots, of course, but then El’s “mother” dies. Her mind had been a flickering light for a long time, eventually her heart began to match. But when a heart stops, it stops.

Her sister calls Hopper, in case El wants to know, and they show up, at the very least, to attend the funeral and to help the sister go through dusty boxes. Maybe there’s a picture of El’s mother that she wants...

Instead they find surrogacy papers.

Old bank statements.

Apparently at the time of her involvement with government conspiracy, she had been very down on her luck. She made the mistake of doubling up on volunteering to be a surrogate mother, as well as whatever the hell the Hawkins Library did to her.

But the names on the papers are John and Eliza Harrington.

“Like...Steve?” El asks when he finally has gaped at the papers for too long.

Hopper inhales because he isn’t sure when he did that last and scratches his face. “Yeah...like Steve.”

He has mixed emotions: the empathetic devastation at losing a kid, but also the relief that this involves someone already in the know.

They go over to Steve’s house.

The guy answers the door with a slice of pizza in his hand, still chewing. “Hi, Hop. Ellie.”

She offers a small smile. “Steve.”

“Are your parents home, kid?”

He shook his head and swallowed. “Just left this morning. They have a time-share condo in Mexico.”

“You didn’t go with them?”

Steve scoffs while turning around back into the house. “My idea of a good time isn’t with my parents. What d’you need?”

“Well,” Hopper sighs, feeling too big in the foyer. Eleven stabs his hip with a finger and he begins the tedious process of unlacing his boots. “I need to go through your parents’ papers. You got an attic, a cellar, an office?”

Steve, bless him, looks genuinely clueless. “Uh. Yeah...are we in trouble for something?”

“Not in trouble, no. I just wanna cross reference something.”

Bless him twice, because he actually lets Hopper into his attic. His father’s office. Then his mother’s.

He finds it in his mother’s bedroom. It was just a shot in the dark to try the safe in the closet, but so many people actually keep their safes unlocked for easy access.

Hospital documents. Even ultrasound photos.

“Jane Elizabeth...Harrington?” Steve chirps over his shoulder.

He looks up at the chief, who’s rubbing his beard again. Their heads turn to Eleven sitting on Mrs. Harrington’s bed. “My name’s Jane.”

Those big brown eyes blink between her and Hopper. “How do you know that? I thought you came from a lab?”

Hopper intercepted, “She used her,” he gestured vaguely to his own head, “to find her mother. Or...the surrogate your parents paid for.”

“And where’s she?”

“Dead,” said Eleven.

Hopper reiterated, “She passed about two weeks ago. We found your parents’ names in her paperwork.”

“But - what happened? How does a baby just go missing? Better question: why don’t I have super powers?”

Hopper had already read the hospital’s apology and refund of the Harrington’s funds, insurance, the works. “I think that asshole...Brenner...claimed the baby for his work, early enough that it could be written off as a miscarriage. Whatever they did to El’s mother, whatever went on in that lab, landed her with her abilities. It’s nothing to covet, all right.”

Steve looked winded. He crossed his arms and let himself collapse against the wall. “So...what do we do?”

“Uh...” Hopper fanned his face with the ultrasound pictures. “There isn’t a lot we can do. Telling your parents would open up a lot of closed doors that we can’t really afford to open. Dr. Owens, being the swell guy he is, provided me paperwork that grants El as my kid.

“But.

“You already know each other. You already contributed to saving the world together. So...I think that’s up to the two of you.”

Both of them, for all they’d been through, just looked like kids. They were kids, even if Steve now stood in his twenties. And he stood off the wall, now, to approach his sister.

“Can I, uhm...can I hug you?”

El slid off the high bed, easily falling against his body for arms to wrap tightly around her. They stayed like that for a long moment, then Hopper joined them to rub between their shoulder blades.

“Oh god. You’re dating Mike Wheeler.” El hummed a curious sound and he elaborated, “Am I gonna have to pound on him if he pisses you off?”

“I wish you would,” Hopper confirmed.

Fast forward to Mike being extremely confused at his girlfriend suddenly spending a lot of time with Steve Harrington, of all people.

“Maybe she’s gotten a taste for older men?” Lucas teased, and got punched in the shoulder for it.

Max’s eyes rolled but she didn’t grace that with an answer.

Mike fumed, “She was supposed to be with me today! Then she called and said she had other plans - ”

Max chimed, “Are you sure you had plans? Or that you had a plan but she beat you to it?”

“It doesn’t matter! I see her walking around with Steve Harrington all the time and it’s weird!”

Will said for nobody in particular, “We’re not the ones to judge weird anymore.”

Lucas countered, “Or we’re the experts on weird. Speaking of, where the hell is Dustin?”

“With Steve,” Max grinned right at Mike, and stood up. “Speaking of, my ride’s probably here.”

“Where are you going?” Lucas asked.

“Over to Steve’s.”

The boys looked at each other and ran for their shoes. Sure enough, they left the Wheelers’ basement, circled around the house, and found the blue Camaro waiting in the cul-de-sac. 

“Woah woah woah, what the hell is this?” Billy said hoarsely. He peered over his sunglasses at the teenagers filing into his backseat.

Max shoved a bottle of water towards him. “You’re not drinking enough, again.”

“Don’t bitch at me. Tell your friends to scram.”

“Are you really going over to Steve’s?” Will began.

“What do you know about Steve hanging out with my girlfriend?” Mike joined.

“Steve’s got a pool, right?” Lucas directed at Max.

Billy revved his engine with a sharp right turn, throwing all of them to one side of the car. Max held her head from where it had hit the window. “Cool it, you shouldn’t even be driving in the first place.”

“My blood did not turn black for this bullshit.”

The kids in the back stared out of the windows like Loch Nora was a safari tour. At the sound of the Camaro’s engine, Steve trotted down the slope of the lawn in swimming trunks with a towel around his shoulders, waving them through the gate.

Will and Lucas sprinted after him. Mike followed at a skeptical pace while Max lingered for Billy’s sake. No one noticed that Billy wore pink and turquoise swimming trunks that fit more to Steve’s taste.

Mike sure as hell noticed the red and purple, woven friendship bracelets that El and Steve wore, though. The pale, skinny nerd just stared, dumbfounded between Hopper floating contently over the pool, El laughing in a one-piece covered in hibiscus flowers, and Steve sitting at the foot of Billy’s lounge chair.

Then Robin strolled through the gate with a stack of pizza and chicken wing boxes. “All right, we ready? What are you doing, dweeb? It’s a 101 degrees out. Get wet.”

And shoved Mike Wheeler right into the pool.

[chandelier-s-notebook]

@the-only-gamer-gost‘s WritingTober Day 4: SleepyBoisInc

Set in @moonbowphobia‘s Heist Au. @octopus-defence-squad is also a creator of the Canon.

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

There was once a little boy, whose real name has been long since forgotten. He wishes. It would have been if he wasn’t forced to go to school. He’s out of school now, but that’s not when this series of events is set.

- - -

When he was nine he started stealing, borrowing, and bartering is way through life. He was a thief and a bandit. And a good one at that.

They called him Technoblade.

As the tales go: he was a one man show. He worked alone. He accomplished impossible heists. Too complex for only one person. But he managed. And he never got caught.

He was wicked good with anything that had circuit boards. And pray for the poor fool who got in to close quarters with him and forgot how good he was with that switchblade of his.

But that’s not truth. In truth, there were two boys in on the shenanigans.

Phil was Technoblade’s right-hand man. He was the one doing the backdooring. All Techno does is put in a chip, giving Phil access.

Funny how the bandit’s nickname is the part he doesn’t do.

- - -

Phil and Techno met in the first grade. Isn’t funny how he’s lost his birth name in his best friend’s mind? Phil had taken a liking to him immediately. Taking him under his wing. Making sure he was good.

Phil neverminded how much Techno stayed over at his place. He was astounded by the state of the orphanage his mate called home. And not the good kind. So was it a surprise when he didn’t bat when his friend ran away from that place?

If there was one good thing about their negligence, it was that they never unenrolled Techno from school.

- - -

Techno started his life of crime when they were in the fourth grade. His little nine year old stature helping him slip away from the scene.

He started to come to school less frequently. Phil started to worry.

It took three months for Phil it figure it out. It took him two weeks to realize that he couldn’t stop his friend. It took another three before he helped Techno plan his next heist.

Phil was the information guy. He pickpocketed the things Techno would need for things to go smoothly. Security badges, IDs, paperwork, a company laptop. He also made sure Techno had all the tools he’d need.

And he made sure that his mate got his school work when he stopped attending regularly. Made sure he knew when the tests were.

While in grade school, Techno did a lot of little jobs often. As they got into highschool he started to do bigger jobs less and less frequently.

- - -

Phil went to college. Technoblade lost his guy in the shadows. He still had his friend.

He had started to feel safe with Phil. A form of insurance. It was always nice to have someone on your side. So he stopped doing jobs.

He enrolled in college after a gap year with the money from that successful bank heist in tenth grade.

- - -

Phil became a middle school teacher straight out of college at twenty-four.

In his second year of teaching he had a familiar looking kid in his eighth grade class.

Thomas Gold. Why did he look familiar?

It wasn’t unless parent-teacher night, when his older brother came in that Phil made the connection.

Wilbur. Wilbur Gold. That kid that got Techno to come to school once a week, if only for the morning for half a year. He had a little brother. This little kindergartener who endeared himself to Techno when they were in the eighth grade was now a highschool senior.

But he needed to be professional. He couldn’t tell this kid that they had met before.

- - -

From then on he has a soft spot for Tommy and his best friend Tubbo. Even if he shouldn’t have favourites. Even if Tommy is a pain. Even if all the teachers agree that he is a bad influence on good kid Tubbo. Even though Phil knows that Tubbo is just better at hiding his chaos.

- - -

As a teacher, Phil has eyes on the back of his head and ears in the walls. But he pays special attention to these two boys.

For the other students safety. He tells himself. I’m not even lying to myself anymore. He ushers the class out of the sciene lab that Tommy and Tubbo have just filled with gas.

So he hears everything. Especially when he’s in the middle of a lesson and people are being quiet.

“So how do we get Technoblade to help us?”

Phil gets whiplash from out fast his head snapped to their conversation. Bitch. TF. Techno hasn’t been active for six years at this point.

Oh shit. Are these two the kids that have started painting the town red? Is Wilbur helping them?

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

Thx for reading. I hope you enjoyed. I have another little story below the cut if you feel like reading more. :)

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

[Enter Techno and Phil’s eighth grade teacher]

Pete was just about done with this boy only coming to class on test days and never anytime else, but who was passing every subject with flying colours. He just didn’t know what to do with him. He needed to talk to the kid’s parents.

He requested Techno’s guardian information. He called the orphanage listed and found that they hadn’t seen him in years at that point. And didn’t even lift a finger to do anything about that.

And this kid had to gall to show up after school the next day asking about that proposed interview with his ‘parents’. We wasn’t even in class that day!

Pete sat the boy down. “I don’t want to talk about your grades. I don’t need to talk about your grades. You get top marks. What I want to talk about is your attendance.”

“Attendance doesn’t affect your ability to pass until high school,” he fired back.

“But not going to school is a bad habit to create. High school is next year.”

“If I work now and save every penny, I’ll have enough money to sustain all the lost hours to school.”

“I,” Pete looked this kid up and down, noticing the heavy bags under his eyes. “We’ll get back to that.”

“Sure.”

“I want you to pass. You’re a smart kid. And it would be awful if you had to do this again. But your final mark isn’t all tests. It’s also participation, and homework.”

“I thought as much.” Then this kid. This damned kid. He opened his bag and pulled out a stack of paper. “Here’s all the homework from the school year so far.”

The school year was halfway done.

“I can hand in things I’ll miss on the days I come in.”

“Lord”

“If it makes you feel better I got eight hours of sleep last night. And I have nothing up my sleeves for participation.”

Pete makes an offer, “Group project.”

“No.”

“Reading buddies.”

“I don’t do children.

“You are a child.”

“I know.”

“Well you need to pick the lesser of two evils.”

The kid tilled his head. “How old?”

“The kindergarteners. Thursday mornings. Starting tomorrow.”

He mulled it over. “Fine, but if there’s no test I’m ditching.”

“I wouldn’t expect anymore from my best student.” Pete extends his arm for the kid to shake. “I’m keeping you to this promise.”

“Give me a nice kid?”

“Done.”

They both sat back in their chairs. Satisfied.

“Was there anything else Sir?”

“You know where I live?”

“Of course.”

Pete handed the boy ‘And Then There Were None’ by Agatha Christie. “You have the work packet for this.

“Yeah.” He turned the book over in his hands. “You handed it two weeks ago. I was going to the library this afternoon.”

“I want that book report on my desk Friday.”

“Home desk? Because you’re implying home desk right now.”

“I know.”

“Why can’t I give it to you tomorrow?”

“While I’m sure it’ll be done by then. Friday. Home desk.”

“Yes Sir.”

- - -

The boy walked into class the next morning.

Pete realized how much the other’s equated his presence with frantic last minute studying. He saw there terrified faces.

Pete hadn’t said anything about a test? Was there a pop quiz? How did he know? Why was he here?

But those were all forgotten about when Pete lead them down to the kindergarten room. He had given the boy the nicest kid, according the their teacher.

He didn’t even address the child. He took the biggest book from the shelf and started to read this giant animal encyclopedia to this child.

The soft brown haired boy was very immersed. He flipped right to the back of the book and made his buddie read about whales.

As soon as the hour was up, and Pete called time, he was out. He put the book away. Saying nothing to his buddies. And walked out the room, and presumably the building.

Pete had never seen a group of students so relieved to see the favouritism of letting a student ditch.

- - -

When Pete entered his house Friday afternoon, he was only mildly surprise to see his student on his couch watching his TV.

“You staying for dinner?”

“I thought that’s what you were implying when you told me I couldn’t hand it in yesterday.”

Pete left him to the TV.

~ ~ ~

When the next Thursday rolled around, he didn’t know who was more surprised when Techno showed up.

Him or Phil.

- - -

But Wilbur was sure happy to see his buddie after he left so abruptly last time.

[atlafan]

Take it Slow - Part Sixty-Three

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: TW. - THE R-WORD IS USED IN THIS PART! Fluff and Smut.

Masterpost (all previous parts can be found in the masterpost)

Sunday morning Harry got up to start editing the photos. He dug up an old album he never used so he could place them in there for you once they were printed. He wanted you to sleep so he could get everything done. The photos were incredible. He thought you looked stunning. He edited them so they were all black and white and touched up some other things. He started printing them when he heard you walking around downstairs.

“Harry?” You call for him sleepily.

“Up here babe, be down in a minute!”

Once the pictures are dry enough he fills up the album. He sees you curl up on the couch with a cup of coffee. He comes down and plops right next to you.

“They’re all done. Wanna see?”

“How early did you get up to do this?”

“Early…I was too excited.” He chuckles.

“Okay, lemme see.”

You lean into him and he opens the album. You mouth falls open when you look at the pictures. He did an amazing job.

“You’re so talented Harry, I actually like the way I look!”

“That’s all you, babe, you’re gorgeous.” You kiss him on the cheek.

“Oh my god!” You gasp at the ones of you touching yourself. “I’m not awake enough for this.” You laugh. “I’m gonna go put this away in my closet, okay? It’ll be easy for you to find while I’m away. Thank you so much for doing this for me.”

“Anytime.”

//

Your week with Mark was easier. He kept his distance as much as he could.

“So, you have a half day today?” He asks you Friday morning. He couldn’t help but look at your butt in your jeans.

“Yup, I have to pack and then my mom is spending the night with us so we can get to the airport easier tomorrow.” You pull some sheets of paper from a file folder. “Here’s what I’ll need you to work on next week while I’m gone. Niall has a copy too and he will be checking in.”

“I don’t need to be babysat. What do I do if I finish all this?”

“Go see Niall, he’ll have work for you.”

“Do you ever have fun here, like ever?”

“I have fun all the time, with Niall, because he’s my friend. You, Mark, are not my friend.”

“Yeah, you’ve made that plenty clear.” He huffs.

“Good, that was my intention.” You give him a fake smile.

“You could try to warm up to me, I’m not a bad guy. We’re going to be working together for a while longer.” You scoff at him.

“You burned your bridge with me a long time ago.”

“Are you sure that’s it? Or are you afraid your boyfriend will get jealous?”

“Harry? Jealous of you?” You start laughing. “What’s there to be jealous of?”

“A stable job, an actual future…”

“His job is very stable, he gets paid well, and-“

“Doesn’t he have to freelance?”

“He freelances because he loves what he does and he likes making people happy. He’s insanely talented.”

“Why not open his own studio then?”

“He will, it’s just not the right time, and…you know what? I don’t have to explain a thing to you.” You shake your head at him. “I’m leaving now, see you when I get back.” He follows you out of your office and you lock it. “You are not to go in here while I’m gone, understand?”

“Mhm.”

You say goodbye to Niall with a big hug and head out the door to your place. You had a lot of packing to do. Harry came home from work early so he could spend some time with you before your mom got there.

“Ah! Son of a bitch!” He hears you yelp and he runs into the bedroom.

“Y/N?!” He stops short when he sees you clutching at your stomach.

“Hi, sorry, I just can’t get my piercing out for some reason. It’s a little tender from the last time I changed it.” You groan. “Fuck it, I’m leaving it in. They won’t see it anyways.”

He comes over to the bed and picks up a couple of your swim suits.

“These are cute.” He holds them up to his body and makes a modeling pose.

“Give me that!” You giggle and snatch it from him.

“Do yeh need help with anythin’?”

“No these were the last few things.” You close the lid on your suitcase. “Actually, could you bring that down to your car for me?”

“You got it.” He kisses the top of your head and grabs the bag.

When he comes back up you both eat a quick dinner and he takes you into the bedroom.

“She’ll be here soon…”

“Let me just love on you for a little while.” He nuzzles into your neck. You can’t resist him when he’s like this.

He makes love to you…twice. You force yourselves out of bed when your mom texts you that she’s downstairs. You both go down to greet her and Harry takes her larger bag down to the car.

“It looks amazing in here! You both have done such an incredible job decorating.”

“Thanks mumma. The guest room is all made up for you.”

“Perfect, well, I think I’ll head to bed now since we have to be up so early, night kids.”

“Night!” You give her a hug and kiss and off she goes. You look at Harry. “We should go to bed too. We have to get up at like four.”

“Sounds good.”

He cuddles you all night, and you wouldn’t have had it either way. The three of you were quiet it in the car the next morning. It was far too early to speak. Harry takes the bags out of the car for the both of you. Your mom goes into the airport to give you both some privacy to say goodbye.

You wrap your arms around each other and you feel wetness from his tears on your neck.

“It’s only a week, seven sleeps. I’m back next Saturday night.” You say into his ear.

“I know, I’m just gonna miss my sweet baby girl so much.” He pulls back to look at you. You wipe his tears with your thumbs.

“And I’ll miss my doll. Just look at the pictures when you miss me. I’m not going to have a lot of access to the internet. Only at the timeshare really.”

“So I don’t need to be a good boy?” He smirks. You smile at him and shake your head.

“No, I won’t torture you.” You sigh. “Kiss me, I need to head inside.”

He kisses you, boy does he kiss you. Your head is spinning when he lets go of you.

“I love you so much, as soon as I have WiFi I’ll text you, okay?”

“I love you too, have a safe flight.”

He watches you walk in, and then he gets back into the car. This was going to be the longest week of his life.

//

You texted Harry as you could like you said, and you told him you were planning to unplug for a bit, other than posting a few pictures to your Instagram story. He took a nap when he got home, and woke up a few hours later. Him and Niall decided to grab a bite to eat together at their favorite diner.

“Sarah and I are goin’ out for our six month tonight, otherwise I’d invite you out for drinks tonight.”

“No worries, mate. What are the two of yeh plannin’ on doin’?”

“Takin’ her out for a nice dinner. She said she had a big surprise for me tonight and that she didn’t wanna be out too late.” He shrugs.

“Did you get anythin’ f’her?”

“Yeah, I bought her a new anklet, she loves wearin’ ‘em.”

“Oh, I bet she’ll love that. She stays at your place a lot, yeah?”

“Yeah, almost every night now.”

“Think you’ll ask her to move in soon?”

“I don’t know if she wants to leave Rachel just yet. Although, word on the street is that Mariah’s been stayin’ over quite a bit at their place.”

“They’re a match made. I might hang out with them durin’ the week. I’ve been thinkin’ more about my freelance work lately. I think if I were to ever go for it full time I’d ask Mariah to come with me. She could work with clients I didn’t have time more, plus, I genuinely trust her. Then, once we made a lot of money, I’d steal Isaac too. He’s the best receptionist.”

“You’ve clearly thought this through.”

“Here and there. I just enjoy working with people a lot more. It doesn’t even feel like work. And it would be nice to have my own schedule. Guess I could just get state insurance…”

“Or you could marry Y/N and just go on her insurance.” Niall jokes.

“Plannin’ on it, mate.” Niall nearly chokes on his food.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not sayin’ it’ll be tomorrow, but I think once she and I have been together for a year I’m gonna propose. We’re at eight months now.”

“Do yeh have a ring yet?”

“I have one in mind, yeah. There’s a jewelry store in London that I like. Saw what style of ring she likes. I’ve called the jeweler a couple of times. They have a site so I can essentially design it myself. I could pick it up this summer when I go home.”

“Harry…I…I’m so happy for you. I’ve never seen you like this with someone before. She’s really the one, huh?”

“She really is. I can’t explain it...I think I knew before I took her to meet my family that I wanted her forever, but that trip solidified how I felt. And I know she feels the same way. We’ve talked about it.”

“That’s great. I can’t picture her endin’ up with anyone else.” He smiles. “Not to change the subject, but I was thinkin’ you and I could go out for a boys night on Thursday.”

“Yeah! I’d like that. Been a while since just the two of us went for a drink.”

//

By Sunday night, Harry was already missing you too much and he decided to get the photo album out of your closet. A few glances couldn’t hurt. You had posted a few things to your story. He couldn’t wait to see your sun kissed skin when you got back.

As he was rummaging through the top shelf of your closet, he lost his balance and pulled down a box, and the contents spilled out.

“Shit.” He recognized the box…it was your special box that you used to keep under the bed. There were some new items still in a bag. He pick it up and his eyes widen. “What the…” He takes the cockring out and is genuinely shocked. “Was she plannin’ t’use this on me?” Then he grabs the box the butt plug was in. “Holy shit!” He smirks. “Does she wanna use this on me too? No fuckin’ way she wants this up her ass…”

Normally Harry would tease you about these things, but he figured you hid them for a reason. So he puts everything back and finds the photo album. He gets on the bed and does his pants while he looks at the pictures of you. Just as he was about to play with himself, his phone rang, and it was you.

“Hey baby!” Your voice was music to his ears.

“Hey! How’s vacation?”

“So good, I just came inside to grab some water so I thought I’d call quick.”

“Well, thanks for thinkin’ of me. How’s your Nan?”

“She’s great! She’s really happy my mom and I are here. We’re gonna go to a casino tomorrow, I’m excited. And Tuesday night is the night we’re gonna go dancing. I’ll have to send you some pictures.”

“Please do! I was lookin’ at some right now actually.” You blush.

“Harry!”

“What? You told me I could.”

“I guess that’s true…were you, um, you know?”

“Was about to...wanna help me along?”

“Hold on, let me go into the bathroom in case anyone comes in.”

He half expected you to say no. He hears you flip the bathroom fan on.

“Where is everyone else?”

“There’s a bonfire tonight.”

“Ah.”

“So…where were you?”

“Hadn’t event taken my pants off yet.” He chuckles.

“Okay, take them off then.” You were hushing your voice which was only turning him on more.

Harry adjusts his cock out of his pants and grips it.

“Rub the tip with your thumb like how I do, baby.”

He closes his eyes and just does as you say as you’re saying it. His top rubs over his thumb and he spreads the precome up his shaft.

“Now, I want you to-“ You go silent for a moment.

“Babe?”

“I’ll just be a minute, Nannie!”

And just like that his dick went limp at the thought of your grandmother.

“I’m so sorry, she knocked on the door, um, I-“

“It’s fine, I, uh, lost it.” You both giggle.

“I’ll try to call tomorrow, I gotta go. Apparently someone’s grilling and making drinks, so I need to get back out there.”

“Okay, have fun. Love you.”

“Love you too!!”

//

You did your best to send Harry pictures of your different tropical outfits. You did well to hide your naval piercing from your mom and grandmother. Thank god for high waisted shorts and pants. Your skin was getting more tan as each day passed. One more you all decide to take a trip downtown before going to the pool for the day. You only went to the beach at night due to how strong the sun was.

There was a jewelry store your Nannie loved going to. Your Papa would take her to it all the time, and you remember going when you were a senior in high school. He bought you the most beautiful bracelet for being the best baby in the world.

The three of you looked around. Not being someone who loved to wear jewelry, you were mostly looking for something to buy for Harry.

“Honey, can I ask, why don’t you just that ring resized?” Nannie asks.

“Harry bought me this chain so I could wear it like this. It looks more like a slide than a ring anyways. We both like it like this.”

“Alright.”

You had already gotten him the pearls, and lord knows he doesn’t need anymore necklaces or rings. What the fuck could you get him that he didn’t already have? As you continue to walk by everything, a particular ring catches your eye. It’s white gold and has a sunflower on it. If you were going to wear his rose, maybe he could wear your sunflower? Although, he already wore one on his skin every day for you. But something about the detail in the ring just made sense.

“Excuse me, I’d like to look at this one.” You say to the jeweler. He takes it out for you and you know you have to get for Harry. You give the jeweler his ring size and he tells you to come back the next day and it’ll be ready.

Your mom buys you a pair of studs for years and you put them in right away. The ones Harry had gotten for you months ago sat in your first holes, and the ones your mom just got you would sit in your doubles. They complemented each other perfectly.

//

Thursday night Harry went with Niall to a bar they hadn’t been to in a while. They were both excited to have a guy’s night.

“So, I never asked, how was the anniversary evening?” Niall’s face went red immediately. “What was her big surprise? Did she like the anklet?”

“She loved the anklet, yeah.” He takes a sip of his drink. “She bought me…some things.”

“What kinds of things?”

“Um…”

“Niall, I have fucked two separate women with you, I think you can tell me what Sarah bought you.”

“Okay, okay. She bought a cockring from some sex shop.” Harry nearly spat out his drink.

“They both them together?!”

“What?!”

“I found one in Y/N’s closet the other day. Still the packaging and everything, but still. So Sarah used it on you?”

“Well, yeah.” Harry smirks at his friend.

“How’d you like it?”

“It was…interesting. I use her vibrator on her all the time so she said she wanted to do the same to me or somethin’ like that. It was sorta nice for the both of us, but it was a lot to leave on for a while.”

“She actually lets you use it on her? Y/N said she’d feel weird, that’s why I was shocked when I found the other things she bought.”

“Things? What else was there?” Harry’s face heats up.

“There was, um, a butt plug.” He says quietly. Niall starts laughing.

“Think she wants to fuck your shit up a bit.”

“How do you know she doesn’t want me to use it on her?”

“Because Sarah got one too and she wants to use it on me before she lets me get in her like that.”

“Did she use it on you?!”

“Not yet…I told her I’d have to think about it. I don’t know how worth it is.”

“You should humor her, mate, trust me, it’s worth it. So tight.”

“Alright, alright.” They both laugh. They hear a ton of commotion from behind them. “Think there’s a bachelor party happenin’.” Niall says.

“Looks like it, yeah.” Harry squints. “Lad looks familiar, doesn’t he?”

Niall turns fully around to look at where Harry’s looking. His eyes grow wide.

“Where have seen him before?” Harry says.

“Harry, we should pay our tab and go somewhere else.”

“Why?”

“Because…that’s Jake.” Harry’s mouth falls open and then his jaw tenses. “We can’t cause a scene. I can’t believe that girl he was skating with is still going to marry him. Probably lied right to her face.”

Harry would never forget watching you self implode at the ice rink. He wanted to bash Jake’s head in.

“We can’t start a fight with him, we need to go.”

Harry nods and gets up. The two go up to the bar to pay their tabs. A few of the guys from the bachelor party bump into them, one being Jake.

“Sorry about that, our boy’s getting married this weekend, he’s a little out of it.”

Harry and Niall look in their direction, but don’t say anything. They look the three up and down and put their attention back on the bar.

…

Everything else was a blur. Harry wasn’t sure when his fist connect with Jake’s jaw, or when Niall pulled him off of him after nearly choking him out. He wasn’t sure when Jake got a swing in, but he knew his nose was bruised. Not broke, but definitely bruised. They were all thrown out of the bar.

“I should press charges! You threw the first punch! How am I supposed to explain this to my fiancé?!” Jake’s friends were trying to pull him away from Harry and Niall, but it was no use.

“You should press charges?!” Harry started laughing. “You’ve done far worse things. If anyone deserves to be locked up it’s you!”

“I have no idea who you are or what you’re talking about….wait a second…you both were at the ice rink that night. My fiancé almost broke up with me!”

“Good.” Niall says.

“Who are the two of you? She kept asking me what I did, but I had no idea what to tell her.” Jake’s friends let go of him as he’s calmed a bit. Niall and Harry look at each other.

“You raped my girlfriend a year and half ago.” Harry says bluntly.

“Raped?! I’ve never done something like that. Your girlfriend’s crazy if she told you something like that.”

“I could easily snap your neck in half, I wouldn’t talk about her like that if I were you.”

“Do you recognize this girl?” Niall pulls a picture up of you on his phone. Jake squints at it. Everyone was still really drunk. He felt hazy, but he nodded.

“Went out with her a few times, yeah. But I didn’t rape her.”

“Yes you did.” Niall says. “You fucked her until she bled out on her sheets.”

“Didn’t you see it on you when you pulled out?”

“I just thought maybe it was her first time or something.”

“You’d fuck someone that hard when you thought it was their first time?” Harry asks exasperated.

“It’s not like she told me to stop, thought she was enjoying it.” He shrugs.

“She was too fuckin’ scared to tell you to stop! You didn’t even ask her if she wanted to.”

“That’s her word against mine.” He crosses his arms.

“She threw up after she saw you at the ice rink, I don’t think she was exaggerating.” Niall says. “She’s got the bag with the sheets you know. Probably has plenty of your DNA still on it. All she has to do is press charges and your ass is done. So you should be very scared. Any day at any time your entire world could come crumbling down.” Niall looks at Harry. “C’mon, let’s go.”

The two walk away, leaving Jake and his friends stunned. Niall gets Harry inside your apartment, and get some ice into a rag.

“Did he break it?” He asks, pressing it gently to his nose.

“No, but it’s gonna leave a bruise. Feel sorry for him, probably gonna have an indent of my rings in his jaw for a week.” Harry takes the ice from Niall, and winces when he presses it a little hard to himself. “Y/N is gonna be so mad. I can’t lie to her about this.”

“Look, at least you weren’t arrested. It could’ve been worse.”

“I can’t believe you threatened him like that.”

“He ruined her life! I want him to know she could just as easily ruin his. He should be grateful she hasn’t.”

“And for him to say he didn’t rape her? What a fuckin’ lunatic.”

“Think you’re gonna have some dark circles under your eyes, mate.”

“Shit.” He sighs. “I don’t even remember hittin’ him.”

“I think he bumped into you again and you lunched at him.” He starts laughing. “I don’t think I’ve seen you reach your boilin’ point like that in a very long time.”

“I should call her.”

“It’s late.”

“She might be up, I need to call her.”

“Put it on speaker, maybe she’ll take it easier on you if she knows I’m here.”

“Good idea.”

//

You were eating some ice cream on the couch watching a move with your mom and Nannie after spending some time at the Casino. You couldn’t wait to show Harry his ring. Your phone goes off, and you’re sort of shocked to see him calling so late. You get up and go into your grandmother’s bedroom to have some privacy.

“Harry? It’s late babe, are you alright? I’m in the middle of a movie, I can’t help you along tonight.” You hear Niall burst out laughing. “Am I on speaker?! Is this a drunk call?!”

“Sorry, sorry, yeah you’re on speaker.” He swats at Niall. “I’m okay, but somethin’ not so chill happened tonight…”

“Like what?”

“We were at a bar…” Niall starts. “And there was this bachelor party happenin’, and, um…”

“Jake was there.” You freeze and walk further into the bedroom and into the ensuite.

“So what happened?”

“Well, we got up to leave.” Niall says.

“But him and his friends kept bumpin’ into us at the bar, and I lost my cool.”

“What does that mean Harry?” Your eyes were starting to water.

“I don’t know how it all happened because it happened so fast, but I hit him, and then I choked him. Niall got me off him, but he got a swing at my face, punched me in the nose. The bouncer threw us all out. No one called the police…”

“Oh my god! Are, are you alright? Did he break your nose?”

“No, it’s just bruised, love.” He tries to say softly to calm you down.

“Harry, you can’t just go around hitting people! You could’ve been arrested!”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry. It just happened.”

“What happened after you left the bar?”

“We…had some words.” Niall says.

“What kinds of words?”

“I threatened him…”

“He wouldn’t admit what he did to you was rape either.” You wince at the word and nearly vomit.

“You brought me up?! You both, you both are FUCKING IDIOTS! I, I don’t even know what to say right now.”

“We were comin’ from a good place-“

“Niall, I swear to god, just shut the fuck up.” You take a deep breath. “You both are so stupid! Were you all drunk too?”

“Yes.” They say in unison.

“Well that’s just great. Thanks so much for defending my honor. I’m so glad you called to tell me all of this at nearly one in the morning!”

“Would you rather I pick you and your mum up at the airport with a bruised nose with zero explanation?”

“What am I supposed to tell her?! You got into a bar fight? Yeah, that’ll go over really well. You better put some makeup or something over it.” There’s silence for a moment or two. “You both are alright?”

“Yes.” They say together again.

“Okay.” You sigh. “I’m going to get back to what I was doing, and try to calm down. I love you both, goodnight.”

Before they can say anything, you’ve hung up, and made your way back to the living area. Your mom and Nannie were looking at you with concern.

“Harry and Niall got into a fight with someone at a bar. They’re both fine, I can’t really get into it right now, so please don’t ask me about it.” You plop down next your mom, tears starting to burn your cheeks. She throws an arm around you and lets you cry into her. Your Nannie rubs your back to try to soothe you.

//

You soak up as much sun as you can the next couple of days. You were trying to keep your head clear. Mariah helped Harry buy and apply some makeup to make his bruises more subtle. He looked terrible, honestly.

“There.” She says, dabbing the last bit under his eyes. “Now you just look like you haven’t slept.” She smirks.

“Thanks.” He throws everything into a bag. “I hope I can remember how to do all this on my own tomorrow.”

“You said she told her mom right?”

“Yeah, but it looks so much worse than it is, I don’t want them to worry even more.”

“You’re lucky it didn’t break.”

“I know. I wish he would just move across the country or somethin’.”

“Yeah, but he’s not. You can’t just throw down every time you happen to bump into him.”

“Obviously.”

“Jesus, H, you look like shit.” Myk says walking into his office. “Are you wearing makeup?”

“This is why I usually work from home on Fridays.” He groans. “And yes I am, nothin’ wrong with a man wanting to cover some blemishes.”

“A blemish, or a bruise?” She squints at him. “What happened?” She actually looks concerned.

“I got into a little…scrap last night, okay?”

“Are you alright?”

“As if you care, Myk.”

“I do!” Her eyes soften. Mariah stands there awkwardly looking back and forth to the two of them.

“Well…I’m fine. Looks worse than it feels.”

“You should just go home for the rest of the day, I’m sure Chris won’t care.”

“I don’t need to go home, I’m fine.” He looks at the two of them. “Really, it’s all good. Shoulda seen the other guy.”

“Did you have your rings on when you hit him?” Mariah asks.

“Course I did.”

“And he’s not pressing charges?” Mykenzie asks.

“I don’t think he will be, no.” He sighs. “It’s fine.”

“Does your girlfriend know?” Myk asks.

“I called her the night it happened. She wasn’t thrilled. She’s really worried about me, but she’s less angry now.”

“Why did you-“

“Enough with the questions please! The two of yeh are givin’ me a headache. Maybe I will go home.”

He grabs his things and heads out, leaving them both there. He just wants you home with him. He wants to apologize in person for starting something that didn’t need to be started. It was the longest week of his life, and he missed you so much he could cry. In fact, he did a couple times.

//

Harry spent the day Saturday doing all the chores you usually did together. He wanted the place to be spotless for your return. He was to pick you up the airport around six. Your sister would be picking your mom up. He dabbed some of the makeup on under eyes and around his nose just in case your mom was still with you when he picked you up.

You hugged your mom goodbye after you both got your luggage. You were exhausted. You couldn’t fall asleep on the plane, and there was a lot of turbulence so your stomach felt like shit. You were just happy you had a good time and a good tan. You waited out on the curb and looked for Harry’s car. He spots you and waves excitedly, almost forgetting he’s in trouble.

He throws the car in park and gets out. He picks you up and spins you around and you throw your arms around him. Tears prick at the both of your eyes for different reasons. He sets you down, cups your cheeks in his hands and kisses you. Suddenly you forget any ill feelings you had. His lips on yours was like pure heaven after being deprived for a week. A few cars beep at you, so Harry puts your bag in the trunk and off you go.

“Doesn’t look so bad…” You finally say.

“I, uh, put some make up on over it. It looks a lot worse than it feels.” He sighs. “Do you really wanna talk about this now? I’d much rather hear about your trip. Your face is so tan! You look great, babe.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it all actually…and thank you.” You put your hand on his thigh. “What’s done is done.” He nods.

“Are yeh hungry? Want me to stop somewhere quick on the way home?”

“No, I had a sandwich on the plane. I’m desperate for a shower. We went to the pool this morning and I didn’t have time to rinse off before we packed up.”

“Alright.”

Harry gets you home, and helps with your bag.

“So they didn’t notice your piercing?”

“No they did.” You laugh.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He laughs with you.

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “My mom noticed it right away and it was whatever. My Nannie was like at least it’s not a tattoo. So I was able to wear more of my two pieces, I’m glad I packed some.”

You start taking your clothes off and he follows you into the bathroom.

“Holy shit.” He looks you up and down. “You really got some sun.”

“Mhm, I’m crispier than a chicken nugget, and I love it. I didn’t wear makeup all week either, my skin is so happy right now.” You step into the hot water and Harry sits up on the sink counter. He didn’t feel like showering, but did feel like continuing to chat.

“Did yeh win any at the casino?”

“Mostly just broke even. It was a lot of fun though. I’ll have to show you some of the pictures I took.”

Harry gets up and grabs an envelope from his dresser that he’s been waiting to give you. You get out of the shower and wrap a towel around you.

“God I feel so much better.” He has a huge smile on his face. “What?”

“Here, got his a while ago, thought you should know.”

“Is this a bribe so I don’t stay mad about you getting into a bar fight?” You smirk.

“Nope. You can be mad as long as you want, I know it was stupid.”

“I almost wish I could see what you did to him.” You shake your head and take the envelope. You open it up and gasp, clapping a hand over your mouth. “Harry!” You beam at him. “When did you…”

“Bought ‘em the second they went on sale. Fifth row, dead center.”

“Oh my god! We’re going to see the Weeknd?!”

“Happy very early birthday, babe.”

You throw your arms around his neck and hold him tight.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I’m so excited!” You  kiss him on the cheek. “Will you hold onto these?”

“Yup, I’ll stick ‘em back in my dresser.”

You go into your carry on and rummage in it, pulling out a black box.

“I got you a little something while I was away.” You hand him the box.

“You didn’t have to do tha’…”

“Just open it.”

He opens the box and sees the sunflower ring. His jaw drops and he looks at you.

“Way too expensive.”

“Oh well, can’t return it now. Try it on. I got it for the size of your middle finger.”

Harry takes one of his rings off and puts it on. His nails were recently painted pastel purple for the Easter holiday. He loved the way the white gold contrasted with it.

“So…you were at the store, saw this, and thought of me?” He asks without looking at you, fixated on the ring.

“Mhm. I thought since I wear your favorite flower, you could wear mine. Not everyone can see your tattoo. Do you…do you like it?”

“Like it?” His eyes were glossy. “I love it!”

He comes over to you and cups your cheeks his hands and kisses you. Your hands go on his hips.

“M’never takin’ it off.” He says against your lips. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip and you open up for him. His tongue molds with yours and moan into him right away. “Miss me a little?” He whispers.

“Missed you a lot.” You look up at him. “I barely slept most nights.” You pout.

“You’ll sleep good tonight, I’ll make sure of it.” He undoes your towel and lets it pool at your feet. “I can’t get over these tan lines.” He says, cupping your breasts.

You tug at the hem of his shirt and he takes it off. He undoes his pants as you sit back on the bed.

“I can’t, um, go down on yeh unfortunately, as much I really want to. Nose it too sore.”

“It’s okay. Your fingers aren’t sore, right?” You smirk and he bites his bottom lip.

“Nope.”

He crawls on the bed and you part your legs for him. He sucks two fingers into his mouth and grazes them against your folds.

“Did you look at the pictures while I was gone?”

“Yes.” He blushes as he rubs circles on your clit. “More than I’d like to admit.” You giggle.

His fingers push inside you, and curl up. Your head rolls back and your mouth falls open. He really wants to lick you, but he knows he would end up nose deep and that was just not good for his health at the moment. He pumps in and out of you and hit that sweet spot inside.

“Fuck, Harry.” You breathe as your eyes roll into the back of your head. “That’s it right there.”

He pumps faster. Your nails dig into his shoulders. He can feel you clenching around him, wanting to clamp your legs together, but he keeps them spread apart. Your back arches and you moan his name again as you release onto his fingers. He sucks them back into his mouth to at least get a little taste of you.

Harry wondered when you’d wanna break out the new toys. He desperately wanted to ask, but he knew you must have hid them for a reason and he didn’t want you to feel embarrassed.

“Lay back doll, I wanna ride you.”

Harry smiles and does what you say. He sits up against the head board and you crawl onto his lap. You wrap your hand around his dick and play with his top with your thumb. You kiss him, slipping your tongue into his mouth. He groans against you as you stroke his dick. You raise your hips slightly and slowly lower yourself onto him. You both groan with satisfaction.

“You feel so good.” You say into his ear. “So snug.” You raise and lower on him until you find a good rhythm. You nibble on his earlobe and his hands slide to your ass to help you move faster on him.

“Missed you so much, fuck.” He practically whimpers when you tighten and loosen around him a few times. He grits his teeth as he thrusts up into you, the both of you moving in sync together.

“Tell me how good it feels, Harry.” You say into his ear with a whisper.

“Feels so fuckin’ good.” His fingers press harder into your ass. “You’re so fuckin’ wet.” One his hands moves to rub your clit and you sink your teeth into his neck.

“God, fuck me up Harry.” Both of his eyebrows raise. You clench around him and your second release comes.

He doesn’t give you time to recover before your face down on the bed, and he’s entering you from behind. He pulls your hips back. You move your ass back against him in sync with his thrusts so you can feel him as deep as you possibly can. You’re propped up on your elbows with your back arched.

“Alright?” He grunts.

“Yes! Don’t stop, you’re hitting it.” You grip at the blankets, making your knuckles go white. He was hitting your g-spot with such ferocity you knew you’d be coming again soon.

He has one hand on your hip and the other on the back of your neck. He was absolutely railing you, and it felt amazing. You had sex like this all the time when you were in college, before the anything bad happened to you.

The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin. To put it bluntly, your cheeks were getting clapped. You could feel his balls slapping against you and it was making you go cross eyed.

“Harry!” You moan.

“Gonna come again?”

“Yes! Fuck, yes.”

“Go on, Y/N, come for me.”

Your back arches more and he grips the back of your neck so hard he’s yanking your back to him. One arm snaking between your breasts to hold you steady, and the other moving to rub your clit. Your head rolls back on his shoulder. You’re panting and gasping as you come. It was so intense your vision went blurry.

“Can I bend you over the bed?” He says, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. You gasp at the feeling.

“Yes.”

You both get off the bed, and he bends you over it. He slips back inside you with ease.

“Fuck.” He moans. He rocks in and out of you, his hands clinging to your hips.

“Harry, please come, fill me up.”

He thrusts quicken and grow sloppy. Your back arches when you feel his warm come sput inside you. He collapses on top of you when he finishes. You feel him pull out and his release drips down your thighs. His weight on you felt amazing, and you didn’t want him to leave. You whimper when he gets off of you.

“M’gonna get a rag to clean yeh up.” He says softly. He returns quickly and crouches behind you to clean you up. “They yeh go.” He throws the rag in the hamper. You stand to face him and your legs feel like jello. “You were amazing, you know that?” He kisses your forehead.

“M’so tired.” You rub your eyes like a child.

“Time for bed then, yeah?” It was only a little after eight.

“You don’t mind going to bed so early?”

“You’re finally home, of course I don’t mind.” He chuckles. “Go do your thing, I’m gonna get settled in.”

You walk into the bathroom and do your routine. You get into the bed and snuggle up to Harry. You take turns all night spooning each other. You both wanted to be held by the other. Eventually you passed out with his head on your chest. It was perfect.

[imagining-supernatural]

The First Week

Part 8 of Seventy Percent

Series Summary: When you left on your trip to Vegas, you’d planned on letting loose for one last weekend before heading back to reality and getting your affairs in order so your best friend wouldn’t be left cleaning up your mess when your cancer finally ended your life. What you hadn’t counted on was waking up married to a celebrity who has a knight-in-shining-armor complex, connections with an oncologist, and amazing insurance…

Chapter Summary: You’re wearing down physically and mentally from the cancer treatment and Sebastian is the only person around to take the brunt of your exhaustion

Word Count: 2019

The city passed by from the back of the hired car, but you couldn’t revel at the awesome sight that was New York City.

And you hated that.

You were in New York Fucking City.

The Big Fucking Apple

You hadn’t even been here a week yet. You should be enjoying this. You should be marveling at the landscape. The skyline. The history and art and people. You should be smiling damn it!

But all you could think about was the guest bed waiting for you on the other side of the ride.

Not even your own bed. A fucking guest bed.

“I thought we could order some food in when we get home,” Sebastian said. “Something with fresh vegetables. Maybe some chicken.”

“Sounds good,” you muttered, still staring blankly out the window.

“I was also thinking I could invite some strippers over. Since it’s Friday night, you know. Try to cheer you up a bit. Get you—”

“I’m listening, Seb. Chicken sounds good. Strippers sound exhausting and unnecessary. My pillow sounds even better.”

He grunted and went back to whatever the fuck he was doing on his side of the car.

“You can go do your own shit, you know. Go out with friends. Whatever. I can handle myself.” Now you looked over at him, hoping to convince him. “Ever since Monday, it seems like every single minute of your day has revolved around me.”

“And when I leave to film, I can—”

“When you leave to film, you’ll be Bucky fucking Barnes. Go. Be yourself. Tonight. I’m probably going to fall asleep in, like, ten minutes anyway.” As if to prove your point, you yawned. “This treatment is no joke.”

He made a noncommittal noise before turning his attention back to his phone. With a humph, you turned back to your window.

You’d warned him. While you hadn’t expected your bitchiness to show up in the third day of treatment, you weren’t entirely surprised.

And you’d warned him.

If he wanted to cut you off, you wouldn’t blame him. You’d sign the annulment papers. Or divorce papers. Whatever was placed in front of you, you’d sign it.

Or, if he dropped you off at his apartment and flew down to Georgia early to get a feel for the studio or whatever actors did, you wouldn’t blame him either.

The hired car pulled into the underground garage and stopped right by the elevators. Sebastian got right out, but you released a deep sigh before trying to build your energy. Dr. Sharpe and Dr. Chowdhury hadn’t been kidding when they said this treatment was intense. It was so intense that you were starting to think they overestimated how well you could handle this. Maybe they missed something on your labs and films. Your cancer was too far progressed. This was all an exercise in futility.

Your door opened to Sebastian holding his hand out to you.

Blowing out a breath, you took his hand, swung your legs out of the car, and started to stand up, only to have your knees give out and send you falling back into the car.

Eyes screwed closed, it took a moment to threaten the tears back. By the time you felt in control again, Sebastian was swooping you up into his arms.

“I can wa—”

“You cannot walk and so help me God, if you try to tell me that you can, I will call your friend and have her yell at you.”

He was right. It was annoying how often he was right in the five days that you’d known him. You didn’t have the energy to argue, so you just tucked your head into his shoulder and gave in.

“How do you feel about Chinese? Some steamed vegetables, orange chicken, and brown rice?”

“Orange chicken might be too much spice right now. I learned from chemo that, uh, spices do not go well with the fuckin’ atomic toxins they inject into my body. I’m on a bland food diet for time being.”

“Alright,” he nodded, shifting his hold on you to push the elevator button. “I’ll channel my inner, middle-aged, white-mom Karen who thinks that salt is a spice.”

That sparked a weak laugh from you. “Sounds perfect. Not too much salt, though.”

There were a few weeks until Sebastian had to leave to start filming his show. You had assumed he would check in on you, make sure you were doing okay, maybe spend some of his free time with you, but that he would go about his life as normal.

You were wrong.

He switched his schedule around to match yours. He worked out while you were getting your infusions, spoke with his agent during your shorter hospital visits for a shot or two, ran errands while you were napping… He was so fucking thoughtful.

And annoying.

Not only had Sebastian channeled his inner-Karen for your bland-food diet, but he also channeled his inner grandmother in the way he was constantly shoving food in your face, insisting that you have to eat to keep up your strength. He even went so far as to schedule a meeting with the hospital dietician and Dr. Chowdhury to make sure his diet plans gave you everything you needed, and nothing you didn’t. You��d never eaten this well in your life.

Despite your fully balanced diet, you were still exhausted most of the time. You’d thought that you were prepared for the intensity of this treatment, but there was no way to fully prepare for this. You were two weeks in and it still felt like it was getting worse. By this point in your chemo, you felt like you were starting on the upswing.

But you were still falling asleep before the movies that you and Sebastian watched together even began. You could barely finish your food before needing to lay back and rest. You would try to read a book, but you were barely ten pages in because every time you sat down to read, you ended up passing out. Any spare energy you had was spent trying not to be a bitch to the people around you.

Which is how you found yourself waking up from where you’d fallen asleep with your head in Seb’s lap. The TV was black, movie having ended.

“What are you—Is that my phone?” When you twisted around to look up at Seb, you were confused by your phone case in his hand. You’d given him your passcode, as a safety precaution, so you weren’t confused by how he got onto your phone, just why he was.

“Jasmin called twice, so I texted her to let her know why you weren’t answering.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“And then we kept talking. She’s really curious about who I am.”

“And really bad at keeping secrets.”

“I know. Just think about what she’s told me about you in the last half hour I’ve been texting with her.”

“Everything she told you about our senior year in high school is fake. She got a bad concussion the summer before and her memory of that entire year is shit. So, don’t believe any stories she tells you.”

His fingers scratched along your hairline. “Mmm, I’ll have to remember to ask her about those stories. This time she mostly divulged secrets for keeping you happy during this treatment.”

“Secrets like make sure Y/N always has access to chocolate and she’s going to want to stop treatment and run away to Paris. Help her plan, then when she thinks this is actually going to work, tell her there is no way in hell you’re letting her do this and crush her dreams. I’m sure she’ll forgive you eventually, but she hasn’t forgiven me for that yet so I can’t really tell you when.”

“Paris?”

“Yeah. I’ve always wanted to see the Eiffel Tower. Go to the Seine River and be surprised by how bad it smells. For some reason, places you think will smell normal always smell bad. You ever been to Yellowstone?”

That earned you a laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind. She did touch on the chocolate thing, though.”

“What else?”

“When you start to feel better, apparently I’m supposed to convince you to dye your hair, or get a hair cut or something. I didn’t understand that one.”

“It’s just what I do. When I need a pick-me-up, I do something to my hair. Switch things up.”

“Noted. She also said, and I think this is her way of playing matchmaker from all the way across the country, but she said that you won’t ask or initiate physical touch, but you always seemed better when you cuddled with her. So apparently I’m supposed to cuddle with you whenever humanly possible.”

Of course, you thought. That was so Jasmin. After a quick, light laugh, you pulled yourself up to a sitting position, leaning on the other side of the couch. “God, Jasmin. She’s something else.”

“So she was wrong about that?”

“I—” You wanted to say yes. You didn’t want him to feel obligated to move your friendship to any kind of physical level, beyond him carrying you up a set of stairs, or falling asleep with your head in his lap. But you couldn’t lie.

So you just had to find a way to change the subject.

“She wasn’t wrong about me not initiating contact. I had a pretty tough life growing up, so touch is hard for me. Especially with people I’m around a lot.”

He nodded thoughtfully, shifting so he was facing you more with his knee on the cushion and arm along the back of the couch. “So, in Vegas…”

“One night stands are great because you don’t have to worry about forming any sort of connection. No feelings. Just… It’s just fun and done. It doesn’t hurt.” The subject change seemed to have worked, but now you were in depressing territory. Time for another shift. “So you went and fucked that all up by insisting we stay married.”

He scoffed and playfully said, “Well, sorry for saving your life.”

“Yeah, you’re just the worst,” you responded with an exaggerated eye roll. Eyes locked on his, you couldn’t help but offer him a soft smile. “Thank you, though. I don’t think I’ve said it outright how much this means to me.”

“Y/N, you don’t—”

“Shut up and let me be serious for once. I’m complimenting you. Just let me.”

A grin toyed with his lips as he held his hands up in surrender.

“Good. I know I’ve been a bit of a bitch lately, but I’ve tried extra hard not to be because… you’ve done so much for me. I have never met anyone who would help out a complete stranger like you’re helping me and I have a really hard time telling people thanks, or how much I appreciate them, but I need you to hear it. I…” You had to pause and take a deep breath because you were starting to get choked up. “Just, thank you, Seb.”

The air was charged as your eyes stayed locked. Sharing emotions was never your strong suit, and now you had no idea what to do, what to say…

“Come over here,” he softly said, opening his arms.

“Seb, you don’t have to—”

“Get over here, Y/N.” When it was clear he wasn’t going to relent, you gave in and let him fit you in his arms. Once the footrest was popped out and a blanket was pulled over the two of you, he grabbed the remote and opened Hulu. “You’re going to let me hold you and we’re going to watch Brooklyn 99, because Jasmin also said that’s your favorite show.”

Your silence was your agreement, but it wasn’t until Jake Peralta was assigned to the records room in the pilot episode that you finally accepted the broken boundary of physical touch and relaxed into Sebastian’s arms. You wrapped your arms around his waist and let your head lay on his shoulder. “Thank you, Seb.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N/N.”

Things seem to be going well now! They’re getting along, treatment is getting easier to manage... everything is going to stay this nice, right? Right??

Part 9: The First Check-In

[golgoterror]

actually no i’m gonna vent real quick bc this sucks. all of it sucks. i’ll probs delete this later but fuck it.

for those of you who don’t know, i just graduated university in physics and math. the next logical step for me would be to get a job. which i cannot do because of the pandemic. well, i do have a job. i work as a butcher, mostly in seafood. that’s not related to physics at all, which is disheartening. i can’t seem to get a job in physics because the job market is so horrible. which is not fun. i need insurance mostly. and like, decent pay would be nice, but mostly the former, because i have a lot of medical issues. because i’m in canada, a good deal is free if you don’t have insurance and are under 25, but not things like dental or vision care. not that i really need either of those right now (i just got new glasses today, given i’m still covered until sept 1st, and my teeth are fine, relatively speaking. minus the fact i should have had braces but we were poor, so they’re a bit misshapen, and my incisors are pegged, but my wisdom teeth aren’t growing in most likely and i’m not in any pain so whatever. one day i plan to fix my teeth tho.) but i’d rather have access to those things just in case? i think that would be good.

this isn’t to say i’m struggling financially. my mother’s lawsuit for damages after she was in a car accident that left her permanently disabled when i was sixteen came to a close right before the pandemic closed the country, and i got a good deal of money, which i am so fucking thankful for, my god. i can afford therapy. i have the money in case i need emergency medical attention. not to mention, i do have a job, it’s just temporary and not in the field i spent four years studying for. 

i don’t know how to segue so let’s talk about my mom. in june, she sent me a barrage of messages, wherein she called me a “selfish, spoiled little bitch” and “the biggest disappointment in her life”. she forwarded me a message where her therapist calls me cruel and the pair were both transphobic towards me, using she/her pronouns and calling me her “daughter”. (i am genderfluid and am currently aligned as a demiboy.) she said other crap too, but i’m not going to dig it up to get specifics. i’d rather not read it again. she finished it off by saying if she killed herself, it would be my fault. all because i’m too scared to call her regularly because she treats me this way. 

she then sent me a good-bye message. in a panic, since she has no friends and my family want nothing to do with her (understandably so; she treats them the way she treats me), i called the cops. she was fine. 

she then messaged my friend, hoping to pass on a message that i had to call her that day or i’m dead to her. my friend said to not contact her again, and my mom deleted the facebook she made under a fake name to send it. i didn’t call her. she then accused me of using her for the money i got from the lawsuit and demanded i give it to her, but then changed her mind shortly after. after gaslighting me a few times, of course.

i’m shaking as a type this. the level of abuse i faced at her hands makes me sick. i’m sick of being depressed because of it. i’m sick of being unable to make friends easily because of it. i’m sick of being scared of people because of it. i’m mad at relatives and teachers for seeing the abuse and doing fuck all about it. i’m mad that someone let her raise a kid. i’m mad my parents even got together in the first place. and the sad part is, i idolized her. my dad wasn’t around, so i sort of viewed her as a strong single parent doing her best. my autism made me feel she had to be a bit harsher than most parents towards me. now i know better. 

this is all to say i finally had enough and blocked her. she cannot contact me anymore. i doubt she has tried to. i’m dead to her and she is effectively dead to me. which i probably should have done years ago, but better late than never. 

both of these things have made me so depressed. when i’m not working, i’m looking for jobs or contemplating grad school, or just lying in bed thinking about how much life sucks. 

the political climate sucks. i know i’m canadian and not american but we have similar issues up here. i’ve heard horror stories of police brutality against my relatives. for those who don’t know, my father is russian (crimean specifically) and my mother is indigenous canadian (mi’kmaq). i hate the police. i’ve always hated them, especially since i witnessed something and was treated like garbage during the legal process by them. i regret calling them when my mom threatened suicide. but there was nothing else to do. the fact they’re my only resort is terrible. the police treat natives like garbage and i’m sure it’s similar in the US. and the stories and videos that i see online and all the racism is just heartbreaking. opening the news is heartbreaking. and i feel like i can’t really do much to help. 

it feels like the world is ending. i feel so hopeless! (ironic given who i rp.) it doesn’t seem like things are going to get better, both in the world and in my personal life. i was so excited for this year. i was going to graduate and get a job, y’know. get my own place. have a small garden where i grow cucumbers and peppers. maybe get a pet dog. and then this happened. and i feel a bit selfish complaining about it, because i know we had to do this to keep everyone safe, but i can’t help but feel robbed. this was the year my life was going to start. i was going to be happy. all i’ve gotten is a job as a butcher and my mother abandoning me. i volunteer at a homeless shelter too, so i guess i have that going for me as well. 

i just hope 2021 is kinder. i almost want to fast-forward to it. wake up tomorrow five years in the future when i have all my shit sorted out. 

[prorevenge]

Biological mother tries to cause me emotional termoil so I take what she believes gives her 'value'. Her man.

So, a little bit of back story here. I didn't grow up in the best environment. I've seen/experienced some crazy things, so of course, I have some wild stories. My biological mother is quite frankly one of the worst people on the planet. I suffered physical and mental abuse from her. She is addicted to methamphetamine and is Christian but with a touch of insanity. She believes that she is a saint, yet, she can't get the Bible right. For instance, I was originally supposed to be right handed but because of her deluded belief she thought that was the devils hand, so she put a sock on my right hand and forced me to write with the left and would hit my right hand with a metal ruler if I tried to use it. I'm sure many of you know that the left hand is actually the devils hand, ironic really. Luckily, the last time I ever saw her was when I was 10. At 16, 5 years after I had been adopted, she found me on facebook and I tried to give her a chance but she barely talked to me and never apologized for anything so I left it at that, we don't have a relationship.

Fast forward some years, I've just turned 20 and I'm making my first big move. I moved several states away from the one state I lived in my entire life, I always desperately wanted to leave because of the constant reminder that she was only 1 hour away from me. I went to meet my biological father and his side of the family and agreed work with him, they are amazing people. I got to live in a big city, have a cool trendy but very dangerous job, and party with the rich people on week nights, I. was. living. it. up. My dad stood back, let me have fun, and made sure I was safe all while posting me on his social media doing events and showcasing the product I made that he helped me design. You know, being a proud father at the fact that I was interested in his profession and with his help actually made a successful product. My biological mother was on his social media and saw it all, after almost a year of it I guess she finally lost it. I had no idea she knew where I was or what I was doing because I didn't have her on any of my social media but that all changed. She found my Instagram and sent me a private message, what I would endure was enough to send me off the rails. The first message I got was telling me about how much of an ungrateful bitch I was, that I ruined her life and she should have killed me when she had the chance, and that I asked for/deserved everything that was done to me in her care. I, of course, defended myself telling her that she doesn't know a damn thing about me, that she couldn't tell me what I was or wasn't, and that she was no mother of mine.

Here comes the disturbing part, she accused me of sleeping with my own father. I was disgusted and I actually felt sick to my stomach having to read something that messed up. And that is when the anger really took over, she never spent a day in prison for the crimes she committed against me (everytime she got arrested, she'd rat on her dope cook which resulted in her getting released) and I was out for revenge. I wanted to take what gave her value and I know this woman better than anyone. She believes that what gives her value is having a man, and I took him from her. Yes, I know it sounds bad but trust me, it's not what you think.

Let me explain.

Because she messaged me on Instagram I obviously had access to hers, mine was private just in case she decided to try to re-enter my life. Her's, on the other hand, was wide open and I could do all the snooping I wanted, and that I did. I no longer had Facebook but my dad mentioned that he did. So, I did the obvious, get on his account to see if they were friends, they were, more snooping. I found out a few things. 1. She had a boyfriend that she flaunted and 2. He has three beautiful little blonde haired, blue eyed girls. They were all living in my deceased grandfather's house. Now I couldn't remember the address so I went to Google Street view, typed in the town and looked at every church there until I came across the one I knew all too well, directly across the street from my grandpa's house. The street view blurred the address on his mailbox but it didn't blur the church's so I was able to figure it out. And this is when my plan sets in motion.

I convinced my dad to pretend to be an "uncle" that was "worried" about my "mental health" and of course worried about the safety of those 3 beautiful little girls, which I did truly worry about. If she could do the things she did to me, her own daughter, who knows what she was doing to those 3 girls that weren't hers. I had him call the CPS department that handled my case.

Surprisingly after 10 years they still remembered me but more importantly they remembered my biological mother. I listened in and whispered in my dad's ear the entire time. I had him play the "uncle" because I was afraid that if it was me and my dad against her, they would suspect collusion, so "worried uncle" was the perfect 3rd party. We told them EVERYTHING. Every disgusting message she sent me and I could hear them typing it all into the computer, we also made sure that they knew that I went through a closed adoption and that I get to decide whether or not I'd like a relationship with her, that I do not want that, so she was not only breaking the law by contacting me but she was also doing it in a harassing manner.

After the long talk about the messages, the lady asked my "uncle" if there was anything else she should know about. And this is where I took her man. I made sure my dad told them my grandfather's address, her boyfriend's name, and that he has his three little girls living there with her. We voiced our concerns about the safety of those children, stating "she abused her own daughter to the point that the state had no choice but to take her one last time, to insure the little girls survival", and that "she isn't allowed to be around children". To which the CPS lady responded, "you're right, she's not allowed to be around children. We will be out to that location as soon as possible".

The next day, the all photos of her boyfriend and his 3 little girls were deleted from all of her social media accounts. I spent 11 years in the system so I didn't have to be there to know what happened but just in case you don't. I'll tell you how it went. A social worker showed up to the house, asked to speak to the father, to which they then informed him that his children were at risk living with my bio mom, that she's not allowed to live with children, and that if he didn't vacate his children from the property immediately they would be forced to take them into protective custody. He, like any good father would do, left that day with his children.

The good news, she has not contacted me since, and the best part about it is that I know that she knows, I'm the one that fucked it up for her. I took what gave her 'value' and there's not a damn thing she can do about it.

(source) story by (/u/anonymousperson02)

[iamkatehardy]

Shots (Handsome Bob x Reader) Pt 1

Tags: @tiredoffeelinglost, @eap1935, @ellar21, @but--dear-this-is-not-wonderland, @titty-teetee , @sparklyreaderx , @iv-nyc 

Warnings: mentions of weaponry, meantions of death.

A/N: Ok, writing about a new character is a challenge, so feedback is specially appreciated 😜 

I’m doing 2 parts, so it doesn’t get too long/boring for you! This one is about shots in business, the next one will be all about other kind of shots... Multiple kinds of shots actually ( aka Bob smut) 😏

Shots - Pt1

You tapped the fingers impatiently on the worn table, as your eyes scanned the terrible familiar room; it was just as messy as when you last saw it, but far more devoid of people than it used to be. Was this what the Wild Bunch had become, while you were incarcerated?

The silence was broken by the sound of men’s voices, coming closer and closer.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the three stooges…” – Crossing your arms, you got up, pacing around the room and giving them a sideways smirk. – “You better have a good reason to call me here; I’m a busy girl, these days...” – You walked over to them, leaning forward greet them. – “Mumbles… One Two… Chauffeur…”

“That’s Handsome Bob…” – Mumbles introduced the younger man.

“I’m sorry, what?” – You didn’t even try to contain your laugh at that. – “Since when have the gangster nicknames come to this?“ – You asked with a teasing voice.

“Do you have a better one?” – Good-humored even in his annoyance, Bob asked.

“Actually , I do… “ – Lips scarcely an inch from his ear, you whispered, before turning on your heel. – “But after I served my time, it wouldn’t be good to call me by that name in public, Handsome. (Y/N) will do, or Gorgeous (Y/N), suit yourself. “ – A cocky smile flashed on your lips, and you turned to the other two.- “ Now, I bet you didn’t call me here to catch up, or to introduce me to your driver…So, let’s get down to business?”

The men took a big wooden box off the closet behind you, putting it over the table, and opening it with crowbars. You examined the content cautiously, sliding your finger across it.

“May I?” – Your gaze shifted from the box to the men, and One Two nodded an acknowledgment. – “Neat!”

“Be careful with that!” – Bob placed his hand on yours, as you took the gun out of the box.

“I’m a superb marksman, meaning can handle these babies blindfolded, if needed.  My gangster nickname is Deadshot… Just as self-explanatory as Handsome Bob, no? “ – You threw him a sidelong glance. - “ Don’t ever underestimate me; it’s a grave mistake.” -  Giving him a derisive smile, you pulled your hand back, assembling the high-precision rifle together before they knew it. – “Depending on the conditions, the maximum effective range will be between 1 and 1,5 miles…” – You thoroughly analyzed the scope. – “Which, let me tell you, is a fuckin’ lot! You can even work with thermal imaging, if you’re close enough to the target… This is beyond cutting-edge, better than the ones that most of the armies use.“ – Just as quickly as you assembled it, you disassembled it, putting it carefully back in the box – “Everything about this baby is ultra-high end. This is not what you used for armed robbery…” - You studied their faces for a moment.

“We won’t use it in a robbery…” – One Two sat on the edge of the table.

“We won’t use it… We don’t know how to handle that kind of weaponry. But you do…”- Sauntering across the room, Mumbles scratched his chin.

“It’s not a robbery and you want a sniper’s help? Oh boy, why does it sound to me like things might get dicey, huh?  Listen, I’m on probation… If things go south, and I get caught, I’ll be put behind bars for the next decade, or more.” – Taking a deep breath, you clasped your hands tightly together.

Mumbles was about to make the case, but Bob interrupted him.

“We’re in trouble, and we have nobody else to turn to, (Y/N)…”

“We don’t want to kill anyone, but you know, just in case… Think of it like a life insurance.” – One Two shrugged his shoulders, as if trying to put you at ease.

“Then perhaps you should fill me in. I’m all ears.” – Pensive, your eyes were glued to your hands, as you cracked your knuckled loudly. The men exchanged glances, with a smile on their lips, at the thought you could go along with their plan. – “Well? I don’t have all the time in the world.” – The long wait made you exhale loudly in frustration and turn your attention back at them.

They walked towards the closet again, getting a noticeably heavier box.

“Another treasure chest?” – You facepalmed, as they struggled to open the box.

When the box was finally open, they removed the raffia that covered the merchandise. You took a peek and your eyes went wide.

“RPGs?! First you show me a high-precision riffle, and now RPGs?! These shits can blow up an armored vehicle, like, a fuckin’ tank! Boooom! Jesus.” – You buried your head in your hands. - “Did you rob the Her Majesty’s Armed Forces, or something like that?”

“The Russians.” – Bob added.

“Oh God.” – You dug your fingers deeper into your scalp. – “I don’t know what’s worse actually, stealing from the army, or stealing from the fucking Russians. They’re nuts! They are coming after you for this, do you realize that?!”

“That’s why we need you (Y/N).”

“No, mate, I have enough holes in my body, I am not adding more to the list. I’m out. Get rid of those, before you get yourselves killed.”  - Pinching the bridge of your nose, you stepped back.

“We are getting a rid of it; we will make good money selling them to a rival gang.”

“That’s not what I meant by getting rid of them, moron.” -  You rolled your eyes, before scowling at them.

“One more job and we’ll go straight once and for all….25% of the sale is yours, are you in?” – Mumbles tried to make a bargain with you.

You raised an eyebrow and took two or three steps toward the door.

“30 %.” – One Two hesitated, but he knew he had to raise the stakes, in order to keep you interested.

Shaking your head, you kept slowly stepping out the doorway.

“50%.” – Bob shouted loud enough for you to hear. You stopped, scratching your head, deep in thought.

“I’m so going to regret this…” – Whispering to yourself, you turned around, peeking through the door. “Did you, by any chance, say fifty?” – The corners of your mouth quirked up.

They gave Bob an unbelieving look; half the profits was an incredibly high share. Were they that desperate?

“35%.” – They tried to correct the proposal.

“Nuh-huh, I like Bob’s offer. Fifty or nothing… You’ve got ten seconds to make your decision from… Now.” – Looking at the watch you started counting down the ten seconds, as they discussed among themselves if they were willing to pay your price. – “Two… One… What’s it gonna be?”

“Fifty.” – They said in unison.

“One last thing… We’ll do it my way.”

The remainder of the week was spent making plans, going over them over and over again; the date and place of transaction, the communication system and the safety word in case they needed your help, the escape routes and what to do in case anything went wrong… You thought you had it all figured out, but you never do, when it comes to Russians.

D-Day. Wearing a military uniform, you packed the parts of the rifle in a black rucksack.

“A uniform? Rawr,  I love them.” – Bob leaned against the table, with a mischievous smile.

“Yeah, that’s exactly why I brought it…” – You smiled back, picking the rucksack up and putting it over one shoulder.

“Really?”

“No… The System considered my skills pretty useful for some agreed exceptional cases; if I cooperate, I’m a free bitch. Let’s say I am doing a little service for the System, on behalf of the military forces, technically  I would be allowed to have this backpack and its content…Now,  if I were caught with this backpack on my own initiative, as a civilian, an ex-con, bye bye parole...”

“Aren’t you afraid of being caught?”

“There’s no reason to pull over and question someone who’s working for the army, is there, Bob?” – You shrugged, walking out the door.

When the time had come, you all took your positions at the rendezvous point; they waited for the Russians on the eleventh floor of a condemned building, meanwhile, you assembled the rifle on the building across the street, targeting the room where they were.

The Russians arrived, acting surprisingly friendly, and the exchange happened exactly as planned, although the boys were outnumbered three to one. Six Russians carried the three wooden boxes with the weaponry to their black SUVs, while the boys checked the payment, accompanied by three other Russians. The SUVs left and one of the Russians that were still on the room got a call. You all had a tiny earpiece, so you could keep track of the boys in case they needed help.

“I don’t speak Russian, but something’s not right… Guys? Come up with an excuse and leave as discretely as possible, we count the money later. Do you copy?”

They closed the suitcase, and within seconds a Russian was blocking their access to the door. Cornered, they split up, backing off to different parts of the room.

“Fuck…” – You held your position, waiting for that command, but you put the window in the crosshairs, ready to pull the trigger. – “Ready to shoot, on your command.”

One of the Russians walked up to Bob, trapping him between himself and the window, with a gun in hand, ruining your chances of a clear shot.

“Banana.” – One Two mumbled your safety word.

“I don’t have a clear shot…” – You sighed. – “Bob’s in the way…” – In order to shoot the Russians, you’d have to headshot Bob, and that wasn’t part of the plan.

Bob tried to move but the giant Russian aimed his gun to Bob’s head.

“Banana, banana, banana… BANANA.” – One Two closed his eyes wide shut as he held his hands in the air, as if surrendering to the Russians. His hunger for bananas made all the Russians look at him, wondering what the fuck was going on.

“I’m so sorry, Bob.” – As soon as the Russian that was threatening Bob got distracted, you finally pulled the trigger. The shot grazed Bob’s arm, making him kneel on the ground, groaning in pain;  but you finally had a clear shot, or three of them. – “Do svidaniya (Goodbye), bitches.” – When the Russian turned around to see where did the shot come from, a bullet penetrated his skull from one side to the other ; the other two rushed to the aid of their friend, but he was dead, and in no time, so where they, with an extra hole in their heads.  

“Ooo, that was close…” – They panted, and came to help Bob get up.

After disassembling the rifle, you peaked through the window and gave the others a thumbs-up.

“That psycho just shot me!”- Bob flipped the bird in response to your thumbs-up, before moaning in pain again.

You drove back in separate cars, and they arrived to the warehouse before you did.

“I have to go to hospital! Be honest One Two, am I gonna die?” – Bob opened only one eye.

“Yes, you are going to die, we all are…” – After throwing the rucksack on the table, you picked a bottle of vodka and a knife, before sitting by Bob’s side. – “Look, I’m sorry, but I had no choice.” – You soaked a piece of cloth with the vodka, putting it over his wound with an apologetic look on your face.

“Was it really necessary? Is this really necessary?” – He writhed in pain.

“ It’s a flesh wound, don’t be a pussy!” – Mumbles slapped the back of his neck playfully.

“Back where I come from, people with a pussy handle pain just fine…” – You smirked, you inspected the wound.

“Does Cookie have anesthesia for sale?”

“Come on, Bob… You’ll be fine, just apply pressure on the wound, it’s a superficial wound…” – You finished cleaning the wound.

“What if it has bullet fragments?!” – Worried, he watched you clean the wound.

“Only one way to find out…” – You took a sharp knife in your hand, sterilizing it with a lighter.

“Nevermind, no bullet fragments there.” – Bob straightened up on the sofa, making a face. You chuckled and shook your head.

“Let’s go get something to drink, I’m buying. “ – You reached for your jacket, putting it back on.

“I just got shot and you want to party?!” – Bob’s face displayed indignation.

“Tequila, absinthe… Didn’t you ask for anesthesia?” – Smirking, you walked out the door. – “Sometimes I get sick of shots for business; sometimes I like shots for pleasure…”

An agreement had been reached, and you made your way to a local club. You felt like Bob was avoiding you, so you put your arm around him, pulling him away from the crowd, into a corner.

“Listen man, I swear to god I would’ve done things differently if I could… But I didn’t have much choice, Handsome. Are we cool?”

Bob tilted his head, weighting your words.

“We’cool.” – He looked down at you, offering his hand for a handshake; you handed him a shot instead. – “ Well, that works too!” – He gulped at the drink and you did the same. – “ Would you like to dance?”

[monolid-monologues]

Wtf is going on - Part I.

#12.

READY OR NOT..............

The next three weeks feel impossible. 

My KNEES are KNOCKING.

TOO MUCH IS HAPPENING

Fuck!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’m losing my mind lol. I’m going to take myself through this week by week. Breaking up my next 3 blog posts into a Three part series, and i’m going to slowly tread wtf is going on.

1.) MY JOB, MY LIFE

Karina and i drove LA >> Oakland >> LA in one day to audition for 5 minutes. LoL. We’re crazy and we know that. The troubling fact is this job means quitting my current one and moving to Oakland.

In February at the festival in Oregon, we were invited to audition for Kaiser Permanente’s Educational Theatre. They employ actors to perform shows for kids.

It pays more than my current job. It is less stable than my current job.

I’m TERRIFIED of having *that* conversation with my dad, and my office.

Desperate to avoid a serving job (having worked them since i was 16), i approached my dad for a job at his company. He knows about me and theater. He knew to be cautious. He asked me commit 2 years. I promised my dad 2 years; it’s only been 6 months. There’s a voice in my head chiding me for even considering this new opportunity.

And part of me is very very resistant to the reality of this new opportunity. Moving to Oakland means moving away from Robin, from Heather, from my studio, from all the work i’ve been doing in L.A to lay down some roots. Working full time at a corporate theater. Suffering bay area rent. Potentially losing my dad’s support (he is helping me with car and insurance payments). And pouring so much time into someone else’s theater. And potentially neglecting my own dreams -- risk of being too burnt, busy and broke to manifest my own theater projects. Not to mention all my fears around the importance of artistic freedom to me and needing to comply with a higher authority for paycheck’s sake (literal nightmare). And i just, might, very well, possibly, end up hating the job. 

I fear breaking my promise. Going back on my word. Owning up to the fact that i am not the loyal bitch we hoped i was. I fear these feelings of betrayal. I fear upsetting my dad and losing his support. I fear the disrespect i am slamming on my director & cecillia’s time and energy and trust in me. I fear that there is no “good” decision, but i can see Regret sitting atop my worst case scenario and i’m afraid that it doesn’t even really matter how things go, whether i stay or go, it’s all a sticky situation. 

If i get the job, but don’t go, i am still at the office. Sitting. So much sitting............clutching my small studio time like the life jacket it is...

If i get the job and want go, well, fuck, that’s a lot of, fuck. Can i put my independent theater dreams on hold? Is this experience worth pursuing? Is it worth upsetting my entire life here? Wow. Since when did i get so attached to my life here? I’ve worked so hard since i’ve been here, to seek, and seek, and plan, and build. I’ve been planning for my life here in L.A. I NeVER imagined relocating this soon. Turning my life upside down when i’ve literally JUST managed to get it looking right-side-up. f$&%@#$!

OKAY Normally, i’d wait to see if i got called back to start worrying. But this opportunity requiring 600 mile drives, requiring me and karina to rearrange chunks of our lives, to even be considered for the job, makes every step in the audition process so costly o_o.  We’re asking ourselves “if we do get called back, how are we even going to get there?”  We’re investing and sacrificing for a huge Maybe. Even pursuing the possibility is TOO MUCH!!!! yet here we are. Why? Why am i this crazy about a maybe?

L.A.’S BEEN GROWING ON ME. AND I MIGHT NOT GET THE JOB. LET’S KEEP IT SIMPLE, STUPID -- 

Tomorrow, we will find out if we’re called back. If we’re called back, the one thing i need to do (the scariest fkn thing ok) is ask for another day off (to secretly attend). If god blesses me with a Yes and my director is NOT fed up with my bullshit, the next thing is figuring out how tf to get there.  And that’s it. That’s it. That’s it. For now.

* * *

An interlude.)

What changes when i decide i’m tired of doubting myself? Staying off social media is a great relief. I stepped back because i was starting to carry some duty to entertain or cater to the tastes of the people who engage with what i post. The anxiety that begins to stir between myself and thoughts of people far away -- with heavy social media comes this baggage we pick up and hold nearly voluntarily. 

Just as we are curious how someone else’s life is going, we imagine other people are curious about ours. 

We second-guess what we want to post.  When it’s about what we want to share in the first place. How anybody receives it is their business. Leave them tf ALONE, LOL. Leave YOURSELF alone!

If it’s your career, you chase one of few formulas. If it’s your hobby, you draw from these formulas and mix in your personal flavor of “idgaf”. And if it’s mostly irrelevant to what you do/what you want, you’re not even bothered. *shrug* 

Every fuckin body will tell you, people who don’t frequent social media are happier. 

Do you think so? Do we think so?  I’m skeptical.  It’s easy to believe, given how much (admit it) time and attention social media sucks. But actually? Let’s be clear: who can know? Lol. The very point around people who don’t use social media is they are beyond the reach of our prying eyes. They are safe, much less susceptible to the wandering imagination of a distant relationship. They are out of bounds. 

Sometimes i wish i was that kind of person. Whoever that means.

I’m not. 

There’s something about getting to show something to hundreds of people. There’s something about connections waiting to be made. Paths that could cross. Click-holes where we lean outside of our usual environments. We are open to exposure and being exposed. We are creative with our public image. We narrate our own lives. We seek others’. ThaT PART. That part. “I will engage!!!!!!!!!!” 

Is it possible to have a healthy relationship with social media?

What does that look like?

There’s so much in our culture that discourages social media use - from mental health to physical health - we are told every day what the pitfalls are. We know it ourselves in living our lives. The common denominator to these warnings is usually over-consumption. Too much. Much too much.

If we are using social media, we are at risk. We know the risks. We live with the risks. ALAS -  we believe we can manage the time/space distortion that the social media universe rips into our lives. 

With social media comes this massive gravitational pull sucking us into a manufactured world. This tech, as far as i’m concerned, insanely complicates our lives - adding data to bodies, instant X long distance everything, and a level of productivity concerning online metrics that is often inversely proportional to our productivity offline. 

The most estranged relationships continue to fizzle quietly with mutual following. Our brains buzz “To post or not to post”. And our eyes are getting tired, our thumbs sore; our time and attention sinks and slips away from us. Like retribution for the discontent, disinterest, and laziness we risk habituating with social media.

We give access and have access and the ride is crippling or energizing depending on whatever people or time in your life. 

Do the rewards outweigh the risks?

* * *

II. SHOWTIME

IT’S GO TIME.

While i’m floundering in the dark about my job, my life, March is ending soon and come April comes the premiere and one-month-run of my new production, 1-800-PERFECTION. 

This is my first show in socal. My first show outside of Davis. My first full solo work. My first script-based PLAY in YEARS.

March Timeline:

meeting with studio manager to settle performance dates (today)

last full rehearsal (3/24 SAT)

tech rehearsal with Heather (3/30 SAT)

preview performance w/ talk back (3/31 SUN) YOU’RE INVITED. rose.artrat@gmail.com | please come! TIME: 1-3pm LOCATION: 1183 Kraemer Blvd, Anaheim, CA

April Timeline:

Dress Rehearsal  (week 1, TBD)

1st Show (week 2, TBD)

2nd show (week 3, TBD)

3rd Show (week 4, TBD) Tickets: $12 venmo  (seat reserved) or $10 cash at door (exact change!!!)

My radical marketing plan is to do it in person.  I wanna shit my pants thinking about it, but i’m determined to go out there into public places and invite people to my show face 2 face. I will certainly let you know how it goes. The experience may turn up a giant dumpster fire. :-)

Common questions when opening a new work include: what if ppl hate it? what if i hate it? what if no one comes? what if this is the end of my reputation as an artist as we know it? as i know it? what if i’m not ready? 

What if i didn’t rehearse enough? THIS ONE’S BEEN HAUNTING ME.

My best friend asks me how long i’ve been working on this play. I tell her i can afford 20 hours of studio time a month. It’s been almost 4 months now. And then she’s like, isn’t 20 hours...less than a day?  *brain explodes* Have i only worked on my show for LESS THAN 4 DAYS? IS IT LIKE THAT? 

It has been living, growing, changing with me day to day. But of course, 20 hours is really it of dedicated work time/space. 5 hours a week. 

I am used to working 30 hours per weeeeeek on a show.  that’s what i’m used to.

....................................................

I remember when i first found this studio offering exactly what i was looking for and could afford, i was ELATED to get 20 hours a month. Considering the ZERO work i was doing my first 2 months back in LA -- Getting 1 step closer to where i would be today - on the cusp of running a whole original ass show - was mooooreee than enough. 

But this is honestly one worry out of SO MANY, literally so many, that it’s all looking - sounding - and feeling increasingly ridiculous. because there’s just so much. *laugh cry emoji* * * * I’m never going to forget what i signed up for. Everything on my plate, i set up for myself.

Was i ready for all of this? No. Did i dream this up and seek its fruition? Hell yes. Even i know that only time will tell me What was What.  So, i will take it one fkn day at a time.

Maybe this is a lesson to follow your dreams no matter what, precisely BECAUSE you’ll never be ready for it. I can’t imagine being ready for what i’m going through these days. There’s no fucking way i could’ve known how stickyyyy things could get when i made my first studio payment in December, or asked my dad for a job in October.

But go through with it, we will, because we’ve reached the point where we must. I’m. Not. Looking. Back.

BUT I AM REALLY TRYING TO TAKE CARE OF MY HEALTH WHILE I’M WHIZZING ACROSS THE STATE AND PREPARING ALL THE SHOW THINGS. WISH ME SOME HONEST LUCK ON THAT.

So, I don’t have a dramatic poignant closer for you on this one. Let’s, uh, give that to Part 3, when we wrap this whole mess up. (ie. is Oakland rlly happening? how was canvassing the brea mall to advertise my show LMAO? did i lose my damn mind, or nah?)

Hi.  I just want to say, thank you for reading. Really. thank you.

I think my writing is suffering from the craziness atm.

* * *

i’ve committed to being vulnerable in writing every week.

previous letter: #11. detox,

drop me a line

http://monolid-monologues.tumblr.com/ask

[anonymoustoddler]

In Which I Get Stoned And Bitch About Work

Yesterday I worked for nine hours checking patients in with a weird system we had to make up on the fly due to the large number of people who came early and kept coming for seven straight hours. I ran hundreds (literally) of people through a software system and set of procedures I never got a full training in and could only practice with twice.

It was really really hard. And it wasn’t as fun as it was half a decade ago, the energy and the excitement and the teamwork. I stood directly behind the CEO for the media focused ribbon cutting. I welcomed hundreds of excited, mostly happy people into a brand new, gorgeous facility with flashy displays and top quality product.

I have been through this sort of experience so many times. So many iPhone and iPad and every other Apple product launches. I’ve clapped in guests and had little chats to make each quick transaction a bit more enjoyable for both of us. I’ve swapped stories with coworkers, joked around with managers who feel accessible, gotten frustrated and got mouthy for a minute about the inevitable mismanagement and poor planning for big turnout. For god’s sake, I’ve literally been photographed with and chatted with the CEOs of BOTH companies. And F****** is small now but... in a year, you’ll all be smoking their shit and a lot of you will be visiting them for medical and recreational. They’ll create more local jobs. They’ll be a leader in Michigan cannabis.

But I’m not the same person I used to be. I know so much more now. I know how shitty their consideration for their bottom rung employees is. Which really really matters when you watch THOSE employees literally building the guts of this business. Painstakingly unboxing, pricing, properly labeling, stocking, and creating displays of each and every product - and it’s medical weed so like let’s not forget that this is a process that you HAVE to pay attention to and be careful about.

It matters when you see a team stretched way too thin because it’s way too small, learning so much in such a short time (maybe that’s just me though honestly... I did learn two jobs instead of one, and I started at least a week after everyone else who got hired around the same time).

When there were still five or six hours left of the business day, I was informed we’d already done $20,000 in business since we opened that morning.

Twenty. Thousand. Dollars.

Not even a full day’s total.

And I get one half hour lunch for an 8 hour shift, no benefits, and I don’t even get time and a half pay for holidays unless I go full time.

I have to cap my hours at 17 a week because if I work more I’ll lose my medicaid and both my doctors expect to see me every three months and my meds cost money. I have to schedule another upper endoscopy, do you want to guess how much that would cost out of pocket, with the scope, the anesthesia, the gastroenterologist’s read of the scan and the after appointment, etc etc?? I don’t.

The Corporate team was swarming yesterday. Most of them didn’t even acknowledge us. Most of the people who did treated us with the unintentional condescension of people who feel they’re inherently better, smarter, and more deserving than you. They don’t mean to. They think they’re being kind.

But at the end of the day, they make annual salaries with solid benefit and possibly bonus packages, and you make an hourly rate higher than min wage but not even close to what you deserve considering you MAKE the company work. I mean, jesus, almost all the positive reviews I’ve seen so far specifically mention the great customer service/awesome employees. And yet, even with such disparity, they tried to cut our discount. There was an actual hours long discussion two days before grand open when Corporate wanted to cut our employee discount (for legal med patients working there) to almost nothing. They openly tried to take back a discount policy we ALL knew about, so they could charge US more despite working for the company. And we’re not a shady hole in the wall op in some creepy spot in Detroit that has dirty carts for half the usual price. This is higher end shit, and we’re the only game in town so prices can kind of be set with some flagrancy. Why would you want to make money off your employees who are not even getting what they deserve to begin with? How can you want MORE???

I’m not trying to shit on this place, really. With the company headquarters setting up in the same building, the growth plans of the company as a whole, and the potential doors this could open for me in the field of legal cannabis, this job is still a great opportunity. I’m learning a lot and after years out of the loop, it’s kind of nice to have a “real job” again. The team working on site are all nice and fun and pretty chill. I like and feel comfortable with everyone on the management team, but I also know I can’t get away with bullshit callouts with them so I have to practice the choice of either sucking it up and getting out of bed or making peace with potentially losing my job in a bad way. Those external consequences are the only things I can respond to anymore. It feels terrible and I’m still a miserable mass of depression, but.. I’m getting out of bed. 🤷🏻‍♀️

As usual, I got pretty far off track. My original point was, I think, that.. I miss my innocent days. I miss when I was 23 (hell, when I was 26, 27) and didn’t understand the evil of corporations or the exploitation of the workforce. I miss the days when I felt excited to be making almost $XX an hour because I’d never made more than that and it was a few bucks over minimum wage and I got really good insurance for not too much of my paycheck. I miss feeling like I mattered. I miss being ignorant enough to believe that anyone cared about me, that anyone could see how much I had to give and how smart and capable I was even if I also was sick more days than average. That I wasn’t just disposable chattel to make money for the people at the top and their investors. I miss living in the delusion that we were a family. It was a really powerful motivator, honestly. When you believe The Boss cares about you, is on the same team you are, is paying you a fair wage... when you don’t understand how bullshit that is.. Work feels a lot more bearable, I guess.

Yesterday I made it through nine chaotic, messy, Learn As You Go and Make It Work, non-stop, exhausting hours. I still have my job, and I intend to keep it for as long as possible. But I’ve also been forced to see just how much I’ve changed over the last decade. I’ve learned and seen and experienced so much that has affected how I see money, work, the world, being alive at all. I don’t think I can ever be enchanted anymore. I can’t be magicked into believing a dumpster of garbage is a treasure chest ever again. And as much as it matters to me to know the truth... I was a lot happier when I still saw a treasure chest instead of a rotting pile of trash. It’s just not as inspiring, you know?

[prorevenge]

You want to mess with my career and my freedom? Watch your entire life go down in flames!

TL;DR at the bottom. Sorry in advance for any formatting or grammatical errors. English is not my first language.

This is a pretty long one, so hope you're up for the challenge :)

This all happened five or so years ago while I was working for a proprietary trading firm. The company is a multinational and it had opened a new office in my city a couple of years before I joined them. For those who don't know, most prop shops (as I understood it) have a very high turnover rate. Just toss everyone in and keep those who stick. The company I worked for recruited every three months. It had space for about 120 traders but the office was never full. Out of the twenty or so who were hired every quarter, only about five managed to make it beyond the three month internship period, and of those, only one - or sometimes none at all - made it past the additional three months probation period. The company was operating in my city for two years before I joined and there were only about four people who I could have called permanent. Everyone else, about another ten, was either on their internship or on probation.

The Setup.

I and about twenty five others were recruited straight out of university. The internship period paid really well for a first job, about twice as much as any other entry level position in other financial institutions plus bonuses once we went live (regardless of whether one is on internship, probation or permanent), and I was really excited.

I first came across my boss, a really decent Indian guy, at a industry day held in our university. That was where they administered the IQ tests and I passed. The office, similar to other mid-sized operations, had a pretty flat management structure. Us traders were at the lowest level, the HR/Ops manager was above us, and the Office Manager was, well, the head of the branch. The boss gave time off pretty much whenever you asked for it as long as the day's objectives were fulfilled (that was his policy).

However, the HR/Ops manager was his opposite, and then some. This lady was a Grade-A bitch, and I mean that sincerely. Let's call her Gabby.

The Instigating Event

I first met Gabby when I went to their offices for my final interview. I was registering at the front desk when she marched from her office demanding some documents from the receptionist. The receptionist wanted to finish up with me first but she was ordered off to file storage. Our exchange went like so:

Gabby: You're one of the new ones?

Me: Yes. I'm really excited.

Gabby: Don't be. you don't look like you'll make it.

Me: Why?

Gabby: You're too soft.

A pause.

Gabby: Buut... I can put in a good word for you, if you give me a little something. ( a bribe).

Me: Haha. Very funny.

Gabby: I'm serious. Give something and I'll make it very easy for you. Otherwise I'll make sure you don't even get into the interview.

Me: No.

Gabby: Stupid idiot.

Right to my face. And she kept her word. She made me sit in a hidden corner of the waiting room where no one would see me easily, but I could hear the conversations at the desk. The only reason why I got an interview is because apparently I had impressed the boss at our previous meeting that he came to see why my CV wasn't there. Gabby said that I hadn't sent it in. The receptionist stated that she had seen it somewhere. Then I walked up to the desk at the same time the receptionist said, "Here it is. It was in the trash..." and everyone stared at Gabby.

From that moment of humiliation onwards, Gabby had a raging hate boner for me. You see, Gabby was a micromanager, more of a nanomanager really. She made us have to request access if we wanted to access sites other than those on her approved list, and for traders who gain info from wherever we could find it, her list was woefully inadequate. She would call meetings at the most inopportune times - but only when the branch manager was not around - and in her lengthy meetings, you could never leave to check on your positions. She had this annoying habit of taking my lunch and when I confronted her about it, she essentially told me to go fuck myself. That I could live with. I just started bringing in two sets of lunch and kept on doing the job that I loved.

Gabby was married with two kids, and she was pretty. I guess she liked the attention because she would have a stream of guys picking her up at the office for two hour 'lunches' and when she left for home some evening. But not on Thursday. Thursdays were the days when her husband would come pick her up towing their kids along. I think they went to have a family dinner or something.

The Mistakes Gabby Made: Round One

Our manager left about two months after I joined. I think he returned to India to get married or something but still stayed with the company. Wished him all the best. None of the other permanent traders had the experience corporate required to take on a management role (5 years at least) so they had to shop around. In the meantime, Gabby became the de-facto head of the branch despite the fact that her knowledge of futures markets was rudimentary at best.

Her first mistake was when she delayed my promotion from internship to probation. I am an excellent trader, and was easily top five in my group. Of the 26, she promoted the twenty she liked, kept me and another guy in internship, and fired four.At around the same time, another recruitment drive happened and another twentyish interns were hired. I knew this was our beef rekindled and remixed, and I was actually surprised she held onto it for so long. It was also pretty unusual since the last thing my former boss did before he left was to promote me from the simulator to a live trading account. But I kept my head down and continued learning, often going back to my former boss and the permanent employees to get advice.

Another three months go by, and in the next evaluation I was shocked that I was still not brought up to probation, despite the fact that all of the new recruits of the second group had been promoted and I was easily the best and the only one trading live. I knew I was good at the job. The permanent guys all said so. The group I initially joined with was frequently asking me for advice. To their credit, a few of them were good, but most of them were still on sim, and as a rule, no one advanced to probation while still on sim. However, you could go live while on internship if you were good which is what had happened to me. So I was a live trader and making good money but I was still on internship and passed over twice. I couldn't let go of that.

I decided to talk to Gabby directly. I approached the senior guys and made my case, though I was careful not to put her in bad light. They agreed to help me and so they did. about a month after the she passed me over the second time, she gave me my promotion and I was now on probation. At this time, she was still unsure of her power and was still afraid of the permanent traders. Those guys were like gods.

Two months after my promotion, another evaluation and recruitment drive. I was not promoted. The group I started out with was now permanent, despite having only two of them trading live. The group I was currently with on probation were all promoted to permanent status. The group behind me on internship was all promoted to probation, and another group was hired. I let it go hoping she had got it out of her system. Sadly, she had not.

Round Two

Three months go by. I'm trading live and loving it, though still on probation. An evaluation comes up again and I'm not promoted, despite the fact that, contract to contract, I was almost on a level with the permanent employees. The group that found me on probation was advanced to permanent status to a man, and none of them were live. the group behind me caught up to me and a new batch of newbies were hired as interns. I couldn't let this one go either. I approached the original four permanent employees who were now my very good buddies and planned to do the same thing as last time. Only this time, it didn't work. Gabby had grown into her sadistic power and flatly refused to even consider my promotion even after she was presented with evidence that I was worth it. Her argument was along the lines of, "I'm the boss so I can do whatever the hell I want."

But I wasn't having that, so I contacted my former boss for help. At the time he had been promoted to head of operations, Africa. He was actually quite surprised, given my performance, that I was still on probation. Needless to say, the order came down from on high and Gabby looked like she was shitting six pineapples simultaneously as she handed my letter. And I thought that was the end of it. How wrong I was.

On the next recruitment she hired this girl, let's call her Sue. Sue was an intelligent person all round, but she didn't have the emotional quotient to handle the market (trading, as I was taught, requires two mental aspects: IQ and EQ. You can't improve IQ, but you can boost your EQ to deal with the numerous stresses that accompany the career). Sue had more than enough of the IQ part, but EQ, not so much. No worries, you can work on that.

Just to recap: The office now had about seventy employees. Of these, over thirty were permanent staff (me included) but only eleven were trading live. Another twenty or so were on probation, but only three were trading live. None of the interns were live. The office needed to stay profitable if it was to stay open which means that the money the fourteen live traders were paying the salaries of everyone in the office, rent, supplies, health insurance, pensions etc etc. Needless to say, corporate was not seeing a lot of returns from our branch, and as I came to learn later from my former boss, were considering shutting down the branch and costing us our jobs. But I digress.

The Last Straw

The Grade-A Bitch Gabby took advantage of an inconsolable and desperate Sue to try and get me for sexual harassment. This is how it went down. Remember all those people still on sim? Well, they all came to the eleven of us for trading advice and we did what we could to help them. We divided up the sim traders into groups and I was mentoring about four people. Sue was one of them. As any trader will tell you, the period before profitability is usually one of losses (unless you're really good) and is filled with stress and fear (hence the need for high EQ). It's normal, and you get through it.

Sue was going through such a rough patch one evening. We were going over her trades (bad trading day all around), when she just burst out crying. I know how it feels. I had shed my own tears as well. So comforted her the best I could. I held her hand and patted her on the back awkwardly (to this day I still don't know how to comfort someone) until she quieted down. What I didnt know was that Gabby had seen us.

As I came to learn later, she approached Sue the following day and made her an offer. Gabby would make sure Sue kept her job and would get her a lot of money if she stated that I had sexually harassed her. Sue took Gabby up on the offer and what followed was a nightmare.It started with a formal reprimand from corporate, a hearing in which I wasn't present to defend myself (because Gabby 'forgot' to send me the summons).

Apparently she lobbied quite viciously to get me fired. The only reason I was able to keep my job was that my former boss came to my defence. Despite his help, I lost my quarterly bonus (about US$100,000) and half of my holdback (about US$400,000). I also had to attend seminars which essentially involved watching the same film on sexual assault in the workplace (three hours long) until I stated, in writing, that I was an abuser and it would go on my record. I knew that if that happened, Gabby would have the ammunition she needed to ruin my life forever. So every day, I got into the office at seven in the morning, watched the three hour film until ten. Refuse to acknowledge it, then get to work, leave the office at 11:20 in the evening, rinse and repeat. For almost seven months. It was tiring, and torture, and Gabby never let me live it down.

All of the people I had been mentoring were transferred the day after my reprimand. A day after that, Gabby informed me via letter that my clip size had been cut from 1000 to 20 contracts. Yeah, I had to admit, I was bloodied. I was down, but the bitch didn't know that she should have ended me.

The Revenge

Step 1: Ruin Gabby's Career.

I started compiling all the shit that was happening to me in the office. It started when I realized that when I went out to lunch, someone would open my desk drawer and mess around with my notebook, where I jotted down my trading ideas for the day. The only person who had a key apart from me was Gabby. Apparently she had mastered my lunchtime routine for the entire 45 minute break and would open my locker when I was out smoking. She would then copy down my trading plans for the day and give them to Sue. I even saw them at it once, but they didn't see me. I documented it. I let it go on for a while so that I could establish a pattern via Sue's trades. I then approached two of the permanent traders who were closest to me and told them my plan.

Remember when I said almost no money was reaching corporate? and that there were only eleven live traders? The situation had only gotten worse. The office was now full but we had less that fifteen live traders. Live trading could only be approved by Head of Operations (my former boss) and he was a strict one. Now imagine that my earning capacity had been cut by over 90%. My two friends agreed to my plan and they slowed down their trading by around 50%. This essentially put the branch in the red and three weeks later, we were told that Head of Ops and other head honchos were coming down. The next phase involved getting Sue into a corner. Pleas, a tear or two, and revealing that I could prove she had been stealing my work were enough to get a written statement from her that Gabby had orchestrated my whole sexual harassment thing.

Step 2: Ruin Gabby's Marriage

It took only a little investigation on my part to realize than all those men who visited the office were actually Gabby's lovers. She would leave for two-hour 'lunches' with her phone turned off. I took advantage of one such period. Gabby left and I snuck into her office to find her Facebook profile open. Everyone knew she was always on there and it was a sore point because she had banned it for the rest of us minions. I got into her Messenger, and voila! Explicit texts, nudes, rants about her husband and his inadequacies, the six guys or so she had cheated with, all of it. I copy pasted the data into her private email which she was logged into as well (always clear cache, you guys) and sent it to my private email, then deleted it from her sent folder. Now I had the ammo on my phone ready to send.

Step 3: Ruin Gabby's Relationship with her Kids.

Now, I'll say right off the bat I'm not proud of this step. but to bust my justice nut, it wasn't enough to just send the info to her husband. So I waited for Thursday when I knew he would be passing by the office with the kids. The Pro Revenge gods saw fit to bless me that day, because it was the same day that Corporate Head Honchos were ridin' into town.

Thursday.

I was at the office at seven as usual with all my documentation from my appointment letter to the numerous rejected requests for promotion, sat through the three hour sexual harassment video (yes, I was still doing that), and waited for the Moment. The guys from corporate, my former boss included, arrived and went straight into a meeting with Gabby. I was quite certain that they would call me in to know why I had been attending a sexual harassment awareness class for almost a year, and I was ready for them.

I was called in after lunch, at about two. The question was asked and before I could answer, Gabby jumped on the bit like I knew she would. She went on a long rant about how I had been insubordinate, and how I liked to touch the female employees. I could tell from her grin that she thought she was winning.

And then I pulled out Sue's letter, and the grin curdled on her face. Sue was hurriedly called in and she backed my story. She said she was sorry. She was fired on the spot and told to go wait at the receptionist for her final check. I felt no sympathy. I was on a roll.

Next I pulled out my analysis of my trades and told them how Gabby had been breaking into my locker and stealing my notes for sue. Gabby denied it. Sue was called back in. She denied it. My former boss logged into the company network, pulled Sue's and my trading data. He compared the positions taken by both of us with my notes. He said it was true. Sue was fired again. They told me they would refund my confiscated bonus and holdback, with an extra 50 grand. That was fine by me. The justice was enough.

And then I spotted Gabby's husband heading into her office as usual, their two kids in tow. I pulled out my phone, grinned at her and said,

"You're husband is here."

She turned around and saw him. She excused herself for a minute to tell him to wait.

My former boss said, "Sure."

I pressed send.

TL;DR. Grade-A Bitch tries to ruin my career because I humiliated her, I burn her life to the fucking ground.

As for the aftermath, Gabby's husband absolutely lost his shit. Her office was glass-walled and the rest was open-plan so we could all hear what they were shouting about. He finally left with their kids in tow (sorry little ones) Gabby followed him still shouting at him. Then she saw us all standing around and the look on her face was priceless as she was wondering which aspect of her life to try and salvage. She let her husband go, but about an hour later she had been fired.

My favorite boss stayed behind since there was no one left. He stayed for a month training the lady who had been with the company the longest to take over as manager. She is easily the most brilliant mind I had ever met. Unfortunately the branch was still struggling with so many employees who were not generating income and they had to shut it down. But they transferred all the performing employees to their other various branches in London (2 branches) and India (9 branches). So I guess no one undeservedly lost their jobs.

I still stalk Gabby on Facebook. There have been a lot of "I'm single because I'm too awesome" posts of late. I almost feel sorry for her, but I remember the three-hour video and I stop being foolish. From what I could see on LinkedIn, Sue bounced around from firm to firm until she found a position as a research analyst. My favorite boss is still at the firm. We talk from time to time.

I took a break from trading for a while. After all the shit that went down, I needed a break so I didn't take them up on their offer to relocate to India. Went to work with a buddy of mine who has a consultancy. When I feel ready I'll go back to the market. For me at least, there is no other job as challenging and satisfying.

Wow. That was long. I think though that's the end of my ProRevenge :)

(source) (story by AbbasKubaba)

[prorevenge]

You want to mess with my career and my freedom? Watch your entire life go down in flames!

TL;DR at the bottom. Sorry in advance for any formatting or grammatical errors. English is not my first language.

This is a pretty long one, so hope you're up for the challenge :)

This all happened five or so years ago while I was working for a proprietary trading firm. The company is a multinational and it had opened a new office in my city a couple of years before I joined them. For those who don't know, most prop shops (as I understood it) have a very high turnover rate. Just toss everyone in and keep those who stick. The company I worked for recruited every three months. It had space for about 120 traders but the office was never full. Out of the twenty or so who were hired every quarter, only about five managed to make it beyond the three month internship period, and of those, only one - or sometimes none at all - made it past the additional three months probation period. The company was operating in my city for two years before I joined and there were only about four people who I could have called permanent. Everyone else, about another ten, was either on their internship or on probation.

The Setup.

I and about twenty five others were recruited straight out of university. The internship period paid really well for a first job, about twice as much as any other entry level position in other financial institutions plus bonuses once we went live (regardless of whether one is on internship, probation or permanent), and I was really excited.

I first came across my boss, a really decent Indian guy, at a industry day held in our university. That was where they administered the IQ tests and I passed. The office, similar to other mid-sized operations, had a pretty flat management structure. Us traders were at the lowest level, the HR/Ops manager was above us, and the Office Manager was, well, the head of the branch. The boss gave time off pretty much whenever you asked for it as long as the day's objectives were fulfilled (that was his policy).

However, the HR/Ops manager was his opposite, and then some. This lady was a Grade-A bitch, and I mean that sincerely. Let's call her Gabby.

The Instigating Event

I first met Gabby when I went to their offices for my final interview. I was registering at the front desk when she marched from her office demanding some documents from the receptionist. The receptionist wanted to finish up with me first but she was ordered off to file storage. Our exchange went like so:

Gabby: You're one of the new ones?

Me: Yes. I'm really excited.

Gabby: Don't be. you don't look like you'll make it.

Me: Why?

Gabby: You're too soft.

A pause.

Gabby: Buut... I can put in a good word for you, if you give me a little something. ( a bribe).

Me: Haha. Very funny.

Gabby: I'm serious. Give something and I'll make it very easy for you. Otherwise I'll make sure you don't even get into the interview.

Me: No.

Gabby: Stupid idiot.

Right to my face. And she kept her word. She made me sit in a hidden corner of the waiting room where no one would see me easily, but I could hear the conversations at the desk. The only reason why I got an interview is because apparently I had impressed the boss at our previous meeting that he came to see why my CV wasn't there. Gabby said that I hadn't sent it in. The receptionist stated that she had seen it somewhere. Then I walked up to the desk at the same time the receptionist said, "Here it is. It was in the trash..." and everyone stared at Gabby.

From that moment of humiliation onwards, Gabby had a raging hate boner for me. You see, Gabby was a micromanager, more of a nanomanager really. She made us have to request access if we wanted to access sites other than those on her approved list, and for traders who gain info from wherever we could find it, her list was woefully inadequate. She would call meetings at the most inopportune times - but only when the branch manager was not around - and in her lengthy meetings, you could never leave to check on your positions. She had this annoying habit of taking my lunch and when I confronted her about it, she essentially told me to go fuck myself. That I could live with. I just started bringing in two sets of lunch and kept on doing the job that I loved.

Gabby was married with two kids, and she was pretty. I guess she liked the attention because she would have a stream of guys picking her up at the office for two hour 'lunches' and when she left for home some evening. But not on Thursday. Thursdays were the days when her husband would come pick her up towing their kids along. I think they went to have a family dinner or something.

The Mistakes Gabby Made: Round One

Our manager left about two months after I joined. I think he returned to India to get married or something but still stayed with the company. Wished him all the best. None of the other permanent traders had the experience corporate required to take on a management role (5 years at least) so they had to shop around. In the meantime, Gabby became the de-facto head of the branch despite the fact that her knowledge of futures markets was rudimentary at best.

Her first mistake was when she delayed my promotion from internship to probation. I am an excellent trader, and was easily top five in my group. Of the 26, she promoted the twenty she liked, kept me and another guy in internship, and fired four.At around the same time, another recruitment drive happened and another twentyish interns were hired. I knew this was our beef rekindled and remixed, and I was actually surprised she held onto it for so long. It was also pretty unusual since the last thing my former boss did before he left was to promote me from the simulator to a live trading account. But I kept my head down and continued learning, often going back to my former boss and the permanent employees to get advice.

Another three months go by, and in the next evaluation I was shocked that I was still not brought up to probation, despite the fact that all of the new recruits of the second group had been promoted and I was easily the best and the only one trading live. I knew I was good at the job. The permanent guys all said so. The group I initially joined with was frequently asking me for advice. To their credit, a few of them were good, but most of them were still on sim, and as a rule, no one advanced to probation while still on sim. However, you could go live while on internship if you were good which is what had happened to me. So I was a live trader and making good money but I was still on internship and passed over twice. I couldn't let go of that.

I decided to talk to Gabby directly. I approached the senior guys and made my case, though I was careful not to put her in bad light. They agreed to help me and so they did. about a month after the she passed me over the second time, she gave me my promotion and I was now on probation. At this time, she was still unsure of her power and was still afraid of the permanent traders. Those guys were like gods.

Two months after my promotion, another evaluation and recruitment drive. I was not promoted. The group I started out with was now permanent, despite having only two of them trading live. The group I was currently with on probation were all promoted to permanent status. The group behind me on internship was all promoted to probation, and another group was hired. I let it go hoping she had got it out of her system. Sadly, she had not.

Round Two

Three months go by. I'm trading live and loving it, though still on probation. An evaluation comes up again and I'm not promoted, despite the fact that, contract to contract, I was almost on a level with the permanent employees. The group that found me on probation was advanced to permanent status to a man, and none of them were live. the group behind me caught up to me and a new batch of newbies were hired as interns. I couldn't let this one go either. I approached the original four permanent employees who were now my very good buddies and planned to do the same thing as last time. Only this time, it didn't work. Gabby had grown into her sadistic power and flatly refused to even consider my promotion even after she was presented with evidence that I was worth it. Her argument was along the lines of, "I'm the boss so I can do whatever the hell I want."

But I wasn't having that, so I contacted my former boss for help. At the time he had been promoted to head of operations, Africa. He was actually quite surprised, given my performance, that I was still on probation. Needless to say, the order came down from on high and Gabby looked like she was shitting six pineapples simultaneously as she handed my letter. And I thought that was the end of it. How wrong I was.

On the next recruitment she hired this girl, let's call her Sue. Sue was an intelligent person all round, but she didn't have the emotional quotient to handle the market (trading, as I was taught, requires two mental aspects: IQ and EQ. You can't improve IQ, but you can boost your EQ to deal with the numerous stresses that accompany the career). Sue had more than enough of the IQ part, but EQ, not so much. No worries, you can work on that.

Just to recap: The office now had about seventy employees. Of these, over thirty were permanent staff (me included) but only eleven were trading live. Another twenty or so were on probation, but only three were trading live. None of the interns were live. The office needed to stay profitable if it was to stay open which means that the money the fourteen live traders were paying the salaries of everyone in the office, rent, supplies, health insurance, pensions etc etc. Needless to say, corporate was not seeing a lot of returns from our branch, and as I came to learn later from my former boss, were considering shutting down the branch and costing us our jobs. But I digress.

The Last Straw

The Grade-A Bitch Gabby took advantage of an inconsolable and desperate Sue to try and get me for sexual harassment. This is how it went down. Remember all those people still on sim? Well, they all came to the eleven of us for trading advice and we did what we could to help them. We divided up the sim traders into groups and I was mentoring about four people. Sue was one of them. As any trader will tell you, the period before profitability is usually one of losses (unless you're really good) and is filled with stress and fear (hence the need for high EQ). It's normal, and you get through it.

Sue was going through such a rough patch one evening. We were going over her trades (bad trading day all around), when she just burst out crying. I know how it feels. I had shed my own tears as well. So comforted her the best I could. I held her hand and patted her on the back awkwardly (to this day I still don't know how to comfort someone) until she quieted down. What I didnt know was that Gabby had seen us.

As I came to learn later, she approached Sue the following day and made her an offer. Gabby would make sure Sue kept her job and would get her a lot of money if she stated that I had sexually harassed her. Sue took Gabby up on the offer and what followed was a nightmare.It started with a formal reprimand from corporate, a hearing in which I wasn't present to defend myself (because Gabby 'forgot' to send me the summons).

Apparently she lobbied quite viciously to get me fired. The only reason I was able to keep my job was that my former boss came to my defence. Despite his help, I lost my quarterly bonus (about US$100,000) and half of my holdback (about US$400,000). I also had to attend seminars which essentially involved watching the same film on sexual assault in the workplace (three hours long) until I stated, in writing, that I was an abuser and it would go on my record. I knew that if that happened, Gabby would have the ammunition she needed to ruin my life forever. So every day, I got into the office at seven in the morning, watched the three hour film until ten. Refuse to acknowledge it, then get to work, leave the office at 11:20 in the evening, rinse and repeat. For almost seven months. It was tiring, and torture, and Gabby never let me live it down.

All of the people I had been mentoring were transferred the day after my reprimand. A day after that, Gabby informed me via letter that my clip size had been cut from 1000 to 20 contracts. Yeah, I had to admit, I was bloodied. I was down, but the bitch didn't know that she should have ended me.

The Revenge

Step 1: Ruin Gabby's Career.

I started compiling all the shit that was happening to me in the office. It started when I realized that when I went out to lunch, someone would open my desk drawer and mess around with my notebook, where I jotted down my trading ideas for the day. The only person who had a key apart from me was Gabby. Apparently she had mastered my lunchtime routine for the entire 45 minute break and would open my locker when I was out smoking. She would then copy down my trading plans for the day and give them to Sue. I even saw them at it once, but they didn't see me. I documented it. I let it go on for a while so that I could establish a pattern via Sue's trades. I then approached two of the permanent traders who were closest to me and told them my plan.

Remember when I said almost no money was reaching corporate? and that there were only eleven live traders? The situation had only gotten worse. The office was now full but we had less that fifteen live traders. Live trading could only be approved by Head of Operations (my former boss) and he was a strict one. Now imagine that my earning capacity had been cut by over 90%. My two friends agreed to my plan and they slowed down their trading by around 50%. This essentially put the branch in the red and three weeks later, we were told that Head of Ops and other head honchos were coming down. The next phase involved getting Sue into a corner. Pleas, a tear or two, and revealing that I could prove she had been stealing my work were enough to get a written statement from her that Gabby had orchestrated my whole sexual harassment thing.

Step 2: Ruin Gabby's Marriage

It took only a little investigation on my part to realize than all those men who visited the office were actually Gabby's lovers. She would leave for two-hour 'lunches' with her phone turned off. I took advantage of one such period. Gabby left and I snuck into her office to find her Facebook profile open. Everyone knew she was always on there and it was a sore point because she had banned it for the rest of us minions. I got into her Messenger, and voila! Explicit texts, nudes, rants about her husband and his inadequacies, the six guys or so she had cheated with, all of it. I copy pasted the data into her private email which she was logged into as well (always clear cache, you guys) and sent it to my private email, then deleted it from her sent folder. Now I had the ammo on my phone ready to send.

Step 3: Ruin Gabby's Relationship with her Kids.

Now, I'll say right off the bat I'm not proud of this step. but to bust my justice nut, it wasn't enough to just send the info to her husband. So I waited for Thursday when I knew he would be passing by the office with the kids. The Pro Revenge gods saw fit to bless me that day, because it was the same day that Corporate Head Honchos were ridin' into town.

Thursday.

I was at the office at seven as usual with all my documentation from my appointment letter to the numerous rejected requests for promotion, sat through the three hour sexual harassment video (yes, I was still doing that), and waited for the Moment. The guys from corporate, my former boss included, arrived and went straight into a meeting with Gabby. I was quite certain that they would call me in to know why I had been attending a sexual harassment awareness class for almost a year, and I was ready for them.

I was called in after lunch, at about two. The question was asked and before I could answer, Gabby jumped on the bit like I knew she would. She went on a long rant about how I had been insubordinate, and how I liked to touch the female employees. I could tell from her grin that she thought she was winning.

And then I pulled out Sue's letter, and the grin curdled on her face. Sue was hurriedly called in and she backed my story. She said she was sorry. She was fired on the spot and told to go wait at the receptionist for her final check. I felt no sympathy. I was on a roll.

Next I pulled out my analysis of my trades and told them how Gabby had been breaking into my locker and stealing my notes for sue. Gabby denied it. Sue was called back in. She denied it. My former boss logged into the company network, pulled Sue's and my trading data. He compared the positions taken by both of us with my notes. He said it was true. Sue was fired again. They told me they would refund my confiscated bonus and holdback, with an extra 50 grand. That was fine by me. The justice was enough.

And then I spotted Gabby's husband heading into her office as usual, their two kids in tow. I pulled out my phone, grinned at her and said,

"You're husband is here."

She turned around and saw him. She excused herself for a minute to tell him to wait.

My former boss said, "Sure."

I pressed send.

TL;DR. Grade-A Bitch tries to ruin my career because I humiliated her, I burn her life to the fucking ground.

update: As for the aftermath, Gabby's husband absolutely lost his shit. Her office was glass-walled and the rest was open-plan so we could all hear what they were shouting about. He finally left with their kids in tow (sorry little ones) Gabby followed him still shouting at him. Then she saw us all standing around and the look on her face was priceless as she was wondering which aspect of her life to try and salvage. She let her husband go, but about an hour later she had been fired.

My favorite boss stayed behind since there was no one left. He stayed for a month training the lady who had been with the company the longest to take over as manager. She is easily the most brilliant mind I had ever met. Unfortunately the branch was still struggling with so many employees who were not generating income and they had to shut it down. But they transferred all the performing employees to their other various branches in London (2 branches) and India (9 branches). So I guess no one undeservedly lost their jobs.

I still stalk Gabby on Facebook. There have been a lot of "I'm single because I'm too awesome" posts of late. I almost feel sorry for her, but I remember the three-hour video and I stop being foolish. From what I could see on LinkedIn, Sue bounced around from firm to firm until she found a position as a research analyst. My favorite boss is still at the firm. We talk from time to time.

I took a break from trading for a while. After all the shit that went down, I needed a break so I didn't take them up on their offer to relocate to India. Went to work with a buddy of mine who has a consultancy. When I feel ready I'll go back to the market. For me at least, there is no other job as challenging and satisfying.

Wow. That was long. I think though that's the end of my @prorevenge :)

(source)