#it was the only place that paid him a living wage but he got fired for relapsing

[bioethicists]

irt poverty/homelessness + alcohol use (esp with @butchfeygela‘s tags on my post)- people really underestimate the function that substance use/alcohol use can have for someone who is unhoused. being unhoused is boring, cold, painful, + lonely. substances can allow the 8 hours panhandling to get the $45 you need for a motel to fly by. alcohol reduces your perception of the cold + can knock you out whben you can’t sleep. substances can help you cope with the physical deterioration from malnutrition, constant stress, + sleeping outside. substances can provide social connection with others who you would otherwise not enjoy or help you cope with being alone.

not only that but- many unhoused people are stuck in a seemingly inescapable position. the pathway to financial stability or even housing is difficult or even impossible. in the wake of that hopelessness, the downsides of substance use start to seem insignificant. arrest? you’re getting arrested anyway for sleeping outside, peeing outside, standing in the wrong place, etc. physical danger? you’re already beat the fuck up, anyway, right? loss of relationships? you’ve lost most people already. inability to keep a job? nobody will hire you + you can’t stay employed, anyway, because you have no car + no shower.

perhaps for you or me, the cons of heroin use or binge drinking nightly greatly outweigh the pros. that isn’t the case for everyone. if we are really serious about ending overdose/addiction, we need to start looking at giving people lives worth recovering into instead of shaming them for their own hopelessness.

[mannaima]

Literally literally literally just Joel and like desperate sex. Like he is crushing you (Me? All of us? Idk) trying to hold you closer and drive himself in deeper. I’ll die. I’ll die.

Hold me close.

Summary: An odd friendship turned into something deeper…

Warnings: NSFW, smut, female! reader, dub-con(ish)(reader is just a little unsure at first but def has some horniness for joel), age gap (reader is mid20s, Joel is mid 50s) L-bombs being dropped, general pervy vibes from Joel, Joels a little ooc (much friendlier…)

Word count: 4.1K

Authors note: hhhhhhh thinking of a clingy sex depraved Joel is giving me like. Brain rot. SO so hot.

Your eyes fluttered open, waking up in a small dingy bed in a semi-clean place you called home. You never truly felt like it was home, just a place to sleep in and avoid the terrible people. You admit, you were dramatic, but after too many encounters with sickos who befriended you, only to steal what little you had on your back, maybe you had a reason too. You took a glance at yourself in the mirror. What was to be said about the life you lived? Wake up, work an odd job, come home, and sleep. You didn’t even have the solace of a stiff drink after a hard day of labor, no, long gone were the days of luxuries such as that. You could spend two days of ration cards on a ciggie, but you’d be left starving with a short-lived relief from life. You just sighed, and brought yourself to your small collection of clothing.

You moved in auto-pilot, hovering from place to place in your home, nothing ever changed. Slipping on the final piece of your “uniform,” as you liked to call it, you walked out the door into the outside world. It was gloomy, it usually was, but that was all you had to say about the world beyond your empty walls. You didn’t care what job you got, just the one that paid the highest. After lining up among the bodies of soulless wage slaves you paid no mind to, you finally received your assignment. Body burning. Despite the persona you had made of yourself, you still cried after seeing the bodies of the lifeless. Potential. Just gone. You walked to the job site. 

Watching your feet hit the gravel in a pattern, you suddenly felt yourself stopped, you had bumped into something, or rather- someone.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Your voice was meek, unaware of the danger that lay in front of you. Could be a crazy person looking for a problem, or someone on a power trip. The universe was merciful to you today.

“It’s alright.” A deep voice with a slight southern drawl, you had looked up for a second, but all you saw was the back of a much larger man, he paid no mind to you. You sighed under your breath, in relief, and moved around him, just to avoid another mishap. The “conversation,” if one could call it that, was already doing a strain on your head.

--------

The job site was filled with people, all with an emotionless expression. Work just wasn’t anything to smile about. Especially the matter you were dealing with. You had to ‘partner’ up with someone essentially, both taking out bodies to put into the pit of fire. As the trucks of bodies arrived, a man stood next to you, signaling you two were together. You looked at him. Same color shirt as the man who you bumped into. Same height. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. Thoughts swirled in your head, you hoped he didn’t recognize you. Of course he wouldn’t, he didn’t even look back at you!

Putting the bodies in the pit was no easy task, it took a heavy amount of strength, which you were thankful to have. Despite helping each other throw the bodies, you shared no words with each other, for hours. Body after body, the work didn’t seem to stop, sweat began to bead upon your forehead.

“Here.” The man sharing the truck with you held out a handkerchief. Despite his semi-dirty appearance, the rag was decently clean. You took his peace offering, and gave him a nod, and wiped your forehead with it, allowing you to feel much cleaner than before. You held it back out for him to take, but he shook his head.

“Keep it.” Again, you nodded. But a voice in your head told you to thank him properly, you were quiet, but you weren’t a bitch.

“Thank you.” Now it was his turn to nod at you, and you both continued your work. But this time, after maybe a few minutes, you decided to talk to him again. You just wanted to be polite, is all.

“I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.” You internally scoffed, working for over a few hours and you barely got to even greet one another.

“Joel. You as well.” You gave him a small smile while lunging the body into the flames. He gave you a look for a second, before sharing the sentiment, just barely.

“For such a small girl, you’re doing such a difficult job.”

“Well, we all have our strengths. I just happen to be blessed with a dad that made me do push ups at age four.” You let out a small giggle, to which he gave you a chuckle.

“Really? Well I guess those paid off, you’re doing better than my last partner.” You let out another small laugh, followed by a meek ‘thank you.’ A booming voice had let you know that the job was done, which meant you had to go collect your ration cards. Wiping your hands on your jeans, you walked over to the line of people. Joel had followed you on your tail.

“Got any plans tonight?” Joel stood right next to you in line, you felt so small compared to him. You awkwardly shook your head no, looking right into his eyes. 

“Just another day of work and sleep.” He hummed at this, and you felt the tension in the air in the silent minutes you waited. Receiving your ration cards, you finally trailed back to your so-called home. You decided you needed some food in your stomach, so you trailed around the market, hoping for something to catch your eye.

“Thought you didn’t have any plans.” A deep voice came from your left, and your eyes trailed up the large man.

“Got hungry. Sorry.”

“Don't apologize.” Nodding at him, you continued to look around for food, and you finally decided. Joel was still at your side, it was slightly creepy, the way he just peered at you. You had assumed a man like him probably had a wife, but now, not so much.

“Can I help you with anything?” You tried to make that sound as polite as possible, not wanting to hurt the sweet yet slightly scary man. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he stopped himself.

“No.” And with that, he turned on his heel and walked in the opposite direction. You were confused, nevertheless you still tracked your way home, you just wanted some calmness before you slept. Tommorows another day.

--------

You got as much sleep as one could in these conditions, but yet, you felt unnerved by some unforeseen force. You brushed it off, you blamed it on just missing life before it all. Sighing, you began your routine once more. This time, however, you took notice of Joel’s handkerchief he had given you. You smiled a bit, before placing it around your head as you would a sweatband. You felt a small semblance of normality, maybe even a little bit more confidence. You shrugged at your reflection, and walked out into the world once more. You took no more than a few steps before you saw a familiar face. Despite your brain saying no, you decided, why not give people another chance?

“Hi Joel. Funny seeing you.” You said, walking up next to him.

“Likewise. Like the hair thing going on.” He pointed to your makeshift headband, to which you gave a small grin.

“I have you to thank for this.” As you reached job assignments, you engaged in more small talk. You mostly talked about how life treated you currently, and that subject dried up quickly. After receiving the same job assignment, you both walked to the site once more.

“So, any friends worth chatting about.” He was such an old guy, you still appreciated the sentiment with trying to stay “hip.”

“Ah. No, sadly. Too many people fucked me over, friends are a luxury in this life.” Your arms lugged over the body into the pit.

“Oh trust me, I know all about that. But you’re so young, you should be making experiences, lord knows I needed those in my youth.” You let out a small ‘ha,’ amused by his words.

“I wish it was that easy. But I kind of enjoy the quiet life of being a loner. Having no friends is too peaceful to give up.” Another dropped body.

“That's not completely true,” You looked up to see him staring at you.

“You got one right here.” He gave you a small grin.

------

And a friend he was. For the past few weeks, he always checked up on you, asking if you slept well, you ate well, and if you were ready to work. You both got the same job assignments, and depending on the job, you both talked throughout the entire shift. Finally happy to have a genuine friend, someone who was scary yet kind in moments. His stoic face brought a shiver down your spine, but it seemed like he always had a small smile while talking to you. Your friendship lasted within the work days, as you both parted ways after your shift was over, thankfully for you. You enjoyed your peace, which he gladly understood, though not today.

“Hey, Y/N?” You looked at him, mid drink of your canteen or whatever, you nodded in acknowledgement.

“Wanna come over tonight?” Simple and blunt, no offer of dinner, cigarettes or whatever moonshine brew people made these days. Just a simple offer to hang out. You smiled, it felt real, it made you trust him just a little bit more. 

“Yeah. I’d like that.” What was one night with a friend instead of rotting in your room. It couldn’t be that bad, right?

-----

Work was over as quick as it began, allowing you and Joel to walk to his home before the sun had set. He led the way, talking of ‘business’ being spewed, but you didn’t really pay mind to it. 

“Well. Home sweet home.” You took in the room around you. It was nothing special. Similar to yours, but slightly bigger and more lived in. It felt good to have a little change in your life.

“Nice.” The air smelt of him, manly and comforting. He sat you down on the edge of his bed, despite the table in the corner, but you assumed he wanted to sit on something soft after a long day of work. He sat next to you.

“You know, it surprised me when you said you didn’t have friends, surely someone as beautiful as you would have made a couple peers.” You froze at the word ‘beautiful.’ He had never complimented your looks before, and you didn’t know whether to blush or cringe, but you remembered this man had more than twenty years on you, surely he meant it in a way you would call a stranger pretty.

“Well, I did have a few. They just didn’t turn out well.”

“How so?” He questioned, moving slightly closer.

“Well, I had joined a group of people around my age, all super chill but seemed more interested in spending all their ration cards on pills and cigs,” His eyes flashed away for a second, but turned back to you “One day two girls invited me to a hang out session between all of us, but when I approached the meeting spot, they jumped me. Stole everything I had on my person, including a necklace that my father gave me. Gave me a black eye and a busted lip. Fought like hell tho, it wasn't fair they had a knife.” You gave a small chuckle, thinking about the whole ordeal again. A few moments of silence lingered in the air.

“I’m. I’m sorry for prying.” You shook your hands at him, face panicked.

“No, no, no! Sorry, I got all deep for no reason. Don’t apologize.” He gave you a look, another look like he wanted to say so much, but he didn’t. He let the room stay silent before putting his hand on your thigh.

“I’m sorry. Just know I would never treat you like that, sweetheart.” His thumb slowly rubbed against your thigh, your eyes nervously staring at him. He quickly removed his hand and began talking about the fights he used to get in ‘at his youth’ which didn’t fail to make you laugh. Despite the age gap between you two, you felt so comfortable in talking to him like a gossiping girl with her girlfriends.

-----

Hours had passed, the laughter of both of yours filling the room. Your life was depressing, but Joel managed to be a small glimmer in your dark life. You looked outside, it was pitch black now, which made a realization dawn upon you.

“Oh no. It’s past curfew.” A quick check at a wall clock confirmed this, which made you groan. 

“Ah, I’m so sorry. I should’ve reminded you.” He patted your back as you hunched over, your hands covering your cheeks.

“No, it’s my fault. I should’ve been more responsible and kept track. I don’t suppose I could trouble you to sleep here?” You glanced up at him, his arm still around you, rubbing circles into your back.

“Of course, I wouldn’t just let you go back out there to fend for yourself.” You smiled at his kindness.

“Do you want to change? Or- Uh. I think I have a t-shirt in here somewhere…” He shot up from his spot on the bed to rummage around his drawers, and he pulled out a tee, perfect size for him, large for you. You thanked him and you walked to the bathroom to change.

You realized the shirt went down past your thighs, which meant pants weren’t necessary. I mean, you didn’t think it was so wrong to just wear panties under the shirt. What did he expect, giving you nothing but a shirt? It was like a night gown at this point, so you didn’t mind. You folded your clothing and walked back into his bedroom. He looked at you with a small change in his expression, his eyes slightly wider. 

“I’ll um, set up the floor for me.” He began to move a blanket off the bed. You shook your head at him.

“No, Joel! You’ve already allowed me to sleep over, I can’t make you sleep on the floor in your own home. I’ll take the floor.” 

“I can’t do that to a lady, it’s no trouble at all sweetie.” You stood your ground and refused to let him take a pillow from his bed.

“Well I guess we’ll share the bed.” He said, as a matter of fact. You didn’t really think this through, but you nodded, you needed the warmth anyways. It was late and the air was crisp, even inside. You gulped as you settled into bed, Joel leaving to go change in the bathroom as well. Your eyes nervously darted around the room when he came out wearing nothing but a pair of sleep pants, no shirt at all. Despite being much older, he was still very fit and toned. It made your cheeks hot at how well he looked. But you shook your head, he was just a friend. A sweet friend. You can’t think of him like that.

“Well, I guess this is goodnight.” You were so in your head that you barely realized he had already gotten under the sheets next to you, inches away from each other's bodies. You nodded and looked at him, his face barely lit by the small light coming from the outside, his usually sharp features became much softer in the dim lighting. 

“Goodnight Joel, thank you again.” Your voice was barely a whisper, your body snuggling under the warm sheets, shifting to face away from him. Your eyes began to feel heavy as you drifted off to dreamland, your mind going blank.

------

Your eyes shot open, it was still dark in the room however, meaning dawn had not come yet. Your mouth dry and your body heavy, you felt very off, but nothing that would awaken you from your slumber, what made you wake-

“Oh fuck…” You heard a quiet yet deep groan behind you, right behind your head. You froze, unsure whether to move or not. It only took a few seconds to realize the warmth near your pussy, how had you not felt it earlier?! Your eyes were wide as you felt a warm length press between the fat of your thighs, back and forth in a slow thrusting movement. He was fucking your thighs. 

“Mmmmm fuck.” Another groan, this time he seemed to try and quiet himself down, his cock still being pushed between your legs, the occasional shock went through your body as you felt him rub against your pussy. You were unsure what to do about this, you definitely couldn’t just fall back asleep, and you weren’t sure how to deal with the awkwardness of moving away from him. You kept as still as you could, trying to keep your breathing regulated.

His hands suddenly snaked his way to your hips, a firm grip was attached to them as he thrusted between your thighs much harder. He once again groaned, but this time it was followed by small whimpers, a likely attempt to keep himself quiet. You then felt hairs poking your neck, his stubble rubbing against you as he buried his face into the nape of your neck. He had to have known you were awake at this point, his cock was rubbing against you at a much faster pace now. You had no idea what to do, so you just swallowed your nervousness and went with your gut.

“J-Joel? What are you doing?” He froze at your words, immediately stopping his thrusts against you. You heard an audible gulp, his warm hands not moving an inch however. He said nothing, for a few minutes or seconds, you couldn’t tell, the awkward feeling making time stop almost. As you were about to shift away, he grabbed your shoulder and pressed you down, your back bare on the mattress. He was hovering over you now, you could see the desperation in his eyes, his chest moving up and down with his heavy breathing. You didn’t know what to do, you just stared at him with glossy eyes. The tension was broken by his sudden movements to place a rough kiss upon your lips. His tongue slipped in as your mouth was wide open from shock, his hands cupping your cheek. The heat you felt coming off him was like no other, and his tongue roughly moved around yours, a small whimper being moaned out by you, due to the man handling.

“You’re so beautiful. I can’t get enough of you…” He pulled away momentarily to begin kissing upon your neck, your eyes rolling back.

“Joel… S-stop…” You moaned out, your hands pushing against his bare chest.

“You don’t mean that sweetheart.” He said, matter of factly, his deep voice making your knees weak. You shook your head, but his tongue working against your neck made you so vulnerable, you couldn’t resist him.

“J-Joel, no, please. We can’t- I can’t.” You begged against him, but he ignored you and continued to grope your body while licking upon your neck. You felt so hot, his hands were so large against your body, you wanted to resist but your body couldn’t. He sat up, his whole body on display for you, and as your eyes trailed down his toned body, you couldn’t help but notice the large bulge in his sweatpants.

“See what you do to me sweetheart? This is all because of you.” His large hands moved it over the pants, making you whimper, the sheer size of it was eye widening. He pulled the pants slightly down, revealing it in all its glory. It bounced up, and it began to leak precum as it twitched.

“Come here.” He pulled your leg, allowing them to be around his own, his cock lined over your pussy, the size of it reaching past your belly button, you gulped. He slapped it a few times over your lower belly, which made you whimper. He slowly pulled down your panties, throwing it to the side once they were off.

“You’re so fucking cute. You don’t know how long I wanted to have this, baby.” His voice was filled with desperation, and he held your hips as he positioned himself at the entrance. He slowly pushed himself in, the tightness gripping him, pain surging through you.

“W-wait. Joel-” He suddenly pushed into you all at once, a loud scream being let through you, to which he quickly covered your mouth with his hand. He held your waist and lifted you up, forcing you to slump over his chest. You whimpered under his hand, the pain of his cock made you feel like you were being ripped open. He suddenly began to bounce you on him, muffled moans and pained groans of yours filling his ears. He was so strong, lifting up your body weight with one hand, allowing your pussy to engulf his cock with such a grip. His throat was letting out groans, his eyes so focused on your tits bouncing through the t-shirt.

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” You nodded, your eyes lidded as he slowly began to move his hand away from your lips, a trail of drool following it. 

“That’s it. Take it baby.” Both his hands were now guiding you against his length, making you moan into the cold room, pleasure overcoming the pain. You felt euphoric, you haven’t had pleasure like this in so long– maybe even ever. His arms began to snake around you, wrapping around your whole body as he basically hugged you, allowing him to better thrust you into his cock. He pushed you up and down faster and faster– until you could barely take it.

“Joel. J-Joel! Slow down a bit please-” You let out a loud moan, he kept squeezing you against his chest as he thrust into you, he then pushed you on the sheets and kept you in his embrace.

“Sorry love, I just can’t get enough of you. I fuckin’ love the way you feel around me.” He breathed into your neck as he jackhammered you, the bed creaking with the harsh movement of his hips. The mixture of both your moans, he definitely wasn’t afraid to show how much you made him lose control, his hands squeezing you close to his chest, your eyes staring into each other.

“I love you so fucking much sweetheart.” You were shocked, but the build up of pleasure was too much for your brain to handle, you didn’t even give another thought to your next words.

“I love you too Joel.” You said between moans and deep breaths– it wasn’t long before you felt so close to the edge. You muttered small ‘fuck’s and ‘i love you’s as you came around him, your moans being muffled by his lips on yours, his hips suddenly stopping as he pulled out and came on your stomach. He groaned as each drop of cum left his cock, the constant twitching aligning with his soft groans. You opened your eyes as both of your orgasms had gone, his eyes slowly opening as well, his lips slowly leaving yours. You both stayed in this position, his body draped over yours, eyes staring at one other with so much love.

After a few minutes of this, he leaned over to pick up a small rag to wipe your stomach. You let out a giggle, the feeling of it rubbing against it was very ticklish. He kept looking at you, with that look on his face that he gave you when he wanted to say something. You decided to break the ice.

“Something on your mind Joel?” You sat up and leaned your head against his sweaty chest.

“Did. Did you really mean what you said? You know…” He was nervous, you wanted to laugh a little. How could a man who killed people and looked like he hated the world, be so nervous around someone like you. You nodded your head.

“Of course Joel.”

[reve-writes]

—on the run. | grishaverse kaz brekker x reader.

helping a boy years ago had led to you joining the dregs.

HE KNEW YOU WERE PECULIAR WHEN HE FIRST MET YOU.

Canal rats weren't compassionate. If they saw a boy, drenched and shivering, they would see an easy target. Someone to mug. A potential worker to be paid a wage so small that it would border on slavery. Someone to sell to the pleasure houses.

You were his age, perhaps a tad bit older because you seemed more mature and prepared for whatever cruelty the Barrel was ready to throw at you. You were hastily walking — maybe going somewhere or running from something, he never got the chance to ask, but you had stopped to crouch in front of him.

“Go home,” you had said back then. He wondered if he truly looked so out of place there.

“I don't have one,” he croaked, his throat dry. When he spoke, it felt like swallowing sand.

You stared at him for a second, contemplating, before turning on your heel. He had continued to sit there, under a bridge, smelling the foul canal waters. Occasionally, he would see a boat, and his skin would crawl. Fear crept into his spine before he had any idea what was going on. He didn't want to be mistaken by bodymen for another corpse to tow away to the Reaper's Barge. He was not another body ready for burning. The only part of him that burned was hatred—hatred for Jakob Hertzoon, and revenge.

You were back moments later, crouching next to him, even though he smelled like death, he was sure. The stench of bilge and corpses. If you noticed the smell at all, you had said nothing.

You took out bread from your pocket. Then, a cup of warm tea and handed it to him. He had swallowed mouthfuls of the tea quickly, ignoring the scalding inside his mouth and throat. He gobbled down the bread just as quickly, too, and then he was silent, sipping the rest of the tea.

“What happened?” you asked, your arms folding to hug your knees as you stared at the lapping waters of the canal.

Before he could stop himself, he was already spilling his story to you, half crying, and by the time he was done, the desire for revenge felt more concrete in his chest.

You hadn't offered condolences. What good did it do in a city of misery?

“What are you going to do now?” you asked.

“Find Jakob Hertzoon and make him pay.” He clenched his fists. There was fire stoking in his charcoal irises. Whoever Jakob Hertzoon was, you were sure that he had hell coming after him.

“Good luck,” you said, wishful thinking, really. “It might be good to join one of the gangs if you can.”

He nodded, although he didn't quite know what gangs there were yet. He would figure it out later.

“What about you? What happened?”

You scoffed. “Parents who think they can make it here. They didn't get far before the plague took them. Now I'm stuck.”

Bitterness dripped from your tongue. He had understood, the feeling of being uprooted from home, taken to a new place and then abandoned. They had gotten the luxury of dying, while he and you had to scrape by on this wretched city.

“Well,” you said, standing up, brushing your dirtied pants as if it made any difference. “I hope we meet again. I'll see you around, uh?”

“Kaz,” he said.

You told him your name, and he knew he would remember it for a long time.

The next time you had seen him, you were older. Much older.

You were taken by men with a feral cat tattooed on their arm. You cursed, the Dime Lions. All things considered, you were lucky—extremely lucky that you hadn't had a run in with any of the gangs yet for years. You lived quietly, moving constantly, switching up jobs before anyone could find you. The thing was you'd stolen from Pekka Rollins and that was practically a death sentence.

You thought it was fair. He had stolen from your parents more than you had taken from him. He didn't seem too keen on letting it go, though.

His man had dragged you to his desk, certainly not without a fight, and he had claimed the money you'd stolen from him would be a part of your indentures and that you'd be working in his brothel, the Sweet Shop—the one where a girl was strangled a couple of weeks ago in her bed.

You laughed, spitting at his face.

“I don't owe you anything, Rollins.”

There was a lot of hitting and kicking. Most of it was a blur in your memory, but by the end of the day you were already wrapped in colourful silks, occupying one of the rooms in the Sweet Shop. Blood was washed off of your skin. You noticed how they'd avoided your face when they gave you the beating.

You were angry. You were bitter. You wouldn't play his game.

A week in, after a lot of shimmying up to men you wanted to strangle for information, you escaped. You'd knocked a man out, your customer, and put on his clothes. You walked out with purpose, walking so fast you worried you might caught suspicion and entered the House of the White Rose.

“Nina Zenik,” you demanded. The front desk didn't say anything, seemingly stunned. You darted to the third floor, bursted into her room where she was occupied by a man wearing dark coat leaning on a cane. They seemed to be in the middle of a discussion, but your matters were far more pressing.

You didn't pay much attention. You shoved past him after locking the door, plopping down in front of the Heartrender.

“Tailor me,” you begged, tears filling the corners of your eyes. “Change my face so they can't find me, Nina Zenik. Please. I'll pay you anything.”

“What? Why? Who are you? Who are you running from?” She asked.

“The Dime Lions,” you replied urgently. “We don't have much time. They'll find me soon. I'm sorry for dragging you into the mess.”

“It's alright.” Her green eyes were actually showing concern. You had almost forgotten the other presence in the room. The man in dark coat.

You glanced back at him and your eyes widened. Kaz Brekker. You had recognized him. The same dark hair and dark eyes as the boy by the canals years ago. You heard whispers. He was named Dirtyhands. He joined the Dregs. He became Per Haskell's lieutenant.

You were relieved that the tiny, shivering boy from the canals was doing good for himself. You were glad that he had fought and fought hard against the Barrel, better than you did.

He said your name, as if in disbelief.

Nina looked between the two of you. “You know each other?”

He nodded. “Once.”

A banging on the door startled you. “Open up!”

“We don't have much time,” you said. “Please, Nina. I can't go back there.”

She nodded. You sighed in relief. Your whole escape plan heavily relied on Nina Zenik being willing to alter your appearance, enough so you can slip away undetected. Then, you would sneak aboard a ship, either to Ravka or Novyi Zem, anywhere else but here.

She started to work, at first trying to recolour your hair. Outside, it sounded like they were trying to break down the door.

And they did.

You had a streak of different coloured hair when they bursted in. Some held pistols, others had knives. Around ten Dime Lions members ready to drag you back to hell.

“Hand her over,” one of them grunted. “She's Rollins' property.”

You stood up, ready to take your chances and leap out of the three storey window, but Kaz had stepped in front of you. Both of you were much taller than you were when you had met.

“Why don't we all calm down, gentlemen?” He asked, holding a tentative gloved hand up. “Put down the guns and talk?”

They were hardly gentle.

They lowered the barrels of their pistols, but held it tightly. One of them said, “She has an indenture with Rollins.”

You shook your head. “He made it up because I took his money. Money that he conned out of my parents.”

“Still an unpaid indenture,” the Dime Lions member said. “Hand her over. This doesn't have to be ugly.”

“She's with the Dregs,” Kaz said. “Her indentures will be paid in full.”

The Dime Lions seemed surprised, unsure what to do as they stood frozen at the doorway for a moment.

“Go on,” urged Kaz. “Close the door behind you.”

Your legs were wobbly and you fell to the floor, leaning against the round table in the room. Nina looked startled as well, her gaze darting between you and Brekker.

She cleared her throat. “I'll get you something to eat.”

Then, she was out the door.

Kaz offered you a gloved hand. He flinched when you took it to pull yourself up.

Your brows furrowed. “Why did you do that?”

“What?” Surely you hadn't noticed his weakness.

“The indenture.”

“Consider it payback,” he said. Honestly, he wasn't sure why. The last time he had bought out an indenture, Per Haskell wasn't happy. He knew he couldn't let them drag you back, though. He didn't want to think about the punishments waiting for you there.

“Bread hardly seems comparable to thousands of kruge,” you replied. “I don't want to jump from one debt to another.”

“Would you rather I let them take you instead?”

You shuddered at the thought. “Saints, no!”

“So, you'll work for me. On the bright side, I'm not a slaver.”

You considered it for a second. The Dregs was a good gang. It offered protection. It offered a house. It might not be so bad, after all.

“Alright, boss.” You shrugged. “Do I get the tattoo?”

“If you want to.”

You nodded. “I don't mind.”

You stood in silence, waiting for Nina to return. It seemed like she was taking her time. You felt awkward, Brekker's gaze was intense and scrutinizing.

“I didn't say anything about you,” you said.

“I know. I kept an eye on you for a while.”

“You did? That seems weird.”

“Yes,” he shrugged. “Until I realized you were moving around. It didn't seem like you wanted to be found. So, I didn't approach. I stopped trying to find you.”

“Thank you, I guess.”

Kaz Brekker didn't receive gratitude often and when he did, he usually waved them off, because when he chose to do things, he usually had a purpose. A means to an end. You, on the other hand, were really just a whim. An impulsive decision. He knew the old man would grill him when he got the papers from Rollins. He knew the headache that this would bring him, but he found that he didn't mind at all at the moment.

[ ].

[sirfrogsworth]

People on disability shouldn't get a stimulus check, theirs should be donated to repaying all the money they've mooched off taxpayers.

This is not the first time I’ve gotten a message like this. I always find it curious. Because if you have this attitude you are either invincible, rich, or a fool.

I used to be in this tech nerd community and there was this older fella who slowly revealed himself to be a super right wing asshat. He complained about immigrants mooching, black people mooching, poor people mooching… everybody was mooching his taxes. Meanwhile, he was 65 and working hard. Paying his own way. Doing things proper like a good American. 

He was no damn moocher, that’s for sure.

Then he got sick.

He could not work anymore.

Lost his medical insurance.

His savings ran out in about 3 months.

And he became a fellow moocher.

He had to sign up for Medicare and disability.

But then he realized that wasn’t enough to live on. Boy, was he mad. ALL CAPS POSTS about how he can’t afford rent. He can’t afford food. He started posting links to his Paypal asking people to donate. He got furious at people because no one would give him money. Called us all bad people for not helping him in his time of need. He had to move to a smaller place. Sell a lot of his tech.

He was so very angry.

“I WORKED HARD.”

“I DID THINGS THE PROPER WAY.”

“I DESERVE MORE THAN THOSE MOOCHERS!”

Even after his experience, he viewed himself as different than other people trapped in the safety net. He deserved more because he had a bootstrap attitude. It didn’t occur to him that a lot of people on welfare or disability probably worked hard too. That he was no more or less deserving than them. It was sad to see his experience didn’t instill any empathy.

He’s a lost cause. But maybe you aren’t. Maybe you should think about how long you could last before you’d have to mooch. Are you set for life? If you were in an accident and unable to work ever again, would you be able to live comfortably and manage your expenses? Think about that. And think about the fact that disability pays less than minimum wage. Could you live your life on $750 per month? What changes would you have to make to accomplish that? Use your imagination and really try to put yourself in those shoes.

$1200 is not a windfall for me. It is maybe 4 months of having slightly less financial anxiety. That anxiety is a part of my life. It is inescapable and I have conceded it will always be there. It is the dread of seeing $14 in my bank account towards the end of the month and hoping I didn’t forget about an automatic payment. It’s the fear of looking in my freezer and wondering if two bags of frozen chicken nuggets are enough to last until I get my next payment. 

But now I am getting $1200 and for a few months maybe I don’t have to feel some of that anxiety. I can reallocate that anxiety to the world being on fire and worrying about my dad getting sick.

But you want me to send it back?

What’s even sadder about your attitude is you are focusing on the wrong people. I’m not a moocher. I’m an insignificant financial speck in the grand scheme. I’m probably a percentage of a penny on your tax bill. But then you look at companies like Amazon who used loopholes to pay no taxes. They also got cities to subsidize offices and warehouses. So not only did they not pay taxes, we paid them for the honor of giving people low wage jobs with poor benefits and dubious working conditions. 

What about our F-35 fighter jet program? For years they didn’t even work properly and they still haven’t even been used for anything and they will probably rarely be utilized because of drones. But we will spend a trillion dollars on them anyway. 

What about oil subsidies? About $20 billion of our tax dollars goes to the fossil fuel industry every year. An industry that has never struggled to turn a profit. Just look at pictures of Dubai and ask yourself why we are giving them subsidies. 

We give corporations billions upon billions of dollars even though they are making record profits. And then we find out they were operating so close to the edge that they can’t even last a month without us giving them billions more. 

But my $750 per month makes me the moocher.

Sure.

[multiversallyy]

i was having a bad day in general but i got inspiration to write a piece based off a wonky set of headphones i have. enjoy!! warnings: implied verbal abuse, mention of bullying. the reader is a pessimist.  additives: gender neutral, teenager reader, sun and moon are separate beings/twins, interpretable (platonic or romantic) moon x reader words: 2325

Solar Summer Camp

Three years ago, the building known as the Magic Pizzaplex burned to the ground, leaving not a wire or cord in the wake except for evacuated animatronics - the latter part being something the media didn’t tell anyone, to make the scene more dramatic and draw more attention.  But the corporation was still well off; after all, its animatronics were money-makers, all it would take was some minor reprogramming to work with teenagers, and, well... you’ve got another (hopefully) perfect bot. Ignoring all the malfunctions that led to the fire in the first place...

Fazbear Co. decided to opt for the slightly-off-the-beaten-path option; one of which was repurposing the daycare attendants for an artsy summer camp. Taking place on the progressive end of summer camps, it was meant to be peppy and cheerful, and their public goal was to help teens find their creative side and “brighten their lives.”

And just a week and a half ago, you yourself had enrolled in this new summer camp. If you thought for a second this big corporation wasn’t going to overpromote itself, you’d be dead wrong.  One of the main attractions of this place was that one of its “titular” animatronics was making a reappearance here. The Sun bot was not only popular with the kids that it had helped raise, but it was also well-received by their parents and teens who thought the design looked cool, but would definitely not enjoy actually being around him.

Speaking of being around him...

You heard Sun shout his sing-song good-morning call; it had been 17 times already that you’d heard it and you were pretty sure coming here without making an investment in the future of earplugs was a mistake. Not to say he was annoying all the time, but he always said his greetings in a sickeningly happy or childish voice that irritated you. Aside from that, he was your typical camp counselor, a feat which you were sizeably more impressed by when you found out that it was indeed a robot, and not a person in a costume being paid either below minimum wage or 200 bucks an hour to pretend like he’s the happiest guy in the world.

Your pretending duty was to act like you couldn't wait to put some stupid scribbles on a canvas and show your disgusting abomination to everyone else to get made fun of over. But the advantage here was clear; some people were here for the same reason as you. Vague artistic talent, who came here half for free school credit and half because deep down, they were hoping maybe they could get better. Plus, it was slightly less crowded than your high-school. 

But with a counselor that you had never seen touch pen to paper, let alone one that was a robot? You had low hopes for this thing from the moment you figured out that it really wasn't a costume.

On the one hand, AI stuff is really impressive nowadays. On the other... They weren't showing off some artisanal skills with a costume. It was just an animatronic. One that you were almost certain was like 10,000 others, in 10,000 other summer camps.

At the time, you were almost totally pessimistic about the whole situation, you viewed it as a relief from your day-to-day. But on one summer night, there was yelling and hollering in the cabin. A panicked robot, three frat boys to-be, and you. 

“Ugliest shit I ever saw.” One of them spat, quite literally, talking about you. You hadn’t suspected it at first; the sun bot had directed you to a nice lunch tray of pasta and an orange for dinner in the cafeteria. “Look at ‘em. Chattin’ it up with a god damn bag of bolts.” “I know, right? That thing’s got at least ONE screw loose.” They were all not-so-discreetly whispering amongst themselves, and you were completely confused. You were starting to take a fondness to the sun; unlike the childish demeanor in his tone, he was actually capable of holding a real, intellectual conversation with you, rather than repeat copy-and-pasta responses like help bots for big sites and video game NPCs. The more you talked to him, the more you regarded him as a friend and not bitterly as an authority figure. 

You were stumbling into bed at night. You knew you wouldn't be able to sleep too soon.

You'd gotten too emotional over the words of the others. Something you endlessly scolded yourself for right about now. And that stupid sun bot, to you, did nothing but spout the usual bullshit of "bullying is bad, just be friends" speech that schools loved to use.

They called you a freak of nature. The rich kids from the privileged families who were probably going to end up being “famous” artists making ugly art for a shitty new brand of NFTs in the next 10 to 15 years or so. Even saying that to yourself, even reminding yourself that their snobby behavior could very well lead them to suffer in the confines of an office job, you couldn't shake it. The feeling of not belonging. The feeling of being a disgusting burden to others. Like a diseased thing that nobody wants to deal with.

You tossed and turned in your sleep, for what felt like forever. You shuddered uncontrollably in the overly air-conditioned internal weather under the blankets that were too light to be of any help to your cause. It was Summer. Why’d it have to be so god damn cold?

Just when you thought you might space out enough to drift off into a comfortable slumber, you could hear those very same kids acting like wannabe fratboys, hanging out and punching each other and probably drinking their asses off judging by the hiccups and drawled, still unintelligible words; in a couple rooms over where you could hear everything through the paper thin walls. The erupting anger that followed was enough to rid you of any drowsiness.

So, even though they wouldn’t play music for very long, you fumbled through your bag sat next to you on the floor. After a moment of frustration, your fingers met the relaxed, familiar faux-leather texture of your headphones.

Pulling yourself back up into the safety of the cotton sheets, you began to connect them to your phone, heard the familiar beep, and sighed. Until you took a closer look at your device list. 

JBT LIVE 1703

Connected to DYCR Radio for calls and audio, 40% battery remaining

"What?" You ended up muttering it out loud. What was DYCR Radio? And, on closer inspection — why were you connected for calls?

The shadows began to feel uneasy, seeming as though they were dancing a cryptic dance in your dorm room. Just as you felt like getting up and turning on the light, you heard it. The sound of a skilled pianist. The melody was dark and haunting but so beautiful, and made the shadows in the corners flow like the ocean in a strange ocular illusion.

The tension simply melted from your body, and you let yourself lay down again as you checked the time, having a vague suspicion that it was the witching hour or something, and you were about to be involved in some vague horror story. But when you looked at the clock, it was 2 AM sharp, not the three-in-the-morning horror story you feared. 

No mistaking it; you were terrified for your life. But there wasn’t much you could do except listen. As the fear waned off your ribcage, you couldn’t help but appreciate it. 

It let you fall asleep, unbothered by any sort of intrusive thought, albeit with strange dreams.

That radio unintentionally made you base your entire visit around it. Your headphones would only connect to that radio at 2 AM on the dot, and it overrode anything you were previously playing. Then it didn’t, and you forgot to come back to listen. Then it played softly in the background of whatever you were listening to. 

Nothing stopped you from vigorously searching every corner of the Internet; consulting sources you didn't even consider plausible until now. You just needed a theory at this, not even the truth. Just a theory.

It took a major chunk out of your summer camp that you reasonably should’ve focused on, well, art; but you tied the sun robot to something. The Magic Pizzaplex, a building advertised to be full of fun for any age and managed by a corporation. And that sun robot used to be the daycare manager, or was of a similar model, judging by the photos and the comparison in your memories. But what you found most intriguing, something that actually helped you figure out what it was. The sun had a twin. A moon.

His job was to help put the bothered children to sleep peacefully when it was their bedtime. It reminded you of your own experiences. How it first came on when you were about to cry. How it was louder the nights when you were upset or harassed by your own thoughts. 

Was the moon really here? Watching over you at night, playing that haunting melody into your headphones that always made your heart rate slow to a relaxed crawl, and your body melt into your mattress as though you'd gotten to finally relax after a long day of work? Normally, you'd hate something watching you. You regarded your privacy as something very important. But the tunes, even though you recognized none of them, were familiar to you now. You trusted them. And you might extend that trust to whoever lay responsible behind them.

It was one of these nights that you wanted to settle down, and you felt your heart sink to your stomach with fear and worry as the little notification that told you that you were connected to the radio never showed up. It made you wary, and paranoid to be frank. You watched the shadows carefully, growing more and more concerned for your own safety as everyone truly and finally had fallen asleep.

At the tender hour of two-thirty in the morn, you heard a creaking noise from a few rooms over, or upon closer inspection, the ceiling from a few rooms over that made you freeze in place.

Creak. Tap. Clack. Creeaakkk.

It began to grow louder. And louder. It sounded like it was coming for your room. You made what you assumed to be an awful choice, grabbing your phone's flashlight and preparing to turn it on. And then the worst showed itself.

A pair of glowing, red eyes show themselves, on the corner between the ceiling and the wall. You shriek and promptly shine the flashlight, an angry hiss is the reward for your act.

"That's it. I'm done for, I pissed it off," you thought. "Game over, man."

"Rrrrude."

"What?" You accidentally responded out loud, turning the flashlight off. "Is this how you repay favors, Y/N?" 

"N... no? I have... a lot of questions." You responded quietly, and got an equally quiet chuckle as it crawled down from its hiding place. It would be an underestimation to say you were scared for your life when you felt something perch its claws on the wooden board at the end of your bed. "Ohhhoho, I'm sure you do. You are always so full of questions..."

The red glow of its eyes brightened. You could see clearly its facial features now. "... You're the Moon, aren't you? You- you play that piano, on the radio?”

A wider smile drew across its faceplate, that was way more expressive than you thought it would be. "Yes.” When you had the chance to observe, you noticed he spoke slowly. His voice was slightly hoarse, but not too deep, and calm as well. The sound of a slight smile played over his short-lived sentences. 

You smiled at the thought that this animatronic played the piano. The same gorgeous, unpredictable, faint piano that you listened to near every night. 

"But... you humans are such fickle things,” it huffed. You flinched at the imaginary puff of air. “You listen to the piano. Night after night, tear after saddened tear, you come back. But when you see who plays it, you run like little deer." Bringing himself closer to your form — that comparably felt like an ant to his tall frame — he made a running motion with his hand in the dark to partner his sentence. His hand then fell limp, and rested on the mattress. His eyes looked down at yours in a saddened beast sort of way. "Don't run from me as well, starlight. You love my music so. Right?”

You were taken aback by the petname. You weren't sure how to feel, but you couldn't feel angry towards him in any way. "I won't." Oh, he lit up at the sound of that. "You're a little weird. But you're not bad at all. Kinda like me?” You offered a nervous smile. His expression softened. "Like... you?" His metallic head tilted to the side, like a curious dog.

"Yeah. Someone like you." It was sudden; you were lifted off the mattress, and when your body found somewhere to place its gravity again, you felt it lean against a torso of some sort. Startled as a hand met your cheek, you eventually relaxed into the cold but just as lulling and haunting as the music that led you to slumber every night. "But. Moon..." You looked up at him, catching a brief glimpse of his dim red pupil. 

"... summer camp ends in two weeks. And, what if I'm dreaming?" You brought your knees up closer to your torso, trying to make yourself even more comfortable where you were and to feel more secure, feeling a light, caring embrace that served that purpose. His voice then whispered to you and you alone. 

"Either way you will hear the radio tomorrow."

[emperor-palpaminty]

Cat and Mouse (pt 1)

this is for the anon that requested rebel reader and imperial tech! i apologize in advance, I suck at this But here is part 2

also I have no idea where I'm going with this haha, but basically... cat and mouse game, and also, sexy?? Like... Hate but with horny/possessive undertones? 

warning for fighting/violence and also badly written lust/obsession, goodbye

___

When you had taken on this mission, you had only half-expected to run into a platoon of stormtroopers, but not any personal guards. The new Admiral and his crew had taken over this old Nubian Royal Base.

Being a former Jedi certainly helped. The new rebellion paid you decently, but hating these guys for what they did to you, what they took away from you. The younglings, the soldiers- some of which were men you were killing now.

The vibroblade was light in your hands as you dodged, the force powering you to wave between shots, soldiers. You seethed and easily cut through another stormtrooper’s weak point, where the joints of their armor met and the black glove underneath was exposed. You grabbed a blaster from the fallen troop, turning and blasting behind you. The force was still strong in you, unfortunately, and you had to use it.

You may not be a jedi any more, but you still had an oath- you had to protect those who could not protect themselves, even if it involved killing these guys. They weren’t droids this time. They were living and breathing creatures.

You had a vow, you remembered, turning and sprinting down the hall, tucking the blaster onto your belt, vibroblade slick with blood, and made your way towards the database room.

___

He had never seen anything quite like this, quite like her. He knew how Jedi fought and he knew that Jedi were extremely skilled in hand-to-hand combat. She wasn’t wielding her lightsaber as she sprinted down the hall towards the data room.

Tech cursed softly to himself, lowering his datapad. Hunter and Wrecker had gone off to handle small rebellions off-planet. Tech was here, on Naboo, to inspect and upgrade the former GAR base to the standards to the new Empire. He appreciated the beauty of the planet, the art and culture of it all.

Freedom, he recalled, Freedom was what the Empire gave him. He had a higher rank, an actual wage, and commanded respect. He paced towards his commlink, picking it up, running his thumb over the signal dial.

"Hello, Rebel." Tech's voice was calm, flat. She froze momentarily, hand raising to her ear, and she looked around for the invisible eyes on her. "I'm afraid to say it, but what you're looking for is not here."

Her eyes raised in defiance to the camera. That fire, that life in her eyes with a vibrancy he could not look away from- he grabbed his Holopad, skimming through it. "Or, if I must say, the person you're not looking for is here."

"Impossible," She rasped, running down the hall. "You can see me."

Tech shrugged, walking to his chair. "Anyways, I digress. Do you know how odd it is to come to a seemingly abandoned base and find it teeming with soldiers? Yes, a couple here and there- but as many as I have placed?"

"You're here." She snarled. The depth, the heat of that hatred sent a shiver in his throat. "I know you are."

"It's because I knew you were coming." He said, calmly, still watching the figure on the screen. It was all bantha fodder- he was still in the facility. His eyes followed her, sprinting through the halls. “We have a spy on the inside.”

“Liar.” She hissed. Shivers raked down his spine.

Tech sighed, happily, watching her. “So, you want to tell me about yourself? No? Or do I want to tell you about you?” There was a space of silence as she moved through the halls. “Hm, fine. I suppose I should.” He picked up the holopad, smiling at the file it pulled up. “The names that the Rebels assign are a little... overboard. But I believe ‘Ghost One’ is a fantastic name for you.” 

On screen, she froze. Her fingers tightened around her blade before pressing on. 

“Hm, so I got it right, my Ghost?” Tech’s lips twitched, watching her stalk the halls like a cat, ready to pounce. How unfortunate it was that he was not the mouse, but she didn’t seem to understand that. “You certainly aren’t new to the rebellion, you’ve been spotted in several other imperial locations. So young but so skilled.” He mused, aloud, murmuring into the commlink. “What was your life before this... silly insurrection?”

He could practically hear her heartbeat. Watching her sprint, run, dodge, seek him- it was exhilirating. “I’m flattered you’re seeking me this hard, darling, but honestly, I’m not there. I can come find you, instead, alone.” He purred. “Honestly, darling, that doesn’t sound like a bad option.”

“Bite me.”

“Just say where, and I will gladly follow through.” 

She snarled something into the comm, shoving her shoulder against a door. “Shut up.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.” Tech pulled his hand off the speaking button, watching her enter the room from the hall camera before quickly reemerging into sight. “Maybe I like the thought of it. Biting you, I mean.”

“Hey, go back to guessing about my life instead. I really hate this conversation.”

“I’m just now getting into it, dear.” Tech purred again. His blood ran hot, watching this warrior move through the hallway, sleek and quick. “I love watching you, you know.” His tongue probed his cheek, and he hummed. “Now, is this your personal comm channel?”

There was silence.

Tech laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, beloved, you have made a grave mistake.” His voice darkened, lowered. “I’ll be watching you with great interest, darling. And the next time we talk, perhaps I’ll have an offer for you that will be too good for you to pass up.”

She swore, hissed, snarled at him in the comm. Her eyes, they burned at the cameras as she passed by them, making a beeline for the exit. Her venom only made his blood boil, heart flutter. “Don’t talk to me again, or I swear I’ll-”

“Oh, you’ll come hunt me down?” Tech rose, pacing his darkened office for a moment. “That sounds absolutely exhilirating. Just let me know ahead of time so I can make proper arrangements.”

“You- you’re getting off on this.” She sounded shocked- a squeak raised in her voice, ebbed with disgust. “You motherfuc-”

Tech tsked, lowering the comm. Yes, she was right, at least a little right. “Run home, my sweet. Expect to hear from me soon.” He turned off his comm, tossing it onto his bed, watching her from the screed that was channeled to the outer-facility camera, her form running into the night.

Oh, the chase! His heart thrummed thinking of it, cornering her, getting close and even hand-to-hand with her. Maybe, even better, he could convince her to join the Empire- her skills would be needed, valuable. Then she could be his. Begging for him, the hatred giving way to lust-

He was pulled from his fantasties by a beeping on his holopad. Tech quickly picked it up, looking over the full file of the woman called Ghost One. A smile pressed to his lips- that determination was still sparking in the still image he had of her, alive and vibrant with a fire that burned in him. He had her- he would have her for himself.

[politijohn]

The Stock Market is not the Economy w/ Dan Price

Airlines spent 96% of free cash flow on stock buybacks for a decade, then cut 90,000 jobs when trouble hit. Then they got a $50 billion bailout

GE promised its CEO a huge bonus if stock hit $19. It didn’t, so GE re-did contract so the bonus kicks in at $10/share The CEO cut 20% of aviation staff to increase profits and raise the stock to $10 His bonus: $47M. If it goes up again, he gets $270M

JCPenney - April: furloughed 85,000 employees, May 10: Gave CEO $4.5M bonus on top of $17M/yr in pay, May 15: went bankrupt, Oct: laid off 15,000 people, Dec: closed 150 stores, Now: CEO left with $4.5M bonus after stock fell 88% in her 2 yrs

Boeing spent almost all of its cash on stock buybacks over the prior decade. In the past year, it cut 27,000 employees. It also fired its CEO over 2 deadly plane crashes and ensuing coverup, and gave him a $81 million exit package

On Jan. 6, when the mob stormed the Capitol, the stock market went up 250 points to a new record, handing the richest 1% an extra $300 billion. Also that day, a new report showed employment dropped for the first time since April and a then-record 3,900 people died of covid

Albertsons, US’ 2nd-largest grocery chain: *Profit is up 256% in pandemic *Stock at record high *Owned by private equity *CEO made $29M last year *Fired all California non-union drivers to replace them with gig workers with no benefits/min wage

The stock market for the 500 biggest companies ended the year up 15%, among the biggest gains ever. Also in that span, those companies lad off a record number of people, and wait times for food banks hit a record high

As part of the first stimulus, the Fed pumped about $3 trillion into the stock market, which helped it soar to record highs. At the same time, a record 30% of small businesses failed and unemployment tripled

Since 2009, stock market is up 233%. Since 2009, the federal min. wage is up 0%

Coca-Cola - This decade, it spent $48B on dividends and over $20B on stock buybacks 2018: CEO got 58% pay increase 2019: CEO got 12% pay increase, to $18.7M 2020: Company makes $8.3B profit…and it just laid off 12% of workers

Among the biggest 50 companies, they spent 79% of profits on stock buybacks and dividends in recent years to enrich executives and mostly-wealthy shareholders. Last year, those companies combined to lay off over 100,000 workers

Disney stock is up 21% in the past year to a new record high. In recent months they laid off 32,000 people. One of our employees lives near Disney World. Recently there was a line of cars outside his house for a drive-thru food bank 7.5 miles away

In the pandemic, total stock value has grown by $16.6 trillion. $8.3 trillion of that went to the richest 1%, and they pay a lower tax rate than those who are unemployed and need help

Salesforce - In the last 5 years, it has bought 27 companies for tens of billions of dollars. It just bought Slack for $27.7B. Its stock is at record high, up 23% in the past year after revenue surged 29%. And it just laid off 1,000 people

In November alone, the average member of the top 10% gained an average of $200,000 from the stock market while 7M people plunged into poverty

On one day in November: *The stock market hit 30,000 for the first time *Elon Musk became first person to gain $100B in a year *A Census report revealed 6M people face imminent eviction

Uber + Lyft spent $200M on November election ads to convince Californians they shouldn’t pay drivers minimum wage or benefits. In the 2 weeks after passage, Uber stock went up 39% and Lyft stock soared 52%. In return, all drivers were denied basic benefits

Average stock gains over 10 years CEOs with above-average pay: stock up 160% CEOs with below-average pay: stock up 280% And yet CEOs are rewarded whether the stock goes up or down

AT&T - 2018-2019: bought Time Warner for $100B, cut 29,000 jobs May: gave departing CEO $64M pension ($274K/mo for life), laid off 4,700 more workers August: laid off 600 more workers, Now: laid off thousands more - news sent stock up 2%

Marriott - 2018-2019: made $3.1B in profits, spent $5B on stock buybacks April: furloughed most employees, paid $160M in dividends to shareholders, gave CEO a 8% raise and 200% bonus Sept: laid off 17% of HQ staff Now: made $100M profit

$3B: what Jeff Bezos cashed out in stock in one day, as Amazon profits tripled in the pandemic. $2.1B: cost to give all Amazon warehouse workers 2 weeks paid sick leave and a year of hero pay (they got none of either now)

84% of stock market value is owned by richest 10% “but what about 401(k)s” Half of Americans don’t have one The average 401(k) balance has *declined* $5,000 in 6 years after inflation, because employers put in less & people can’t afford contributions

MGM - Laid off 18,000 people while giving its CEO $700K in stock. The value of the stock doubled to $1.4M after the stock went up, partly because of increased profitability due to the layoffs

Wells Fargo made $10B in staff cuts, meaning tens of thousands of employees lost their jobs. Wells Fargo also made a $2B profit, did $24B in stock buybacks last year, and paid its CEO $36M

Black and Latino Americans make up about 32% of the population but own only 1.7% of all stock value

1948-1979: Worker productivity: up 108%, Stock market: up 603%, Worker pay: up 93%.  Since then, worker productivity: up 70%, Stock market: up 2,200%, Worker pay: up 12%. Corporations and workers used to get richer together. Now companies just keep the money

Deere - Construction sales are down 25%. Yet, it is posting a $2.25B profit as it cuts thousands of jobs. The result: Its stock grew 23% in a year to a record high. In the week after it announced job cuts, its stock grew 9%

Walmart - Stock is at record high, up 23% in a year. The Waltons have gotten over $20B richer in the pandemic. Online sales are up 74% and market share has grown…and it cut hundreds of corporate jobs

Macy’s - Its stock was down 60% in a year and they cut 3,900 jobs. So what did it do? Gave its CEO a $3.7M bonus, and gave about $1M each to 5 other execs

CEOs justify huge pay by saying they’re worth it. But there’s no correlation between profit and CEO pay at 61% of corporations. Since 1990, stock market: up 300%, CEO pay: up 550%

Stock for the parent company of Ann Taylor, Loft and Lane Bryant is down 75% in a year. It closed all 2,800 stores. So what did it do? Gave executives $5.5M in bonuses, including over $2M to the CEO

Where proceeds from stock buybacks + dividends went over the last 15 years: White people: $13 trillion, Black people: $0.18 trillion Hispanic people: $0.21 trillion When we talk about the systemic racial wealth gap, this is a pretty good place to start

Amid the early days of the pandemic, stocks grew 38%, the most ever in a 50-day span. At the same time, thousands of small businesses closed each day while thousands of people died from covid

Google - Stock at all-time high. $6.8B profit last year. Founders Page + Brin added $10B+ to fortunes in a year. Offered jobs to over 2,000 people and axed them w/ no severance before they ever worked a day - after they already left their prior jobs

Companies did $62B/year in stock buybacks in the ‘80s and ‘90s. Now they do $730B/year in stock buybacks. Worker pay increases are far smaller now than they were in the ‘80s and ‘90s

Chevron - Its CEO made $33.1M/year. 5 other execs made a total of $59M. It spent $13B on stock buybacks and dividends in a year then laid off 10-15% of its staff

Big companies don’t just spend profits on manipulating stock. They are a record $10 trillion in debt - mostly for stock buybacks + dividends to enrich themselves. When the bill comes due, layoffs typically ensue

In April, a record 30M people lost their jobs and small businesses lost 55% of their revenue. At the same time, the stock market rose the most since 1987 and billionaires gained $308B

[christ-h0le]

The Weight of Gold

Summary: Imagine if S.Coups was Robin Hood and he takes a nap in the woods but in the woods there were bad boiz.

Genre: Fantasy

Words: 1.5K

Part 1 of TBA

This is for the #caratcreatorwriter event with some buds (new friends). Thank you @seungkwns for hosting, and thank you @coupsnim for being my partner. Please look at their blogs as they are better than me.~

With heavy eyelids our hose-clad protagonist laid down his head to rest. The still and peaceful sounds of the lush woods were too enchanting to ignore. As the wind rustled through the leaves of the Sherwood Forest S.Coups slept.

A simple carpenter's life kept him safe. Like the sturdiness of the nails and wood he worked with, his job gave him security and sureness. Once out in the forest he was a different man. He could finally be a man unshackled from a world where worth was weighed in coins, and if you didn't have enough...

Sherwood Forest offered him a sanctuary. It was a place where possibilities were endless. Around one weathered rock he could be free. Behind that gnarled oak he could live at peace. Life could be different in the woods. The calluses on his hands didn't have to be used to keep him a productive member of society. Instead, they could help him climb the tallest of trees where he could feel the wind rushing through his shaggy brown hair.

It was always hard for him to get a good night's sleep within the bleak walls of town. At night while laying in bed he'd stare at the ceiling with unsleeping eyes. His ears would pick up his own doubts bouncing off the masonry. Thoughts of his humdrum existence would infiltrate the time he could finally escape. Luckily when the daylight shined there was hope that even in the mud-baked village he could be happy. His hard work would pay off. He could live free. With no taxes to pay he could afford an extra loaf of bread. He would have enough money to take a day off of his grueling work and enjoy a good drink with some friends. Tax collectors wouldn't have that happen. Just last week he witnessed a collector, Kwon Soonyoung dressed in expensive furs, push down his neighbour after they refused to give up forty percent of their earnings. Forty percent! It was despicable the way the rich treated the poor and it was obvious that they skimmed the top before giving them to the king. How else could they afford striped animal furs otherwise? Their guilty pockets were lined with the sweat of the villagers. With his sweat. Maybe without the expectation of that heavy levy S.Coups would rest easy in his bed at home.

In the Forest Seungchol slept. Even at midday he could sleep easily under the leafy canopy and the foliage-filtered sunlight danced on our hero, devoid of all worry. How quickly did the peacefulness of nature disarm him? It took only a few minutes of his eyes being closed before our main character was fully and deeply asleep. His shoulders relaxed and his body sunk lower into his leafy bed. With a steady breath and a relaxed face he slept peacefully and soundly. Better than any sleep he could hope to have in his own bed.

The sun moved across the sky but S.Coups did not stir. In the distance a robin called out to its mate but Seungchol did not wake. Bees bobbed from flower to flower, dizzy with nectar but he kept sleeping. Not a single fear crossed his unbothered face. The only thing on our peaceful protagonist that changed were the shadows as minutes and hours passed. Without the worry of Soonyoung demanding his hard-earned wage he could sleep without fear.

There was more to fear in the woods than tax collectors. Though the Sherwood Forest brought Seungchol peace and tranquility it was filled with the unknown. Behind each mossy stone there was the chance of an angry boar, a crazed hunter, or greedy brigands coming and fucking up his beauty sleep. There was the chance he was the second guest to that bed of leaves. With no ceiling to stare at, unknown eyes could instead look at him. Where the only noise was the breathing of S.Coups how could one not stop and listen? In the woods one was not always safe and this soft man with not a single worry on his beautiful face, was definitely not safe.

A flock of fowl fluttered up into the sky as a branch snapped. People were drawing near. The glow of a torch was growing ever brighter as the strangers made their way through the dense brush of the woods. Handsome faces appeared through the foliage, ruggedly sexy but harsh in the glow cast by the fire they carried. Then they saw him sleeping there all peaceful-like. With closed eyes Seungchol didn’t stand a chance to see the equally sexy, and equally hose-clad men draw near. S.Coup’s was too busy staring at the back of his eyelids to see all the shenanigans. It was obvious they were planning something by the way they were whispering and nodding to one another; a plan that was devious at its best and horrific at its worst. With light steps a handful of the group crept up, the soft earth cushioning the sounds of their steps. They closed the distance between them with care, not wanting to wake our sleeping carpenter ahead of schedule.

However the time would have to come when both parties’ fates would forever be intertwined. Our mysterious brigands couldn’t be quiet for much longer. With only a few steps between them and their target one of them made his move. His hands reached forward; one palm covering the inevitable shout that tried to escape S.Coup’s throat, the other hand brandished a short knife which he held to the now very awake man’s neck.

“If one word comes out of that pretty mouth of yours I’ll cut you down faster than you can blink.” said the man. By the way he held the knife, S.Coups was convinced he’d be able to follow through. Not that he could say anything at all with his mouth covered up. He could only nod his head to show he understood and pray that harm wouldn’t fall upon him.

He was wide awake and took stock of the situation.

Seven men surrounded him in total and each man bared a weapon. Most held knives but one man at the back had a bow with an arrow notched, another could be seen with a hatchet. Being woken up this was worse than rude, It was terrifying.

S.Coups couldn’t focus on the others for too long as there was a more pressing issue. That issue was a cold piece of sharpened metal pushed firmly against his throat and the man who held it there. His wide eyes looked up at him and saw a beautiful man staring back. The villain had a long and straight nose and a freckle under one of his eyes. If he wasn’t being held up, S.Coups would think he was handsome.

The firm hand that held him silent softened and withdrew but the eyes of his captor kept him pinned to the forest floor.

“Now.” DK started, moving to a standing position. His partners changed formation and circled S.Coups. “Give us all your money and we’ll let you live.”

This day DK, sometimes called Dokyeom or Seokmin by his friends, stood tall and proud, happy to be leading his crew to victory in apprehending their target. He commanded the band of merry men only by name; the rest of the crew was capable in their own rights and if anything, they all shared responsibility in the group. Truthfully the only reason DK was leader was because he had won a bout of rock, paper, scissors. Luck was with his back then as well as now. They were about to get paid.

“You heard what I said. Give us all your money.” he said kicking Seungchol, laughing all the while. His pals laughed along with him, joining in on the fun.

When you lived in the woods poor and with very little food it felt nice to have power over someone sometimes. Kicking people wasn’t everyone’s definition of fun, but being able to afford a warm meal and a brew under a roof was worth doing some deplorable things every now and then. They looked at the man on the ground expectantly, they were all ready for money.

“I don’t have anything,” Seungchol said, covering his face with his hands for protection from their kicks. “Check my coin pouch if you don’t believe me.” He didn’t want any trouble. He might be able to outrun the average man, or win against one person in a fight, but against seven he stood no chance. All he wanted was to get away out of the dark woods and back to his gloomy, but safe, bed.

DK pocketed his knife, and leaned forward to search S.Coups. “You’d better not be tricking me,” he said harshly. With no pay in hand DK wouldn’t be kind, but even less so if he was being lied to. If there was one thing worth less than a broke person, it was a liar. The crew he was with was permanently broke but they all had trust for one another, and that was a beautiful thing; a group of criminals with no monies that called each other friends.

With no consideration for comfort, Seokmin roughly searched S.Coups, looking for any traces of wealth on his person. It didn’t take long for his hands to find the coin pouch. It didn’t take a genius to see that it was empty. “So, our victim was telling the truth,” DK thought. With a sigh, Dokyeom stood up and turned to his crew.

“Guess this guy ain’t very cash money. Looks like we’ve got to kill him now.”

[steepgan]

someone dear (ii) - d. ragnvindr x f!reader

PART I - PART II - PART III

diluc pov... im practicing writing for this fic im writing so sorry if its BAD... also TW BL//D ..!! hmm i definitely drew inspiration from pride and prejudice while writing this LMFAOOO um <3 sry jane austen for ruining ur book >,< also i did not edit this either um.

Diluc had always known that [Name] was committed to money, if not her job. He didn’t know why. It was obviously something very personal to [Name], and he didn’t have enough time to meddle into his employee’s affairs. If he questioned her about it, she might’ve felt compelled to tell him. Or she’d request him to pay her for the secret.

He was more than willing to give [Name] a little money. She was a hard worker as well as a young woman of excellent tastes. Given her personality, he would have thought her as a bartender for Cat’s Tail—a rival of his with excellent drinks that was taking Mondstadt’s wine industry by storm. But [Name] was here, working diligently with the same old grin on her face.

There would be some days where she’d request the bard to play a somber song because she thought it was fitting for her mood. Diluc’d overheard her complaining to Charles about getting a cut on her hand from picking up shards of glass.

She worked so frequently that Angel’s Share wouldn’t be Angel’s share without her. Perhaps she’d been saving up for something big, like a trip. Diluc could see her roaming around the seven nations with no clear destination. She had a wanderer’s soul, really. If she ever left, would Diluc be able to find a replacement?

Certainly he would. 

[Name] was just a worker, and it was Diluc’s duty to see to it that he had excellent employees. And if she was good and brave, then the rest of the city could be good and brave.

“Charles,” Diluc called out. The Abyss Order was still at large. Tonight he’d roam the city streets to keep the people safe. “I can take tonight’s shift for you.”

The bartender bowed graciously. Days off for him were very rare.  “Thank you, Master Diluc,” he said before casting a side glance at [Name], “although have you thought about taking [Name]’s shift instead? She’s been working lots lately…”

[Name], who’d overheard them, lifted her head up from the cupboard beneath the bar she was cleaning. She hit her head on the counter and wobbled over. Scratching the crown of her head, she chuckled nervously. “Oh, I’m all right! I’d be happy to work a little extra anyway.”

Diluc furrowed his brows. It’d be better if he had the tavern to himself so his identity wouldn’t be exposed. Unfortunately, [Name] was such a good worker that she’d seen him come back into the tavern after a good fight one too many times. Firing her was out of the question because she did her job well, and it would be terrible of him to get rid of her because of his bad blood with the knights. 

However, [Name] didn’t really care, which was good. He didn’t give that raise to her for nothing. Diluc said, “[Name], are you sure?”

“No worries, Master Diluc,” she said. 

And then it happened to be that night where Diluc stumbled back to Angel’s Share with his arm noticeably limp and his black clothes damp with blood.

It was just [Name] sitting at the bar, flipping through a magazine of catalogs Diluc couldn’t be bothered with. His arm was searing with pain—to the point where he could feel nothing at all. Numbness. It wasn’t too bad; he’d dealt with worser injuries. 

He considered himself lucky enough to find Angel’s Share in the first place, even with the lanterns lighting up the road. Diluc had to avoid all the usual patrols of the Favonius Knights. 

Diluc was blinking through sweat, trying to register the bright lights of inside the tavern. Everything was so spotty and brilliant with gold explosions. He shouldn’t have decorated the inside so lavishly. [Name]’s head jolted up at the sight of him. Had she been falling asleep on the job? How unprofessional… but there were no people in here, so Diluc didn’t care.

With the decorations so shiny behind her, she looked like a fancy chandelier. Like the one at Dawn Winery. So shimmery. 

[Name] rushed to Diluc’s side. “Master Diluc? Are you okay? You’re—you’re severely injured!”

“I’m fine,” he gritted out.

“You’re bleeding.”

“It’s not the end of the world, is it?” Diluc snapped. [Name] was taken aback. He sighed. “Sorry. Just leave me be. I’ll go upstairs and—”

His world started spinning. [Name] caught him.

She looked frantic. “I’m not the best at wrapping up wounds, but I know a trick or two from Lisa!” Diluc’s disdain must’ve shown because [Name] immediately added, “I know she’s a part of the knights, but healing is healing. Let’s get you to the bar.”

[Name] was probably curious. She might’ve wanted to know what Diluc was doing out at night and how he’d gotten himself injured. Diluc tugged himself away from [Name]’s grasp. “No,” he said. He could heal himself. He could handle it on his own. “I got it.”

“Let me do this,” she insisted, “temporarily.”

Diluc had always been alone. He worked on missions by himself. He protected the city of Mondstadt by himself. The Knights of Favonius were no good, really. It was up to him alone. Just Diluc. It's always been just Diluc. It was just Diluc when he left the knights, and it was just Diluc when he insisted that Inspector Eroch take his father’s death more seriously.

“I’m okay,” he said. “Leave me alone. Pretend you saw nothing.”

I’m injured, he thought. I need medical assistance. I know some medicine. No, I don’t. There’s painkillers upstairs. Yeah… painkillers upstairs.

[Name] made up her mind and grabbed Diluc’s good arm. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You’re very hurt. And I know you told me to leave you alone, but you look like you’re in pain. I can’t do much, but at least let me help you just for a second.”

No, I’m doing just spiffy! Diluc wanted to say. But that wouldn’t help his case. He’d gone through worse alone. An arm cut was nothing compared to his past. This wouldn’t kill him, but it hurt so, so bad. He’d live, though, and as long as Diluc had all his limbs intact by the end of the day, he’d still protect Mondstadt.

[Name] took advantage of Diluc’s internal struggle to sit him down at the bar. She ran to the back to grab supplies before coming back out. She dropped a pair of fine scissors, swore, and then picked it back up. [Name] forced Diluc’s coat off of him, tossing it aside.

Diluc had seen [Name] eye his nice coat from time to time, and he had half a mind to give it to her just for fun. But she paid no mind to it now. Blood was smeared over his arm.

“Oh, dear,” she said. “It matches the color of your hair.”

“Thanks,” he said. The pain spiked. “I don’t suppose you want financial compensation for taking care of me.”

She shook her head. [Name] is good and brave, Diluc had thought then. She snipped a certain length of a linen bandage she’d brought out from the back. “I’m still working within work hours. The usual pay is enough for me.”

Diluc had a lot to say.

“But I’m not the best at wrapping wounds,” [Name] admitted. “Promise me you’ll see a professional after this. Hopefully one of your personal assistants?”

“Okay,” he said.

“This might sting,” she warned. She dabbed a clean cloth into alcohol before wiping it gently over his arm. She held his arm gently, her cool hand keeping him steady while she cleaned away the germs and infection. Compared to the searing pain of the cut, the alcohol was nothing.

I don’t like this, Diluc thought. [Name] knows too much. I’m no longer alone. I don’t like this at all.

The night was silent, only filled with [Name] working with her limited materials to patch Diluc up. It was awkward, and the tension was as thick as burnt steak. 

For his pride and for the livelihood of Mondstadt, [Name] could not know that he was protecting the city at night. She was too friendly with the knights. She talked way too much. She could accidentally spill Diluc’s secrets. This was not good.

“Have you ever thought about working at the winery itself?” Diluc proposed. If firing her wouldn’t do the trick, then maybe sending her away from the city would.

[Name] looked perplexed. “Why?”

Diluc tried to imagine [Name] as a maid at his winery, keeping the interior clean. [Name] could drag a drunkard outside no problem, but could she clean the fine, delicate decorations that made the inside of the winery so neat? Could she be happy working there? Frankly, Diluc couldn’t imagine [Name] as someone who’d enjoy working at the winery at all.

“You wouldn’t make a good maid,” he said out of the blue.

“What?” [Name] furrowed her brows. “I’d make a great maid. I’d be the best maid ever.”

“Prove it,” he said. “You should work at the winery. It’s a bit of a distance, but I could pay for your travel fare.”

“Same wage?”

“Same wage.”

[Name]’s fingers held the bandage as she began to wrap it around his arm. She worked quickly with the skill of a bartender who had plenty of customers and little time. Her touch danced over his skin, and he was fighting the rising urge to blush.

“Thank you, Master Diluc, but I’m okay. I like working here. I’d imagine it’s more fun,” she said. “If it’s the same wage, I might as well enjoy being here in the city while working.”

“You care about fun?” Diluc was surprised. Given the last six months, he thought all she cared about was small talk and money. “All right, then.”

“I can’t believe you got hurt,” she said. [Name] almost sounded mad. “It’s not so bad to ask others for help when you need it.”

You should be mad at me for other things.

“I can do things alone,” Diluc said. “I don’t exactly need anyone, really. This is just a one time thing. I could  have healed myself on the second floor, but you had to interfere—”

“Master Diluc,” [Name] said, “I don’t know what failed you or who let you down, but we do need people.”

Diluc was growing cross. His ugly pride poked his chest. “I know that.”

People needed each other! It was how civilizations came about, and it was how empires fell. That was why he protected Mondstadt. That was why he prowled the streets. He did it because the people needed someone competent, and he did it because the knights would let the people down just as they did he. 

People needed him. 

“Dependency isn’t bad,” [Name] further added. “One day, you will find people who helped you, and you will help them in return. It’s only natural to need people, Master Diluc. We all need people. We all need company.”

“Too much dependency is—” The pain ran up his arm.

“Well, of course,” [Name] said. “Independence is a good thing, too. It’s highly sought after. Maybe being a lone wolf is exactly up your ally, Mr. Diluc, but the idea of a lone wolf is somewhat of an oxymoron. Wolves always prefer to travel in a pack.”

Do I really want to be alone all my life? Diluc thought. “I guess you’re right,” he said instead. “You have my thanks.”

“You pay me,” she pointed out cheerfully, and Diluc’s heart panged.

“[Name].” The words left his mouth before he could even think. “Why do you work so hard? Is there something you work toward?”

“Not exactly,” she said. “Being financially stable has always been a dream of mine. As well as putting enough food on the table and buying all these nice clothes.”

Diluc was surprised. “No family?”

“I do have, but they’re in Liyue as of now. We talk occasionally, but I like to live my own life how I like it.” [Name] nodded. “If I work for anything at all, I’d have to say I work for myself. I like working here, and I work because the journey is just as fun as the destination. A cozy retirement is not worth enjoying if one didn’t work hard to get there. Is there someone or something you work for, Master Diluc?”

Many gods ran through his mind. Deities upon deities. Alters upon alters.

“Mondstadt and its citizens,” Diluc responded. “The knights are the definition of inefficient. I clear up a few enemies on the streets sometimes”— he’d realized he essentially spilled his secret hobby to [Name]—“but it’s nothing big.”

“Take pride, Master Diluc,” [Name] said. Had she figured it out? Diluc felt small underneath her working fingertips. “I take it you’re a nocturnal vigilante?”

Diluc swore internally. “I suppose.”

“So did you choose the name Darknight Hero? You’re the talk of the town.”

It was good that the people were romanticizing his adventures. It gave them a sense of peace and normalcy. However, the name was absolutely atrocious. “I don’t like that name,” Diluc said.

“What do you prefer they call you, then?”

Preferably, nothing. Diluc did not do this for attention. He was supposed to be one with the shadows. But [Name] made him feel seen. He felt exposed to some terrible light.

Diluc had to remember that [Name] was an employee under him. She was one of the many citizens he had to protect. She shouldn’t be wrapping up his arm like this. Diluc should be writhing in pain alone upstairs with [Name] none the wiser. 

Her touch was soft. Her fingertips barely touched the surface of his skin. Her hands were no longer cool but warm and alive. She took care of him so gently that Diluc forgot he was a weapon and felt like a cherished object.

For someone who claimed she wasn’t proficient in wound-wrapping, she did a decent temporary job. Of course, a visit to Diluc’s private doctor was still necessary. 

Though her company was nice, Diluc was accustomed to flying solo.

“You must really love Mondstadt,” [Name] said. “You’re a very good man.”

Diluc opened his mouth and then closed it.

[Name] finished wrapping his wounds. The bandage was snug around his arm, and Diluc found comfort in its presence. It was far too bad someone would take it off later to properly inspect Diluc’s cut. “Well, that's about it for my medical expertise which is ultimately none.”

“Thank you,” Diluc said. 

“I would advise you to return to your winery, but it’s nighttime, and there’s monsters prowling about,” [Name] said. “I don’t doubt your athletic abilities, but you’re hurt. You should maybe eat something and rest. Early in the morning you can leave.”

[Name] was in no position to tell Diluc what to do. Diluc was her employer, her—Diluc looked at the time. [Name] was technically done with work. Technically speaking, Diluc wasn’t the boss of her as of right now. 

And Diluc knew that [Name] was simply offering suggestions. Good suggestions. His pride as a hero told him to refuse and make the trek back to the winery by himself. But his reason pulled him back to her. 

“Would you like something to eat, Master Diluc?”

“All right.”

Soon, Diluc’s arm was noticeably better. After consulting a legitimate professional, Diluc took great care of his arm and trained it back to health. His days were moreover the same after that. He swept the city streets and night and returned to his winery every so often, as he couldn’t let sales go down while he was playing hero.

Though, what kind of hero gets injured? Diluc thought to himself bitterly.

[Name] had called him a good man; well, of course, he was. The knights were anything but good and competent. But was he a good hero? What sort of hero spat swears and curses at the knights? What sort of hero harbored a deep, festering hatred for the very institution that supposedly protected the people?

She was the only one who’d touched him like that. She touched him so softly when wrapping him up that Diluc felt more a man than a hero. It wasn’t good. Diluc needed his priorities straight. He was grateful for [Name] and for that night, and this new feeling of gratefulness was lodged in his throat.

He’d offered to financially compensate, but [Name] turned the offer down. She was weird. She salivated at the thought of money, but when Diluc put more money on the table, [Name] refused to eat.

Diluc was not used to feeling owed to anyone but himself. He had a feeling that he’d feel more gratefulness to others in the future, and that scared him. If they were as stubborn as [Name], then how would he pay them back?

Did he need to pay her back? Was it only natural for people to rely on each other? Did he always have to be alone? Could he really move forward without the feeling of solidarity?

It was all right to be alone. But it was not so bad to rely on other people once in a while.

Some days, he’d see [Name] feeding a dog leftovers through the window of his tavern. She’d be crouched over, whistling and patting the ground to get the dog’s attention. The dog would wag his tail delightfully and trot over to her. And Diluc had half a mind to warn [Name] about infection, but the dog seemed awfully fond of her.

Then there were some days where she was so happy that you could clean the tavern free of charge. While money was a prospect to her,  she seemed to act on her own whims and happiness. If that happiness was to clean the tavern without pay, then she would.

She was strange. An enigma. She was the most magical a human being could get.

Diluc and Charles were once sitting at the bar while [Name] was dusting the nooks and crannies of the stairway, humming to herself.

“She ought to be happier more often.”

Charles raised a brow at Diluc’s words. Could the impassive Diluc be feeling love? “Why?”

“So she can clean my tavern for free more often.”

“Sure, Master Diluc.”

PART I - PART II - PART III

[combat-wombatus]

Anti-Asian Racism (Pt. 2)

so if you haven’t read my (long) post about historical anti-asian racism, you can find it here. i tried my best to put things in chronological order, so you might want to read that before you read this one!

i got really tired writing that one bc it was super long and i only covered up to like...the 1920s?? and so here’s a second part bc i couldn’t fit it all into one post oopsies

WARNING: this contains some graphic descriptions of violence. i don’t want to accidentally trigger anyone, so please read at your own discretion. however, i do feel that it is important to be educated on the parts of history that schools often overlook, so if you can handle this, please read it.

the watsonville riots—january 1930

as US nationals, filipinos had the legal right to work in the US, and employers exploited these workers relentlessly as they assumed the filipinos were unfamiliar with their rights. they were paid the lowest wages among all ethnic laborers. the immigration acts of 1917 and 1924 allowed filipinos to answer the growing demand for labor in the US, and many young filipino men migrated to the US. due to gender bias in immigration & hiring, filipino men courted women outside of their own ethnic community, contributing to mounting racial tensions. white men decried the takeover of jobs and women by filipinos and resorted to vigilantism to deal with the “third Asiatic invasion”, and filipino laborers in public risked being attacked by white men who felt threatened by them. eventually, on january 19, this culminated in 500 white men gathering outside of a filipino dance club—owned by a filipino man—with clubs and weapons intending to take the white women who lived there out and burn the place down. they were turned away by security guards and the armed owners, but returned later to beat dozens of filipino farmworkers. they dragged filipinos from their homes and beat them, threw them off the pajaro river bridge, attacked them at ranches—and at a labor camp, twenty-two filipinos were dragged out and almost beaten to death. the mob fired shots into filipino homes, killing 22-year-old fermin tobera: no one was ever charged for his murder. in stockton, a filipino club was blown up—the blast was blamed on the filipinos themselves.

many filipinos fled the country. filipino immigration plummeted. anti-filipino violence continued in california in the months after the violence ended.

japanese internment camps—1942–1945

established during ww2 by FDR through executive order 9066. shortly after the bombing of pearl harbor, FDR signed the executive order, supposedly to prevent espionage. military zones were created in california, washington, and oregon—states with a large population of japanese americans—and the executive order commanded the relocation of americans of japanese ancestry. it affected the lives of around 117,000 people—the majority of whom were american citizens. canada soon followed, relocating 21,000 of its japanese residents from its west coast. mexico did the same, and eventually 2,264 more people of japanese descent were removed from peru, brazil, and argentina to the camps in the united states.

even before the camps, discrimination ran rampant. just hours after pearl harbor, the FBI rounded up 1,291 japanese community & religious leaders, arresting them without evidence and freezing their assets. a month later, they were transferred to facilities in montana, new mexico, and north dakota, many of them unable to inform their families. most remained incarcerated for the duration of the war. the FBI searched the private homes of thousands of japanese residents, seizing “contraband” (looting).

1/3 of hawaii’s population was of japanese descent. some politicians called for their mass incarceration. 1,500 people were removed from hawaii and sent to camps on the US mainland. japanese-owned fishing boats were impounded.

lieutenant general john dewitt prepared a report filled with proven lies—such as examples of “sabotage” (cattle knocking down power lines)—and suggested the creation of military zones and japanese internment camps. his original plan included italians and germans (because we were at war with them too!) but the idea of rounding-up americans of EUROPEAN descent was not as popular.

california’s state attorney general and governor declared that all japanese should be removed at congressional hearings in february 1942. general francis biddle pleaded with the president that mass evacuation of citizens was not required, pushing for smaller, more targeted security measures. FDR didn’t listen, and signed the order anyways.

around 15,000 japanese americans willingly moved out of prohibited areas. inland states were not keen for new japanese residents, and they were met with racist resistance. ten state governors voiced opposition, fearing the japanese would “never leave”, and demanded they be incarcerated if the states were forced to accept them. eventually, a civilian organization called the “war relocation authority” was set up to administer the plan, but milton eisenhower (from the department of agriculture) resigned his leadership in protest over what he characterized as incarcerating innocent civilians. 

no one really cared back then, but we appreciate the sentiment. however, this led to a stricter, military-led incentive to incarcerate the japanese civilians, so you didn’t really win, mr. eisenhower.

army-directed evacuations followed, and people had six days notice to dispose of their belongings other than what they could carry. anyone who was at least 1/16th japanese was interned, including 17,000 children under 10, as well as several thousand elderly and handicapped. 

these camps were located in remote areas, the buildings not meant for human habitation—they were reconfigured horse stalls or cow sheds. food shortages and poor sanitation conditions were common. each center was its own town, with schools, post offices, work facilities, and farms—all surrounded by barbed wire and guard towers.

in new mexico, internees were delivered by trains and marched two miles, at night, to reach the camp. anyone who tried to escape was promptly shot and killed, no matter their age.

when riots broke out over the insufficient rations and overcrowding, the police tear-gassed crowds and even killed a japanese-american citizen. three people were shot and killed for “going too close to the perimeter”.

in 1942, fred korematsu was arrested for refusing to relocate to an internment camp. his case made it all the way to the supreme court, where he argued that the executive order violated the fifth amendment. the supreme court ruled against him.

the camps were finally closed in 1945, after mitsuye endo fought her way to the supreme court once again. the government initially offered to free her, but endo refused—she wanted her case to address all of the internment camps. she was successful; the court eventually ruled that the the war relocation authority “has no authority to subject citizens who are concededly loyal to its leave procedure.”

the my lai massacre—march 16, 1968

during the vietnam war, US army soldiers entered a vietnamese hamlet on a search-and-destroy mission. they didn’t encounter any enemy troops; they did, however, proceed to set huts on fire, gang-rape the women, and murder around 500 unarmed civilians—including approximately 50 children under the age of four. army leadership had conspired to sweep this massacre under the carpet—the my lai massacre triggered a cover-up by the army that served to keep the atrocities committed a secret from the american public for 20 months during an election year.

american soldiers stabbed, clubbed, and carved “C [for Charlie] Company” into the chests of their victims (alive); herded them into ditches and blew them to bits with grenades. they cut off victims’ heads and slashed their throats.

this was more than spontaneous barbarism; for years, the army had dehumanized the vietnamese people as “gooks” and depicted women and children as potentially lethal combatants.

army officers who heard eyewitness reports of a massacre were quick to discount them. they issued a press release that informed news coverage—with lies. they claimed that their troops had killed 128 viet cong forces, even though they had been met with no resistance and suffered only one self-inflicted wound.

after word of the massacre reached the general public, more than a dozen military servicemen were eventually charged with crimes, but lieutenant william calley (the leader of the charlie company who was the main perpetrator in the massacre) was the only one who was ever convicted. pres. richard nixon reduced calley’s sentence to a light punishment—three years of house arrest.

three years of house arrest, and for only one person. for slaughtering 500 unarmed civilians. you do the math.

deportations

in 1975, more than 1.2 million refugees from southeast asia fled war and were resettled in the US—the largest resettlement for a refugee group in US history. in 1996, the illegal immigration reform and immigrant responsibility act (IIRIRA) expanded the definition of what types of crimes could result in detention & deportation—this broader definition could be applied retroactively, resulting in more than 16,000 southeast asian americans receiving orders of removal—78% of which were based on old criminal records.

islamophobia (article 2 preview) (article 3)

after the 9/11 attacks, islamophobia was especially prevalent in the western world, although it was also prevalent in other places without large muslim populations. from a small percentage of violence, an “efficient system of government prosecution and media coverage brings muslim-american terrorism suspects to national attention, creating the impression that muslim-american terrorism is more prevalent than it really is”, even though since 9/11, the muslim-american community helped security and law enforcement officials prevent nearly two of every five al qaeda terrorist plots threatening the united states. globally, many muslims report feeling not respected by those in the west, including over half of those who live in the US. in late 2009, the largest party in the swiss parliament put to referendum a ban on minaret (a tower typically built into or adjacent to mosques) construction, and nearly 60% of swiss voters and 22 out of 26 voting districts voted in favor of the ban—even though most swiss say that religious freedom is important for swiss identity. a network of misinformation experts actively promotes islamophobia in america. muslims are more likely than americans of any other major religious groups to have personally experienced racial or religious discrimination in the past year—48%, compared to 31% of mormons, 25% of atheist/agnostics, 21% of jews, 20% of catholics, and 18% of protestants. 1/3 (36%) of americans say that they have an unfavorable opinion about islam (gallup polls).

in the aftermath of 9/11, the US government has increasingly implemented special programs with hopes of “curbing and countering terrorism” and “enemy combatants.” these policies—such as the USA Patriot Act and the National Security Entry-Exit Registration System—have been targeted towards and disproportionately affects arabs, south asians, and muslims in america.

of course, the most lethal terrorist groups active in america are white supremacist groups, but people tend to overlook that because it’s always easier to blame something you have zero understanding of.

the non-profit advocacy organization South Asian Americans Leading Together (SAALT) cataloged 207 incidents of hate violence and xenophobic political rhetoric directed towards south asian, muslim, middle eastern, hindu, sikh, and arab communities between nov. 15, 2015, and nov. 16, 2016. approximately 95% of those instances were animated by anti-muslim sentiment. also, “approximately 1 in 5 of the documented xenophobic statements came from president-elect donald trump.”

that’s who america hired to run our country in 2016. this was way before his misdeeds in office, yet it took us so long—and such a hard fight—to oust him. did it really take that long for everyone to catch on?

police brutality—(christian hall) (angelo quinto) (tommy le)

“CHRISTIAN HALL was a 19-year-old chinese american teen who experienced a mental health emergency on december 30, 2020. pennsylvania state police were called and requested to help de-escalate the crisis. rather than providing aid or assistance, the troopers shot and killed christian. his hands were up in the air as he stood on the SR-33 southbound overpass to I-80, posing no threat to the armed officers.”

they shot him seven times, with his arms up in the air.

“I miss my son so much. I love him so much but if his death is the catalyst for change, then so be it. Let his name be remembered. His name is Christian Hall.” —Fe Hall, Christian’s mother.

a video, shot by his mother, shows ANGELO QUINTO, a 30-year-old Filipino immigrant, unresponsive on the floor after officers subdued him with a knee to the back of his neck. the video shows him bleeding form the mouth after police knelt on his neck when he was experiencing a mental health crisis in his family home. he died three days later in the hospital without waking up. the antioch police had no body camera footage, nor has the department named the officers involved.

“I was just hoping they could de-escalate the situation,” his sister said in an interview. she called 911 when her brother had been experiencing mental health problems and paranoia. she says that she remains conflicted about calling the police that night: “I don’t know if I will not feel bad. If it was the right thing to do they would not have killed my brother.”

“TOMMY LE, a 20-year-old Vietnamese-American student, died hours before he was scheduled to attend his high-school graduation in June 2017. He was shot multiple times by sheriff’s Deputy Cesar Molina after responding to reports of a man armed with a knife. Deputies discovered after the shooting that he was carrying an ink pen, not a knife.

The office reported that Le had lunged at the sheriff’s deputies with a knife and had been threatening residents, shouting he was “the creator.” An autopsy showed that two of the three bullets that struck Le were in his back, and a witness said that Le was shouting he was “Tommy the renter.”

despite the challenges our communities face, AAPI communities receive less than one percent of philanthropic funding.

covid-19

i’ll try to keep this brief. there have been so many instances of violence perpetrated against the asian community during covid-19—not to mention the casual snipes at our culture, the microaggressions we face every day, the verbal and sexual harassment we encounter, sometimes even on the way to the grocery store for a supply run.

VICHA RATANAPAKDEE: a thai-american, he became known as “grandpa” throughout his neighborhood, where he’d made it a ritual to go on morning walks each day. it was during one of those walks on january 28, 2021, when the 84-year-old was forcibly knocked onto the ground. he was transported to the hospital, where he died two days later.

“He never wake up again. He [was] bleeding on his brain,” his daughter said in an interview. “I called him, ‘Dad, wake up.’ I want him to stay alive and wake up and come and see me again, but he never wake up.”

between march and december last year, the organization Stop Asian American and Pacific Islander Hate recorded nearly 3,000 reports of anti-Asian hate incidents nationwide. the new york city police department also reported a 1,900% increase in anti-Asian hate crimes last year.

i think senator tammy duckworth put it very aptly.

“Most people, I don’t think, think of Asians as being the subject of racist attacks, but we have been. And we’re the one community that’s often always seen as the ‘other’. I—to this day—still get asked, ‘So where are you from really?’“

i don’t think i’ve ever related so much to something a senator said.

actor and activist daniel dae kim talked about an encounter he had with a pollster who said asian americans are “statistically insignificant” in polling models in a congressional hearing:

“Statistically insignificant. Now all of you listening to me here, by virtue of your own elections, are more familiar with the intricacies of polling than I am, so undoubtedly, you already know what this means—statistically insignificant literally means that we don’t matter.”

do we matter? are we really “statistically insignificant”? blips in the machine, to be used and then thrown away once we become too “fussy” or demanding?

testimonies from victims showcase the array of xenophobic and racist insults they’ve encountered. i’ll put an (x) next to the ones i’ve personally heard.

“Go back to Wuhan and take the virus with you.” (x)

“You are the reason for the coronavirus.” (x)

“Damn, another Asian riding with me. Hope you don’t have covid.”

*fake coughing* “Chinese b—” *more fake coughing* (x)

now for some really “creative” ones that i’ve personally encountered:

“Cock up my dad’s botton, Chinease cunt”

“You don’t got the kung-flu, do ya?”

“Ever ate a dog?”

Along the same vein, “ever had any bats? Heard they’re delicious.”

“Wouldn’t want ya to pet my dog. Ya might steal it and cook it for dinner!” *hyena laugh*

a little personal anecdote

i debated whether or not to wear a mask to school in early march. my aunt lives in china, and she’s a first-responder (trained paramedic & contact tracer) and we knew how bad the virus was going to be in late february when we facetimed her, quarantined in her apartment. her toddler was staying with her husband at her parents’ house because she was afraid of infecting them. she didn’t see them in person for four months, working 14-hour shifts in the back of an ambulance decked out in a hazmat suit.

my mom cried when she facetimed us the second week of her grueling shift. i couldn’t stop thinking about her when i went to school that day. my mom sent me another picture during art class, and i just couldn’t control myself. i started crying during class.

i asked my mom whether or not i should wear a mask to school, and she said that if i did, i would be singling myself out. i wouldn’t be protecting myself—far from it. if i wore a mask to school, people would think that i had the virus, not that i was trying to protect myself from it.

gossip spreads like wildfire, and the next day, everyone knew i had relatives in china. most of my friends were sympathetic, but they were wholly removed from the situation. it was early march, and they never believed that the coronavirus would spread here. they were firmly rooted in their opinion that it was an easy situation, grossly mishandled by the chinese government, and that we’d do much better if it ever washed up on our shores.

i do hate the chinese government, and back then, i didn’t think too much of their antagonism. yes, the situation was mishandled. it was like a repeat of the SARS outbreak in 2003—first a cover-up by the local government, then a cover-up by the national government, and finally, a realization that no, in fact, they could not handle it in secret. yes, the media had to get involved. no, dead bodies were not piling up in the hallways while they waited for doctors to triage care. yes, we have capacity! look at these documentary mini-videos, forcing doctors and patients to leave a wing of the hospital empty and operate below maximum capacity so they could shoot propaganda videos for the lunar new year, boasting about how well they’re handling it!

i won’t argue that in the beginning, this was mishandled. i will argue, however, against the idea that asian countries are incompetent. that western approaches are oh-so-much-better.

in wuhan, they built a makeshift hospital spanning three soccer fields in the span of a week, with properly-functioning utilities, hospital beds, decontamination, and security. people rallied together and donated everything from money and supplies to food and ventilators, from all across the country. doctors and medical staff shaved their heads so they could better wear masks and volunteered to go to wuhan, where the situation was much more dire than in other areas. thousands of medical students from shanghai were transported to wuhan to fill the personnel shortages.

china reopened in june.

what did we do?

we didn’t ask the asian countries for experience. china, japan, and korea had handled the 2003 SARS outbreak and knew what kinds of things needed to be done. from the beginning, they wore masks. they halted travel, they did routine testing, performed contact tracing, set up programs for bringing food to the immunocompromised, elderly, and disabled, and worked as a cohesive community.

on the other hand, we resorted to childish infighting, political games, shunning masks and blaming it on asians, when we could’ve learned from them instead. we didn’t do contact-tracing. our testing systems were sorely inadequate. borders were closed with china, yes, but the majority of the cases in the US arrived from italy and other european countries who had already been infected. banning travel between the US and china was nothing more than a political gimmick.

states fought each other for basic medical supplies. there was no national unity. we were fractured in two, and COVID became more fuel for the fire dividing the two parties, when it could’ve been something that unified us.

and instead of blaming china, we would’ve been better off recognizing our own failures.

you can say that the virus caught china by surprise.

it shouldn’t have done the same to us.

we knew it was coming. but we still botched it.

blaming the virus on asian communities is a sign of immaturity and a lack of accountability. own up to your failures.

anyways, my mom was right. whenever we wore a mask in public, people really did think that we were “dirty, foreign chinese.” we stocked up on groceries so we wouldn’t have to go out, because every time my mom did, people would look at her weirdly. they didn’t wear masks.

one time, she was accosted by a blonde woman when we were at a supermarket. i’d gone with her that time because it was right after practice, and i was in the car anyways. the lady came up to us (without a mask: this was in may) and said, “excuse me, you don’t have the virus, do you?” with a pointed look at my mom (who was masked up).

my mom, being the polite person she is, simply responded “no, i don’t.”

the woman didn’t let us go after that. she pushed even more. “well, you see, i was just making sure...with this chinese virus going around, it’s scary, you know?”

i wanted to ask her why she wasn’t wearing a mask if it was “so scary”, but i couldn’t get a word in before she asked another question.

“by the way, y’all aren’t chinese, right?”

yes i am. yes we are. why does it fucking matter. we’re wearing masks, you’re not, get the hell out of my face.

honestly, i don’t know how my mom does it. she has the patience of a saint. she said “mhm”, grabbed a gallon of milk, and walked to the self-checkout area. the lady looked at me and raised her eyebrow, and i said “so what if we are?”

she looked like she’d been slapped in the face. i turned and followed my mom, but she said “now hold on young lady!” i ignored her and kept walking.

i don’t owe her anything. why do people think it’s okay to talk to others like that? we’re human beings too. we’re allowed our basic dignity. basic respect. we’re not something for you to joke at, to laugh at, to fetishize or bully into submission. i don’t understand why it’s so hard for people to realize that. i don’t understand why it’s so hard for people to treat others like human beings.

to people like that lady in kroger:

why do you feel the need to do it? is your opinion of yourself really that high to think that you’re superior to others who are different from you? are you really that conceited to think that you’re the perfect image of a perfect human, and anyone not like you is unworthy, considered lesser? or is your opinion of yourself really that low, to think that whatever you say, it doesn’t really matter anyways? why do you find derogatory jokes and demeaning comments funny? why do you think it’s okay to harass a stranger just going about their day? is your life really that boring, and you have nothing else to do with your time? why? would it be okay if i came up to you and asked if you ate rotten shark meat, then laughed it off and said “oh, i thought you were from iceland”? is that okay? can i ask if you eat cockroaches? how would you respond if i asked “where are you from?”? you would say america, right? and if i asked again? europe? where in europe? oh, you don’t know? are you illegal? was your mother a prostitute? are you a communist? why are your eyes so big? do you speak europeanese? crut iveroij aeish poient. oh, those aren’t words? well i think they sound like european words. what’s your name? je-re-mi-ah? like jeeryyy-miiiaaaccchh? oh, that’s not right? sorry, my tongue just won’t bend that way. your names are so weird! why would your parents name you that? oh, it means something? well, i don’t know the language, so don’t expect me to say it right. have you ever eaten haggis? oh, that’s scottish? oh, you’re not scottish? sorry, you all look the same to me. scots and italians are just so similar, you know? what’s your name? your last name is anderson? i know an anderson! she lived in texas. are you related to her? oh, you don’t know her? sorry, i thought you were all related. yeah, like i said before, you all just look so much alike, you know? are you lazy? oh, nothing, i just heard from my dad that all french people are lazy. oh, you’re not french? well, you still look lazy. are you good at english? oh, nothing, i just assumed that all white people were english. i know you like to assume that we’re good at math. oh, you got an A in english? isn’t that normal? i can’t help it, you’re just smarter. you probably don’t even study. oh, you do? well, you’re smart anyways, so it doesn’t matter. you’re so good at math for an american! oh no, nothing, i just assumed that all americans were bad at math. *starts playing with her hair* oh, that’s making you uncomfortable? but your hair’s so silky, and it’s so smooth. what kind of hair products do you use? i want to learn how to make my hair look exotic like that. oh, you’re not exotic? but you’re foreign. of course you’re exotic. you know, *leans in and whispers* men like you this way, yeah? they just looveeee exotic ladies. *winks*

can you see how this is demeaning? can you see how this diminishes our culture, our hard work, our accomplishments?

racism isn’t funny. it’s not cool, it’s not a joke, and it’s hurtful. it makes us question our capabilities, forces us to have unrealistic expectations of ourselves, makes us feel unworthy and “other”. just stop? stop making hurtful comments. stop stepping on other people to feel better about yourselves.

[whatamidoingwithmylifeman]

Mortal Kombat 11 Michiko vs Canon intro fight dialogues pt 2

CW: PTSD mention  Michiko, Reiki, Nozomi, and Krow are my OCs. Reiki is genderfluid and goes by she/him pronouns.

here you go @deepinthefog here is the rest of the dialogues 

please read below the cut

Michiko: Just how sharp are your teeth Baraka?

Baraka: Sharp enough to tear through your bones.

Michiko: I’d like to see you try.

Michiko: So how long have tarkatans been around?

Baraka: Long before either of your kind.

Michiko: That’s not what the books in Fuyuka’s temple say.

Michiko: You may have blades, Baraka, but I have saws!

Baraka: But aren’t you scared of-

Michiko: werenotgonnatalkaboutthat!

---

Michiko: Cassie….Cage is it?

Cassie: The one and only!

Michiko: Oh good! Thought I had the wrong Cassie for a minute there.

Michiko: Did you and your dad really come up with “ship names” for Reiki and I?

Cassie: Yup! I propose the idea of… FireFox!

Michiko: .. oh by the gods.

Michiko: I heard someone’s got a little crush on a certain ice gal.

Cassie: Who told you I liked Frost?

Michiko: You did!

---

Michiko: For the last time. I. am not. From. the Netherrealm!

Cetrion: But wasn’t your mother a corrupted Nymph?

Michiko: Both my parents were corrupted and none of them are from the Netherrealm.

Michiko: Were you one of the Gods responsible for the massacre of the Karasugawas?

Cetrion: No, but I know of the Gods who were.

Michiko: Names. Now!

Michiko: Why are you crying?

Cetrion: I can sense great pain in you young one

Michiko: please don’t read any further…

---

Michiko: Did you seriously try to stab my fiancé!?

D’vorah: She tried burning the hive

Michiko: You keep your hive the fuck away from her!

Michiko: Are you seriously trying to say that you’re the one responsible for the massacre of the Karasugawas?

D’vorah: And this one will finish the job!

Michiko: Nice try D’vorah, but I know bugs hate fire.

Michiko: You hate fire, but do you like ice?

D’vorah: This one would like it to see a demonstration.

Michiko: Then you’re gonna get one!

---

Michiko: I have found something other than buzzsaws that I hate

Erron: And would that be, Michiko?

Michiko: Guns! Why are they so loud!?

Michiko: For the last time, I did not lie about what happened between me and Bi Han.

Erron: I was told y'all hooked up at the tournament.

Michiko: What idiot told you that?

Michiko: How much did my brother pay you?

Erron: He paid me half a million to bring ya home.

Michiko: So how much would I need to pay you to drop this hunt?

---

Michiko: I’m sorry, you want me to what!?

Frost: Take me with you and Reiki!

Michiko: Are you really willing to leave everything behind?

-

Michiko: Alright kid, rule number one, no keeping secrets

Frost: What if I just don’t want to talk about something?

Michiko: I can respect that.

-

Michiko: I need to know exactly what my brother and Bi Han have said about me.

Frost: All good things.

Michiko: I think you and I have two very different version of good things.

---

Michiko: Step aside Fujin.

Fujin: Whatever Cetrion told you, was a lie!

Michiko: I’VE SEEN THE DAMAGE DONE BY YOUR BROTHER AND THAT FIRE GOD!

-

Michiko: Do you still think I can achieve humanity Fujin?

Fujin: You were raised as one, so yes.

Michiko: Oh was I?

-

Michiko: Ok but like, do you know any Elder God that would bless Reiki and I?

Fujin: Michiko, they've been slaughtered by Cetrion.

Michiko: …. Oh. Damnit!

---

Michiko: Hey, how old would you say I look?

Geras: Without the knowledge of your origins, I say 31.

Michiko: You’re actually right.

-

Michiko: What does a demon benefit from a titan?

Geras: What did the Nymphs do for the Gods?

Michiko: Everything, with nothing in return.

-

Michiko: if there is no assurance for Reiki’s safety then I cannot work for Kronika

Geras: What if I told you, she could return your bloodline to you?

Michiko: I could not live with myself if Reiki were to die.

---

Michiko: How do you plan a wedding?

Jacqui: still working on that myself

Michiko: ah damn. Good luck though.

-

Michiko: Do you have any more relationship tips?

Jacqui: Boundaries and communication are key.

Michiko: We got the boundaries covered

-

Michiko: Normally I wouldn’t say this, but your arm enhamencents are cool!

Jacqui: What do you mean, normally?

Michiko: Have you seen what happened to the Lin Kuei?

---

Michiko: Where did you find all that information from

Jade: In a hidden temple on Shang Tsung’s Island

Michiko: So that’s where it is. I’ll have to inform Nozomi.

-

Michiko: So, why did you want to know if I worked for Quan Chi or not?

Jade: To see if you were friend or foe. 

Michiko: I think you Mama Nozomi would get along.

-

Michiko: Ok, look, I’m not gonna beat in Hanzo’s head with your staff.

Jade: Then who’s head are you going to beat in?

Michiko: Sektor’s.

---

Michiko: What’s the worst form of therapy one could get?

Jax: Electric shock the-Michiko?

Michiko: I didn’t mean to I didn’t mean to I didn’t mean to I didn’t mean to I didn’t mean

-

Michiko: If you must know, my brother, Sektor, used to call me little birdie

Jax: Oh, is that still a good thing?

Michiko: Yeah it is. But you’re not telling him that!

-

Michiko: How’d you lose your arms?

Jax: It’s a long three part story.

Michiko: I have time.

---

Michiko: I never said you were cooler, I just don’t argue with children.

Johnny: You’re one to talk, kid!

Michiko: Fight me old man!

-

Michiko: So, what nickname should I give you?

Johnny: How about, Mr. Cool guy? No no! Superstar!

Michiko: I got it! How about, foolish star!

-

Michiko: Here you go!

Johnny: What is it?

Michiko: an invite to mine and Reiki’s wedding.

---

Michiko: The difference between life essence and souls is, you can live without one. Kabal: Which one?

Michiko: Would you like to find out?

-

Michiko: Just how fast are you?

Kabal: Faster than the speed of light.

Michiko: I would be impressed if I knew how fast that was.

-

Michiko: Your speed, my snow drift, let’s go! Kabal: When and Where?

Michiko: Right here! Right now!

---

Michiko: I’m sorry, my brother paid you HOW MUCH!?

Kano: Poor blokes desperate to get ya home.

Michiko: My home is with Reiki!

-

Michiko: Um, Kano, I’m not gonna bring you the medallion

Kano: Not like anyone would know you’ve gone back.

Michiko: That thing almost broke and I died the last time I touched it. So no!

-

Michiko: Look, if Reiki gets hurt, deals off

Kano: Look, Shang Tsung just need a bit of Reiki’s fire and we’ll be good to go

Michiko: Ok deal’s definitely off! When the hell was he involved?

---

Michiko: So you were adopted too?

Kitana: In my circumstances, unfortunately.

Michiko: Ouch! I feel that.

-

Michiko: Hey, who told you that I was called a princess?

Kitana: Noob Saibot.

Michiko: Oh of course he- wait what!?

-

Michiko: Reiki and I appreciate your refuge

Kitana: Must you go already Michiko?

Michiko: Until the hunt stops, Reiki and I must travel.

---

Michiko: Hey Kollector! Here’s your coin!

Kollector: I’ll teach you to throw ice balls!

Michiko: And I’ll teach you to try and mess with my mate!

-

Michiko: If you should know, I am a balance of both

Kollecter: I would still like my wage

Michiko: Ha! Fat chance!

-

Michiko: I would never be ally to those who hurt my Reiki

Kollector: She’s a seer and a Nymph! Do you not know the value she is worth?

Michiko: She’s my fiance! 

---

Michiko: So you and Jade had history?

Kotal Kahn: It’s a long story.

Michiko: I don’t think there’s much story there.

-

Michiko: Give this to Kitana for me

Kotal Kahn: Why can’t you do it?

Michiko: I just learned a shadow is now after me, so I gotta dip.

-

Michiko: Heard you got defeated in the Snow Forest

Kotal Kahn: Sub-Zero and his Lin Kuei outclassed my legion

Michiko: Be lucky you encountered him, and not me

---

Michiko: You’re not standing in my way

Kung Lao: I can’t let you attack the temple of elements

Michiko: I have an appointment with two Gods, SO MOVE IT!

-

Michiko: If you have see my brother, turn him away

Kung Lao: Now why would I do that? He has to pay for Shaolin lives!

Michiko: Turn him away before he picks up on mine and Reiki’s trail!

-

Michiko: I wish I would’ve met Bo’ Rai Cho sooner

Kung Lao: I’m just still surprised that you managed to out drink him.

Michiko: That’s because he gave me regular alcohol instead of demon elixir. 

---

Michiko: If you don’t move I will kill you

Liu Kang: Michiko, the monks, they can-

Michilko: I DON’T CARE, MOVE!

-

Michiko: Reiki’s fire is hotter than yours!

Liu Kang: A fire hotter than dragon’s fire?

Michiko: Hotter and deadlier!

-

Michiko: How does Bo’ Rai Cho hold that much alcohol?

Liu Kang: How did you not get drunk at all?

Michiko: I’m a demon. Regular alcohol doesn’t affect me

---

Michiko: You, Tanya, Reiki and me, double date!

Mileena: Ooh yes!

Michiko: Sweet! Tonight at 8?

-

Michiko: Bi Han and I never dated. We were just close before I died.

Mileena: He said you two made a promise.

Michiko: A promise that no longer means anything to me.

-

Michiko: Hey, thanks for not calling me a nymph in a mocking way

Mileena: Thanks for not calling me an ugly monster.

Michiko: That’s it. We’re friends and you’re gonna tell me everything bothering you

---

Michiko: I have had it! Move or die!

Nightwolf: I cannot not let you attack the gods!

Michiko: MY ONLY ISSUE IS WITH RAIDEN AND THE FIRE GOD!

-

Michiko: I don’t need your pity, and I don’t need your counsel!

Nightwolf: If you would let the Great Spirit help-

Michiko: Help me or hinder me from the truth?

-

Michiko: I hate that place and would rather it burn like my old home once did

Nightwolf: You would rather have innocents suffer over your anger?

Michiko: Why don’t you take the hourglass, go back about 31 years, and tell the two gods that!

---

Michiko: Keep the fuck away from Reiki!

Noob Saibot: I’m just trying to protect you!

Michiko: Protect me from what?

-

Michiko: You best keep my name out of your goddamn mouth, Bi Han!

Noob Saibot: You and I made a promise! It is best to honor that!

Michiko: That promise and our friendship was a mistake!

-

Michiko: I’m only letting you help cause Nozomi’s making me.

Noob Saibot: Oh she’s definitely Quan Chi’s daughter.

Michiko: Hey! We don’t say his name around her, got it?

---

Michiko: I want to tell you a little story.

Raiden: This should be interesting.

Michiko: It's a story of how two angry, petty, benevolent gods destroyed a bloodline and a village, leaving only one little girl to suffer the aftermath.

-

Michiko: You know of the lost realms?

Raiden: Someone I called my family was from one of those realms.

Michiko: It wouldn’t happen to be Krow of Hinpar would it?

-

Michiko: I’m not going to kill you! I just want my family back!

Raiden: I can’t do that-

Michiko: YOU OFFERED TO BRING BACK THE SHIRAI RYU! WHAT MAKES BRINGING BACK THE BLOODLINE YOU DESTROYED ANY DIFFERENT!?

-

Michiko: You’ve dealt with a cryomancer, but have you dealt with an ice demon?

Rain: What’s the difference?

Michiko: THERE ARE SEVERAL!

-

Michiko: I’m not buying that you want me as your ally for one minute.

Rain: If I made you my servant, Nozomi would kill me.

Michiko: Ok, that I can believe.

-

Michiko: in case no one told you, I don’t worship. I work with

Rain: You best treat Nozomi like the Goddess she is you imp!

Michiko: Hey! Watch it with that word!

---

Michiko: Don’t try to stop me Hasashi!

Scorpion: I’ve lost my family too Michiko. This is not the way to go about it.

Michiko: You at least got to know them before they died!

-

Michiko: You weren’t entirely wrong about it being of a Nymph, but why did you guess that?

Scorpion: Because Reiki is of Nymph origins too, and your ice matches his fire.

Michiko: I… I haven’t thought of it that way.

-

Michiko: Hasashi, look, I appreciate your offer, but I can’t accept.

Scorpion: Reiki grew up in the Shirai Ryu! You’d fit right in!

Michiko: I have my daughter to consider too, Hanzo.

---

Michiko: Unbind my thoughts from Sektor’s now!

Shang Tsung: And if I refuse?

Michiko: You won’t live to take another soul.

-

Michiko: I will bring my family back! And you can’t stop me!

Shang Tsung: Why would I want to stop you? I find your in vain efforts amusing.

Michiko: You’re lying! The Karasugawas will be restored!

-

Michiko: Have you found my soul yet, Tsung?

Shang Tsung: Don’t you dare mock me, you pompous little imp!

Michiko: THAT’S IT! NO MORE MS. NICE DEMON!

---

Michiko: No Nymph nor demon would ever serve you

Shao Kahn: You and your Nymph wife will do so imp! Michiko: HE IS MY MATE AND YOU’RE A DEAD MAN!

-

Michiko: I may not consume souls. But I do eat life essence

Shao Kahn: What’s the difference?

Michiko: I’ll show you!

-

Michiko: Let me use your hammer

Shao Kahn: Ah! And why would I let a weak puny mortal touch my hammer?

Michiko: I’ll freeze you in a block of ice and kick you into the void if you don’t give me the hammer.

---

Michiko: I don’t care how much the Lin Kuei needs me, I’m not going back!

Sheeva: You would abandon your home? Your friends?

Michiko: They can handle themselves! 

-

Michiko: Thanks for the training lessons

Sheeva: You certainly do not hold back

Michiko: Fight to the death or die fighting!

-

Michiko: Have you ever had a lover you fought for?

Sheeva: A queen I failed to protect

Michiko: I’m sure she holds no ill will towards you Sheeva

---

Michiko: Hey don’t worry, I’m not gonna take your screaming title.

Sindel: You can keep it!

Michiko: Aww, not even a friendly competition?

-

Michiko: Kitana Kahn of Outworld says she’d like to see you sometime

Sindel: That is wonderful to hear.

Michiko: I also know of a four armed queen that would like your company too

-

Michiko: Hey, you should go talk to Sheeva sometime

Sindel: But would she want to see me?

Michiko: I know she misses you more than anything.

---

Michiko: Sorry Skarlet, my blood’s not compatible.

Skarlet: I need no type. Just blood

Michiko: Ah, so you’re a type O.

-

Michiko: Wait, you’re of nymph origin too?

Skarlet: Blood nymphs.

Michiko: Huh, you really don’t hear about them a lot.

-

Michiko: You and Nozomi have really cool blood-bending!

Skarlet: You know of another blood bender?

Michiko: Nozomi is the best there is!

---

Michiko: You better back down Blade!

Sonya: Your God hunt ends here Karasugawa!

Michiko: Raiden got your future self killed! Why do you defend him?

-

Michiko: I will not repeat myself. I’m not going back.

Sonya: But Grandmaster Sub-Zero has specifically requested your help.

Michiko: He of all people should know why I cannot go back.

-

Michiko: How do I make my own legacy if I don’t want kids?

Sonya: You inspire others to be like you.

Michiko: I am the worst demon to follow. It’s not going to work.

---

Michiko: I can’t help you Kuai, I just can’t.

Sub-Zero: I know our last encounter with Sektor was shocking, bu-

Michiko: I didn’t mean to I didn’t mean to I didn’t mean to I didn’t mean to I didn’t mean

-

Michiko: Will you please get your brother off my back!

Sub-Zero: Michiko, you know Bi Han won’t listen to me.

Michiko: Not even as the Grandmaster?

-

Michiko: Where I was and where I will go is none of your concern Liang

Sub-Zero: Michiko please. Don’t leave me in the dark.

Michiko: It is best nobody knows.

---

Michiko: WHY CAN’T YOU LEAVE ME ALONE!?

Sektor: WHY YOU CAN’T COME BACK HOME!?

Michiko: You.. You really don’t understand do you?

-

Michiko: I won’t come back, but I will invite you to my wedding

Sektor: Thank you sister.

Michiko: Don’t push your luck.

-

Michiko: Was the binding of our minds really “fathers” idea

Sektor: Not entirely..

Michiko: I KNEW IT!

---

Michiko: When do you plan on marrying Sektor?

Cyrax: Sometime in the summer.

Michiko: Very specific Mykel.

-

Michiko: So.. how’s life as a cyborg going?

Cyrax: Awful.

Michiko: Thanks for the update!

-

Michiko: Hey, where’s past you?

Cyrax: Probably trying to flirt with Shi in the worst ways possible

Michiko: As if you don’t do that now.

---

Michiko: Hey, I may be leaving for good, but I promise you I-

Smoke: Wait, you’re leaving for good!?

Michiko: Tomas I have made it clear so many times that I do not like this place.

-

Michiko: Would you like to come to my wedding?

Smoke: Like to? I have to! I’m your bridesmaid.

Michiko: umm… that’s going to Frost.. 

-

Michiko: Hydro been over training you too, huh?

Smoke: Speak for yourself Karasugawa!

Michiko: At least he has a reason to do so with me.

---

Michiko: Can we take a break?

Hydro: Not until you master your ice

Michiko: I’VE MASTERED IT FOR NEARLY A DECADE NOW!

- 

Michiko: Look, I appreciate your concern Bo Hai, but please don’t worry

Hydro: What if Reiki snaps and loses control of her fire? Michiko: That’s the beautiful thing about her, she’s not a monster like me.

-

Michiko: Where have you been all this time?

Hydro: Hunting your killers down.

Michiko: But, Hydro, I died in the tunnels below the temple.

---

Michiko: Ok, 1, didn’t realize you were flirting with me, and 2, I’m engaged

Sareena: Demons and Nymphs never work well together.

Michiko: I’M A NYMPH TOO!

-

Michiko: Your efforts are but in vain Vixen!

Sareena: Don’t you have the fox-like animal form?

Michiko: That’s not the point!

-

Michiko: You said there were other ways to release my pent of rage?

Sareena: Yes..

Michiko: Can any of them help me take down two gods?

[leggomylino]

A Floral Memoir | Yang Jeongin

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ- 

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

Genre: Nostalgic, drama, bittersweet, angst, fluff ending

Pairing: Yang Jeongin x fem!reader

Au: Flower shop au, friends to lovers au

Word Count: ~3.9k

Warning(s): None! c:

A/N: This was supposed to just be a blurb/timestamp but I’ve been heavily influenced by fictional prose from my Fiction 101 class so...this happened. :D | Masterlist linked down below and in bio!!! <3 | For Nana, who loves Yang Jeongin; and, for all the wonderful writers of @skzwriternet​. Thank you all for being so supportive and kind. God bless. 🎔

Tag List: @hanniiesuckle17​ @distrikt9​ @hanstagrams​ @hyunsunq​ @smolboiseavey​ @jisungsjheekies​ @iluvlix​ @moonlit-han​ @stay-nctzen​ @yangomangos​ @stayndays​ @cotccotc​ @skzctnightnight​ @multi-stan-present​ @dreamy-dreamies​ @yunhoesss​ (If you’d like to be added, please let me know! Comment, ask, or DM me!!! ^^)

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

There’s this flower shop down the road from your house that you’re used to going to. It’s one of those hole-in-the-wall places, the kind that never stand out unless you’re actively looking for them. The brick’s chipped, covered in vines, and the sign out front is hanging by a stem, the slanted posture threatening to drop dead over the next teenager that pursues vandalism; still, to you it’s never unrecognizable, no matter how many years of wear-and-tear or lost du jour go by. To you, it’s the most beautiful place in the world: not for what is shown on the outside, but for what lies there within. What it stands for, represents.

This is the local flower shop of 129 Poppy Close Lane. And it is the place you grew up in, blooming alongside Yang Jeongin.

Jeongin had been your best friend growing up. The two of you did almost everything together: ride bikes, watch movies, play in the park. Feed the ducks, hop around like frogs, climb trees. Hide in your mother’s laundry basket in order to jump out and scare the daylights out of her-- which only backfired once when she nearly had a heart attack-- to which you vowed never to do ever again. Instead, the two of you set your sights on the neighbor’s son, a boy of roughly similar age named Kim Seungmin. But that always seemed to backfire as well. Kim Seungmin was simply too smart.

The day Innie’s parents-- that was your nickname for him, sometimes I.N.-- the day his parents announced they’d be buying out a crumbling furniture store, the two of you had been so excited. Think of all the beds you could jump on! All the sofas to tackle! The pillow fights! The two of you could make the largest blanket fort in the history of blanket fortresses!!! 

...Instead, those dreams were crushed like petals pressed between pages. You weren’t getting a mattress playground; they were opening a flower store.

A flower store? But aren’t flowers free? Don’t they grow outside? The two of you prodded and pestered Jeongin’s parents until they ran out of answers to give, and instead only replied with “you’ll see” and “just wait.” But if there was one thing the two of you hated doing, it was waiting. Why did you have to? Wait for what?

...Time flies when you eventually forget about the thing it is you have to wait around for, too occupied curling toes beneath blankets by a roaring fire or towering blocks into Lego houses. After a few days of lazing around with Jeongin at your house and a short afternoon bike ride through the park, at last the shop of flowers was revealed to you. And it...was…

...Okay. Colorful, vibrant, definitely eye-catching, at least back in those just-starting-out days. But you still didn’t get it at the tender age of ten. Of course you’d heard of flower stores before, but the point escaped you. Couldn’t you just grow your own for free? Couldn’t you just ride to the park and take some from the woods? Why would you sell something you could obtain for free? Who would waste their allowance on that?

Jeongin was different. You remember looking over at him, standing to your right, and seeing his face alive and bursting with more color than the shopfront. The way his eyes sparkled as he took it all in, the pride that seemed to blossom in his smile and the way he carried himself. Straight, tall, and happy, just like the sunflowers waving outside the window. It was off-putting to say the least, but you felt gratified just watching him elate and gush his excitement. So you upheld that same excitement, too.

Years went by of the two of you hanging out in that place; Little Fox Flowers, it was called. Appropriately named for the son of the two owners who spent their days happily snipping away sadness and making the lives of all its customers just a bit brighter. A place where all the local college-bound kids would apply for part-time jobs in order to live out their novel fantasies, hoping for a quiet place to smell the roses after a long day of notetaking and hide behind the hollyhock to study.

They were always kindly denied. After all, the shop was a family business: just Mr. and Mrs. Yang, Jeongin, and you, who had been considered the daughter they never had since you were six. And, eventually, Kim Seungmin, who won everyone over with cake and the “look-at-how-responsible-I-am” presentation. He was responsible, no one could deny: the way he’d always turn you and Jeongin in before you could commence danger-inducing experiments.

And then, at fourteen, it was the three of you. You got paid, of course-- just scarcely minimum wage, but that was alright, because Mr. and Mrs. Yang always bought you lunch or dinner every other Friday. And the mean apple pie and best empanadas baked by the kind elderly couple who worked just across the street was to die for. (A side note: you’d find out two years later this was the place Kim Seungmin got his cake recipe from in exchange for helping fix a leaky faucet. The devious scoundrel.) The three of you worked and worked and studied and worked, spending perhaps too much time learning the wildest things about each other, things you were surprised you never knew of Jeongin, things you’d never guess about Kim Seungmin (you didn’t refer to him as just Seungmin until you were sixteen).

Jeongin was a fan of rock music. Kim Seungmin enjoyed more than a good book and ratting out his neighbors. Jeongin actually studied flowers in his free time, more than just what he learned passively working in a floral shop. Kim Seungmin was actually a prankster himself.

They learned things about you as well: how you preferred sunrises to sunsets, how you collected music boxes, how you kept a diary the two of them would never get to read, and now that they knew about it, were no longer or henceforth ever allowed in your room. This brought joy and laughter the color of fresh-sprung poppies to their faces...and a curious tint of rosehip to the cheeks of Yang Jeongin.

You distinctly remember the way he stared at you, two seconds too long before he looked away, to the flower arrangement before him, a smile never leaving his face. Spooked, you buried yourself back behind the front desk, occasionally peeking at his reflection through the storefront window.

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

At seventeen you’re all sweating bullets over SATs and TCIs and ACTs and every other stress-fueled test that exists in the better education realm. The three of you are taking turns quizzing each other and flicking foreheads or slapping wrists after getting an answer wrong. When the owners announce they’re heading home to finish up errands and get dinner started, you take turns in the final few store hours managing the front desk: two cramming backstage, one holding the reins out front. It’s in solitude that Seungmin tells you he’s decided to go to Harvard University, and possibly Yale if he finishes with a 4.1 GPA. At this you want to smack him, but at the same time, tell him not to go. It wouldn’t break your heart to see him go, but what’s wrong with your local university? Or a university just an hour out of town?

He tells you it’s something he’s always wanted, and heartily decided, so you take his hand in yours and wish him the best. It’s not a problem; Harvard and Yale aren’t too far away. 

The real problem arises when they switch, and with Seungmin running the front desk and helping late-blooming customers, it’s Jeongin who tells you he won’t be going to college at all. “I’ve decided to travel,” he says. “I want to explore new cultures. I want to hear other kinds of music. I want to see other types of flowers.”

At this, you deadpan. Blink a few times, just to make sure that registered. “You...want to leave the country?”

“It’ll sort of be like studying abroad-- hey, maybe that’s what I’ll do. Study abroad. I’ll be able to see lots of things that way. There’s a program that can accept me right away if I apply before midnight.”

“Jeongin…”

You frown. You can’t help it. Jeongin? Leaving you behind? You aren’t about to lose both of your best friends; especially not Jeongin, who to you was Innie, I.N., the boy with the messy black hair and slightly bad attitude, and many other things. 

His stare says everything for him, his smile drooping like perennial flowers. “You don’t like the idea.”

It’s not a question; it’s a statement. “That’s not true. I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t have to.”

He gets up, leaving the room. There’s an odd sense of finality as he exits.

“...I’m gonna see if Seungmin needs any help.”

“......”

You wince a little, even today, recalling the way he soft-slammed the back door. It was the last time you saw him, for the span of three long years.

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

It goes by too fast. Before you know it, you’ve reached the big two-O. Twenty is that odd age where you’re not sure about anything. Are you an adult? Are you still a kid? What age group do you fit into? What are you even doing with your life?

You’d chosen to major in botanical science. The flowers of the shop had ended up placing their roots into you. And being the sentimental gal that you were, you could never find yourself tearing away from your roots-- it was how flowers wilted and died. 

So when Yang Jeongin reappeared on the shop porch one morning, looking fresh as a daisy, you could hardly believe your eyes. He must have been put in one heck of a vase of Miracle Grow and holy water to have survived away from the garden for so long. At first, you’re ecstatic to see him-- at first. But then you remember what he did to you: the way he just walked out of the breakroom, clocking out without you noticing, not answering your texts, ignoring your calls, only to find out the next day he’s insanely hopped onto the morning train and booked a flight for Beijing. Part of a study program, his parents said. Very last minute, they explained. We’re so sorry, they lamented.

The only means of contact you’d received were a cloying box of exotic chocolates and a note from Jeongin that first year, along with a music box you couldn’t bring yourself to ever listen to. It ended up thrown into your closet, shadowed in a great tub with all the other ones. The note said something along the lines of an apology and explained he’d lost his phone during a boat ride that first week, and the strict program he was enrolled in didn’t allow him to contact friends; only immediate family. He’d had to lie to his advisors and tell them you were his adopted sister, which you suppose wouldn’t have been a lie once upon a time. After that, you’d only get an awkward “Jeongin says hello,” from his parents, who felt just as uncomfortable about the estranged situation. They’d assure you he was doing well and just going through a phase. He was angry. He acted irrationally, just the one time. They knew how important this was to him. He’d come back around, he really cared for you, after all.

Seeing him now made your head spin. You had to grip the cash register nailed into the hardwood so you wouldn’t fall over. “You’re...You’re back. You’re here. In the shop.”

He dropped his bags near the front door as if the place was his second home. Just like it always had been. “I’m back. Here. In the shop,” he repeated, an urgent longing in his actions.

The smile he wore never left his face as he rushed over to you...then paused, fearfully, his hands frozen in an awkward state of half-reaching and half-retreating. 

“Y/n…” He sighed, his breath a multitude of years lost. “...I’m sorry. I have no right to walk in here like nothing happened. You have every right to be angry. Are you angry?”

That was a good question. Were you angry? You should have been. You had every right to be, just like he said. This may have been his family’s store, but it was your second home, too, and you may as well have been a part of the family; you had every right ignore him or tell him to get out, to scream and demand answers, or even to cry and weep like the weeping willow tree out back.

Instead, you felt nothing. And everything. It was too much, so much strange emotion and Twilight Zone madness packed into a single punch that you smiled and simply replied, “I’m fine. How can I help you today?”

It came out sounding like you were the one asking for help. Jeongin seemed to catch wind of this too, distressed eyes staring into yours as if seeking a hidden entrance through the new roadblock to your mind. For the longest time, the two of you didn’t say anything.

Things got really awkward when Seungmin showed up on one of his monthly visits-- he ended up going to Harvard, but he still visited you every month and bothered to keep in touch-- and sensing the tension after a surprised gasp of excitement, uncomfortably shuffled to the back of the room with the excuse he’d get to work on the shop’s monthly revenue, assisting with the finances as part of his accountant training (a side gig to his major in criminal law). What resulted with the silent clicking of the door was the clicking of your own. 

You clocked out, texting Seungmin the location of the shop’s spare key and asking him to do you this one favor. Then to meet you downtown for a slice. As you swung onto the Vespa your parents had given you on your nineteen birthday, you observed Jeongin, in the shop’s reflection, through the rearview mirror, as he stood there, absorbing and deploring his loss.

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

It’s now midday, a few months later, and you haven’t seen or spoken to Yang Jeongin since. Even if he did live down the street, in your mind he’d been cast from the garden, turned into fertilizing soil. He hadn’t tried to contact you since, and neither had you found yourself hovering over the call option, only to toss the phone away with an agitated moan. You didn’t know how to overcome the foreign distance between you two, or at least you hadn’t...until today.

Today, well, you still didn’t really know how to go about it. But despite your temporary closure to any and all things Yang Jeongin, you did a lot of thinking about that day, when he’d just shown up out of nowhere, sprouting like the happiest weed on the planet, fearfully trying to patch things up. It wasn’t forced or out of pity or selfish guilt. It was as true as the blue roses you’ve had to convince more than a few customers were not spray-painted or artificially made. Jeongin had made a big, unlike-Jeongin mistake, one lasting far too long, but it was still the first (and last; you’d be sure of that). There had to be more to the story than what appeared above the ground. 

You should never judge a rose for its petals, Mrs. Yang once told you. It may still be blooming.  

You’re parking your bike in its usual place in front of the store, locking it to the bike rack Mr. Yang had installed-- your Vespa got destroyed while letting Seungmin take it for a joyride-- and you push open the familiar glass door, the sweet chime of the old silver bell singing overhead. Jeongin looks up at you from around a middle-aged man at the register, his voice falling an octave late.

“Welcome i-- ...n.”

It’s that same awkward tension all over again, but you try to smile through it, for friendship’s sake. After holding open the door for the parting customer, you make sure the door is locked before nervously wringing your hands halfway to the counter.

Jeongin takes your actions in alarm, bracing himself against the register as you had just a few months prior. Funny how times change. “...What’s going on? What are you gonna do?”

...As if you were going to rob or beat him. You’d thought about doing so with one of the giant sunflowers, three month before, but would never risk harm to the flower. “I…” A sigh. “...Can we talk?”

There’s an arrangement waiting for pickup or delivery sitting at the edge of the counter. Jeongin stares intently at the wooden space before casting his gaze to the flowers. He lifts them, crossing the bouquet over his face to the other side. You’re not entirely sure what he’s doing until he hands the bundle to you. “I can’t leave the shop right now...could you make this delivery for me? The address is on the tag.”

“......” You accept the bouquet awkwardly. “...Uh, yeah, sure.”

“I’ll clock you in, so you get paid.”

“No...don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it.”

He nods, slowly, just barely managing an unstable means of eye contact. “...Thanks.”

And so you walk out of the store, unlocking the door and hopping onto the shop’s delivery vehicle. It’s more a less like a Vespa, just older and a bit outdated. Securing the flowers in the protective shell container (a basket with a clear, wind-resistant lid), you snapped on the helmet and started the engine, making a hard right into the street. 

It occurs to you as you're driving that you didn’t bother to look at the address in your haste to escape an uncomfortable situation gone wrong. So much for talking things out and tackling your problems head-on. That really worked out well. You squint beneath the afternoon glare reflecting off the lid, but the address is written so tiny and messily you have to pull over and open the basket in order to get a better look.

279 Blueberry Street.

You just about dropped those flowers, gripping them a bit too tight so that a few stray thorns poked your fingers. 279 Blueberry Street was...well. 

It was Jeongin’s address.

...You had no idea what was going on, but intuition told you it was something fishy, something planned and arranged just as carefully as this cliché arrangement of red roses and baby’s breath. Typical and predictable, just like the old Yang Jeongin.

You’d bite. You drove the scooter across town and into your neighborhood, parking in the drive behind Mr. Yang’s Nissan. You remember taking many car trips around town and into neighboring cities in the backseat, Jeongin at your side, dropping fries and Cheerios and frozen yogurt all over the protective mats and onto each other. With a frustrated huff, you scurry to the front porch.

Maybe this is a crazy coincidence. Maybe Mr. Yang ordered flowers for his wife. Maybe Mrs. Yang got flowers for her husband. Maybe they both ordered them for Jeongin, as part of a gift to commemorate something you were once, for the first time in your life, unaware of. Or maybe you’d read the address wrong. Maybe it was Bluebell Street or Bellberry Street or something entirely different, and you were delusionally tripping because, hah, what else had been new over the course of the past few months...few years. Maybe...maybe--

A warm light envelops you as the door swings open, and you’re instantly hit with the nostalgic scent of fresh lavender and spring-time strawberries. The candles that Mrs. Yang loves to buy.

Jeongin’s eyes are strained, but there’s a new warmth about them that feels familiar. Like a withered blossom sprouting back to life. He’s no longer dressed in his work apron and usual uniform; instead he’s freshly showered, wearing Church clothes, his dark hair still wet and tangled to a messy frame around his face. There’s a comb stuck to the back of his head, and following your stare he removes it with a sheepish chuckle, tossing it somewhere towards the living room and attempting to tame wild curls in a more presentable manner. He smiles, tenderly.

“You made it...I was worried you’d think it was a mean joke.”

“Well…” You consider. “I almost did. But there are infinite possibilities out there, right?”

His smile blooms. Taking the smallest rose, he checks it for thorns before tucking it behind your ear. “Yeah,” he says, “There definitely are. Come in, please...there’s a lot of things I need to apologize for. Starting with the whole disappearing for three years and...yeah.”

You supplement his cringe with a frown, then thinking about the ridiculous letter, imagine him beneath flickering candlelight, frantically scrawling down a horrifically worded letter in secrecy. You think about him in Barcelona nervously pacing between bustling touristy streets and getting lost or ripped off and wanting to scream at the stupidity of his actions and lack of Spanish. You imagine him in a woodshop in Berlin, flipping through a dictionary and pointing to words he can’t begin to pronounce and the amount of frustration cooked up from having to go through five woodsmiths until he found one that spoke just a bit of a broken language he understood, and the funny game of Pictionary that probably followed. 

You laugh, shoving his shoulder on the way in and hurrying into the kitchen for a vase. After placing the display on the counter, you grab his collar, kissing his cheek. 

His face burns the shade of chrysanthemums, wide eyes wondering what it was he did to deserve such a reaction. To you, he had more or less abandoned you, after all.

But you know better. You’ve known Yang Jeongin since you were five years old; when he knocked over a bottle of glue onto your summer dress after trying to hand you the paper flower he’d made. When things seem bad, they’re never personally intended. They’re never what they really seem. And you should have remembered that, too.

He spins you around now, and the two of you laugh, laughter echoing down the cream-colored halls all the way to the back garden. Back to a simpler time; a time when the two of you were just kids, pushing each other on the big oak swing and tackling each other in mud, smiling amongst the flowers.

There’s this flower shop down the road from your house that you’re used to going to. It’s one of those hole-in-the-wall places, the kind that never stand out unless you’re actively looking for them. The brick’s chipped, it’s covered in vines, and the sign out front is hanging by a stem. 

It’s the place where you and Yang Jeongin reside, never again apart, for the rest of your days. ✿

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

[cloviaglade]

THE CRIMSON FLOWER ROUTE CORPORATE UNION AU

Yeah it came to me in a dream shared it with a friend and she said I should inflict it on the world so here we go

Warning: It's super long but I broke it up into chunks

(note not all members of the house fall into the categories listed also I'm not the best with corporate terms and positions. Also this was made for fun and isn't that serious)

The houses

The Black eagles generally were in accounting or sales. They dealt with a lot of the customers firsthand and were considered expendable

Blue lions where mostly in HR or IT

Golden deer mostly worked in maintenance and public relations.

Staff and church members are members of the board. Flayn has her position on the board despite her age because nepotism

The Seiros Co:

It's a large company that provide a large array of services and products that promote physical and emotional well-being. The company started out with good intentions but soon became a corporate monster

The company provides a host of benefits to its employees including on site housing, on site restraunts, on site pools gyms ect. They even have the best insurance on the planet. They even have horse therapy.

However they have to pay premiums on the health insurance, their rent is docted from their pay, they have to pay for on-site facilities, and those living on site are heavily encouraged to work overtime.

a lot of this is justified by cover every single health expense and days of for minor colds. Many employees seek mental health care more often than they seek physical care.

The on site living conditions vary heavily. Most are just a small white room with a single bed and a dresser. No visitors after certain hours and forget about outside visitors. However rumors are spreading that the board members have spacious luxury apartments.

The pay without all the benefits is not a wage you could live off of. But with the rent for these rooms doct from your pay you couldn't reasonably save up for different arrangements.

The strike begins:

Edelguard was finally fed up watching her team struggling. She hears constantly about how her workers are not making enough. How they have to scrape because they needed new clothes or shoes. Or worse how Petra wasn't able to support her sick grandfather

She hired a lawyer Hubert to look into information about their contracts and compare everything to labor laws. She needed to know how much of this was legal and if there was anything to be done about it.

Huberts lawfirm dealt with several lawsuits in the past. They are considered ruthless in court however media painted them out to be money hungry and demented

As expected, it was legal (mostly due to lack of regulation for these types of benefits) but really unfair, So Hubert suggested a strike. His firm would handle all the legal matters as they prepared a lawsuit and to unionize.

Edelguard was careful to organize it in private. Nothing was emailed. Nothing to tract them. Flyers were handwritten and posted in the dorms inviting members to secret meeting on slow hours.

Roles

What everyone did on the day of the strike/position they were in the office.

Black eagles

Edalguard: head of sales- she got everyone in her department and many others in different departments to simply stop working for the day when she commanded everyone to stop working via megaphone. She suck in hubert and went to a private meeting room to set up a list of demands.

Hubert: head of Vestra lawfirm- he snuck past security with the help of Edelguard. He brought a laptop and a phone with Hotspot so he could video call the rest of his attorneys from inside the conference room. Once the strike was in full swing he toured the place with Edelguard gathering evidence.

Ferdinand: senior sale manager has the highest customer satisfaction - when the strike was well underway he sent a mass email to everyone in every department including the CEO and founder herself in a very professional tone about how there is a strike. Lornez replied immediately and they when to the breakroom to enjoy tea while on the clock.

Lindhart: IT software specialist - first thing he did was turn off all the bans on websites. Everyone could go on whatever website they wanted to. He left the download blocker up and other safety precautions in place. Others could looks at memes and scroll through social media ect. He then returns to his dorm and takes a paid nap.

Caspar: manager in accounting slow but very accurate and a real team player - he hated the no pets policy with a burning passion so he let all the stray and feral cats that hang around the building in through one of the side doors. They stayed mostly on the ground floor and a few made a mess under the desks. He played with the strays with a few of his co-workers.

Bernadette: customer service rep. - she hated the calls filled with angry people. She clocked out, disconnected he phone, ran into her dorm and screamed into her pillow until calm. Once she calmed down enough she did some embroidery.

Dorothea: sales representative- has the highest upsale rate - she gets into her car and just leaves. She is still clocked in. Nobody knows where she went. Some say she met with a lover, others say she went on a binge. Nobody really knows.

Petra: bilingual sales rep. - she signed her phone off and immediately called up her family overseas. She proceeded to catch up and talk with her family for hours. She rarely got to speak with them due to the difference in timezones.

Blue lions

Dimitri: head of IT - he doesn't actually know much about IT and has little intrest in it. He got the job because his dad recommended him. With the outside website ban lifted and the lost of control of his department he frantically tried to get everything under control

Dedue: cyber security and protocol educator - although the bans are lifted he is still concerned about a cyber attack. He is frantically try to restore the ban but it seems like lindhart deleted the code.

Felix: hardware specialists - he was the one who should've been promoted into Dimitri's position and is a bit smug about how everything is falling apart in front of his boss. He bypasses the download blocker and plays minecraft on the company computer. Dimitri is too busy to notice that felix isn't helping.

Sylvain: HR rep. - he knew from the start that working conditions were shit. He was tired of trying to raise moral by doing everything but paying the employees more, giving them time off, and reasonable working hours. He went to the break room where Ferdinand and Lornez were having tea and ate a bunch of the snacks the company was reselling at super high prices then faxed a picture of his ass and balls to rhea herself as a letter of resignation.

Ashe: new hire in IT - was called down to the first floor to replace a keyboard a cat peed on. Found caspar was the reason the cats were let in. Caspar then persuaded him to play with the cats instead of shooing them out. 3 hours later he completely forgot about the strike and clocked out per usual. He completely forgot about the strike

Mercedes: head of HR - she meets with the board and discussed what to do about the strikers. They can't force them to go home since everyone striking lives on site and has every right to be there. No significant damages is being done to property. The only loss is from those not working (and a keyboard covered in cat piss and $35 worth of snacks) Mercedes is forced to find a way to get them to stop but in a way that doesn't really change anything. She leaves the meeting when it is over clocks out and returns to her modest house she calls out sick for the next couple of months.

Annette: HR rep - she tries to stop the chaos on the floor and to convince everyone to return to work. She is ignored. She wanted to ask for a megaphone to help gain attention but edelguard took the one from HR and the person with the key to one in the event closet is striking as well. She runs around in a paint trying to answer emails and settle everyone down.

Ingrid: IT helpline rep - helping Dimitri reset the ban on outside websites is above her pay grade. She at least know some of the terminology and the basics. She manages to set up a very basic blocker but it didn't block whole domains just the homepage of every website she could think of that's wasn't appropriate for work. Logging into the site allowed you to bypass the block. Ingrid feels like she will be fired for not being able to do more

Golden deer:

Claude: event planner - noticing that there was no work happening he finally decided it was time to actually do his job. He dipped into those sweet event funds and ordered as many pizza's as he could from every pizza join that could deliver. He busted out the sport balls and got employees to clear some room for flag football on the 3rd floor. He got Hilda to organize games of hide and go seek in floors 4 and 5. All games and activities were not officially approved but followed all guidelines.

Hilda: claudes assistant - organized games on the 4th and 5th floors. The cubicle although uniform made excellent hiding spaces and the food plaza just got rid of the old tables and chairs awaiting delivery of new ones so there was a ton of space to run around. Hidia had to jump between floors pretty often which was a workout all on its own but it was worth it to see everyone smile at work for once.

Lornez: head of advertising - he was tired of writing jingles and stupid commercials for the company. He wasn't aware of the strike until he got the email from Ferdinand. He offered to treat him to some tea he brought from home. They had a lovely talk and watched Sylvain stress eat. He tried to talk Sylvain out of resigning but failed.

Raphael: pizza delivery guy - he thought it was a joke at first since they never delivered pizza to the Serios Co but was persuaded by Claude. He got stopped at the front by the front desk clerk who was ordered not to allow any deliveries. Soon more pizza guys showed up and some of them where not as nice as Raphael. He eventually got in and successfully delivered his pizza.

Ignatz: accountant - he wanted no part of this and tried to work despite being on the 3rd floor. He doesn't have any PTO and is frantically trying to get his absence approved because he cannot work under these conditions. He got walled in with desks and chairs and hand to crawl his way out to try to find someone in HR to help him but found their office empty. Worst day of work ever.

Lysithia: Intern- hopes to join the advertising department - She needs this job for school credits so finding out that her boss told her to take the day off because of strike she immediately thought of her record. Lorenz assured her that she would get credit as long as he had any say in it. She played a round of hide and go seek before studying in Lornez's office

Marianne: customer service rep.- she heard the rumors and on the day of the strike she freaked out and when to have a panic attack in her car. She was on lunch technically but she took a 3 hour lunch. She came back in clocked out and decided to try that horse therapy.

Leonnie: pizza delivery guy (not nice) - she knows the customer didn't care that the order took so long to complete and was very understanding that the 30mins or less delivery time but seriously! 50 PIZZAS!! She had to stretch and press dough at top speed for like 45 mins then she burnt her hand while boxing some of the pizza's and she had to deliver all of it to this company just outside of town and now the person at the front door is insisting that the pizza was ordered by mistake oh no! Not today! You will take the pizza and you will pay for it and tip 25%.

Church

Rhea: CEO and founder - she honestly believes her practices are helping the community. She doesn't realize that she doesn't give her employees much choice. She thinks her employees are ungrateful.

Seteth: president - also believes the company is doing the best they can. He knows the dorms are small and brand but they house 78.364% of their employees and they all see a doctor at least 3 times a month. He hates that he has difficulty finding a balance between competitive prices, compensating workers, and turning a profit.

Flayn: secretary - she saw the fun going on in the 5th floor while on her lunch and thought it was organized by staff and didn't connect it as part of the strike.

Catherine: front desk - tried to turn away all the delivery drivers but more kept coming. She kept getting calls from upper management about the social media platforms and tried frantically to get in to make a statement but had little luck. She gave up when Leonnie demanded payment and let all the delivery people in.

Shamir: social media manager- she originally attended the meetings as a mole but soon learned that her fellow employees hardships. She drafted huge posts on every platform exposing the truth, changed all the passwords then took a vacation during the strike.

Hanneman: chief operational officer - he is calling and emailing the IT department about the bans every moment he can. He organized the meeting as soon as the strikers got rowdy.

Manuela: chief financial officer - although she is worried about the finances she has also been pressing about where to cut the budget first. Horse therapy is ridiculous! They own the whole ranch and are responsible for the upkeep of every horse. And all the horses are carefully hand selected and trained too. It's too much nobody uses the horse therapy because nobody has the time off to go to horse therapy!

Alois: Chairman - his title is mostly empty. He joined the strikers in a game of flag football scored a touchdown. Then went back to work as usual. Didn't check his emails about the strike since he only checks them in the morning when he first comes into work.

Gilbert: treasurer - he puts business first. Doesn't know his daughter works for the same company. Was friends with Dimitri's father. He is stressing about how the company will recover financially. He is the reason for the pay cuts so they can fund most of the benefits.

Cyrill: gopher - he gets paid minimum wage and lives on site. He considers himself lucky that he can drive the company car to go pick up office supplies from the store. He was homeless before he got a job at Seiros and feels like he is important.

Results

Since several members of the board were caught participating in strike activities the hubert and his firm counted them at strikers and used this in court.

The dorms were not considered responsible accommodations saying that prisoners in jail cells at least have their own toilet.

The news when crazy with the posts on social media. The account never replied to any dms or comments. When called they said a rogue employee posted them falsely because she was being fired.

Rhea was forced to pay a lawsuit that gave all dormitory workers an allowance of $1000 for rent for life. Even if they choose to leave the company.

Dimitri was fired for not actually having any training. Felix was promoted to the head of IT and everyone respects him.

Rhea looses her company. And most of her assets. She kept the therapy horse ranch and manages that for a living.

With the entire company now belonging to her since everyone above her resigned she made a ton of changes making the company more normal. She pays a fair livable wage to every employee. She repurposed the dorms into offices or solitary break rooms.

Huberts firm gets rebranded as a honest firm that wants to help the little guys. He later goes on to help other corporations unionize.

[writeradamanteve]

So in case you were still interested in My Former Boss The Art Thief stories...

He told me one day that he’d sold a painting to a gentleman who was able to pay him in cash for part of the value, the rest of which was paid in boxes and boxes of color fans. Yes, like over two thousand of those. He asked me to find someone who would buy that shit in bulk so he could recoup the value of this so-called painting.

My face, you can imagine, was like

I guess at this point, I know that the painting story was bullshit in that he sold someone else’s painting, took what money he could get, and that he probably got this load from some other shady jackass, but at the time, all I was thinking was he had to have been stupid to accept this payment in kind.

So I go online, look for possible buyers, and in the end, the only thing I could find was the fact that people bought this shit individually, but enthusiastically. So I tell him I can put this up for sale on craigslist or something and market it online. We ship them out one at a time and he can make a boatload of profit. These things sold for over $150 a piece, and we can sell them at $50 and people would go crazy over them.

He looked at me like I was crazy and tells me, “Forget that! I’m not selling this piece by piece. Let me ask around.” So I shrug and let him.

Weeks, and then a couple of months go by and nothing. And I’m thinking he’s just a lazy asshole who isn’t going to do anything. At this point, he’s already stiffed me my salary twice, so I go to him and telll him I’ll buy a box from him and I’ll sell it individually. I asked him how much for a box and he told me $70 for the box. So I take it, sell it for $30 each and I make a PROFIT. I told him about this and he laughs and says to me, “Do you want to buy more boxes?”

I realize that this was his way of offloading this shit in bulk, but I’m not afraid of hard work, so I agree. I take more boxes. Keep in mind that I take the train to and from Queens and these boxes are at least 20 lbs each. I can only take two at a time, but I do that shit until he stiffs me one last time with my salary and I finally, absolutely quit.

Months pass and I remember him fondly. I call him and ask him how he’s doing and he invites me and my spouse for lunch—he said he’ll cook goat curry for us. I am a sucker for food, so since it was Christmas, we got him a shirt and cologne, wrap it, and go to his place. Don’t even ask me why I’m nice to this dude who wouldn’t pay me my wages. He was a nice guy and I thought he’s got a shittier life than I do. So we go and have lunch with him, talk about the paintings and sculptures. I realized he has moved into his gallery’s second floor. He is now living here.

After lunch and on our way out of the building, I see the boxes of color fans again and he hasn’t done a thing about it, so I ask him if I could buy some more of them—I can only grab about four, since that was as much cash as we had on us then.

He goes, “Get them all.”

And I go, “Brian, I don’t even have that money to spare.”

He said, “Don’t pay me. Take ‘em all for free. It’s junk.”

And I couldn’t believe it. I told him we can only fit so much in the trunk of our car so we’d have to come back for the rest and he tells us to come back in two weeks and we’d have lunch again.

You better believe the spouse and I hauled that shit. We went back for it two more times. We piled it high in our closet and it took up so much space that it was a fire hazard of sorts, but we were gonna sell that shit.

Friends, my spouse and I amassed $40,000 from selling that individually. It took us 5 years to sell all of it off, but it was easiest money we ever made. We actually still have a box of returns, but I think we decided not to resell those for sentimental reasons.

The last time we went to see Brian was in 2009, and that’s when he gave me the bronze eagle.

The next time I checked up on him, he was in jail.

[duhragonball]

Hellsing Liveblog Chapters 25-27

This is the first leg of the “D” arc.   I had originally planned on trying to do the whole thing in one post, but it’s pretty long and meanders in places, so instead I’m going to break it up, starting with the part that wraps up volume 4 of the collected editions.

Much of these first three chapters just showcases Millennium preparing to depart their secret headquarters in Brazil.  They have three blimps, maybe more.   We already saw the Graf Zeppelin III, but there’s also a Graf Zeppelin II and a Hindenberg II.   Also, the Major refers to all of this as “Operation Sea Lion 2″.  The original “Operation Sea Lion” was Nazi Germany’s plan to invade the U.K. during World War II.   It was never enacted, however, because the Germans couldn’t establish air and naval superiority over the British.  Basically, the Major is declaring that he has finally achieved what Hilter could not, thanks to his “Last Battalion” of 1000 vampire soldiers.

The bridge of his flagship (flagblimp) has this big comfy chair on a robot arm, and a panoramic world map.   The arrows on the map point in all sorts of nutty directions, including the United States and other European nations.   I could have sworn I had heard some mention in Hellsing Ultimate of Millennium sending forces to the U.S., but the international angle was never mentioned again, and I assumed that I must have imagined it.  In any event, the Major made it clear that his target is Alucard specifically, so it doesn’t make a lot of sense to invade places where Alucard is not.

The Major prepares to take his seat only to find Warrant Officer Schrödinger sitting in his chair.   Remember, Schrödinger inexplicably teleported himself to London to address Hellsing and Iscariot, and then he got shot and killed for his trouble.   But now he’s back, alive and well.   He mocks the Major for being to slow, and the Doctor scolds him for his insolence, but the Major orders Doc to back off.   This is a running gag throughout the rest of the series.  The Doctor keeps trying to chastise Schrödinger, but the Major lets him do whatever the boy wants, almost like he’s some favorite pet.  

Meanwhile, an unidentified helicopter tries to land on a British carrier, the H.M.S. Eagle.   The Captain orders his crew to open fire, but the first officer suddenly does this:

So yeah, the first officer is a vampire now, and he’s sold out Queen and Country for Millennium.  He and a handful of vampire crewmen kill the rest of the crew and turn them all into ghouls, allowing the helicopter to land, making way for...

This lady, Lieutenant Rip Van Winkle.  I should point out that in the pages leading up to her boarding the Eagle, she was singing Engelandlied, a German war anthem from World War I.   She’s nutty, is the idea.

So, I’m gonna go ahead and put forth my fan theory that all the bad guys we dealt with prior to Rip were just patsies for Millennium, and not actual members in their own right.   This includes Tubalcain “Dandyman” Alahambra, because, for all his powers, no one ever said his rank, leading me to think he didn’t have one.   Same with the Valentine Brothers and any of the vampires Alucard and Seras were sent to fight during the first dozen or so chapters of this manga.   Millennium may have turned them into vampires, and in some cases they even let them in on Millennium’s inner workings, but they were never more than cannon fodder.   Jan seemed to understand this, although Luke and Dandyman seemed to believe they were genuinely created to represent the new pinnacle of vampiric power.   Even the Doctor thought Dandyman had a strong chance of beating Alucard, but in the end they were just experiments meant to test Alucard’s mettle.

And, really, the rest of Millennium is not much different, except Rip and the others actually know why they’re being sacrificed, even if they don’t necessarily understand how or when.

Meanwhile, Seras still won’t drink blood, and she keeps trying to eat regular food instead, even though she struggles to swallow every bite.   I’ve never been very clear on whether vampires in Hellsing can eat non-blood food or not.  Seras is doing it, albeit painfully, but I don’t think she really gains anything from it, except whatever coping mechanism this is supposed to serve.   

So in walks Sir Integra, who dumps a bag of medical blood on her table.  Seras never really answers Integra’s question, but she already told Walter, and it’s not much of an answer.   The heart of the matter is this: Seras really doesn’t want to be a vampire.   Or, maybe, more accurately, she doesn’t want to stop being human.   The trouble is that she already lost that battle way back in Chapter 1. 

In many ways, Seras has accepted her fate.   She works for Hellsing, recognizes Alucard as her vampire master, and so on.  I think she understands that this is the only life she can have now, and her will to live is strong enough that she appreciates what Alucard and Integra have done for her.    At her core, Seras is a public servant, and fighting monsters for Hellsing is not so different from fighting crime as a policewoman.  I think she sees her current condition as a means to that end.   She doesn’t crave power like the evil vampires we’ve seen thus far.    Seras views her abilities as a means to an end.   Alucard biting her gave her a way to stay alive and continue fighting the good fight.

However, she doesn’t want the baggage that goes along with that.   She wants to retain as much of her humanity as she can, and drinking blood is the one thing that she has some control over, or so she believes.

But Integra’s far too practical for that dilemma.   Alucard was willing to respect Seras’ relucatance, but she needs her troops on their toes and ready for action.  So she takes a knife and cuts open her finger, and then orders Seras to lick the blood off.    This is... disturbingly sexual, and one of a number of scenes that reminds me that Hirano Kouta had done a lot of, er, adult comics before Hellsing.   I think he did a lot of uniform fetishy stuff too, which is why Seras and Schrödinger’s uniforms look so similar to each other.   Both are meant to resemble German WWII gear.   I’m willing to grant some leeway here, because there’s probably only so many ways to do a finger-licking scene like this without sexualizing it a little, but the last bit with the saliva trail is just revolting. 

So, what’s bugged me for a long time was that if Seras drank (a little) of Integra’s blood here, why did this subplot not get paid off until much later in the story?  She drank blood, didn’t she?   Well, yeah, but Integra ordered her to do it, so it doesn’t count.   This came up a couple of times earlier in the story, when Walter and Al mentioned that she wouldn’t drink blood willingly.  It’s not just an ethical issue for Seras, or she’d simply chow down on the medical blood.  I guess Integra could force feed her every night, but that wouldn’t solve anything.   This is about Seras accepting her transformation as a fait accompli.   I think this is why she very nearly drank Alucard’s blood back in Northern Ireland, when it sure looked like there was no other way for her to survive.  But if she’s just sitting there with no one making her do it, and no urgent need to do it, she’ll refuse every time.  

I think Hellsing uses the premise that a vampire has to do more than just bite a human to turn them into a vampire.  That is, Alucard had to put his own blood in Seras’ body to complete that transformation.   I think that’s how it worked in the Dracula novel, and Seras herself mentions it in the Gonzoverse anime.   But that wouldn’t count either, because it’s part of the change itself.  The idea is for the new vampire to partake in blood-drinking by choice, and until that happens, they won’t get all the cool powers.   

One other thing, Integra takes this opportunity to mention that she’s a virgin, which is a weird flex for this situation, but okay.  In Hellsing, that means Integra could become a vampire herself, but not if Seras bites her, because it has to be a vampire of the opposite sex.   In any case, Tegs warns Seras not to bite down during this creepy finger-licking KFC-hentai thing.   

Back in the damn ocean, Lt. Rip van Winkle is welcomed aboard by the traitorous crew of the Eagle.   She asks them how it feels to be a vampire, and causally reminds them of their treachery.   Then she gives them new orders, which are to die by her magic gun, which fires a bullet that can turn around in midair.

And so the First Officer and his lackeys learn the same lesson as the Brazillians working for the Dandyman, and the Dandyman himself, and the Valentine Brothers and whoever else.  Millennium might turn you into a vampire, but that hardly means that you’ll live forever.   Millennium always demands treason as payment for their help, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that they might betray you sooner or later.

Besides, Rip doesn’t need the British crew, because she has her own henchman on board her chopper.   While she waits for them to wake up, she paints a swastika on the deck, just to make it clear that they’ve taken control of the Eagle, which she renames the Adler.  That’s German for “Eagle”, you see.

Back on his blimp, the Major cuts this twenty-minute promo which basically amounts to “I love war, we have no particular agenda except to wage endless war for the fun of it.”   Back in England, Alucard is eagerly awaiting their arrival.  

[flowesona]

The Chariot - Yandere! Yoongi x reader

The Tarot Series

No matter how hard he tried to stop it, the blood refused to cease flowing from Yoongi’s nose. Accompanied by a horrific pain and the cruel laugh of his enemy as they snatched up the crumpled envelope and walked away, counting the bills triumphantly.

Yoongi managed to stagger to his feet, breathing heavily as the blood continued to flow, staining the back of his hand ruby red. He cursed upon seeing how they’d crushed his phone out of pure spite, rendering it useless and him unable to call for help.

A few passersby stared at him and his injury, but none offered him help. None, except one young woman who stopped him as he took a shortcut through the park.

“Are you okay? You’re bleeding!” She dug around in her pockets for a tissue, offering him a crumpled one which he took gratefully.

“Yeah, I just… I need to get home.” Yoongi muttered, trying to push past her shyly but she blocked his way.

“Did someone do this to you? If so, we need to call the police!” Yoongi shook his head.

“No, there’s no point. His dad has connections anyway, they’d find out and it’d only piss them off more.” He wasn’t sure why he owed this girl an explanation yet he did, letting her dab at his nose.

“That’s not an excuse to do nothing. Hey, don’t you go to my school?” The woman gasped suddenly. “You’re in the basketball team right? Min Yoongi! I’m (Y/N), I’m part of the Judo team!”

“Y-yeah.” He hated that this girl could tarnish his reputation, make him out to be a total sissy for getting beaten up by another student. He would’ve given the world to start the day over, yet here he was being babied by one of his peers. “I need to get home. Leave me alone.”

With those words he turned away from her, still holding her gifted tissue to his nose.

*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

“Where’s my money, little kitten?” The oldest boy snarled, shoving Yoongi until back hit the metal fence.

“I-I don’t have it. Payday isn’t until next week.” He gasped in pain as one of the boys grabbed his arm and twisted it until they heard the crack of ligaments.

“Well. You know what I'll do. I'll hurt you until you can cough it up.” Yoongi prayed someone might pass by, a dog walker or a parent & child who could intervene. His prayers were answered when he heard a loud voice shouting “Hey!”

The boys ran as soon as they heard the voice and caught sight of a figure striding towards them, leaving Yoongi cradling his injured arm.

“Hoseok’s the one who hurt you?! Yoongi, why didn’t you tell me that?” It took him a few seconds to recognise the voice, looking to see (Y/N) standing next to him with a pissed off expression. “There’s got to be a way that you can fight back!” 

“My debts are none of your concern.” He sighed. 

“What if I teach you self defense? I took lessons for a while to protect myself, you should do the same!”

“Fine.” Yoongi muttered, hoping that a few lessons would satisfy her and perhaps help him.

*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

“That’s enough for today.” (Y/N) sat down, huffing. “Man, you’re getting better by the day.”

Yoongi nodded, his heart fluttering at her compliment. He wasn’t sure how, or why, but he had caught feelings for the girl. Maybe it was the long hours they spent together messing with his head, but Yoongi could swear on his life that he’d never seen someone more beautiful whilst drenched in sweat from the summer heatwave.

“(Y/N)?” She turned to give him her attention when he called out her name, making him feel slightly nervous but determined nonetheless. “Would you...maybe… like to get an ice cream or something? My treat? Since it’s so hot…”

(Y/N) nodded happily as he trailed off.

“Let’s go.” She took his hand, oblivious to the heat in his cheeks.

Once they’d settled in the corner of a local ice-cream parlour with a bowl each, Yoongi decided to speak up.

“(Y/N), do you… have a boyfriend?” The young woman paused, the spoon in her mouth.

“No.” She replied quickly, swallowing. “Why do you-”

She cut herself off as she glanced over his shoulder.

“Hey, isn’t that Hoseok?” Yoongi felt his blood run cold, turning around to see the menacing figure lingering by the doorway. The second Yoongi met his eyes, Hoseok scoffed and walked away. He didn’t need to stay, not when his threat had been made clear.

Yoongi had given himself a weakness. And now, (Y/N) was in danger.

“We need to- fuck!” Yoongi cursed to himself. Truly, he felt like he was more stuck than ever. He had to protect her, he couldn’t let Hoseok get his filthy hands on her. 

“Yoongi, it’s going to be okay.” He couldn’t meet her eyes as she spoke, shame and guilt hanging over his head.

“(Y/N). Call one of your friends and go home.” He said quietly.

“I’m not leaving you alone. I know what you’re thinking.” (Y/N)’s hand grasped his, giving him a deep blush. “We know that Hoseok is out there. But I just can’t let you get hurt on my conscience. I’ll fight for you, if I have to.”

She pulled out her purse to leave a tip on the table, before standing up, still holding Yoongi’s hand.

“Do you want to walk me home, then, Mr Tough Guy?”

*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

Hoseok didn’t strike. That would’ve been too expected, too easy. He was waiting, toying with his prey. There was more to it than the money. Hoseok loved the thrill of it, and he wanted nothing more than to crush Min Yoongi’s hopes beneath his foot.

It’d been just over a week when Yoongi next asked to meet up with (Y/N). He’d stayed away, scared of putting a target on her back and hoping to shake Hoseok off, but his heart wouldn’t let him stay away any longer. He needed her, to distract him from bleak reality and remind him what it was like to have hope.

“Why did you choose a horror movie then?” (Y/N) whispered, her smirk barely visible in the dark of the cinema. “Did you want the cute girl to cling to your arm when she’s scared?”

“Maybe.” Yoongi whispered back, his heart pounding as (Y/N) slid her hand into his.

“I’m not easily scared, Yoongi. What are you gonna do now?” The look in her eyes, the feeling of her hand in his. It was the perfect time.

“This.” He leaned in, a frenzy of butterflies in his stomach as he finally kissed her. For a moment he was terrified he’d done something wrong, only to have her reciprocate seconds later, tilting her head and allowing him further into her mouth.

Yoongi was ready to go all in, reaching down to his zipper only for her to rest her hand on top of his to stop his hasty actions.

“Look, it’s getting to the good part.”

The fire in his stomach was still burning, his passion ignited. Truly, he was happy to finally have the girl. Even though she could be snatched away just as easily.

*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

“Just saying, their lives would be so much simpler if they didn’t summon a ghost for the hell of it.” (Y/N) complained about the movie, swinging their hands as Yoongi walked her home.

“Then the movie wouldn’t be entertaining!” He chuckled, feeling himself get hot up as (Y/N) laughed alongside him.

“Hey, there’s a shortcut here.” She commented, pulling him towards the park. Yoongi wanted to protest. This was one of Hoseok's spots after all. There was probably even a bit of blood on one of the footpaths, from a week where he’d been underpaid at work, and paid the price severely.

“I don’t know about this, it’s dangerous.” He warned, putting one hand in his pocket to grasp the switchblade he’d started carrying around for safety. Just so he could take care of Hoseok and his goonies, in case they decided to come after (Y/N).

“It’ll only take a few minutes.” She dismissed his concerns, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

For the first few minutes, it truly did seem like they were safe. Yoongi was about to lower his guard, when he saw someone lurking in the shadows in the corner of his eye.

“(Y/N), I want you to run. Right now.” He muttered, but she shook her head stubbornly.

“I won’t leave you, Yoongi.”

“Isn’t that just the cutest, little kitten?” Hoseok’s voice came from behind the couple as he finally emerged into view. In a matter of seconds they were surrounded.

“You’ve got your girlfriend here to protect you.” The older boy snarled. “But I want my money, Yoongi.”

“You know damn well I’ve given you back way more than I owed in the first place.” Yoongi retorted, his hand’s grip on the knife in his pocket growing tighter by the second.

“And? That’s just called interest.” Hoseok pulled out his own blade. “Now, if you don’t want your girlfriend to have a few cuts on her precious face, give me the cash you have leftover from last week’s wages. And I know you have them, don’t try to lie to me kitten. How else are you paying for your little dates?”

“Go fuck yourself.” (Y/N) hissed at him. “He doesn’t owe you shit. Get out of the way before I beat your ass.”

“She’s a feisty one, kitten.” Hoseok smirked, striding over. His hands started to roam along her arms, running down any part of exposed skin he could get his hands on. “No wonder you’re so smitten. I bet she’s a real freak in the sheets.”

“Let go of me, you bastard.” (Y/N) elbowed him in the crotch, giving a momentary triumph as Hoseok doubled over in pain.

“I’ll teach you a lesson in respect, sweetheart.” Hoseok snarled. “And maybe it’ll teach your boyfriend to give me my money when I ask for it.”

Yoongi just couldn’t stand and watch this beast hurt his (Y/N). It was his responsibility - no, his honour - as her boyfriend to protect her from the cruelest parts of this world.

He withdrew the knife from his pocket, and straightened his back to appear as tough as he could be.

“If you touch my girlfriend, I’ll kill you Hoseok.” The delinquent didn’t look even remotely scared.

“Disarm the kitten for me. I’ll teach him his lesson once I’m done with his girlfriend.” He ordered the punks behind Yoongi, but when one of them reached out to grab Yoongi’s arm, the knife was planted in his shoulder and ripped out. The recipient of Yoongi’s lash tried to hide the pain, gritting his teeth as blood trickled down his arm. Nevertheless, once the two punks saw the serious threat Yoongi was posing now, they decided to run, not ready to face the consequences of their actions.

“Hey! Can’t handle a little boy with a toy knife? You fucking pussies!” Hoseok shouted after them, not ever deterred by the blood.

Hoseok shoved (Y/N) to the ground.

“Guess I have to take care of you.” He said, stalking towards Yoongi who was still holding the now bloodied knife in front of him. “Maybe when this sweetheart sees what a true man looks like, she’ll want to be in my bed instead.”

He towered over Yoongi, holding his own knife to Yoongi’s neck. But Hoseok was in a world of surprise when Yoongi, rather than cowering as he usually did, drove the switchblade into the stomach of his nemesis, twisting it and pushing it deeper as Hoseok groaned in pain.

Once he was satisfied that the damage had been done, he pulled out the knife and shoved Hoseok away, letting the boy collapse to the ground in pain. But his retaliation was far from over, as he delivered a swift kick to Hoseok’s hunched over for, not having an ounce of mercy as the boy curled up into a fetal position, trying to protect himself.

“Stay away from my (Y/N). Don’t talk about her, don’t think about her. And don’t you even dare touch her.” 

After delivering a few more beatings to the man who’d hurt him for so long, Yoongi was finally satisfied, and turned to find (Y/N) so they could leave.

But (Y/N) wasn’t going anywhere. She was frozen to the spot, utterly terrified.

“Yoongi… you shouldn’t have…” (Y/N) finally started to back away, pulling her phone out of her pocket to call an ambulance.

“No, (Y/N). I had to.” The once sweet boy was now gone, replaced by a shivering monster. “I had to teach him a lesson. He’d start hurting you, and I couldn’t live with myself if that happened.”

“You’re no better than him! I wanted you to defend yourself, not kill him!” (Y/N) protested. “If you don’t want to get arrested, you should leave. And don’t ever talk to me again.”

“I-I w-won’t leave you a-alone, (Y/N).” Yoongi stuttered, having suddenly paled as what he had done was setting in. “It’s way too dangerous for you here a-all alone.”

He offered her his bloody hand, but she refused to even touch him.

“You need help.” Before she could even dial another digit on her phone, Yoongi had snatched it out of her hand and dropped it to the ground, digging his heel into the screen to maximise the damage.

“You're the only thing that can help me, (Y/N). Please.” He took her shaking body into his arms, his breathing and heart rate slowing as he held her close. “Don’t ever let me go and I’ll be okay.”