#license to kill or sign of the boss one of those

[oflgtfol]

even in 1994 in a comic clearly meant to be critiquing corporatization, theyre still out here making comically communist villains. like capitalism is literally the force of evil in this entire story but lets still make an over the top communist villain anyway

[doctor-yamagishi]

Persona 4 Verse Nobu

(Deets below the cut)

Nobu joins Yasogami High as a 3rd year. Nobu does have his medical license, but it is temporarily suspended as the Inaba Municipal Hospital directors do not feel comfortable with having a doctor from outside attending, especially one as young as Nobu. They will reinstate his license pending graduation from Yasogami. Nobu convinces them to pay for all that he needs until that point as reneging on the agreement is a breach of contract for a reason unassociated with his performance.

Persona: Same as for Concern or Consideration, which will eventually be revealed. Evolution is the same as well. Still need to figure out 3rd Evolution for Golden Verse.

Arcana: Charity as with Concern or Consideration.

Palace: Coliseum

Shadow: Champion Gladiator who enjoys fighting and killing his opponents.

Basis for Palace: The charity arcana is associated with selflessness, while the reverse is associated with selfishness. Gladiators are normally associated with using simple brute strength, which lends itself for Shadow Nobu's prejudice about all those that are in it. Being the champion would generate the elitism. There's also the compound effect that for Nobu, who is a doctor and thus has a purpose of keeping people alive to have a Shadow that emphasis a propensity for killing others. Nobu's shadow enjoys killing as a result of Nobu's rage from having his kindness exploited constantly.

Battle Outcome: Scripted Loss for the Investigation Squad.

Defeated by: Nobu recovering enough to speak and quelling his shadow.

TV Appearance: August 22nd. (Unfortunately before the beach trip.)

First rain day for Midnight Channel: August 23rd with silhouette.

Second rain day for Midnight Channel: August 25th with full image.

Deadline to save: September 7th. (Actually September 8th, but due to trip to Tatsumi Port Island on the 8th, cuts the availability down by a day.)

Recovers: September 9th (but doesn't meet with the Investigation Squad until the 12th.)

Meeting Spot: Investigation Squad Headquarters. :P (Nobu is still somewhat recovering and doesn't return to school, but has a feeling that he will meet with them at the spot.)

Glasses: Initially the Gag Glasses (Nobu is the only member who wears glasses regularly.), then becomes a set of personally modified blue glasses that have his standard frames behind the special tv frames.

Optional Boss: Wayward Golem

Affect on storyline:

Music Show: Nobu assists as a backup singer to Rise, but he has also memorized everyone's parts, except Rise's. However, Teddie takes his instrument with him when he crowdsurfs. Nobu doesn't join the guys in trying to dive off stage and tries to warn them about diving off at the same time, but it arrives too late.

Pageant: Nobu offers his support to Chie in the pageant, inadvertantly informing her that she was signed up by someone else. Informs Chie that Yukiko, Rise, and Naoto have also been signed up, blowing Yosuke's cover. Madoka would also have been signed up in Fem P4 Protag verse.

Cross-Dress pageant: Nobu assists in the girls helping the guys get dolled up. Chie, Rise, Yukiko, and Naoto got together and decided that since Nobu told them about it, that they wouldn't sign him up. Nobu takes this as an opportunity to try and learn more things to be a better big brother.

Hot Spring Round 1: Nobu notices the girls' clothes and tries to convince the guys that it's not safe to go in there, but is ignored. Nobu hides off to the side. After the guys are chased off, Nobu makes himself known to the girls on the otherside of the wall. Nanako convinces him to let them have more time in the springs. (Nanako is his biggest weakness.)

Nanako's Hospitalization: Nobu is brought up to treat Nanako, but initially refuses due to his license being suspended by the hospital and risk of retaliation on grounds of preferential treatment. After the hospital signs a full release of liability form guarding him from prosecution. When Nanako dies temporarily, Nobu stays with her while the others leave. Teddie tells Nobu that he is going to meet up with the others. Nobu thinks of this as him saying the rest of the squad, rather than shadows. So when the squad returns, Nobu is surprised to see Teddie isn't with them.

Ski Trip: Nobu is unused to snowboarding, but he is a fast learner, much to Naoto's chagrin. Nobu is largely with Chie and Yosuke.

Ghost Story: Nobu doesn't like ghost stories and when Teddie shuts off the lights, it causes Nobu to hug Naoto in a panic. He releases her once the lights are back on and sighs seeing it's just Teddie. Nobu informs Teddie that they know it's him.

Snowball Fight: Nobu runs over to the guys side, abandoning Yosuke.

Hot Spring Round 2: When Teddie steps on Kanji's head, Nobu has a bad feeling and starts to go away from the guys side and out of the water, wearing a towel shortly before the partitioning wall falls over.

Time Skip: Nobu has taken up singing as another way of helping people. He still keeps up with his medical license, but uses singing as a way to help those who are hurt emotionally but not physically. Nobu also gives Nanako a ride to meet up with the protag, prompting Chie to tease the protag that Nobu is trying to take his spot as Nanako's big bro.

Combination Move: Love and War with Rise.

Effect: Charge, Concentrate, Tetrakarn, and Marakarn on entire team.

[zhaychik]

Was doing so great for a while. Lots of fun new memories with friends and family. Had to take the New Jersey transit to Penn station (honestly traumatic enough on its own) and then walk to my transfer and take the train home.

I didn’t connect the nausea, sense of dread, and numb tingly face to anxiety for longer than I’d like to admit. I thought maybe something I ate just wasn’t agreeing with me and then I was rushing down 7th avenue with tunnel vision and a key knife clutched in white knuckles.

I couldn’t catch my breath until an hour later when I was getting off at my station and then my boyfriend wouldn’t pick up the phone and it felt like my throat was tight and my face was warm.

I’m tired of being paranoid and anxious. You get assaulted one time and bam whole new brain. Sometimes I mourn the personality I had before all of this. I think I should write more when I’m having a good time, not just when I can’t breathe.

I downloaded a therapy app, drew a bath, poured some wine. I’m calm now, just tired of this. I’m two weeks away from taking an exam that’ll give me the license I need to use my degree. Maybe that’ll help. I’ve been too cooped up and shaky. I need new people, new tasks, new worries. Normal worries. Like “what’s my boss going to do about my off request” and not “I wonder if that man at the end of the train car is going to kill me or if he’s just going home like I am.”

I’ve been considering bringing back old coping mechanisms like drawing. Maybe start a new one like writing poetry. I’ve already started writing (venting) here, it can’t be too different. When I found my old sketchbook it was concerning how what I drew never caught the eye of an adult. They certainly weren’t very abstract in their expression of depression. Maybe my disgust at those old thoughts are a sign of growth. I certainly don’t want to die anymore, I want to take care of this body and bring it back to working order. It’s just got some character to it now.

[rphelperblog]

Chicago Med Rp Meme

inspired by @whomuses​

“What’s the difference between God and a doctor? God knows he’s not a doctor.”

“Every dumb, mean, stupid, vicious thing gets a light shown on it. The world would be a much better place, a much safer place, if people would just shut up.”

“Pride. It can literally kill you”

“People think sex is a touchy subject. Believe me, money is a lot touchier”

“You can’t erase things, but you can write over them.”

“Yeah, younger patients are the hardest. Very tough to draw a line between an actual disorder and good old fashioned adolescence.”

“Losing hope is not a sign of mental illness. It’s a sign of being human.”

“I became a doctor to save peoples lives!”

“In any case, the problem’s been resolved, and we can get back to business, saving lives, making money.”

“Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not after you.”

“Another maniac going crazy in a theater. This the world we live in?”

“Try thinking like a doctor and not like a pregnant woman.”

You have my permission to go ahead as long as you can do so safely.”

Oh my gosh. Is everyone all right?”

Nobody’s dead.”

Great. When were you going to tell me?”

Maybe I just got tired of hearing the sound of my own voice.”

You hired a nurse for a reason.”

It's my decision! And I don't appreciate you trying to recruit more soldiers to your cause.”

No, I don't want to talk to my husband directly. That's why I hired a lawyer.”

I know you judge me, but in my country I was persecuted. I had to flee.”

I'm a surgeon. Show some respect.”

Those girls would have gone to someone else. At least I know what I'm doing.”

Hate me. Hate me as much as you want, bro. But I ain't walking away til I geet your consent for the surgery.”

Stop telling me things I already know.”

That you got off the black market because you don't have a license.”

I thought you said they were trying to help.”

How long have you been an alcoholic?”

You don't beat around the bush.”

They didn't do anything wrong. They shouldn't be punished.”

we can't let this play out in the media. The court that's really going to matter is the court of public opinion.”

That's quite a look. You enjoying hitting the lanes?”

It's mostly a fashion statement, but I do enjoy rolling a ball once in a while.”

Good. One less crisis to worry about but this guy's still trying to die.”

So you're putting me in purgatory instead?”

Okay. So we're on safe ground legally. What about morally?”

You are, but we're running out of time.”

How are your 15 minutes going?”

Yep. And two vaccinated, consenting adults.”

An innocent little baby had to suffer while there are a bunch of crooks in this world who get away with everything.”

For a soldier to ask for help, for a soldier to be afraid they might be one of 'them', that they could fall apart at any second.”

I think of people like you, people who served over there. You have so much courage, but when it comes to saving yourselves...”

Poor little girl. What did she ever do to deserve this?”

Is this gonna keep happening? Is it gonna get worse?”

I would too. That's why I like it down here. I'm -- I'm not good with suffering. It's just...too much up there.”

Nice fricking move. Right on sister. I knew you were smart.”

He's given me so much. How do I ever pay that back? “

How do you know you haven't already?”

I guess we're all given our measure of suffering. God's medicine”

I promise, from now on, I'll never argue with you.”

You will be an attending, so you won't have to argue with me. You can just boss me around.”

My fear is, is that you're gonna find a way to get yourself kicked off the staff. I'm curious to see how long it'll take.”

You dope. Nobody overrules him.”

Damned if you do and damned if you don't. I admit, it's a bit of a double standard. What can I say?”

I'm pretty sure that if that were me, I'd be raked over the coals by you right now.”

It doesn't have to make sense to us. If he believed he would longer if his wounds were dressed in green bandages, then we give him green bandages.”

Oh, come on, they barely have the energy to play canasta...whatever that is.”

It's not my job to listen. I'm a doctor. It's my job to decide what's best for him. “

You know, there's a reason for that. There's this new study out, says dating can lead to marriage.”

It's just a friendly dinner.”

Wonderful, the guy enforcing the rules is the one who's always breaking them.”

I suspect it was ego more than altruism. Great surgeons know the balance. You're confident, not arrogant. I like that,”

he totally snores, but I don't mind. Oh, he does this thing where he shoots his dirty boxers into the hamper like a buzzer beater. [beat] Anyway, it's cute.”

totally snores, but I don't mind. Oh, he does this thing where he shoots his dirty boxers into the hamper like a buzzer beater. [beat] Anyway, it's cute.

And discipline? Is that a nice way of saying I'm a tight ass?”

What you're doing may be legal, but it sure as hell isn't right. “

This is an emotional process. I can understand you're upset.”

Is this a happy ending?”

you think you know better...sounds like something you'd bust my balls for.”

This is why we all worked so hard to send you to medical school? So you could keep a bunch of party animals from getting hangovers?”

You've got to be kidding me. Ginger Spice is our doctor!”

Some idiot in supply added a zero to my order, so instead of four dozen, I...”

I always kind of envied the kids who went to church. You know, they were part of something. It's like they had their own tribe.

Oh, family drama, now you're in my wheelhouse!

You're family. We rise and fall together.

Only as often as the state requires.

So they ever give you guys breaks?

Then again, how many jobs are there where you literally get to save lives? 

Hey, take it from a former alter boy. Baptism's a piece of cake. A lot easier than a bris.

But I'm not religious. Wouldn't it be hypocritical?

Eh, think of it like a vaccination. Do it and get it over with.

Do you know the single greatest challenge that I face is trying to convince people that depression isn't a sign of weakness?

You're a good doctor. The world needs good doctors, you ass.

You don't like Chicago style popcorn? 

Mixing caramel and cheese flavors?

Sweet and salty. It's the greatest duo.

you're my brother, and I love you. But you need to grow up.

Why do you always take things out on me?

You know, when I'm faced with a snarling dog, I try to remind myself it's self-preservation that's making him show his teeth.

You don't have to show me how smart you are. And you don't have to please me. Just learn.

I've been an ass. Not just today -- since last week. Before that. I should not have yelled at you.

You? Wrong? Amazing.

Boy's will always want to be better than their fathers, which is precisely what their fathers want.

Oh, come on -- sport's the oldest form of group therapy. We yell, we scream. Testosterone spikes. Every now and then, we even get to believe in a miracle.

People do that sometimes. They sense they're at the end and they just want to die in a clean bed.

He saw something. You'll have to ask him when he wakes up.

This is not about you. This about *her* and what *she* wanted.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 300: Days of Our Todorokis

Previously on BnHA: Hawks was all “hey Jeanist, wanna go on a road trip with me to my mom’s house?” Jeanist was all “you know it,” and so they hopped into Jeanist’s jercedes and took off. Hawks took a nap and had a flashback to his Dickensian childhood living in a abject poverty with his jerk mom and jerk dad, thinking heroes were make-believe until one day Endeavor arrested his dad and Baby Hawks was all “OH SHIT.” And then he saved a bunch of people, and the HPSC was all “what do we have here,” and blah blah blah, you know the rest. Back in the present, Hawks was all “well my life is currently in shambles, but on the plus side there’s no one bossing me around anymore so that’s pretty cool,” and then decided he was going to talk to Endeavor. Fandom was all “I can’t believe Hawks would side with his childhood hero over the man who burned his wings off and posted a video calling him a violent murderer who took after his abusive dad,” so that was fun and stuff. I can’t wait to see what piping fresh takes this new chapter will bring.

Today on BnHA: Our old friend Carbonation Carl tries to loot a Starbucks and gets his ass kicked by a senior citizen. Society is all “YEAH, WE’RE REALLY STARTING TO GET SICK OF THIS SHIT.” Old Man Samurai is all “this room won’t stop me because I can’t read it” and abruptly decides to retire, which, fun fact, is literally THE LEAST HELPFUL THING ANYONE HAS EVER DONE. Anyway so then a bunch of other punkasses follow suit, and while I won’t say that I’m actually starting to root for Stain to kill some peeps, just for the record I’m not not saying that either. Back in the hospital, Endeavor cries some tears because his life sucks, and then is confronted by his entire family, LED BY QUEEN REI, FIRST OF HER NAME, BACK IN BUSINESS AND LARGE AND IN CHARGE. Rei is all “fuck feeling sorry for yourself, we have a rogue Murder Son on the loose” and I swear to god I have never felt so alive.

so here we go! and just for the record, even though the last two chapters have been phenomenal, I don’t necessarily have any sky-high expectations for chapter 300, mostly because chapters 100 and 200 consisted of Mei Boobs, and Toadette and her horrific quirk lmao. so go ahead Horikoshi, what are you gonna pull out of your hat for this one

oh, back to this stuff again. sob

I guess there was only so much time we could spend having hospital antics and exploring Hawks’s past before we got back to dealing with the whole “the world has gone to absolute shit” issue huh, lol

omg

what’s with these bizarrely cute Noumus. why do I want to pet them

so the narrative text is going on about how people have been super paranoid about the Noumu ever since the USJ incident a year ago. so yeah, I guess the fact that there are now a bunch of them confirmed to be running around is really freaking people out even on top of everything else

wtf is happening here

what did this poor lil glass ever do to anyone. r.i.p.

OH MY FUCKING GOD

SODA SAM IS BACK ON THE LAM

tsk tsk tsk. my man has graduated from snatching purses to raiding cafes. going after that big money. this man has no business sense whatsoever lmao

OH BUT WATCH IT NOW!!

OH SNAP THE PEOPLE ARE FIGHTING BACK. WHATCHA GONNA DO NOW SAM

THIS MAN IS 172 YEARS OLD AND HE’S NOT HERE TO PLAY GAMES!!

WTF IS HE LIGHTING THIS THING ON FIRE OR SOME SHIT. GETTEM GRANDPA YEAHHHH HE’S CHARGING AT EM YEAHHHHHH

lmao so that was fun. and now we’re cutting to Wash!! omg. look at him

he’s so dedicated. too bad you don’t have a car like Best Jeanist. probably takes a while when you’re just running everywhere

you see?? you were too slow!!

NOOOO, GRANDPA. he defeated Pepsi Pete, but lost his life in the process. this is too tragic

anyway so the good news is that the cafe has been saved! but the bad news is, there really isn’t much of a cafe left. huh. I guess that’s one of the reasons why people are supposed to get a license to use their quirks like this

oh snap and now everyone is coming outside, and they’re none too happy to see poor old Wash over here

seriously Wash, get a bicycle or something. also the way this guy is gesturing so dramatically with his hand in this sort of “YOU SEE!! YOU SEE WHAT HAPPENS!!” manner is sending me

OH MY GOD

HE SPEAKS. DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS. IT MEANS JEANS PUNS ARE YESTERDAY’S NEWS, FOLKS!! MAKE WAY FOR THE LAUNDRY PUNS. CAN’T WAIT TO WATCH THIS ALL... UNFOLD

“the heroes had dwindled away” okay real talk you guys, it is literally only a matter of time before they press-gang the children into picking up their slack. I still don’t know how to feel about that, but it is happening one way or the other regardless. Child Soldiers 2 Electric Boogaloo. wonder if we’ll see a rise in vigilante action as well

OHO WHAT’S THIS? THIS IS A CHAPTER OF GRANDPAS HUH

-- no fucking way

WOW. WOW. WOWWWWWW

wow. so he didn’t do a fucking thing while the rest of the top ten were being turned into red mist in the previous arc, and now that it’s all over and they need his help more than ever, he decides... THAT IT’S TIME TO RETIRE. holy shit. “fuck you” doesn’t even begin to cover it my guy. you stand there and soak up those boos you coward

ohhhhhhh shiiiiit you guys. oh shit

the “I am not here” breaks my fucking heart for real though y’all. oh man. everything he worked for is gone just like that

(ETA: okay so a couple of the takes I’ve seen on this make it seem like All Might is somehow the bad guy here?? “this is what happens when society puts a bunch of glorified cops on a pedestal”, “finally the cracks in hero society are showing”, etc. etc. so, just a friendly reminder that this isn’t happening because of too much trust and a lack of critical thinking; this is happening because the villains killed all the heroes and broke a bunch of murderers out of jail. it’s happening because an organized league of terrorists succeeded in terrorizing, and so society is now understandably awash in fear and panic. like, it’s just wild to me that AFO is RIGHT FUCKING THERE, and yet week after week fandom still has their “IT’S ALL THE HEROES’ FAULT” signs still up on their lawns. BUT WHATEVER, MOVING ON.)

also though, so exactly how much time is passing here now? I wanted to go straight back to the hospital and see what happens with Deku and the Todorokis. please don’t tell me we’re jumping ahead sob. my aaaaangst

OH SHIT

STAIN. LISTEN UP BUDDY. I KNOW WE’VE HAD OUR DIFFERENCES, AND I STILL DESPISE YOU FOR CRIPPLING TENSEI AND TRYING TO KILL MY BEST BOY TENYA. BUT AS IT HAPPENS, THERE ARE ONE OR TWO OTHER HEROES OUT THERE NOW WHO I WOULDN’T MIND YOU PAYING A VISIT I’M JUST SAYING

LOL BUT IT ACTUALLY ISN’T THIS MAN, FFFFFF

sob. yeah I was talking about Old Man Samurai actually but YEAH. HEY THERE ENJI

also is this entire hospital actually run by characters from Super Mario Bros though. first Yoshi and now this guy, come the fuck on that is not a coincidence

lmao they stuck him in another one of these cavernous creepy hospital rooms

wtf is it with Horikoshi and these giant fucking rooms lately. Kacchan’s in chapter 298, then Tomie’s colossal house furnished with like one table and a TV, and now this. and the weirdest thing about it though is that “huge space with nothing to fill it up” is like the exact opposite of what you’ll usually find in Japanese homes lol

so now Enji is just sitting there thinking things like “my head is fuzzy” and “I’m alive” lmao okay. not quite all there yet, huh. I’ll give you a minute

I’m so fucking curious as to who his first visitor is going to be omg. either way it’s going to be interesting af, and either way fandom is probably going to feel some way about it but OH WELL

okay now his thoughts are getting more coherent! and he’s remembering Touya, and feeling regret for freezing up and forcing Shouto to deal with everything instead

!!! OH HERE GOES BRACE YOURSELVES Y’ALL IT’S ABOUT TO GET SPICY

NO TOUYA PLEASE DON’T CRY HONEY NO PLEASE

ohhhhhhh man

okay, I mean I didn’t expect you to, but so instead then you’re just going to do... what? lie there and wallow in regret and self-pity for the rest of your life? son you know that’s not how we deal with our problems here in Shounen

though also, I totally do get it though. honestly, thinking on it, I probably would have been disappointed with any other response. but so this is where the rest of his family (including his adopted son) come into play now though, because like it or not they’re all in this thing together. and so friends, I am once again asking you WHO IS GOING TO BE THE ONE TO VISIT ENJI FIRST

AHHHHHHH

KRANCH!!!! OMG AND THE OTHERS ARE SO TINY NEXT TO HIM THAT I ALMOST DIDN’T SEE THEM AT FIRST. IT’S BECAUSE THEY’RE TWENTY MILES AWAY ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THIS REGULATION HOCKEY RINK OF A ROOM

holy shit I’m so excited lkjlklhlglkasdsjldfk

SDKFJLSKHLKJL

the way she has him by his collar lmaoooo. “lol nah you’re not going anywhere pal.” damn straight, siblings have to be ride or die in situations like this. banding together for survival. strength in numbers

OH MY STARS I’M JUST WARNING YOU NOW THAT I’M ABOUT TO DISSECT EVERY LAST REMAINING PANEL OF THIS CHAPTER PROBABLY YOU GUYS. WE COULD BE HERE A WHILE

love how Fuyu has absolutely no idea how to segue into THE SINGLE MOST AWKWARD CONVERSATION SHE’S EVER HAD, so she just GOES FOR IT in pure small talk mode like they’re meeting up for brunch somewhere

I KNOW IT’S A SMALL THING, BUT I APPRECIATE THAT THE FIRST THING ENJI ASKS IS WHETHER THEY’RE OKAY

lastly while I can’t wait for more of this delicious Natsu angst, I also just have to say that Enji has as much reason to cry right now as anyone on the planet. you can’t deny that being confronted by your not-dead-but-you-thought-he-was-dead son who’s all “SURPRISE DAD I GREW UP TO BE A MASS MURDERER AND I HATE YOU AND EVERYTHING IS ALL YOUR FAULT AND NOW I’M GONNA MAIM YOUR OTHER KID” with a side order of “EVERYONE HATES YOU AND SOCIETY IS CRUMBLING AND NOTHING WILL EVER BE GOOD EVER AGAIN” is enough to bum pretty much anyone out. there’s a Pagliacci the Clown joke here somewhere. BUT DOCTOR, I AM THE NUMBER ONE HERO

oh man lol he is seriously falling apart

damn. like you guys, I’m sorry, go ahead and cancel me, but I do feel compassion for the man. it’s therapeutic for me to see an abuser actually feel remorse and be truly sorry and want to change and want to make it up to his family. and it’s also compelling as fuck to read a narrative about a family that’s trying to grapple with that, because let me tell you straight up, as someone who’s done a version of that song and dance -- it is exhausting. it is a piping hot mess. it’s a gigantic mishmosh of extremely volatile emotions that all somehow all contradict one another. love, hurt, hope, anger, betrayal, resentment, attachment, longing. it’s something you can both be desperate for and also want nothing at all to do with. and attempting to portray all of that and write about it is a monumental task, and one which Horikoshi has done so, so delicately thus far, and damn but I appreciate it. anyway, so I’m here and I’m ready for my latest helping of Todoroki Fam Feels you guys

GASP

oh man. OHMANOHMANOHMAN. CAN IT REALLY BE. IS THIS THE REDEMPTION ARC OF CHAPTERS 100 AND 200???

LMAO SHE’S ALL “WE ALL FEEL BAD YOU JACKASS STOP CRYING ABOUT IT”

LAY INTO HIM REI!! SORRY ENJI YOUR PITY PARTY HAS BEEN CANCELLED IN FAVOR OF A “SO WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT” PARTY COURTESY OF QUEEN ELSA OVER HERE. THE PEOPLE TOOK A VOTE AND WE WANT LESS WHINING AND MORE ACTION

oh my god look at this lady folks

NOTE THE HAIR BLOWING IN THE NONEXISTENT WIND. NOW WE KNOW WHERE SHOUTO GOT THIS POWER FROM

(ETA: btw guys, seeing Rei handle this crisis like an absolute champ despite everything she’s been through is everything, though. I’m reminded of Hawks’s line last week about people sometimes unexpectedly finding liberation when they’re backed into a corner. like things may be shit but goddammit her kiddos need her.)

THE CHAPTER IS ALREADY ENDING SOB, IT’S ONLY A 17-PAGER THIS WEEK, BUT GODDAMN WHAT A WAY TO CLOSE

oh my god. oh my god oh my god. AND FUCK YOU HORIKOSHI FOR CUTTING IT OFF THERE sob. it’s like each week the wait for the next chapter becomes more painful. the Todofam is about to get real, and on top of that Hawks is gonna crash the party at some point down the line, and on top of that we’re still waiting for Kacchan to have his own heartfelt discussion about What The Fuck Are We Supposed To Do Next with his best friend who’s currently in a coma. all I want to do with my life is read about these three things, and all I can do is simply wait as they are portioned out in agonizing, addicting little installments every week

anyway! tune in next time as we answer the question of whether or not fandom will finally run its train of logic all the way through to its natural conclusion and somehow manage to cancel Noted Abuse Apologist Todoroki Fucking Rei. don’t act like it can’t happen. you all know nothing is sacred lol. anyways but I’m ready for anything lol, bring it

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Misread Details: Robert

CW: Dehumanizing language, BBU blanket warning, serial killer/death talk, descriptions of death/abduction/murder, blood, whumper death, some real vague implied noncon references, creepy whumper, sadistic whumper

Part One: Nanda | Part Two: Brute | Part Three: Robert

The Dark Discovery in Robert Weber’s Basement: Box Boy Killer, Part 3

r/LetsTalkTrueCrime

•Posted by u/oshaycanyousee

3 days ago

After Part One, where we learned about the mysterious, but possibly entirely natural, death of Nathaniel “Nanda” Benson, and Part Two, where we saw Henry “Brute” Hanlon’s double life lead to his untimely gruesome murder, you see the single thread that connects these two men who otherwise never met, interacted, or even shared a single person in common… a nameless Box Boy, present at the death of Nanda even if he isn’t responsible for it, and the proven killer of Brute.

It’s my theory that this Box Boy may have accidentally killed his legal owner, Nanda, and then picked up a taste for the act and moved on to taking shelter with those he turns into his victims.

With Brute, he simply didn’t know the man had a wife and children and entire other life, and may have assumed no one would come looking for him or recognize his death. With our third individual, Robert Weber, it seems like our Box Boy Serial Killer got in over his head.

I give you… the Accidental Vigilante death of Robert Weber.

You decide if our unknown killer is simply the unluckiest guy in the world or a killer who even now may be somewhere living with - and earning the trust of - his next victim.

-

One bright and sunny day in the quaint, old-fashioned California town of Rancher’s Rest, Robert Weber was late for work.

Weber worked in a vehicle repair business owned by lifelong “RR” resident Randy Niles, who had known Weber since his childhood and had been his boss since Weber was eighteen years old and fresh out of high school.

Niles, who is now nearly seventy-five and still spends his days in the shop with an Australian Shepherd named Cody and a blind pit bull named Sue keeping him company everywhere he goes, stated that Weber had no living family he knew of beyond his sister in Vermont, and he was just about the closest thing Weber had to a relative just from having known him so long.

“He didn’t have too much to do with his sister,” Randy said in an interview with Unsolved Mysteries. (You can see the interview on the new Netflix reboot of the show! It’s a really good episode, definitely recommend. It’s how I got into this case in the first place.) “Or nobody, really. Just us at work, the guys at the bar, that kinda thing. He was quiet, kept to himself really. You’d never just strike up a chat around town or anything. But he got on just fine with the boys here in the shop. He was a bit of an egghead, too, always going on about this thing or that he’d seen on the news. Little… odd. Little bit off, you might say. But really, who isn’t? In any case, you know, I’d known him since he was a little boy, so he was just Bobby Weber to me.”

Then, of course, one day Robert Weber didn’t show up to work. Randy Niles immediately felt that something was very wrong.

“When nine, nine-thirty came and went and he wasn’t there,” Niles said, “I knew someone needed to go check on him. Bobby showed up for work right on time or ten minutes early, rain or shine, for twenty years. My first thought was maybe he’d had an accident at home, or some kind of, you know, health thing. Almost never called in sick, took one vacation a year, that kinda thing. So I drove right on over there. This would’ve been, oh, probably ten or ten-fifteen when I got to the house. Had my dogs with me, and they never did like Bobby much, but as soon as I opened my door and got out of my truck they just lost their damn minds. Barking, growling, Cody’s hackles were up like you wouldn’t believe. I know it sounds damn crazy, but I’m sure those dogs could smell that evil had been done in that house.”

On camera, Niles goes quiet, here, his gaze slipping away from the interviewer as he scratches at the side of his nose. When he looks back, the hint of good humor that seems to be an eternal part of his expression is gone.

“I didn’t know what Bobby had been up to all this time. None of us knew. I’ve known Bobby Weber his whole life, and I… I had no idea.”

Randy Niles was unable to convince his two dogs to exit the truck, and eventually rolled down the windows to give them some air and a way out if they chose (he is insistent on this point in the Unsolved Mysteries episode - “don’t you dare say I left my dogs locked up in a truck on a sunny day, I sure didn’t - Cody even knows how to pull a door handle if it’s the right kind”) and got out to knock on Robert Weber’s front door.

No one answered.

Niles knocked again. Still no response.

The front door was locked, but Niles was able to locate an unlocked back door into the garage, where he found Weber’s car neatly parked and nothing out of place. However, once he used an interior door in the garage to enter Weber’s home, what he found was so shocking he still struggles to describe it today.

“The, uh. The first thing I saw,” Niles says in the Unsolved Mysteries episode, wiping at his mouth with a handkerchief, “was a cage. Big old cage in the living room. Like a kennel for a big dog, Great Dane or something, except… except, you know, kennels’re usually mostly wire, not that heavy. You can fold ‘em up, put ‘em away. This was… geez. This was pure metal. Bunch of blankets all piled at the bottom, too. Here’s the-... you know, my mind just didn’t want to even make the thought, but I just, I looked at it and-”

In the episode, Niles has to take another moment, here. His eyes grow wet, and his voice is hoarse when he speaks again. “People cage. Bobby had a damn man-sized cage in his living room. That’s when my stomach just fell out. Even then, though, I couldn’t-... I just thought, oh, well, what people get up to in their own homes is their business. But still, I just. I just decided, find Bobby, figure the rest out later. So I kept walking around looking for him.”

Randy Niles continued to call out, hoping to hear Weber’s response, but received none… at first. The radio in the kitchen was playing a local public radio station (“Bobby always hated the country western and classic rock we played at work, he was a big news man, big into classical, jazz, you know.”)

Niles noticed, he says, that the cage next to the couch had a wooden top, as though it were meant to act as a side table, and on that table was a small woven basket. Inside the basket appeared to be several State IDs and Driver’s licenses. Niles took note of this but his first assumption was maybe that Robert Weber had stolen some IDs or something.

Which was technically true, just… not quite the way he thought.

The kitchen, hallway, and all three bedrooms were equally empty of life. Every room was clean, everything neatly in place. Empty bottles of Jameson whiskey, Weber’s favorite brand, were lined up like décor along the mantel, and one half-full bottle was next to two clean, empty glasses on the kitchen table.

Even the beds were perfectly made.

The only thing missing was any sign of Robert Weber himself.

The question of Weber’s whereabouts was answered when Randy Niles heard a sound coming from the open door to Weber’s unfinished dirt basement.

“Like a ghost,” Niles said in his interview. “Just this low moaning sound. Hardly even thought of it as human, you know. But I just-... I called out, ‘Bobby? That you?’ and the moaning got a little louder, like whoever it was was tryin’ to answer. I could still hear my girls in the truck just going nuts, probably worried about me knowing what they maybe could smell even out there. I figured… I figured I’d best call the cops and get them out here. Seemed like a plan. So I picked up my phone and dialed, and then I headed down those basement steps.”

What Randy Niles discovered in Robert Weber’s basement was a dying man, battered and stabbed eight times, lying in a half-dug grave.

Robert Weber had been beaten with the very shovel that had done the digging. The shovel lay off to the side, caked in dirt and blood. Police would find some of Robert Weber’s hair on it, too. Then, the individual who had beaten him had gone back upstairs - blood smears were found on the railing to the stairs - and taken a kitchen knife out of the knife block on the countertop. A bloody fingerprint was found on the side of the knife block. They had then returned to the basement where Weber was stabbed, almost entirely through the stomach and chest, twenty-six times, until the cheap knife simply broke from the force.

Randy Niles admitted in his interview that he became very ill at this time. “From the shock,” He elaborated. “I haven’t been able to smell much since I was in a car wreck when I was young, so I didn’t smell what-... what my girls prob’ly smelled from outside, and what the cops smelled. To me, it was just… just a little off, is all. It was the sight of it that got to me, not the smell. The sight of the-... the hand.”

Behind Robert Weber’s body, the hand of another person was sticking up out of the loose dirt, as though someone was trying to dig their way out.

“I remember… I remember her nail polish was pink. That’s when I got sick, actually, was when I saw that hand with the painted nails. That’s when it just hit me all at once what Bobby had done.”

Randy Niles went back up the stairs and waited for the cops to arrive. Rancher’s Rest is a small town where everybody knows just about everybody else, and Niles was on a first-name basis with every single police officer he spoke to that day and in the days after. He would learn alongside the investigation that Robert Weber was not simply the quiet, intellectual car mechanic he had always seemed.

Instead, Robert Weber was a serial killer whose potential final victim had managed a miraculous, deadly escape.

Robert Weber never answered a single question about his own murder - he never fully regained consciousness and died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. His injuries were simply too severe. His autopsy showed that the cause of death was a stab wound that went deep into his chest and that he was first stabbed only after the beating with the shovel had taken place. Like Brute, most of his stab wounds were applied post-mortem in a rage rather than as part of the killing itself.

Medical examiners also found scratches on Weber’s face and arms, indicating that he had attempted to defend himself - or someone else had attempted to defend themself from him.

So why was Robert Weber killed, and why was there already a body in his basement? Investigators would piece together the story over the following days and weeks from a crime scene that only seemed to become darker and more baffling as time went on.

Excavating the basement was originally thought to be something that would be brief, but after the first body was removed, another one was found beneath it. Then another off to the side of that. And another, although this was simply bones.

Every time the forensics team thought they’d found the last human bone, they dug a little deeper or in a new spot and found more.

Eventually, the remains of twenty-two individuals would be removed from the basement of Robert Weber’s home, not including Weber himself. The oldest located victim was identified as Melinda Traxson, an Iowa woman reported missing by her family after she ran away in March of 1996… more than two decades before Robert Weber didn’t come to work one day.

Investigators are still working to match up every body with a missing persons’ case. For nearly all of them, the cause of death could not be easily ascertained due to the deterioration of the remains, but some showed signs of skull fractures. Identified individuals so far include:

Melinda Traxson, 19, from Iowa, ran away from home in 1996.

Billie Mortimer, 21, disappeared from a day out with friends at Lake Tahoe one year later in the summer of 1997. Her friends went to get lunch from the car after a swim and when they returned, she was gone.

Matthew Ranger, 22, went missing during a road trip to Yellowstone National Park in 1997 (only five months after Billie). His car was found abandoned by the side of the road with a flat tire.

Karl Janssen, 24, a tourist from the Netherlands who was also visiting Yellowstone, disappeared a month after Matthew. Last seen by an employee of the park who witnessed him speaking with another young man and getting into the man’s car. The employee said that the two seemed to be friendly with one another and did not seem like strangers.

Hannah Pointer, 26. She was reported missing in 1999 by her mother after failing to return home from work in Reno, Nevada. This disappearance occurred more than a year after Karl Janssen’s. Investigators would later discover that during this time period, Robert Weber dated a young woman from his hometown and he may not have wanted to risk her finding out what he was doing.

Isaac Jackson, 26, a Rancher’s Rest resident who disappeared after going out to a local bar to see his friend’s band play in 2000. His car was found submerged in a small pond two years later. This is the first time Weber apparently killed anyone close to home. He was actually briefly suspected in Jackson’s death, as he was the last person noted to see Jackson alive, but was cleared of suspicion at the time.

Dustin Swill, 21, who was driving from Colorado to California to visit his sister who had moved to Berras to work for WRU in 2001. He was last seen in a gas station near Yellowstone, where employees noted he spoke to a man who was smoking outside, who gave him a cigarette. When Swill left, employees saw the man put out his cigarette and leave shortly after. They did not find this unusual or noteworthy at the time.

Maria Vargas, 25, a Rancher’s Rest resident who was reported missing in 2002. Her family is intensely private and have shared few details about her, but it is known that her boyfriend at the time suspected Weber, who had attempted to convince her to leave the boyfriend for him and had apparently threatened her. He remained a suspect but there was never enough evidence to charge him.

Jennifer Striker, 28, from who never arrived for an appointment with a realtor in 2011. The long pause between Maria Vargas’s murder and Jennifer’s appeared to be due to Weber keeping a man named Finn Schneider within his home for more than a year after abducting him, as well as Weber serving five years in prison for a violent assault on a man he believed had sold him a defective vehicle. (Schneider was no longer in the home before the assault and prison time.)

Riley Nievelt, 25, was staying at the Big Meadow Campground with six friends during a weeklong vacation in 2012. She vanished while on a trip to purchase supplies. Her cell phone was found on the ground in the parking lot of the Food Lion in Rancher’s Rest, a short and easy drive away. At this time, with multiple individuals vanishing after being seen in Rancher’s Rest or being residents of the town, police begin to suspect and start hunting for a possible serial killer.

Alexander Peterson, 29, was a long-haul driver who vanished while working. He was last seen at a rest stop in 2014 on the California/Nevada state line, and would likely have passed right through Rancher’s Rest on his journey. He was reported missing by his ex-wife in South Dakota when he did not return as scheduled for a custodial visit.

The most recent victim, and owner of the hand that Randy Niles saw sticking up out of the dirt, was Yolanda Pierce, 26. She was a Rancher’s Rest resident with a troubled relationship with her husband, who had stormed out after an argument and was never seen again. She is believed to have died the same day as Robert Weber.

More remains exist but have not yet been identified. If you or anyone you know has a friend or family member who went missing during this time period in or near Rancher’s Rest, Yellowstone National Park, or Death Valley, it may be worth looking into, as those appear to be Robert Weber’s “hunting grounds”.

Disappearances in Yellowstone and Death Valley almost always matched up with Robert taking one of his rare weeklong vacations from work.

When investigators located three large diaries hidden inside a locked box in Weber’s closet, the first two fully filled up and the third nearly two-thirds finished, they found an exhaustively detailed record of Robert Weber’s crimes.

In these records, they discovered Weber’s first three victims were killed within 24 hours of abduction, with the rest being kept alive for longer and longer time periods. It is believed all of them met their end in Robert Weber’s basement.

Diary entries included records of two victims who were not a part of the bodies buried in Weber’s basement, both of whom may still be alive:

Finn Schneider, 19, a German tourist who disappeared in 2003 during a visit to Death Valley. Until Weber’s journals were found, it was believed he had perished in the park and had simply never been found. Robert Weber also visited Death Valley during this time. No one linked the two together. Evidence found in Weber’s home after his death, including the aforementioned diary entries and photographs, shows that Schneider was alive in Weber’s home for nearly sixteen months. It is believed Weber purchased the “human cage” that Randy Niles noticed around this time. The last diary entry that mentions Schneider states that he was “traded” on June 16th, 2005, to an individual only referred to as “Mouse.” What Weber received in exchange is unclear, but he was seen driving a new, custom-painted truck around this time, which he said he bought “from a personal ad” when asked by Niles about it. Schneider has never been found. However, his mother did receive a phone call in 2013 from an individual she believes to be her son, telling her that “Finn” was okay and to stop looking for him.

Our Box Boy, 334235, purchased by Nathaniel Benson years prior, whose whereabouts had been unknown since he murdered Brute Hanlon. Weber believed the Box Boy to be in his early twenties, according to his diary entries, and mentioned that he had picked the Boxie up hitchhiking and had intended to kill him before seeing the barcode on the inside of his left wrist and changing his mind. His diary suggests the Box Boy remained in his possession for roughly a fourteen months prior to Weber’s murder. Police have not released the details of what the Boxie was subjected to during this time, stating only that it is not the public’s interest for this information to be known, and they would like to locate the missing Boxie and interview him about certain details.

Four murders occurred during the time the Boxie was kept by Robert Weber. Weber noted that “the dog helped” with either murder or burial, suggesting that he may have worked as Weber’s accomplice in his terrible crimes.

Is it possible that they bonded over a shared urge to kill? Did the Boxie start a captive and become a companion?

Weber’s diary contained other disturbing facts, as well:

Weber also noted three failed abduction attempts in detail, in 1998, 2004, and 2017. In each he described with incredible precision of memory the appearances and descriptions of each person he failed to capture. He also appeared to do intensive research using their license plates and other information to find out where they lived and who they were. The names of these individuals have been kept quiet for privacy reasons.

Other failed abductions were noted, about one per year, without much detail. Or at least not enough for police officers to know who they were. Nearly all these failures were in one of three locations: Yellowstone National Park, Stanislaus National Forest and nearby campgrounds, and in or near Death Valley.

The last entry in Robert Weber’s diary was penned the day of his death.

NOTE: Weber referred to the Boxie as “the dog” in nearly all his journal entries. His last entry went:

May 6th, 20XX: The dog is pissed about something again. He’s always pissed about something. I think the thing in the basement probably kept him up all night with her caterwauling. He never gets used to the noises they make. God knows I can’t sleep either, at least not well. I’ll handle her tonight, have a drink with the dog after, see if that shuts up his nonsense for a while. Note: missed NPR interview with Senator Carlotta Grant on new leg. about the bb prohibition act. Find that on website later.

Found in Weber’s home, in boxes under his bed, were a series of restraints made of leather, high-quality items that appear to be custom-ordered to specific measurements. These included “gloves” intended to keep someone from being able to claw or scratch in their own defense, five sets of cuffs, a body harness, a leather half-face-mask that police referred to as a “muzzle”, several gags, some of which were deemed to be “designed to cause injury to the inside of the mouth”, and “other assorted items for use in torture and torment”.

You can find some leaked police docs online that go into more detail, but suffice to say they pretty much match the kinds of “toys” found in Nathaniel Benson and Brute Hanlon’s homes, too. And apparently, if you really know where to look, you can find some blurry low-quality photos Weber took, too.

While the items are a bit salacious, they aren’t entirely uncommon in consensual relationships, too, so it’s really not clear if they’re evidence of the Boxie being held against his will or not.

The investigation of the crime scene suggests that at some point after writing his final diary entry, Robert Weber made himself a pizza, which he ate half of and put the rest away in the fridge. His shaving cream and razor were found out on his sink, and Weber’s body was clean-shaven, suggesting he shaved shortly before his death.

He then watched three episodes of Law & Order: SVU. We know this because he texted during this time with his only living relative, the sister in Vermont. Little is known about Weber’s family and childhood, beyond his sister’s recounting of a quiet, strained home life with an overbearing mother and her mention that Robert endured several head injuries as a child and adolescent, including one that hospitalized him for days.

After he finished watching TV, Weber entered the basement and murdered Yolanda Pierce. It is believed he took the Box Boy downstairs with him, either as accomplice or witness. At some point while he was disposing of Yolanda Pierce’s remains, the Boxie became enraged for one reason or another, beat him with a shovel, got the kitchen knife from upstairs and stabbed him to death, and then left the house.

A neighbor remembers hearing odd noises around 3:30 AM and looking out their window to see a shadowy figure walking quickly down the road, but they weren’t able to see well enough to say whether or not the individual matches the description and WRU-provided photos of the Boxie. It does seem reasonable, though, to assume that the neighbor witnessed the Boxie fleeing the scene of the crime.

The Box Boy has never been seen again.

Police are pretty mum about the active investigation into the Box Boy’s whereabouts. I was able to get ahold of one source closely related to a member of the investigative team who said that there’s just not a lot of urgency. “Weber killed nearly two dozen people, just that we know of,” The source said. “The cops are a little bit ‘good riddance to bad rubbish’ about the situation. Unless the Boxie comes back to RR, they’re just inclined to let sleeping dogs lie.”

The sense of “let it be someone else’s problem” would be understandable… if this Box Boy weren’t responsible for one other direct murder, possibly two.

Police believe the Boxie has not left California, and is likely to be continuing to survive by engaging in prostitution or perhaps panhandling or some other hidden way of making money. Unconfirmed sightings have been located in three cities in central California, but all of these are unverified and should be taken with a grain of salt.

It’s also possible he hooked up with a pet liberation movement group, in which case he may be hiding out in a safehouse, protected from the consequences of his actions by the pet lib movement’s understandable insistence on total secrecy and anonymity for the Boxies they take in.

If he’s an innocent victim of circumstance, that’s fair.

If he’s a burgeoning serial killer with three victims under his belt and a taste for inflicting terrible violence on those who take him in… well… anyone who gives him shelter may be next.

Is our Boxie a purposeful killer or just supremely, almost incomprehensibly unlucky? Will he kill again? Was he Robert Weber’s accomplice or his victim?

Will he strike again?

Should there be an audit of WRU’s psychological testing on potential sign-ups to see if, perhaps, a Box Boy-wannabe with an urge to kill slipped through the cracks?

What do you think?

-

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @whump-tr0pes @raigash @eatyourdamnpears @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @boxboysandotherwhump @outofangband @whumptywhumpdump @whumpfigure @thehopelessopus @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @butwhatifyouwrite @newandfiguringitout @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @oops-its-whump @endless-whump @cubeswhump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @whumpiary

[vergess]

@autismserenity​ said: Your tags are the most American thing I’ve ever read, we are truly so screwed here   

May I interest you in a more complete, and more excruciating, explanation of what I spent the last 18 months doing?

It is, I need to emphasize, fucking nasty. Don’t feel obligated, especiallly if you’ve already had A Day(tm).

There’s a lot of disease, a lot of worker abuse including sexual and racial abuse, a fine portion of letting people die for not being white enough for real medical care, all leading to homelessness.

For NDA reasons, because my former employer was just as vile as any tech company has ever been, I cannot be super specific about who I worked for. However, I can say that we handled the records and patient contact for all COVID testing for several states, as well as 2 of the 5 largest metros in the US, and several dozen smaller ones ranging from the approximate population of San Francisco, down to little towns, as well as the testing for several public school systems and at least two government agencies that I am not at liberty to disclose.

I tell you this for a sense of scale. When I say shit like, “my boss was more than happy to let thousands or hundreds of thousands die” I am not exagerrating for effect. We handled hundreds of thousands of tests a week.

Again, I need to emphasize, government agencies. Ones you would know if I named them. Ones everyone in the country knows.

And we were in charge of getting their test results from the already over swamped labs back to the patients, who often were not allowed to quarantine while awaiting results.

The fastest we got our turnaround time to on any consistent basis was about 30 hours. Often it ballooned well into weeks.

There were a number of factors for this, but the big one was always understaffing.

The staff we did have were treated like trash. One of the big selling points of this company is how “trans friendly” it is to work there. That is a lie. Every trans employee on payroll had their dead name displayed to all other staff, and until I personally changed the system setup on my arrival, patient facing trans people’s dead names were displayed to patients.

Remember that thing about “hundreds of thousands of tests a week”?

I was able to change the way patient-facing names were displayed. I was not allowed or able to alter the way internal systems displayed trans people’s names. But I was assured that it’s fine, because once you get a legal name change, you’ll be given new system accounts with your new name!

Your old accounts with your dead name would still be displayed and associated with the new ones though.

This is the “trans friendly” working environment. We were allowed to be out of the closet, as long as we were willing to put up with that. And any attempts to get it altered were the result of those nasty little transgender ingrates not being thankful enough.

Meaning that by asking to use our own fucking names we were already in the disciplinary shitter.

Another big selling point is the ~racial diversity~. The CEO was a man of colour, and so were like four other people on staff!! Wow!!!!!!!

This, too, was laughable.

Once numbers started coming in about the care gap for COVID between English and Spanish speakers, and our Southwestern US service area began to have a separate and brutal backlog just of Spanish speaking patients, my employer encouraged me to interview potential hires who speak spanish.

Fair enough! We all wanted to do our part to help close the already massive mortality gap.

So, I found candidates, did interviews, hired them, trained them, etc. But I don’t speak Spanish. As a result, I appointed 2 assistant managers who do speak Spanish to assist me in managing, you know, like the job name.

So when my super contacted them directly, completely skipping me on the chain of command, and told them to stop all of our Spanish speakers from translating helpful simple messages to send to patients, and instead start translating medical and legal documents, they very reasonably assumed I was in the know and went ahead with it.

TO BE CLEAR, that could have ended my life, theirs, basically everyone involved. Everyone in the company would have been completely fucked. At that point, my subordinates, the people for whom I am wholly responsible, were doing everything from practicing medicine without licenses, to encouraging spanish speaking patients to enter contracts that no one on the fucking executive tier could even read.

The moment I found that out, I and the A.M.s immediately started trying to get actual medical translation services to do our documents. We collected them in a neat folder. We queried translation services. We got quotes. We contacted my super and the CEO, about this over and over again for months. In the late autumn, we received approval for one of the translation services.

The CEO decided at the last minute that having people with no medical or legal training draft medical and legal forms was fine and good actually, and refused to sign the contract or send the documents for translation.

The excuse I received was that the COVID emergency HIPAA relaxations would protect us.

That’s not how that works.

Throughout all of this, Spanish speaking employees were told to either keep doing medical and legal translation work, or lose their jobs.

Oh, did I mention everyone was working between 30 and 80 hours a week, and all of us were marked as “contractors” so the employer could tax evade? Don’t worry, we filed complaints with the labour bureau.

So the entire department was let go, and “rehired” as temps through a temp agency, which because it was a temp agency could keep them marked as contractors regardless of the facts.

This change was presented to all of us, myself included, as the company getting a new accountant to handle payroll.

So if you’re keeping score, we’ve covered racism, queerphobia, medical negligence, fraud, and a frankly uncountable number of deaths.

Let’s talk about the sheer negligence towards employees ourselves. If you’ve worked in near-death medical care before, or any number of emergency services really, you know that the standard benefit suite includes either a dedicated therapist for your staff, or access to peer support groups with other emergency and medical servants through your employer’s benefits program.

Do you know what our mental health benefits were for this company?

The CEO got on a fucking zoom call with us all one (1) time, and said that if we were feeling suicidal or traumatized by the work, to talk to him about it, and he would be our therapist.

Do you know how many people per fucking day we had to contact only to be told they had already died because our understaffing delays killed them? He doesn’t. He never listened when we told him.

But let me put the cherry on the “Oh baby, you can talk to me, oooh” sundae.

Anyone who “looked” or “sounded” female, regardless of actual or assigned gender, was subject to constant flirtations and slimy, overly personal compliments about our appearances. Fortunately, at 3 levels removed from the CEO (Executives > Department heads > Managers > Employees), most of the people under my management had relatively little contact with him.

I was not nearly so lucky.

The CEO of this company has a watersports (urination) fetish. I know this, because he told me so and attempted to get me to join him in it. I have no idea how many other people in the company he did this to. I mean, what the fuck was I supposed to do, risk losing my job to find out? I have a fucking family to support, people.

Not that it mattered.

Eventually, all of these abuses became too much for my subordinates. Productivity fell off a cliff. Delays were getting worse and worse. In a medical emergency like this, delays=deaths.

So, like a fucking idiot, when the department heads reached out to me to ask what they could do to improve productivity, I shot down their frankly insulting suggestion of raffling a $20 amazon gift card to patient facing employees, and instead suggested a very simple, “enroll us with a peer support group, every single person in this department has PTSD from working in this pandemic.”

They were confused by my assertion of PTSD. I was asked to compile a document of complaints, concerns, and weaknesses in our patient facing services.

I and the A.M.s did so. It was roughly 40 pages long, with each page given a known problem, the reasons why it was a problem, and some potential solutions that might inspire further solutions or be able to be implemented. We submitted it. There was no response.

A week passed.

I had been working 80 hour weeks for most of a year. I hadn’t even been able to take weekends. I took my first sick day, in a company with “unlimited vacation days.”

I received a call at 3PM.

I had been fired for “differences in communitcation.” If you’ve ever seen that “Problem Women of Color in the workplace” chart? Yeah.

So had most of my department, including every transgender member of the department, and several of our extremely limited in supply Spanish speakers, who were presumed to be “on my side.”

Some of them, I barely even knew beyond the formalities of the job, and they were punished anyway.

I lost my insurance, and as a result I lost access to my medications.

But the real problem? I lost my house. And not due to lack of payment.

I lost my house, because when I got the job we waited 6 months for stability’s sake, and then readied to move out of the area. I got a mortgage on the basis of my employer’s written guarantee to the bank that I would continue to be employed for the next year at a minimum.

With the mortgage approval in hand, we entered a sales contract on our existing home.

We got and accepted an offer just days before I was fired. To keep our house meant paying a 25,000 dollar broken contract fine. We didn’t have that. We had a 10% down payment for a modest fucking place in a cheaper area, which is less than half that.

But without a job, my mortgage approval was also voided, meaning we couldn’t buy a house either.

All of a sudden, we were homeless during the plague, because my employer wrote and signed a letter to a bank guaranteeing my future employ, and then changed his mind when too many people died due to his own negligence.

Oh yeah, one last thing: the job paid less than Pandemic unemployment Assistance.

...After that, well, it’s homelessness until just last month. I... if you’ve never been homeless it’s.

It blurs. Everything is happening constantly, except for all the ways in which you are endlessly, mind breakingly bored. Bored, overloaded, and always uncomfortable.

Obviously my health would have declined regardless. Malnutrition, stress, everything.

But I was also unmedicated.

It was hell. I was in hell. I don’t know if I can recover from it, to be honest.

I bounced back from being homeless as a child. Children are as resilient as they are stupid, and the monstrosity of homelessness was little more than a vaguely remembered loathing and a panicky fear that it would ever happen again.

A child who is dying is worthy of sympathy, even if it is meaningless coos from passers by. If they have family, they may be able to rely on them too.

An adult with the indignity to die homeless and crippled, according to the average passer by, is worthy only of disgust and perhaps even punishment for being such a worthless waste.

My reward for nearly killing myself in a desperate bid to help stem the tide of COVID was the destruction of not only my life, not only my entire family’s lives, but the lives of every single family of every single employee who worked with me.

And you know what’s worse?

Each one of us still did more to limit the lethal impact of COVID than the entire united states government.

It breaks something in you, going through that.

It makes you realize that hope is a fool’s game.

But, I have ever been a fool, and so, I continue to play.

[lovesgonnabe]

Love Is Worth It - Episode I

 It Was Just A Normal Day

Characters: Chris Evans x Maya Alonso-Evans (Black OFC)

Warnings: Angst, Nothing extreme but could upset some, cursing, slight Implied smut

Word Count: 2k

Summary: What happens when those that don’t agree with you or your love are in positions of power?

Authors Note: This is out a lot earlier than expected so I hope you all enjoy. Also it has been a while since I’ve written so please bear with my rustiness, and there’s slight edits so there may be errors.

Disclaimer: There is slight police abuse of power that may be triggering to some.

Taglist: @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss if you would like to join the taglist message me. 

Please leave a note and tell me what you think!

October 24th, 2019 

The day started out just like any other...

Chris woke up at 5am to go on a run with Dodger.

I got up 30 minutes later headed to our home gym got on the Peloton for a workout then get started on breakfast.

Chris and Dodger get back around 6:30am

At 6:45am Chris carries me to the shower where we have “spontaneous” shower sex till Delilah knocks on our door.

7:30am I get Delilah ready for school then we eat breakfast as a family while Chris and I play footsie under the table and he quizzes her on current events. Did I mention she’s only 5 years old...

At 8:30am Chris and Delilah are out the door headed to school since it’s on the way to the set for Chris’s next project.

At this time I’m just sipping coffee reviewing my appointment schedule at the office and I head out the door at 9am.

It was just a normal day but something felt off.

When I pulled out of the gate of my driveway I see a Boston PD car just sitting on the corner next to our noisiest neighbor Mrs. Goldheim. She’s 70 and acts like she has no business to tend to but mine when what she really should be doing is getting some of her own dick, so she can hop off my dick and mind her damn business.

Anyway I’m getting off topic, as I drive down the road that same police cruiser begins to follow me lights off and at a safe distance for about a mile and then turns left down Sycamore, I was mad confused but I didn’t have time to think about the weird ass Boston cops right now.

I got to the office around 9:45am, had my first client at 10am and from that point It was nonstop between facials to acne treatments to talking women who don’t need plastic surgery off of that ledge I had my hands full for it only being the middle of October. But hey that’s the life I signed up for when becoming a dermatologist.

My last meeting about my new skincare venture ended at 5:30pm and I went to pick up Delilah from after school care. We stopped by the supermarket to get groceries so I could hopefully make my abuelas famous arroz con pollo for dinner tonight.

As a treat we stopped at Cold Stone got two pints of chocolate devotion for our after dinner mini celebration. Since not even a month ago Delilah was moved ahead to the first grade and got an A on her recent math test.

This is where the normal day began to take a nosedive.

Around 8pm we were headed to the house from Cold Stone, my little Dede and I were talking about her day, and Chris called to let us know that filming ended a tad early and he was already home.

We are just around the corner when I see another police cruiser this time they were following a lot closer but yet again they had on no lights.

My hands began to clam up as I kept looking in the mirrors at the two white men in the vehicle following me.

As I pulled into my gate they followed me in. Rushing I parked, grabbed my purse, and got out, unhooked Delilah from the seat and carried her to the door.

“Excuse me Miss” one of the officers spoke stopping me before I could enter my home. I felt like I was frozen In place with a  hand on the doorknob.

“Mommy what’s wrong” Delilah asked looking at me with fright her big brown eyes. I turned around putting my shy ray of sunshine down, with a reassuring  smile, I look at her and tell her that everything was alright as she hid behind my legs while the officers approached us.

It might be because I’m scared but it felt as if they both were towering over me, even though i was the one with the high ground standing on the steps. 

One man looked like he was on a mission while the other looked like he was just there for observation.

The younger one looked at Delilah and said “there is no reason to be afraid sweetheart we are the good guys” the tension was thick as Delilah looked up at me and no one said a word.

The older man of the two cleared his throat and looked at me dead in the eyes as if he was trying to intimidate me.

“Good Evening Miss, are you the nanny? I’m looking for your boss.” I raised an eyebrow ignoring the question and asked “can I please get her in the house?” both officers looked at each other weird since I didn’t answer his original question but both nodded.

I looked at my watch showing it to be 8:40pm usually I would kissing my man trying to figure out the best way to get him out of his clothes. But at the moment I’m standing on my steps scared for our life.

I unlocked the door and told her to go and get her dad who at the time was in the living room playing the grand piano. The beautiful sounds of the piano could be heard when I opened the door and as I closed the door you can hear Dodger bark and scurry toward the door.

The officer began to speak once more “now I’m going to ask you again Miss is your boss home?”

Placing my hand on my hip, I let out an exasperated sighed and said “if I had a boss and they were here I would be very confused”.

The younger officer eyes grew out of surprise and the older officer did not look too happy by my snarky remark.

“Miss please cooperate we don’t want any trouble, but since you can’t answer my questions hand over your license” the older officer said with a smug look and his gloved hand outstretched.

My stomach grew with a bubble of nerves even though it can’t be seen on my face i was scared.

“If I may ask officers what is this about this is my home have I done something wrong?” I huffed retrieving my license and handing it to the older officer, “we will see about that” he says and walks to the cruiser leaving the other officer in silence.

“Look we are just doing the job we were called out to do” the younger officer said to me I looked at him like he had two heads but before I could say another word Chris walked out the door closing it behind him.

He look so damn fine in grey sweats with a matching crew neck sweater, his gold chain I bought him for Father’s Day laying on top and his Red Sox cap pointed to the back.

He came up next to me wrapping his arm around my waist and kissing the top of my head, mumbling. “Baby are you alright?” he asks looking at me rubbing my back as I look at him.

I nod as a sense of calm settles over my body as he familiar sent and touch centers me and makes me feel safe.

“Is there a problem officer? He asked now removing his arm from my body to cross his arms and stand in front of me as if he was my bodyguard.

“Wow you’re Captain America” the officer said in shock as Chris and I rolled our eyes.

“Yea I know but I asked you is there a problem officer” Chris asked slowly getting closer to the younger now shitting his pants scared officer.

I love that he is trying to defend me but we don’t want to make matters worse so I grab his arm to pull him back a bit. Which didn’t work because all he did was softly move my hand a say “let me handle it love”.

I rolled my eyes and watched the shit show unravel. The officer stuttered and Chris cut him off.

“Look I know you are here to do your job but you are on my property and harassing my wife so I would like to know what the problem is what has she done?”

He didn’t look upset and Chris said it respectfully but it was just a feeling that Chris did not want to be fucked with at this moment.

There was another beat of awkward silence the officer was too scared to speak. Chris rubbed his beard and chuckled “can anyone answer my goddamn question as to my wife is in front of our home being harassed” it was like his voice dropped an octave and my panties got wet.

I’m literally trying to tell my brain to stop thinking about using my husband as my personal jungle gym, that this wasn’t the time for that, but I digress so to distract myself for a second I looked at my watch again stating it was only 9:20pm.

Damn I’m not sure if time was moving too slow or too fast but by the time I focused back on Chris and the officers they were being cussed the fuck out.

“What the fuck do you mean you have to take her because she fits the profile of a suspect, do you have a warrant, what the fuck did she even do officer!”

“Mr. Evans we understand that you are upset but we need you to calm down” the younger officer said to a red faced Chris.

“Don’t you tell me to fucking calm down when you are also trying telling me, you want to arrest my wife for some crime she didn’t commit because she’s black” Chris was now fuming.

“Sir this isn’t about race, there has been a string of burglaries in the neighborhood and she fits the description of the suspect we are looking for, we just want to take her in and ask a few questions” the older officer answered.

From where I was standing I could see everything especially how the officer had one hand on his gun holster and the other with cuffs ready to be put around my wrist.

All three men proceed to argue, I had to step in this was getting out of hand and in a minute I would not be the only one in handcuffs.

Walking over to the group who were now in the middle of my driveway with my hands out then they all went quiet.

“Chris honey it’s okay, this is ridiculous I know but let me go with them, you call Austin, tell him what’s happening and then come to the station I will be fine” I said looking at his blue eyes with slight tears as his breathing quickened.

I was hoping to be okay at least for Chris’s sake so he won’t kill the two men in front of me. He read me my rights with Chris now desperately pleading with them to release me.

As the older guard roughly grabs me pulling me towards the cruiser Delilah runs out of the house with Dodger behind her with tears in her eyes.

“Dede get back inside” Chris says as he grabs a barking Dodger who was headed straight for me “daddy why are they taking mommy, what’s wrong she said everything was ok” then she wails out “please don’t take my mommy” over and over while she kicked and screamed when Chris picked her up and ushered the 3 of them back into the house.

A tear slips down my face as my head is lowered into the car and the door to our home closes. One officer looked remorseful and the other looked so satisfied as he looked back at me through the rear view.

He threw on his sirens like he caught some mass murder that he’d been hunting for years.

Then he laughed a menacing laugh taunting me.

“You thought just because you are fucking some white man with money you would get off? Well I’m sorry to break it to you sweetheart but that not how the world works for people like you.” He said to me as I cried harder.

“That’s enough Whitmer I think she get it” the younger officer said.

The rest of the ride the only sound was the radio. I was booked and brought into a cell by myself cold and alone but thanking god that at least I was alive and not hurt.

All I could think about was the smile on my little Delilah’s face and how today was just supposed to be just another Normal day.

I guess those are slim when you’re Black in White America.

[gwoongi]

wordless pt.1

jeon jeongguk / reader genre: hitman (john wick?) au, sugar daddy au, fluff, pining, angst rating: mature words: 4.1k warnings: mentions of blood and violence, unconventional relationship, angsty themes, smoking mention a/n: this is jeongguk as john wick because i’m trash and i cant finish one story at a time. these prompts r from here btw :) im gonna do all 50 but im too lazy rn so here’s the first 10 :D

Sometimes, saying “I love you” is inappropriate, and given your circumstances, you think it might send Jeongguk over the edge if he hears them again.

Parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five

Now, it definitely was not a stretch to assume that everything in Jeongguk’s life was indeed unconventional. People didn’t need to understand that what Jeongguk did for work was something that, by the law, was considered unprofessional and inhumane, and so when asked, Jeongguk sufficed for “boss of a company”, and questions weren’t asked. If they were, Jeongguk came up with a slightly more conventional lie, to make up for the reality that was Jeongguk working on the clock, killing nobodies for a bit of cash.

Taehyung, his right-hand man, had expressed how unconventional Jeongguk seemed to be over a dinner in Venice, a little restaurant tucked away unconventionally in a street that did not belong to America. Jeongguk spoke four languages comfortably, and had parents retiring in the Canary Islands. Jeongguk donated money to women’s charities and mental health services, and helped bribe his cousins into Ivy Leagues when racism prevented them from entry. Jeongguk was a Joe-Exotic in the making and owned a rescue black panther named Elio, and had houses across the globe for use when working. And, Jeongguk was dipping his toes into playing house with a sugar baby who was only five years younger than him, of whom he had met in a stakeout which involved the hit being on your brother’s head. Unconventionally, you led him to his target, and afterwards, dined with him in a Thai restaurant.

Things in Jeongguk’s life were far from ordinary, but perhaps it was the denial of mundane comforts that kept Jeongguk going. If he went back to normality, to working a shitty customer service job like when he was seventeen, dumping trash into overflowing piles behind the off-license he worked at, things wouldn’t be the same. Jeongguk would feel alien, like he didn’t belong. At least here, amongst the pain and the bullets and the years worth of trauma packed in his wrinkles (which, yes, if he looks hard enough, he can see some cursing his twenty five year old skin), Jeongguk felt like he sort of belonged. In an unconventional way.

Having met Jeongguk during his line of work, there were difficulties in being Jeongguk’s sugar baby. For one, he always felt guilty for having murdered your brother, even though you heavily supported the hit. Your brother was a jerk, a bully with money, someone who had wronged your entire family, turned off your younger sister’s life support when there was a chance of her survival. Asshole, he deserved it. Secondly, Jeongguk was impractical and irrational and often acted selfishly, meaning he was often out of the country on work, only available in whispers for a few hours and then he was gone, compensating with a few sums of cash.

He tried his best. Jeongguk, despite technicalities including his work and his past and his occasional mean streak, genuinely cared about other people. When he could, he made the effort, otherwise not attempting to make promises to you that he could not keep. Jeongguk knows that he got really lucky when he found you. You didn’t ask questions. Nobody was better for him.

However, Jeongguk was selfish, and broken, and in refusal of fixing what was wrong with him. When it was of convenience, Jeongguk drew comparisons to the last girlfriend he tried to entertain. One who wronged him, and died when he tried to repair everything she had destroyed. Jeongguk carries that with him like the tattoos on his skin, a permanent memory, and something that often disturbs what could be and should be between the both of you.

Jeongguk is worthy of love, and capable of loving. On days where Jeongguk is free to lounge without the guilt of not working, you find it is so easy to love him. But, it can’t be that way. You couldn’t just tell him that. Telling him that you loved him would be inappropriately unconventional. Sometimes, saying “I love you” is inappropriate, and given your circumstances, you think it might send Jeongguk over the edge if he hears it again.

(1) Holding their hands when they are shaking.

Jeongguk is in his living room, his right leg bouncing like a spring as he cradles an infant glass of whiskey. His eyes are glazed, yet wide, staring at the Seoul city draped in darkness and neon, and without even looking inside, you know that his brain is spinning, thoughts chaotic and loud.

“Hey,” you call out to him, and his eyes stutter to the left to catch you in the doorway, “I heard you get up. What’s wrong?”

Jeongguk shakes his head gently. “Nothing, baby, go back to bed. I’ll be up in a minute.”

Jeongguk often makes comments without expectancies. You stand in the doorway that connects the living room to the long hall that stems into bedrooms and bathrooms, and watch him for a moment. His whole body vibrates like a speaker, his hands trembling as the glass drains and he reaches for a second, or a third, or maybe a tenth. You want to sigh, without being patronising, but you know that any sign of sympathy is mistaken for that whenever Jeongguk is around to make the judgement.

He looks back to the skyline and frowns, his attention panning from the window to his phone that buzzes blue, but he ignores. Stepping across the cool wooden floorboards, you approach him sleepily and take a seat next to him on the sofa. Neither of you move, but he recognises you’ve moved. He bristles slightly, like it was unexpected.

“You can take your time,” you suggest to him, and his hands ache in his lap as he sets the glass down on the coffee table with a careless thud. He scoffs, devoid of emotion, and dips his head so his chin is near his collarbones. In his lap, those hands shake. “Maybe don’t drink so much tonight.”

“I’m clearing my head,” he insists weakly. Those hands still shake.

Brows creased with a pinch, you swallow the unease and reach for his hands. Jeongguk doesn’t say anything as you do so, enveloping his hands in yours, and so suddenly the shaking ceases. Like trying to block the shakes from reaching his wrists, your hands keep his safe.

“I know,” you understand honestly, because you do know what he’s going through. “How about tea, or something? To calm down, calm down the mess that’s up in there.”

Your chin is on his shoulder, and he smiles softly. “Are you calling me messy?”

“Nah, I’m calling your brain messy,” you reply. “It’s a cruel fucking brain.”

“Hate my brain.”

“Today, we hate it.”

Jeongguk’s head turns slightly so that he can see you, and in his lap, his thumbs brush across your skin.

“Thank you,” Jeongguk says quietly, attempting a smile that doesn’t quite convince. It doesn’t necessarily have to, not tonight anyway. His phone continues to flash like a light show, Taehyung’s name in bold. “Fuck. I’ll take the call, and then I’ll come back to bed, okay?”

You nod, “Mm, okay. Want me to make a drink?”

“I don’t need it,” Jeongguk concludes. “Not today.”

(2) Tucking the sheets around them when they stir during the night.

Sometimes Jeongguk wakes up in the night due to nightmares, but tonight, it’s different.

Beside him, you stir uncomfortably and kick his leg for the fourth time. He huffs and looks over, trying to figure out if you’re awake and indignant, or lost in the dream. He settles on the latter when you strain out the name of your brother and his heart swoops with a dull ache.

“You’re just dreaming, baby, come on,” Jeongguk mutters quietly into your ear, holding you in place to calm the thrashing. “He’s not here anymore, I’m here. Y/N.”

It subsides after a few minutes, making it the longest you’ve gone on record. He looks into your sleepy, upset eyes as you break awake and brushes the hair out of your face. He tries to smile for you, and maybe you can’t see in the dark.

“I’ll get you some water,” Jeongguk suggests gently. “Hm? Sweet thing. It’s just a dream.” He says this into your hair in a hug, leaving a kiss on your temple as he breaks. “You’re fine.”

“I’m fine,” you breathe uneasily, and he separates to get a glass of water and returns to find you sleeping again. What relief Jeongguk might have is exhaled as he sets the glass on the bedside table, stroking your hair until he moves away with the sudden realisation that this is not a normal exchange.

Before Jeongguk decides to leave again, he makes sure the bed is made and that you are safe; he tucks the duvet in tightly and presses a kiss to your forehead before grabbing his coat by the front door and leaving your apartment, one tucked in the city so far that Jeongguk finds it a hassle to visit.

(3) Travelling long distances just to see them.

For three days now, you have been in Colmar, and Jeongguk is beginning to feel lonely. It had been his idea to send you away, when the heat on his long, long fued with a rival colleague threatened your safety. In return, you got a new apartment that Taehyung had found closer to Jeongguk’s own when your address got leaked, and Colmar could be considered a vacation if you pretended for long enough.

With tensions cool and the coast somewhat clear, Jeongguk picks the skin around his fingernails as a distraction before deciding that enough was enough. He missed you, and missed how you were always around for him when he needed you most. This is what drives him to jumping on a plane in his company’s name, and flying to France.

A small boat passes underneath the bridge you are standing on, and your hands dig into the barrier as you arch to smile at the tourists beneath. One catches a glimpse of your denim skirt and cherry print blouse in the sunshine and extends his hat with a wave, and you wave back. France is nothing like Seoul, and is indeed warm and fruitful and unique. The sun is hot, the sky is clear, and the streets are filled with an atmospheric buzz of friendliness, the smell of coffee and some food you don’t know yet entrapping your senses.

“Madame, je peux vous prendre en photo?”

Hearing the voice, you turn your body left and prepare to face the tourist, but instead you are welcomed with the sight of Jeongguk dressed in black, sunglasses sliding down his nose with a smile. He does hold a camera in his hands, although teasingly.

“Oui,” you quip, posing cutely and Jeongguk takes a photograph anyway, to humour the moment, to print when he gets back to Seoul. You join his laughter as he peers at the photograph and he walks without looking up towards you.

“When did you get here?” you ask him, a round of laughter from the little boat making you turn to stare at them with a giggle.

“Bout an hour ago,” Jeongguk replies, and he shuts off the camera and puts it in his coat pocket. It’s only a small camera, probably cost him a crumb to buy from a vintage store. He meets your eyes with a comfortable smile and rounds in, pressing your lower back against the bridge barrier and circling your arms around you. Carefully, then, he kisses you, tasting the suncream on your skin as his lips wander from yours to the skin around your face.

“Miss me?”

“Terribly,” Jeongguk responds. “I am so bored when you’re not around. You always have something to do, always have something to say.”

You hum in response. “I’m glad I’m of some entertainment for you.”

“Oh, for sure,” agrees Jeongguk. “I don’t think I’ve used my brain so often when I’m away from work as much as I do when I’m with you. Did you know that you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met?”

“Wow,” you exclaim with a smile. ��Hire me.”

“Ha!” he remarks, kissing you again and taking your hand in his. He moves, back in the way you came. “Over my dead body.”

(4) Making their favorite meal when they are having a hard day.

“You.”

“Not now, Y/N, I’m working,” Jeongguk replies non committedly. He fists his hair.

“Not up for discussion right now,” you huff, and he has the nerve to glare at you which only makes you uncomfortably angry. “You haven’t eaten in fourty eight hours, and I’m not about to be held responsible for your death when you die of hunger, so get your ass in the kitchen before I dump this food over your stupid head.”

He challenges you. “You’re brave talking to somebody who could destroy your life like that.”

“Do it, I literally have nothing to lose,” you answer. “Please eat something. I made it with love and care.”

Jeongguk relents, sighing at his paperwork but nonetheless moving away from his home office and following you like a child towards the direction of the kitchen. He feels bad, you know he feels bad, and he circles his arms around your body as you walk, stumbling into the space of the kitchen and smelling the familiar aroma of pork rice stew. Alas, he sees the bowl steaming in his spot at the table and his eyes follow you as you hum and set start to washing the dishes.

“Y/N-”

“No words, just eating,” you instruct. “Bone apple tit.”

He grins, then, and takes a seat. “You know that’s not the phrase, right?”

“Tell that to Twitter,” you sigh.

(5) Giving them a kiss before going to work and they are still in bed.

Jeongguk prefers to see you when he doesn’t have work the next day, because leaving when you’re asleep is an asshole move in any dictionary. So, when one of his men phones him at four in the morning and relays the horror that someone’s died on his property, Jeongguk has to fight the demons that almost convince him to hand the job over to somebody who gives a fuck about the intruder stuck on his barbed fence.

He gets up, anyway.

Next to him, in the bed that belongs to you because this is your new apartment, Jeongguk stares down at you and feels a tug in his stomach. Guilt, it follows him everywhere like a ghost.

Before he leaves, he likes to give you a little kiss for the morning, so the tingling sensation reminds you that despite being an asshole and leaving without properly saying goodbye, he still gives several shits about you, and will be back when he can be.

(6) Tucking your head into their neck during a hug.

Jeongguk wants to hang Taehyung for making him remember the reasons why you had to move across the city to a new apartment.

It had, of course, been Jeongguk’s fault, and when the notification came from an exhausted worker in his line of work that the alarm system in your apartment had been triggered for an intruder, Jeongguk remembers all he saw was red.

The front door was forced open, a body indent in the wood and the front porch ransacked and littered with shards of glass and bullets. Inside was no prettier, with mess scattered everywhere and photos smashed on the floors. The carpets were stained with red that Jeongguk prayed was just wine, the glass coffee table in two pieces and a knife covered in red on the floor. Jeongguk and his men, along with the few police officers Jeongguk could actually trust in this god-forsaken hellhole, noticed that the blood belonged to one of the intruders who lay dead on the stairs.

Nobody knows how Jeongguk got through the apartment so fast, and why, without any hesitation, he murdered the remaining intruders without suggesting questioning and torture. That was his go-to when it rarely concerned you. He wanted those stupid enough to even try and go after you to really fucking regret it as he picked off fingernails and made them suffer for hours or days. This time he just killed, and moved onwards, calling your name like a mantra.

Jeongguk could have cried when you emerged, petrified, from inside one of the closets. Upon seeing you, Jeongguk collapsed his gun on the floor and stepped towards you protectively, pulling you in tightly for a hug. Sobbing into his neck, you hugged him tighter, feeling finally safe when his hand held the back of your head, like you were a precious thing that was of value.

You were of the highest value to Jeongguk.

“Fuck you,” Jeongguk barks suddenly, and Taehyung shrugs and exits the office. All he had asked was if he loved you.

(7) Lightly kissing on top of a freshly formed bruise.

There might be the assumption that Jeongguk comes home with more bruises than you do. Which is true, technically, and there’s no hesitation from your end in nursing them to a comfortable recovery.

On rare occasion, Jeongguk comes home and finds you exhibiting a new purple blob on your skin. Like today. 

Jeongguk hasn’t seen you in two days, and when he lets himself into your apartment with the key he has glued to him at all times, he follows the silence and light to the bathroom. You sit on the edge of your bathtub, gently rubbing cream on your knee in little circles.

“What happened here?” he asks quickly, and you continue rubbing with your tongue poking out between your lips.

“You’ll laugh, don’t ask,” you mutter.

“Hey, I won’t laugh,” Jeongguk says. He rests his weight against the doorframe, “You open the front door the wrong way again?”

Ha! You laugh humourlessly. “Worse!” You look up at him sadly, “I tripped in the parking lot carrying my groceries. It’s on camera and everything, I want to die.”

Jeongguk pokes the inside of his mouth to resist laughing. “Well, fuck. That’s your leg ruined.”

“I know,” you pout. “Good thing you’re my sugar daddy- wanna pay for cosmetic leg surgery?”

“I like your bruised up legs,” says Jeongguk.

“Me too, but not these ones.”

“Bruh, that’s enough cream on your skin,” Jeongguk exclaims, moving forward to snatch the cream from your hands. “More is not better. Come on, you’re okay.”

“It hurts.”

“Boohoo,” he sighs. You don’t move. “Ugh, whatever. Come’re.”

Jeongguk drops the cream tube onto the sink but it clatters into the bowl. He’ll move it later if he remembers to, and he pretends it’s hard to pick you up off the bathtub and carries you swiftly out of the bathroom and into the living room. Things have barely moved since he last came to visit; the swarms of paper still invade your coffee table and your laptop is on sleep mode by a half-empty coffee cup filled with hot chocolate, because he knows your standing on coffee. Everything is a lot messier now that you’ve decided you want to go back to school, but at least Jeongguk knows it keeps you busy when he’s away.

“Oh,” he says suddenly, as you’re sat down with one leg up around him still. He pokes at a spot on your leg and you squirm, “there’s another one.”

You peer to look, “Oh, yeah, that one’s you.”

“Oh.” He pauses, “Pretty, though.”

You huff like a little baby and he dares you with raised eyebrows. That keeps you silent and Jeongguk moves his body at an angle to the right, sweeping to kiss the bruise better, the bruise that he made a few nights ago with tender love and care.

“All better,” he assures.

“It feels better already.”

“Mm. Magic.”

(8) Buying them something unrequested because it made you think of them.

“So, I was at a school fayre today.”

“Really?” Jeongguk sits with his laptop on his legs, and your legs are tangled around his body like some sort of jungle maze. He rarely works on his bed, not unless the work is sudden and he can’t help it. You’ve just come in, dived on the bed and claimed his waist as something to squeeze your legs around.

“Yep. Like, one of those little craft things where students sell their shit and make money from it. You know, supporting local artists! It’s really cute, if I was good at something I’d have participated.”

Jeongguk thinks of things you’re good at, and there’s a lot. “Aw. There’s always next year.”

“Yeah,” you reason. “Anyway- point is, is that I got you something.”

Jeongguk stills for a second, glancing over his right shoulder to see you, “Me?”

“Yep. You.”

“What did you get?” he asks, and then he’s back to checking blueprints.

You untangle your legs and slide off the bed, retreating to your bag slung across the room by the bedroom door. From here, you take out a small little pin-badge and when you’re sat next to Jeongguk again, you fiddle with it until it catches his attention.

“What’s this?” asks Jeongguk.

“It’s a badge of honour,” you claim, and you slip it into his palms. He fingers the front when he examines it, reading the little words of “Number One Dad” and he stares up at you. “Like it?”

“It’s for me?” he asks again.

“Yeah. You can wear it and like, I don’t know, think of me,” you shrug.

Jeongguk thinks for a moment. Even though it’s stupid, and cliche and a little bit embarrassing, he still thinks it’s funny and thoughtful.

“Want me to wear it to work?” he asks you.

“Oh, absolutely,” you encourage. “I’ll get Taehyung an uncle badge if he gets pissy.”

“Hey, you’re mine and he’s not allowed a relationship to you, no matter what definition,” Jeongguk pouts. “He wants a sugar niece, well...he’ll have to look somewhere else.”

You gape. “Wow. Who thought you had it in you to be so possessive.”

“Please, with a pussy like that of course I’m possessive,” he teases. He’s joking.

“My power,” you sigh anyway, and jump off the bed claiming that you’re hungry. Jeongguk looks at the badge again and pops it in his breast pocket before he loses it and regrets it.

(9) Participating in their hobby even if it doesn’t personally interest you.

Jeongguk’s bored out of his brain.

He has no idea how you can be so fascinated by this stupid game where you’re essentially in debt, but he still sits and watches you tour him around this weird island that is inhabited by ducks and an ugly gorilla villager dressed in pink. And to think that he had a part to play in all of this, because his bank account definitely helped pay for this Nintendo Switch and game.

“Do you like my beach?” you ask him. It’s literally just sand and one coconut tree, and a few shells by the water. Oh, there’s a beach chair on there too, but it makes little difference. “I’m poor, I can’t afford furniture yet.”

“Can’t you just make it?”

“I can, but I’m sick of making axes to collect wood,” you explain with a grudge against the fact that tools now break in this Animal Crossing game. Jeongguk hums like he’s invested, and he tries to be, because he cares about you too much to unintentionally hurt your feelings by displaying his crippling disinterest.

“Oh. Makes sense.”

“Can I show you my hybrid flower garden?”

He sighs. “Yeah, you wanted to show me all of your island, right?”

You nod enthusiastically. “Once you’ve had a tour, I can make you a profile and you can play too. You can live next door to me!”

“Why can’t we share a house?” Jeongguk presses.

“Because I don’t think it works like that, babe,” you confess. “Anyway. Here’s my garden.”

(10) Sitting in comfortable silence while eating a meal.

He’s tired. You’re tired.

The radio plays quietly updating Seoul on the fires that spread across the city today, and Jeongguk smells like smoke and salt. He keeps his head down as he eats his meal, something he brought home with him to make up for the fact that he’s been absent for almost a week now. You have so many things to say and he has so many things he needs to say to make up for everything, but nothing is said tonight.

You know he’s having a hard time, because Jeongguk’s been smoking again. He smoked on the balcony earlier, and once again in the bedroom. There are now ashtrays around your own apartment, and you don’t even smoke. Jeongguk takes a drink of bourbon and swallows it dry.

You look up at him from across the table, not wanting to press the issue when you know it’ll end in an argument, and then sex to make up for it. You’re both too tired to fuck today, too tired to speak. Just being in each other's company is enough for tonight. The only words he says are goodnight and something you don’t catch as you’re drifting off to sleep. Jeongguk’s awake all night, the fires burn until early hours, and the smoke smell is still there in the morning even when he isn’t.

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

Hello yes, could you elaborate on the Comte wedding event pleease. Crying and fangirling and dying are all acceptable. I missed it and I adore your rambles about Comte? Thank you either way.

!!! I’d be delighted to!! And awww, I’m so glad :D I love to write about him in any capacity, it makes me so happy to know people enjoy it when I do! Tysm for the full license to cry/fangirl/die because lbr it ain’t a Comte event if all three of those things don’t happen .Please don’t worry, I don’t mind talking abt it anyway! 💕💕💕

Okay my fellow Comte stans, you know the drill! I’ll be placing the details of the Wedding Story Event (jpn version) below the cut! Please don’t read if you want to wait for the official translation, and I hope you enjoy if you do take a peak! c:

AIGHT Y’ALL in fair Verona where we lay our scene-- This event begins on a lovely summer day with Comte and MC at a boutique picking out a wedding dress for their upcoming ceremony. As usual, she provides a bit of background as to how we got here. Comte doesn’t have a proposal event (as far as I know) like the other suitors because he actually proposes marriage in his MS. I won’t go too far into details just in case, but they essentially swear their love to each other in a church at night--just the two of them. (I’m not 100% sure, but I think this event takes place on the anniversary of the vow that they shared, what Comte called becoming “a vampire’s bride.” Yes it’s as hot as it sounds AND I LOVED IT). Now, despite their private promise to each other, Comte does specify that he fully intends to have a public wedding whenever she feels comfortable doing that. As such, this event is picking up from there.

With all the nitty gritty settled, it’s time to get to the fun bits. So Comte is weaving in and out of the dresses, trying to find the perfect one for his beloved. MC is equal parts exasperated but amused, and she notes that it reminds her so much of when she first debuted in high society (reference to the beginning of Comte’s MS). Back then, when she agreed to debut, he told her that he would immediately send word to his tailor to make the necessary preparations. It’s a kind of nostalgic moment; she remembers how thorough and excited he was (”I’ll be sure to show off your every charm”), and he’s effusing that energy in the boutique too. Eventually he settles on two of them and requests that they both be prepared, and MC sputters. She’s like Comte???? W H Y we only need one dress???? And he insists that, since it’s a special occasion, there’s no harm in it is there? He also goes on to say that it is in line with her culture’s tradition of “dyeing the bride in the husband’s colors.” MC shoots back that the tradition doesn’t entail several wedding dresses for the bride, but he pays the correction no mind. Y’all. I loved this part because it just emphasizes how much of a LIL SHIT he can be. Like he’s 100% harmless but I was like BOI IF U DON’T--I WILL KISS UR CUTE FACE. YOU STOP THAT.

I find it interesting especially because it remains in line with a trend about Comte that is so arresting for me, something that I find so endearing about him. I’ll note other places in the event I find it, but in this moment he is revealing something critical: for all of his capacity to play with the language and expectations that other people have/use, he only ever uses it for good. Here he’s purely being playful (with a stark note of respect and awareness); he has no intention of overwhelming her or undermining her cultural expectations of what a wedding means. Especially because MC, even in her monologue, isn’t truly upset--she honestly seems to find it adorable and funny more than anything. It’s also clear that Comte is working within her comfort zones. While he would buy the entire damn boutique if she let him, he settles on two because he knows it would stress her out otherwise (MC tends to be p pragmatic, not really about extravagance she is a mood).

And so they make their selection and exit the boutique, and they’re walking arm in arm back to the carriage. Comte laments narrowing it down to only two, but he’s happy they found something nice. MC thanks him for bringing her along, but he says it’s only natural--he wanted to pick out the dress the world would see together, he would never be happy with it otherwise. MC melts (WHO WOULDN’T) and says she’s really looking forward to wearing them, and he’s shook AF. 

(OKAY BUT I NEED TO SCREAM ABOUT THIS. DOES HE UNDERSTAND HOW TOUCHED I AM. DOES HE KNOW. His route hammers home this idea that for Comte, being with someone absolutely means being on the same page. It means being there for each other yes--but it also means making sure the other person feels wanted and included. He could have so easily just picked his favorite and been like “yeah this is what we’re going with.” But not only does he not do that, he refuses the very idea of a ceremony without it. He wants this to mean something for both of them, and he’s more than willing to put in the time and effort to ascertain that. I’M FUCKING TENDER OKAY. HE CARES SO MUCH AND I SOB)

He asks her if there’s anything else that she really, really wants for their wedding, and she thinks it through. It’ll be a reasonably sized wedding, with the men of the mansion in attendance and most of their closer high society friends. They’ve picked out a dress, the venue is set, the people closest to her will be there...she really can’t think of anything else? So she asks him if he has anything he really wants to do for the wedding, and he replies in the negative too, saying that “My only ideal wedding can be one in which I can see you at your most happy." ARE YOU KIDDING ME--Before MC can recover from that, he goes on: "Even now, I'm enjoying the preparations, and I want to do whatever I can for you." MC feels like she can never win against his sweet affection, so she nearly kills him with her answering line: "It’s more than enough. More than anything, being able to swear our love together again--to renew our vow--is the best part of it all." Comte is visibly shocked and is quiet for moment (MAN DOWN!!!!!!!!! VAMPIRE DOWN GET THE DEFIBRILATORS!!!!! LEONARDO PUT THAT LIGHTNING ROD AWAY I SWEAR TO GOD--) before he just replies with a “Is that so :>>>” And translating this nearly killed me [At the sight of his gentle smile, I smile back.] IM GOING TO SCREAM THEY ARE JUST SO TENDER IM SOFTE????????????

As they’re walking, Comte asks MC to tell him about weddings in her time. What were they like? He wants a reference point. She goes on to describe how ceremonies really range from formal to more informal affairs, and gets to a little custom that’s apparently held in Japan. When a groom intends to marry a bride, he will go to the bride’s family to ask for their approval. Comte visibly seems concerned about it, and I’m pretty sure he feels bad denying her that experience; not only did he propose to her without knowing any of that, her family isn’t within range to be able to honor it properly now. Even so, he keeps listening and comments now and again with a great deal of interest, paying close attention. He asks, what happens if the groom is rejected by the family? MC goes on to say that it’s a kind of test of perseverance: the groom is expected to ask/prove himself until he gets an answer in the affirmative. Internally, she notes that such a thing rarely ever happens irl--it’s mostly dramatized in movies and TV shows. She used to dream of how thrilling it might be to have someone do that for her, but it was mostly just a silly little fancy, nothing she was obsessed over. Comte, being a literal fucking legend, senses this emotional shift in milliseconds, and starts musing about something. When she tries to ask what’s up, he’s like not to worry leave everything to me.

PLEASE CUE THE CIRCUS MUSIC. BECAUSE THIS IS ABSOLUTELY GOING TO TURN INTO A CLOWN FEST.

So it cuts to them back home and Comte is asking Sebastian to give MC’s hand in marriage. Sebastian is utterly bEWILDERED and is like “I mean I understand I’m probably the closest relative she has right now but also WHAT!? YOU’RE MY BOSS/LORD I’M YOUR BUTLER FOR CRYING OUT LOUD”. Comte 100% is undaunted by this very normal reaction and insists that class/status has no place in matters like this, and Sebastian and MC are desperately trying to stop him from bowing his head/kneeling. MC notes she never expected him to take it to heart, tells him "Comte, you really don't have to go that far, it's a custom not a duty--" (IT’S SO FUCKING FUNNY????? YOU CAN FEEL THEIR MOUNTING CONCERN AND I CAN’T BELIEVE COMTE WAS STRAIGHT UP JUST “i am not above begging” AND THEY’RE LIKE YOU SHOULD BE YOU SHOULD BE ABOVE BEGGING)

The circus only escalates when Leo comes in LAUGHING HIS ASS OFF "damn...bahahahhahahaaaaa now THIS oughtta be good/interesting." MC (and I simultaneously) start yelling at him and he replies "What? Comte's already ready and willing, why stop him?" For whatever reason, this gives Comte an idea (NEVER A GOOD SIGN) and he’s like you know what? That’s actually perfect, get everybody in here I’m gonna ask them for permission too :D

Several things I want to say about this. 1. COMTE LITERALLY DOES NOT EVEN REACT TO LEO’S MOCKING HE JUST “omg ur face was useful for smth for once this gives me an idea” 2. META TIME. First and foremost, I seriously can’t deal. This man knows MC has nothing because of her traveling through time, no friends or family--he’s always so, so aware of what she’s sacrificing to be with him. It is never outside of his thinking. Not only does this decision solidify her presence as a member of their family (I’m just so UGLY SOBBING about the fact that he does not consider them all ANYTHING LESS--THEY ARE HIS CHIRREN AND HE LOVES THEM AND I’M SOFT) this is also such a brilliant, strategic move on his part. Not only is he doing this to fulfill her younger wishes of having someone be so confident in their love for her that they would insist on it in front of her family/loved ones--his doing this also solidifies her presence as his wife within the mansion from here on. There can be no mistake; this is an unquestionable statement as to how her identity has shifted in meaning, a powerful allusion to his possessive streak. (and WE LOVE THAT FOR US HELL YEAH) 

Furthermore, I continue to be fascinated by the way he keeps subverting traditional or expected forms of supplication. While many could see this as a yielding of his pride (and in some ways he undeniably is) this choice to acknowledge her culture’s customs yields much more valuable dividends for him. 1. MC--notorious for never betraying the things she wants, having trouble asking for anything--is have her dreams fulfilled even if they were just silly little fantasies from when she was young. He’s actively making her happy, and he gets to openly gush about how much he loves her (FOR HIM THIS IS THE DEFINITION OF A WIN-WIN YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND--) 2. This is a way for him to make amends and do proper respect to the marriage customs of her place/time, and that’s infinitely important to him. He’s trying to set a precedent; that even if he ever does make a mistake or neglect something (even if accidental) he will do his utmost to make it right, pride and money be DAMNED. 

While it can be argued that he’s just being silly and over-the-top, when you look closely this is 100% a clever, very mindful approach to their future. While it may partially have been executed on an emotional/excited whim, he is also claiming MC as his own in the most clear and respectful way possible. And tbh that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen 

So, after Leo walks in on them everyone else starts filing in one at a time (OKAY YOU CAN’T CONVINCE ME THAT THEY WEREN’T ALL HUDDLED UP TO THE DOOR SQUIRMING TO HEAR WHAT WAS GOING ON AND AT SOME POINT LEO SAID “omfg i gotta see this dumbass bitch on his knees” AND BLEW THEIR COVER/MADE THEM EVEN MORE CURIOUS):

Jeanne: "It's so noisy in here." 

Mozart: "What's going on?"

Comte: "Ah, excellent timing. I want to get permission from everyone."

Vincent: "?????? Did you do something wrong Comte?? What could you possibly need forgiveness for?"

Isaac: "A mistake made/wrongdoing by Comte?...Why am I dreading what it could be..."

Dazai: “Ah yes, yes I see, you are asking for a young lady's hand in marriage” (IM WHEEZING BC EVERYONE ELSE IS SO LOST AND HE'S JUST 100% ON THE BALL KNOWS EXACTLY WHAT'S GOING ON THE NARRATIVE DISSONANCE IM CRYING)

Theo: Young lady??? The hell are you going on about

So things are getting increasingly chaotic and MC is just [jfc this is getting out of hand, Comte they don’t even know what you’re asking them to do]. She tries to explain but falters, and Comte puts an arm around her--signals that he’ll give  them the context. So he tells them "You all know that our wedding day is approaching. As such, I'm asking you all for your approval in taking MC as my bride. No matter what happens, I promise to make her happy forever--for every moment, every second of our time together. Please, forgive my taking her" (WHEN I TELL YOU MY HEAD WAS IN MY HANDS IDK HOW MC DIDN’T DIE ON THE SPOT S I R. SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) MC: [...Comte...My heart melts at his confession, at his earnest plea. It feels like every single iota of our feelings are infused in every word he speaks, teeming with the love shared between us in overwhelming measure.]

For a little while silence falls until Napoleon speaks up, and honestly? It was so sweet ;-; I tear up every single time: “Forgiven. You know how much I dislike formalities anyway. And besides, who could say no to le Comte?” MC notes that everyone murmurs in agreement and a kind of warmth settles in the room. Arthur notes that MC will be a Comtesse very soon and MC just. I’m going to be a WHAT now (”C-c-comtesse??”). And it’s so FUCKING FUNNY YOU CAN FEEL THE RED EYE EDIT MEME ON COMTE WHEN HE GOES “Oh? Is there anything wrong with that? Everybody said yes, after all :>” MC internally accuses them of ganging up on her, but reveals that more than anything she’s a little overwhelmed by the outpouring of love in the best way:

MC: [Overwhelmed with feeling; touched, a little shy, embarrassed, but also full of joy--my eyes burn at the edges with tears] “I'm glad everyone approves c:”

Comte: Agreed :> your country/homeland has a nice custom. A v important step to inviting my loved one into my life as my wife :>>>>

So it then cuts to them in Comte’s room after the circus and MC thanks him for the sweet confession in front of everyone, tells him how happy it made her. He insists that it was only natural he would, and that it isn’t even enough.

Comte: “I am the one...your life, your time as a human being; I'll be taking all of it from you.”

MC: [...Comte? He took my hand with a very serious expression]

Comte: "As I said before, I will make you a vampire someday."

MC: “Don't call it that--a price. I want to live with you too!”

MC notes that while she hasn’t made the leap yet, she knows she’ll be ready for it soon enough. 

Comte: “Thank you. But the last thing I want is to take things from you, I want to do everything I can to make you happy, to make you smile. Whether that means weddings, requests--anything in my power.”

COMTE REALLY SAID "she is entrusting me with her future and that means I have the responsibility of not only ascertaining her happiness, but proving my unwavering devotion to it" AND IM HOLLERING????? LADIES GET YOU A FUCKING MANS. MC finally begins to understand this, and she’s like OMFG is that why you went off so hard this afternoon???? And Comte’s like :>>>> guilty as charged, though I think I'm also just still excited about the wedding too, haha! They hug it out (YESSSSSSS LET ME H O L D) and MC asks him again if there’s anything he wants for the wedding too. Aight y’all I would be irresponsible if I didn’t warn you beforehand, get fucking tissues. I’m still upset abt his answer and I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL. He thinks about it for a bit, before kissing her forehead and saying “I suppose, can you pray for my happiness too? That's enough."

AIGHT IMMA GO BACK TO THE EVENT IN A SECOND BUT I GOTTA SAY. BITCH. BITCH ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME????? COMTE THAT ISN’T OPTIONAL THAT’S A GOD DAMN PREREQUISITE?????????????????? OFC WE WISH FOR YOUR HAPPINESS WHAT THE FUCK??????????????? THE A U D A C I T Y. I’VE NEVER BEEN MORE INSULTED IN ALL MY LIFE. OKAY RANT OVER.

MC is surprised but naturally agrees to it, having wanted that for him even without prompting. She continues to think on it, insisting that she wants to do something for him too. An idea sparks but it only says that she made preparations without telling him anything for now, preparing a tangible sign of her love for the wedding.

The premium end begin here. She’s getting dressed for the wedding, and she’s--as usual--in awe of his perfect selection of accessories/jewelry to go with the gown. She’s about to put on her shoes when she notices something odd, and there’s a knock at the door. Comte enters to ask if she’s ready, and they both freeze and stare at each other. They both sheepishly admit to being completely taken with the sight of the other, and they laugh about it together. Comte tries to ask if she’s ready again, and she assures him that she is--just that she found something unexpected in her shoes.

He explains that the coin is an English six pence. Sebastian told him that they are no longer made in her time, and Comte explains he acquired it about three hundred years ago in England when he was living there (he says that he kept it back then because he liked the design on it). He explains that there is a tradition, that the English would put a six pence in a bride’s left shoe in the hopes of wishing her good fortune and prosperity in her oncoming union. MC has her understandable and customary (JESUS I FORGET HOW OLD THIS MAN IS SOMETIMES) and he places a hand over hers that’s holding the coin when she starts staring at it. 

Comte: "Hey, MC....Time goes by, and various things will continue to change. Among them, it is only vampires who survive without dying or changing."

MC: "Comte..."

Comte: "I used to think that made it--made us--empty. But...I don't think that's the case anymore. I'm proud of being able to keep this undying, unchanging love for you."

[He put the coin back in my left shoe, and offered them to me--gentle as though they were made of glass(Cinderella's)]

MC spends this exchange on the verge of tears, but keeps it together for the wedding. It depicts their loved ones all around them as they walk down the aisle, and skips to the end of the ceremony. The priest tells Comte he may now kiss the bride (WHEN I WAS TRANSLATING IT SAID “KISS YOUR BUSINESS” AND WHEN I TELL YOU I WHEEZED), but just as he’s about to lift her veil--she stops him in his tracks. He’s confused, and says her name, but she reassures him that she just wants to offer him a wedding gift before he lifts it. Hidden in her bouquet are two pins that she had made, and she pins them to his jacket. They were made from preserved flowers, encased in metal to render them undying/everlasting. 

MC: [Me too...I want to wish for your happiness...]

MC: “For you, things might feel fleeting--like they just pass you by, are lost before you can grasp them. But even so, my feelings won't change; just like this preserved/undying flower and the life of a vampire--dedicated to [Comte's real name] in everlasting love."

COMTE.EXE HAS CURRENTLY SHUTDOWN. REBOOTING.

MC notes that his eyes get misty and he leans his forehead against hers.

MC: [Comte's real name]? 

Comte: .................I want to hug you as tight as I possibly can, but I'd hate to ruin the flowers/your gift to me

BITCH WHEN I TELL YOU I SOBBED. WHEN I TELL YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 1. I CANT GET OVER THE FACT THAT HER GIFT IS NOT ONLY CANON BUT ITS LITERALLY ON HIS WEDDING SPRITE, HER LOVE IS A VISIBLE MANIFESTATION ON HIS PERSON ALWAYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 2. THE FACT THAT SHE ONLY ADMITS TO BEING THE HAPPIEST SHE CAN BE WHEN SHE SEES HIM SO HAPPY TOO. THIS IS SO MUCH. SO M U C H

And so Comte lifts her veil and kisses her gently uwu cover ur eyes chirren, the hall erupts in raucous applause and the crowd starts congratulating them!! Comte then encourages everyone to have fun, and the reception takes on the vibe of a kind of social gathering. MC notes that he seems to prefer this level of interaction, just relaxed and everyone chill, and she turns to tell him that it seems like it’ll be fun! Before she can finish her sentence, he kisses her fiercely before leaning back with a sigh, "It's still not enough, but I'll save the rest for later tonight." BITCH!!?!?!??!??!? HOW THE FUCK CAN ANYONE FOCUS ON A STUPID PARTY WHEN YOU SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT, HELLO???????MC notes: [Everyone from the mansion that saw the kiss made fun of me endlessly, and I hid my face in my bouquet] SAVE HER. Once again, it skips to the end of the reception and they’re now in Comte’s room. (I will blink twice if I think you need tissues BLINKS TWICE) 

Comte: "Yup, perfect." [He places the flower pins I gave him next to THE hourglass in the room, looking pleased HNGNNGNGNNGGNGN MY EYE HOLES ARE SUFFERING

MC: "I'm glad you liked the gift c:" 

Comte: "It is proof of your unchanging love, of course I cherish it :>"

She’s just so happy to see him so delighted with it. He asks how she liked the ceremony, and she gushes about how much she loved it. He hugs her (AWWWWWWWWWWWW) and then he notes that while it was fun to celebrate, all he wants now is time with his wife (AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA). He starts kissing her like the world is ending, and she says she needs to get changed--but he doesn’t care, says she’s fine as she is and that he wants her right now.

Aight usually I don’t get into epilogue territory, but honestly, this shit was JUST too good. Now this man made of magic asks MC if she’s wearing her bridal garter (you know, the one that usually comes with the whole bride ensemble in Western tradition). And she’s like ???? Uh, yeah, of course? Why... He says that he saw something interesting at a friend’s wedding reception once upon a time, and explains that the garter is usually removed and thrown to the bachelors (analogous to the bride’s throwing her bouquet, and whoever catches it will be the next to get married). PLEASE NOTE HE IS KISSING HER FOR LIKE 90% OF THIS IT’S AMAZING

MC: "So it's like the bouquet toss?" 

Comte: "Yes. Now then, how did he remove the garter...?”

HE DUCKS DOWN AND SHE’S LIKE COMTE!?!?

Comte: “...Ah yes, the groom removes it with his teeth >:D”

And so this man HAS THE TIME OF HIS LIFE tugging it down slowly under her dress, caressing her legs and loving every part of her. MC’s face is on fire, and she’s torn between being turned on and embarrassed. Eventually he reappears after teasing her MERCILESSLY and admits that he didn’t do it at the reception because he didn’t want anyone else to see her reaction. Blushing, shy, desirous--all of these feelings are his to keep and enjoy. (I!!!!! LOVE!!!!!!!!!! HOW SUBTLY POSSESSIVE HE IS AAAAAAAAAA) MC notes internally that she feels the same way about him, how he only shows this intensely passionate side to her. Comte is uncharacteristically impatient and frenzied that night, and they both go at it.

It skips to midnight where the two are cuddling in the aftermath, just being cute and happy. Comte, the absolute MADLAD is already thinking about how to celebrate next year--and she just giggles at him (he’s a wackadoo but he’s her wackadoo LMFAO MOOD) and he laughs with her. They essentially swear to promise their love over and over in the future, and it just ends on that wholesome note :>>>

Also can I just. The fact that he lived for so long alone, but was always, always paying attention to all of these little things that are done with a person’s loved one ;-; that he would remember his friend doing that at his wedding and be like BROOOOO I WANNA DO THAT IF I EVER GET MARRIED!!!!!!!!!!! I just. It’s so heartbreaking and touching at the same time, I just want to hold him forever ;-; the fact that he doesn’t seem to worry as much about his own happiness, seems absolutely floored that MC would do anything in return. I JUST LOVE HIM WITH EVERYTHING INSIDE OF ME 

THIS IS WHAT PEAK PERFORMANCE LOOKS LIKE

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Piercings and Polaroids

Billy Hargrove x Reader

Word Count: 4,984

Warnings: Piercings, blood, needles, swearing, sexuality (eluded to)

Tag List: @moonstruckhargrove @thechickvic @carolimedanvers @hotstuffhargrove @alex--awesome--22 @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @so-not-hotmess @agentsinstorybrooke @sunflowercandie @kaliforniacoastalteens @songforhema @mickmoon @buckybarneshairpullingkink @marvelismylifffe @spidey-pal

Starcourt got boring after awhile. Once the lustre of new stores and fast food restaurants died off, people stopped shopping and starting soaking up the A/C like snakes under heat lamps. You didn’t mind, it just meant that you could spend your afternoons flipping through magazines and listening to the ad-free mall radio.

“Hey bitch!” someone slapped the counter loudly and you looked up boredly from your copy of Cosmo. Heather was standing in front of you with a devilish grin, her hair damp from the pool and her signature red Ray-Bands jammed on the top of her thick brown curls, most of which were piled high on the top of her head in a messy attempt at a ponytail, half tied and falling apart.

“Hi Heather...” you signed, laying the magazine open on the counter. Heather was your best friend, although it had begun to feel more and more strained as you both got older. Heather and you were very different people. You were a band geek, a tutor, and a slave to the mall. Heather was a cheerleader, the head of the yearbook committee, and one of the infamous ‘lifeguard hotties’ of the Hawkins Community Pool. She was a popular princess; a daddy’s girl with his platinum card wrapped around her little finger. You were from a broken home with an exhausting home life, and someone who should’ve been an ignored loser. Without Heather defending you, you would be bullied to bits by girls like Carol and Tina. But with her, you felt like a sheep in wolf’s clothing.

She leaned her elbows on the counter, smiling giddily “So, how’s your summer of piercing baby ears going?” she asked with a devious giggle, her sunglasses falling onto her nose and her mouth curling into a devilish grin.

You rolled your eyes “I’ve only seen one baby get pierced, I mostly pierce like middle schoolers. Today, I gave Mrs. Blythe her second hole. She bought three packs of neon studs and said they were for her daughter. Trying to look younger or some shit.” You replied, popping a strip of bright pink bubblegum into your sticky pink mouth, your cheap drugstore lipstick gunking in the corners of your lips. It was obvious that Heather had stopped listening after the first sentence, her mouth open in a yawn.

“Boring! You haven’t done anything cool all day? You know what me and Jeff did?” she asked, bouncing on her heels. She leaned over the counter, cupping a hand over her mouth as she leant in to your ear “We did it in the locker room showers. And Jessica Abrams totally walked in on us and freaked out! She totally got all red and teary it was totally embarrassing!” she whispered.

You pulled away, your face turned up in disgust. “That’s disgusting!” you gagged, squeezing your eyes shut as the image of Jeff’s douchey smirk came into view, turning into an ‘O’ face that made you want to hurl.

Heather cackled “He wasn’t even that good! I have no idea why Jessica’s been going on about it!” she cried, slapping the counter with her bare hand.

“Maybe because they were like two seconds away from being a couple and you got in the way.” You replied, deadpan. Sometimes Heather was a real bitch. This was one of those times. Poor Jessica had been following around that jerk since April and just when she’s about to get over him, he decides to pay her the time of day. And just when he seemed to genuinely like, Heather had to get bored and took Jeff away. Poor Jessica didn’t even know what hit her.

Heather scoffed, rolling her eyes at your comment. “That’s not the most interesting part of my shift though! I brought you a live one!” she giggled. You felt your blood run cold. Heather had no concept of what was appropriate ever. She had almost gotten you fired twice. This was not a good thing.

Heather waved someone over as you stared on wide eyed. Before you could even tell Heather to stop whatever she was trying to do, Billy Hargrove was standing in front of you, visibly put off by the children running around the shop and the bright, colourful decor. His eyes scanned yours boredly, his eyes narrowing judgementally.

“Alright, it’s piercing time!” Heather cried, clapping excitedly.

You sighed, rolling your eyes “Alright, the piercing package costs thirty bucks. You pick your piercing from the case.” You pointed down into the glass case below you, lit up and filled with silver butterflies, flowers, stars, and other girly designs. “You just want the other ear, right?”

Billy’s eyes scanned the case, his eyes narrowing further, his upper lip curling up in disgust. “Nah, my nose.” He replied, his voice monotone.

“Yeah, you can’t do that here.” You said, matching his tone. Billy looked quickly, his eyes blowing out in annoyance, looking between you and Heather.

Heather’s expression shifted and she laughed awkwardly “Of course you can!” she leaned over to you once Billy’s was sated enough to return to the difficult choice between the only ball studs in the case, one silver and one gold. “Don’t be fucking lame, Y/N…” she whispered harshly.

“I’m not being lame, it’s literally not something I can do.” You pulled the heavy, clunky piercing gun out from its drawer “This thing is literally only meant for ear lobes. It’s all I can pierce. Anything else I try will get super fucked up.” You explained, flashing the grey and white gun to the pair. It looked like a glorified hot glue gun, except splattered with a bit of dried blood.

Billy turned his attention to Heather, obviously annoyed “You said she could do it. I bought a nose ring in Carmel cause she could do it.” He grunted, obviously annoyed.

Heather looked over at you with her giant, pleading eyes, and for a brief moment you felt bad. Heather was just trying to look cool to this cooler, more popular guy and it had fallen flat so fast. You owed her something, for all the things she’d done for you over the years. With the barest of restrained sigh, you spoke up “Look, I can’t pierce your nose here, but I can do it at my place.” You said.

Billy scowled “Yeah? You got any proof?” he asked. He was getting more annoyed by the second; his expression growing harder and angrier if that was even possible.

You raised an eyebrow, tapping the small silver ring in your left nostril “Did this myself. Did all my piercings myself. How do think I got this job?” you countered. In truth, you’d done a mail in course and passed a piercing test on a rubber practise head. You were licensed in a week by Claire’s. You couldn’t even transfer the license to any other brand; they made it very clear in the paperwork you filled out.

Billy nodded, looking over your work. You guessed that it was satisfactory enough to him because a small smirk pulled at his lips. “What time you finished up here?” he asked. Heather cheered loudly, grabbing Billy’s bicep excitedly.

“I got like fifteen minutes left. Heather knows my address if you just wanna leave with her. I’ll meet you there.” You replied, looking over to your manager, who nodded for you to start your closing out.

“No way! You took the bus here, we’ll wait.” Heather said quickly “We’ll meet you in the food court.” She pulled Billy out of the shop with a wide grin, waving to you and mouthing ‘so hot!’ when he wasn’t looking. You chuckled, shaking your head. Heather thought every guy was hot, it didn’t mean much. But you wouldn’t deny that Billy was hot. Even with his cocky attitude and that ugly tattoo on his bicep that he insisted on showing off. You swore he’d cut all the sleeves off his tee shirts just to show off that stupid skull smoking a cigarette. Who the hell wanted that on their body forever?!? You weren’t too attracted to that level of ego, but Billy held a bit of interest around himself. There was some mystery, an aura of intrigue he seemed to hold around himself effortlessly, and that kept you interested enough to pay attention when you heard his name. He was just closed off enough to keep everyone guessing about him.

You took your time with your duties, making sure to snatch up the small silver ‘H’ earrings Heather had been eyeing for weeks now. They were in the case, so you were only supposed to be able to get them if you were getting a piercing in house. You’d convinced your boss to sell them to you, since you were an employee and wouldn’t tell anyone about it, and she agreed. You had intended to give them to Heather on her birthday, but there was no time like the present.

You half hoped that Heather and Billy would forget about you. You had this sickening feeling that it would be a tiresome ride. But to your chagrin they were waiting for you in the food court. Heather had gotten herself an Orange Julius and seemed to have put all her attention into the straw in her mouth, you assumed she was trying to put on a bit of a show for Billy, but he wasn’t paying much attention to her. You joined the group and endured quite possibly the longest and worst car ride of your life. Heather took over the front seat; it seemed that Billy had driven her to the mall, seeing as how her stinky work stuff was shoved in the back seat with Billy’s and, unfortunately, you. The entire back seat stunk like chlorine and mould, you guessed that one of them had forgotten a towel or swimsuit in their bag or under the seat for long enough to let it stink up the car. But that wasn’t the worst part, Billy didn’t seem to have A/C so all the windows were popped open and fresh air was blasting in your face and killing the smell, the worst part was that Heather seemed to think that this car ride was the perfect time to shamelessly flirt with Billy. She tried to pull her feet on the seat, but Billy didn’t want shoes on the leather, so she took off her flip flops but that was worse apparently. So she spent the whole time cooing about how hot he was and touching his arms and neck and hair. Touching his hair almost got her hand bit off. You wanted desperately for her to stop, you tried to tell her to cool it, but she told you to shut up. You didn’t bother after that.

But Billy seemed to notice that. He kept looking at you through the rear view, at first you thought he was just checking behind himself as he drove, but he was doing it too often for it to make sense. Then you finally let him catch your eye and he smiled. Well, it was more of a lopsided smirk, but you took it as a compliment. He hadn’t even attempted to smile the whole time he was around you, but now, with Motley Crüe blasting through the speakers and the wind whipping up everyone’s hair, he was apparently happy to have you around. You took it as a sign of gratitude for at least trying to get Heather to calm her hormones and just smiled back.

You directed Billy to your place, well at least you attempted to. Heather took over easily, drowning you out. “Y/N’s place is right over there-oh! Is your mom home? She’s gonna get pissed if you have a boy in your room; remember what happened when she caught Carl Simpson in your room? God, I can’t believe you lived through that!” she cackled loudly, her intent most definitely to make you blush. You simply rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, no she’s working late. She’s always working late.” You said, trying to hide the annoyed bite to your voice, masking it with a laugh. Heather just continued to cackle loudly, which hid your defeated sigh. Billy parked on the street without you having to ask and he climbed out angrily. You rushed to get ahead of the group, keys jingling in your hand, and unlocked the door.

“If you don’t mind, can you take your shoes off?” you asked as a wave of A/C smacked you in the face. You kicked off your sneakers as Heather and Billy stared at you, dumbfounded.

“Ugh, come on Y/N! That’s weird!” Heather moaned, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Heather. You know if I get shoe prints all over the tile, my mom will get pissed. You never have a problem with it when we’re hanging out, so don’t be a weirdo now.” You replied. Billy simply kicked off his own shoes, leaving Heather to groan loudly but to follow suit. Then and only then did you let them trek through your house and into your bedroom. You lived in a bungalow, so your room was at the back of the house, facing your backyard.

“Alright, you want your nose, yeah?” you asked, popping open your front door and heading to your bookshelf. You dug through your worn paperbacks until your fingers hit the firm spine of Catch 22. You pulled it off the shelf, popping open the cover and revealing the carved out middle. Your mother was the type to rifle through your stuff to try to catch you doing something wrong. You made the hiding spot solely to keep things that she’d take away. Inside, you had some spare cash, for emergencies, your hollow needle, and the silver barbells you’d bought to use when you pierced your nipples, which you’d been meaning to get around to. You’d promised your mother that you’d stop piercing people. She’d found the bloody needle and freaked out. Usually, it wasn’t that much of a blood bath, but you’d pierced Samantha Burke’s upper cartilage that day and underestimated both how much it would hurt her and how much of a mess it would make. You swore up and down that you’d stop, but your wannabe cool classmates paid big bucks for you to pierce their ears. There’d been an insane influx of boys wanting their ears pierced after seeing how popular Billy was. You didn’t correct them when they wanted the left ear, especially if they were dicks, and you took the cash happily. What your mother didn’t know didn’t hurt her.

“Yeah.” Billy said stiffly. He stood in the middle of your room, unsure what to do with yourself. You only lived a street down from him, too close to his father for comfort. His father already didn’t like the earring, doing his nose could get him in even deeper shit. He was willing to risk it though, purely to look cool.

“Which nostril, left or right?” you asked, bending down to reach into the lowest drawer of your desk, pulling out a lighter and, flicking open the flame, running it over the needle to sanitize it.

Billy chucked “Neither, I want the bull ring.” He said proudly, puffing out his chest. You looked up from the flame, looking him over for any signs of bluff. He looked too serious about this.

You nodded “Alright, I’ve never done a septum ring, but I’ve done the cartilage before, shouldn’t be any different.” You replied with a shrug “You got a big enough nose ring on you? Or am I cleaning and selling you one of mine?”

Billy reached into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a silver ring. It looked like it was actually made for a nose, which was a good sign. You’d pierced enough idiots to know that people think that any old earring would work in their nose or eyebrow or lip.

Heather was completely agog “No way, Bill! You can’t do your nose like that! I hate that!” she cried. Both you and Billy looked over at him, bouncing on your twin bed angrily. You raised an eyebrow at Billy, who seemed to understand the look immediately: ‘are you two dating?’ He shook his head.

You closed your eyes, trying not to strangle your friend. She always seemed to think that the world and people’s choices revolved around her. Instead of freaking out, you simply nodded “Heather, you want your second hole today? We can do it really fast before Billy’s nose.” You said.

“Oh duh! But I didn’t bring my earrings and I’m not paying for a set of yours, so unless you’re coughing up a pair for free, I’ll wait.” She replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

You flicked the lighter closed, placing the needle on your desk and pushing yourself onto your feet, reaching into your purse. You pulled out the earrings, tossing them to your friend. “Here, happy birthday.” You smirked. Heather caught them and squealed loudly, clutching them to her chest and kicking out her legs.

“Thank you!” she cried, reaching out to grab your neck and hug you tight. You chuckled, patting her back awkwardly.

“Okay! We’ll do yours first, go grab like a full tray of ice from downstairs, okay? And a roll of paper towel.” You instructed. Heather jumped to her feet, rushing downstairs as fast as she could. You resumed what you were doing, grabbing your lighter to disinfect the needle one more time.

“You wanna see what those things look like when they get ripped out?” you asked, turning your attention to Billy, who had taken to looking through your shelves boredly.

“What things?” he asked, his tone annoyed and deeply tired.

“The bull rings.” You replied. Billy hummed and you took that as the go ahead to grab the picture from your copy of Catch 22, pulling the Polaroid from underneath the cash. You handed it to Billy wordlessly.

The image was gruesome. It was of a guy, a few years older than Billy and you, with a bright red mohawk and dressed in a suit. He stood next to who Billy could only assume was the dude’s bride in an ugly reception hall. But that wasn’t the gruesome part; the part that made Billy’s stomach turn was the guy’s nose. It was mangled beyond belief, shrunken and crumpled. The guy only had one full nostril, the left one turned into a short of half open hole, a bunch of cartilage gone and gaping. It was quite honestly gross.

Billy cringed as he examined the guy. You took the moment to explain. “That’s cousin and her husband, Ben. Total punk rockers. Like three months before the wedding, I went with them to a Pixies concert and we all went to the mosh pit together. I guess I looked at this girl’s boyfriend or maybe I looked at her wrong because she tried to pick a fight with me. Ben stepped in, and before he could even say anything to her, she reached up and yanked out his nose ring. It tore the cartilage and he had to have his whole nose reconstructed. He couldn’t afford to have the nostril reconstructive surgery on top of the general nose reconstruction to save his one solid nostril and the bridge from collapsing.” You said.

Billy looked up, trying to bring his expression back to a neutral one “Why are you telling me this?” he asked, handing you back the picture.

You sighed “Look, everyone in the town knows that you get into fights. Having a big ole ring in the middle of your nose is just a really good place to grab for someone who wants an easy win on a fight.”

Billy scoffed “Only girls grab at shit to make a fight easier.”

You shrugged “Maybe, but I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t try to not get their ass beat by a guy twice their size.” You replied, popping the picture back into your kit.

Billy sighed “Would you do the left or right side then?” he asked.

You smirked slightly, looking him over. You bought your hands to his hands, which made Billy gasp slightly with his mouth shut. You ignore it, turning his face to the left and right, examining each side. The right side was better.

“Honestly? I wouldn’t do either. It’s not your look.” You said, letting his face go. He was very pretty up close, which gave you all the more reason to pull away before you did something stupid.

“Well I want something!” he cried and you laughed. Billy smirked as your face broke into a grin. It was the first genuine smile you’d had all day and it was quite pretty. He thought you were prettier than Heather, although he wouldn’t admit that if he still wanted the blow job Heather had been eluding to wanting to give all day.

“I can pierce your other ear, or give you a second hole on your right ear.” You said. Billy cringed and shook his head at both options. You thought for a second before a daring idea came into your head. You hesitated to give it, purely because you’d spent money on it for yourself, but you felt bad for making him give up on the idea.

“How about your nipples?” you said. Billy’s mouth fell open slightly, but he swallowed slightly, closing it. He’d never thought about piercing his nipples, but he immediately liked the idea.

“You ever pierce a nipple?” he asked, leaning closer to you. He was really hoping you’d say yes. He could feel himself warming up just at the thought of a great pair of tits with silver barbells glinting in the sunlight.

“No, but I had planned to-if you’re worried about me fucking up, I can do one of mine first.” You said, pulling the silver barbells of his dreams out of the book and flashing them to him with a smile.

“Oh no sweetheart...I trust you. But you gotta let me do yours if you want them done.” He replied.

“You do piercings?” you asked sceptically, placing the barbells on your desk.

“Doesn’t seem too hard.” He replied, inching closer to you. You back into your desk, exactly where he wanted you.

You chuckled, pressing a hand into his chest, and pushing him off you. “Yeah, the only amateur I get pierced by is myself, that way if I fuck up I have no one to blame but myself.” You explained. Heather burst in right on cue, ice melting down her hand and a damp paper towel roll in hand.

“Sorry! Took awhile to find the paper towel.” She announced, plopping the roll on your desk and tray next to it.

“It’s cool, you ready to do this?” you asked her. She furrowed her brow nervously, but you gestured to your desk chair. She sat down and gripped the arms to ease her shaking hands. You grabbed a cube from the tray and pressed it to her left lobe. “Alright, hold that there for a second sweetheart, I gotta unpack your earrings.” You reached for the package and pulled off the tape that secured the backings to the earrings. You pulled the cheap backing off the spoke and released the ‘H’ from the teal plastic hanger and placed it flat on the desktop.

“Nice and numb?” you asked. Heather bit down hard on her lip and nodded. You grabbed a black sharpie and marked her lobe. “Alright we’re going to count to three, take a deep breath with me, okay?” you took in a deep breath and Heather followed, shutting her eyes. You grabbed the needle and placed it against the marking.

“Let the breath go.” You huffed the breath out and when Heather did the same you plunged the needle into her lobe. She squealed but you counted loudly over it “One, two,” you grabbed the earring, placing it into the hole in the needle and pulling it through “Three. There, you’re halfway done.” You said, capped the earring and wiping down the needle with a bit of paper towel. Earlobes don’t generally bleed much and your needle came through practically clean, but you wiped it down anyway, if only to calm her nerves.

“Are you okay for me to do one more?” you asked. Heather nodded and you grabbed another cube from the tray, pressing it to the right lobe. The process repeated again and Billy watched on baited breath. At first, he was only interested in staring at your ass and imagining filthy things at the idea of you hovering over Heather and making her bite her lips for other reasons. But Heather wasn’t the interesting part of this image; it was you with your kind words and gentle but firm touches. Even when he got bored of the fantasy, he still watched you, utterly transfixed by you. Heather’s squeal pulled him out of his fantasy and back into the warm light of your bedroom. You capped the back of the second earring, stepping back to admire your work.

“Do they look alright?” Heather reached up to touch the new pierces, as if they weren’t real. As if she didn’t feel them stab through her head.

“They’re completely crooked.” You said, deadpan. Heather gasped loudly and you backtracked quickly “I’m kidding! I’m kidding! They look great!” Heather smacked you hard in the stomach, forcing herself out of the chair and over to your bed.

“We doing this, Hargrove?” you turned to him, looking him over confidently. He nodded, licking his lips. “Alright, lay down, Heather I’m gonna need you to move.” Billy tore off his shirt and Heather’s mouth dropped open as you ran the flame over the needle again.

“Oh my god what is going on?” Heather asked, practically drooling.

You rolled your ice “Heather, move your ass and grab me some ice. Billy, which side we doing here?” you asked, grabbing the package of silver barbells and ripping it open, pulling out one and bringing it over to the bed.

“Right.” He said confidently and you took the ice from Heather, straddling Billy and pressing the ice to his nipple. Billy shivered under you and you smirked.

“Heather, pass me the sharpie.” You said, keeping your eyes locked on his.

“This is insane...” Heather breathed, passing you the black marker. “Where’s your camera?”

“Nightstand drawer.” You replied, uncapping the marker with your teeth. Billy turned sharply to look for Heather, his face turning into a snarl. You leaned down, grabbing his chin and turning him back to you. His mouth fell open slightly as you leaned into his ear, whispering “Relax, you look hot...” you breathed hot air onto his neck as you spoke and his skin broke into goose bumps.

“You numb?” you asked. Billy nodded, even though he didn’t think his senses could be less numb if he tried, all of his nerves were alert and on edge. “Good...” you muttered, marking the spot for your needle and unscrewed one end of the barbell. You heard a click and saw the flash go off in the corner of your eye, but you ignored it, focusing on the warm skin under your hands.

You looked him over with a smirk “You need a countdown or are you gonna be a big man for me?” you asked, another flash trying to spot your vision. Billy swallowed hard and let out a small yelp, nodding confidently despite the sound coming out of his throat. “Good boy...” you whispered, shoving the needle through the hardened pink flesh. You felt every inch of him tense up as the pain shot through the bundle of nerves you’d just stabbed through. You mistook the final flash of the camera for stars as you felt him stiffen under your ass. You slid the barbell into the hollow end and slid the needle through, screwing the ball back on.

You smiled, admiring your work for climbing off him and dropping the needle on the mattress. “Alright, use rubbing alcohol to clean those at least once a day. I am not responsible for any infections you get because you can’t take care of yourself.” You explained, pulling your white tee shirt back over your hips. Billy sat up slowly, drinking you in like a cool glass of water, his mouth turning up as you turned around, packing up your kit and returning it to your hiding places.

“My mom’s gonna be home soon and I really wanna change. You good to take Heather home?” you turned your attention to Billy and he nodded slowly.

Heather got up, pulling you into a tight hug and sliding something into your back pocket. “Call me later?” she asked. You nodded, shoving your hands into your back pockets once she let go. Thick and glossy, they had to be the photos. You smirked; you’d look those over once she was gone. Heather headed out of the room as Billy examined himself in your full length mirror before tossing his shirt over his shoulder.

“You alright?” you asked, coming up behind him in the mirror.

“Just admiring your handiwork,” he replied, cocking his head to look at you “You think I can come back and get the other one done?” he asked.

“Sure...” you replied, looking him over slowly “Maybe you leave Heather behind next time.” Billy chuckled darkly, nodding slowly as his tongue slipped out of his mouth again.

“Alright then...I’ll see you around.” You said. You wanted to look over your pictures before you made any plans. You had to know if it looked as hot as it felt. But you had a feeling that it was more than you could ever imagine, no matter how hard you had tried in the past.

[diaryofabeautyfiend]

Small Time Witch (15)

The water in the stream lapped at its banks swelling from the melting mountain snow. You and Bethany brought out sand bags and placed them around the perimeter of the house. How high the water rose depended on the snowfall. It always flooded in the bend of the stream which is why you never understood why Helene built here. “Rushing water holds energy. It amplifies everything we do.” It also amplified the chance that you’d be redoing the floors in a few weeks.

“Why can’t your mother just use her powers? This would be a lot easier.” Bethany would ask as she dropped another bag.

“Because there are consequences to us using our powers which is why I was shipped off.”

“And here I thought it was so you didn’t face prosecution for almost killing Bobby.” You flicked mud at her.

“I didn’t almost kill him. He was fine.” She threw mud back.

“He pissed himself. Charles Xavier had to tell everyone he had a seizure.” You both laughed.

“Girls! Get cleaned up for dinner.” Helene called from the porch.

“Yes, Aunt Helene” you said in unison.

“Why can’t you stay? We miss you.”

“You know it’s for all our own good, Bethy. I’m the only one with a dangerous power.”

“Hey! I can freeze stuff!”

You giggled, “Yeah only if everyone is real quiet and you are well hydrated.”

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕

You often dreamed of being back home but it was rare they were good dreams. Mostly you had nightmares about the day everyone died. Rarely did you have dreams when you felt happy.

You woke up a little misty eyed. Goodness did you miss your family. You were so lost in thought that you didn’t hear Steve calling your name. “Earth to Y/N. You ok?”

“Yeah. Bad dream.” You got out of bed and started getting ready for your day. He watched you smiling as you hummed your way through your morning routine. You were not in your usual work attire when you finished.

“Where are you going today?” he asked confused. “Aren’t you usually a little more put together for work?”

“I have the day off. I have Strange all morning and then off to Dr. Calloway.” You wrapped your arms around his waste. He hugged you back.

“Will you tell your doctor about your bad dreams? You looked so lost this morning. I hate seeing my girl that way.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“I am not your boss. I am not giving you orders. Just the concerned boyfriend.”

“Yes. My very bossy boyfriend. I’ll tell him. It’s not like he ever really explores anything. It’s all ‘how does that make you feel?’ and ‘Let’s up your anti depressants.’”

“Does that work?”

“Would work if I was actually depressed. I think I might stop seeing him after today’s session.” Steve’s whole body got stiff.

“Why? Since you’ve been seeing him you haven’t accidentally shocked anyone.”

“That wasn’t his doing. I didn’t shock you in Germany did I?” No. Loki taught you how to control yourself. He would scoff at anti-depressants. Nothing was wrong with them if they were actually doing anything for you. They just dulled your senses and made you feel nauseous. “Well. I have to get going.”

“No breakfast?” You smiled at him over your shoulder.

“I’ll grab a banana on the way out. Love you!”

“Love you too. Hey! We have a mission briefing at four. Don’t be late.”

“Yes, sir.” They asked you to run point on an operation in Alaska. It was dealing with enhanced people and there was some intel that said they were a lot like you. That was the only information they gave.

Steve waited until he saw your car drive down the road before he called Tony. “We have a problem. She’s talking about leaving Dr.Calloway’s care.”

“Shit. Ok. I’ll call and give him a heads up. She cannot stop taking those meds, Steve. Not until we can convince Strange to bind her powers.”

Steve squeezed his eyes closed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Are we sure we want to do this? Maybe Strange is right. With the proper training she can control it. She was doing well with Loki. She never hurt me again.”

“Cap, maybe one day you’ll be on our side. I read her SHIELD file. Fury was right. The girl is a nuclear bomb with a short fuse. This Alaska thing is huge. We need her to control herself. A lot of lives are at stake. Get it together, Steve.” With that Tony hung up.

Steve felt nauseous. He hated doing this to you. He adored you. If you found out he was lying to you...he hated to think what you’d do. He’d deserve it. He picked up the phone and called the only person he believed would be able to guide him.

“Professor? This is Steve Rogers. I’m wondering if you would have some time talk to me about one of your former students. I can be there within the hour. Thank you, sir. I’ll see you soon.” He grabbed the keys to his bike and headed to the school.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

You made it a few minutes early to Doctor Strange. You were spooked every time you went to the mansion on Bleeker. Wong greeted you at the door and said Strange would be meeting you shortly. You browsed the volumes on the bookshelves. You selected one that looked tattered but well loved. When you opened the pages it blinked out of your hands and was replaced by a cup of tea. You actually liked the tea.

“That is not for you. Let’s get started.”

“What’s that one about? Transfiguration? Can I learn that?”

“Not today. Focus, Y/N.”

Strange was always a bit terse with you. He had absolutely no patience. You wished someone else was teaching you. You received no feedback unless you did something wrong. He didn’t tolerate chit chat or small talk of any kind. At least when you worked with Wong he gave you treats when you did something well. The only consolation you got was that you knew he was looking out for you. That meant sometimes he told you things you wished you didn’t have to hear.

“Your boss came to see me yesterday. He asked me to bind your powers. I told him to fuck off.” You felt like the air left your body. You knew Fury had secret plans for you but Tony? He was supposed to be a good guy.

“Did he say why?”

“Yes. Some crap about you killing a kid when you were younger. That attack at the school. I know what happened that day. You don’t have to worry about me. Just saying watch your back. They are escalating from the Wolfsbane.”

You wanted to ask if Steve knew but you were sure he did. Tears started flowing down your cheeks which made Strange uncomfortable. “You are doing well here, kid. We can be done for today. See you next week.” Before you had a chance to say anything he shoved you through a portal.

“I know how to use a door!” You shouted towards the house. You shot Steve a text letting him know you were done a little early if he wanted to have lunch. When he didn’t answer after a few minutes you decided to completely blow off your doctor’s appointment and go shopping instead. It’s pretty rare when you had time to yourself these days so you decided to take advantage.

Escalating from the wolfsbane. It was entirely possible that your boss and your boyfriend knew they were poisoning you. It was also possible they didn’t if they were fed wrong information. There were some studies that showed Aconite in low low doses can help with anxiety and in rare cases heart failure. You had to know how to handle the herb correctly. Even the most practiced healer would try a thousand other herbs before this one. Dr. Calloway didn’t seem like he was on the up and up from your first visit. When you read the label on the medicine bottle you decided not to take it because you knew what it was. You showed it to Strange who suggested you call the police since you were being poisoned. “He’s clearly not a licensed medical professional. There are hundreds of safe drugs on the market to handle anxiety. This will kill you.”

The two of you compounded an antidote for the medication. You tell Steve it’s vitamins. The little person in your head was frantically waving red flags at you. Not a good sign that he watched you take the pills every day. Not good at all.

🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞

The first time walking into Charles Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters was intimidating. It sat on a large expanse of land which was crawling with children. A few of the younger kids ran up to Steve marveling at him. “It’s Captain America!” They shouted. He gave high fives and pats on the head. Ororo greeted him at the front door.

“Captain Rogers. Nice to meet you. I’m Ororo Munroe. I am an instructor here and I work directly with Professor Xavier. He’s just finishing up a class. I’ll show you to his office.” Steve shook her hand. He was mesmerized by the crystal blue of her eyes.

“This is a cool operation you have here. Not unlike the Avengers compound except we only house adult children.”

“Trust me we have several of those ourselves. Tell me, the Professor said you were inquiring about a former student. I’ve been here for quite some time. Perhaps I can help.”

“Sure. Her name is Y/N Y/L/N. She’s working with us on a operation in Alaska. She also happens to be my girlfriend.” Ororo paused for a moment.

“Of course. How is she doing? Terrible what happened to her family. She was a great student. What kind of mission are you going on that you’d need that kind of fire power?” Steve stayed quiet until they were sure to be away from tiny ears.

“She’s doing well. Her power is what I wanted to talk to Professor Xavier about.”

A voice came from out of nowhere. It was gentle tinged with a hint of amusement. “Y/N is quite a woman. Your team is lucky to have her at your disposal.” Steve shook his hand and sat in the chair across from the large desk. Ororo and a few other X-men protectively flanked the Professor.

“She is, sir, though I may be a bit biased. The reason I’m here is because members of my team have expressed some concern about the strength of her power and her inability to control herself in times of great stress. She has been taking a medication called Aconite prescribed by a Dr. Calloway to help with stress and anxiety....”

A woman whom he did not immediately notice spoke up, “Aconite is Wolfsbane, Captain Rogers. It’s poisonous. It also strips powers. Why would she ever agree to that?” Based on your description Steve guessed this was your Aunt Agatha. The tension in the room grew considerably. He was unaware that he was poisoning you.

“You must be Aunt Agatha. I’ve heard a lot about you....” Steve stood to shake her hand when another woman interrupted.

“The doctor told her they are anti-depressants. I’m Jean Grey. Don’t get up, Captain Rogers. They lied to both of you. Stephen Strange will never agree to bind her powers. Not against her will. You people are unbelievable.” Steve’s jaw clenched. He ran his hands over his face and through his hair. The Professor saw him getting overwhelmed so he ordered everyone out except Agatha.

“Captain Rogers, Y/N is quite capable of controlling herself. There were a few incidents when she was younger but she’s come a long way. From what we hear she is doing quite well under Stephen Strange’s tutelage. Why bind her now?”

“I agree. There are those who don’t. I’ve read her SHIELD file. She killed a kid on these grounds under your care. For the safety of this mission we need her to be in as much emotional control as possible. We are working under SHIELD on this one so I’m afraid any details are classified.” He tossed the folder on his desk. Xavier and Agatha read over the incident report.

“This report is inaccurate. We were under attack on the day in question. As an older student she was charged with getting younger students to safety. This young man was too severely injured. He died in her arms. She was able to absorb his power of empathy. It took several months of therapy and training to cope with the gravity of this new skill.” Xavier looked away from him as he recalled the day. It was obviously very painful.

Steve grew more agitated. It was clear someone was lying to him and now he was an accomplice in poisoning you. He thanked the Professor for his time and decided to take the long way home to cool off. “Captain Rogers. Fear of our unique abilities is what started the war all those years ago. You need not fear what you don’t understand.”

“I love her, Professor. I’m not afraid of her. I’m afraid of what other people want with her. I’m not going to let anyone use her anymore. You have my word.” The only thing Steve wanted to do was get to Tony to find out why he was pushing so hard to bind you.

“Scott, find out what interest the Avengers have in Alaska. Why are they being sent there?” The Professor sent out a team to do some reconnaissance work. Perhaps the X-men would join the Avengers on their trip.

[catachan-jungle-fighter]

Hiveganger AU: Mad Wolves run businesses

"You cause trouble, you get thrown out on your ass. You harass the girls, you get a bullet in the ass. You try some shit we don't like, we kill you and sell your corpse off to the fuckin' corpse grinders to make into starch."- Mad Wolves Bar Bouncer.

"You harm my girls and you will wish John was the one dealing with you, at least he'd give you a quick death."- Madame of the 'Hearts' Brothel.

Any 'business' run by the Mad Wolves is operated solely by the various underbosses of the gang, with John's crew being the only one not tied to any specific businesses.

The Bars are run by the 1st Underboss, a hard faced woman who only ever appears when she has to clean house of gangers who think they can cheat her, usually leaving a pile of corpses behind the bar for John or 'Doc Cutter' to deal with as another underboss is known as. Her title as a underboss is 'The Flow' due to her ability to keep both the Roulette and higher quality booze flowing through the bars and Clubs the Wolves run.

-

The second underboss handles the protection rackets, his group commonly wearing heavier armor compared to the rest of the gang due to their need to be 'intimidating'.

They have yet to have someone resist their 'kind' offers of protection after a shop that had opened on their turf got burned down by a bunch of ganger's who disappeared a hour before John happened to wander by on patrol. This underboss goes by 'The Club' which is due to his heavy handed approach at getting people to sign up for protection, from outside gangers and the crimes common to the Wolves turf.

-

The third Underboss is in charge of the long running Cons up in the upper hive, rarely if ever going down into the Underhive as he coordinates his gangers into swindling Nobles out of hundreds or thousands of Gelt before sending it down in barrels to the gang below.

His Ganger's are the only members who can speak and understand High Gothic, with the normal uniform they wore discarded for more 'noble' looking garb. His title in the gang is 'Snake' for how much snake oil he is selling the Nobles.

-

The Fourth Underboss, a Medicae who lost her license, runs all of the clinics and 'volunteer organ farms' where those individuals who earned the ire of the rest of the Gang pay back their debts. Her title is 'Butcher' , but she is more commonly known by the title that the Underhive inhabitants have given her due to her... actions as 'Doc Cutter' which has made few people willing to join her operations.

She is obsessed with John to a unhealthy degree, which has led to some unfortunate incidents in the past where she drugged him and kept him in her personal clinic until several of his Crew come to break him out, smashing up her clinic everytime they have come through.

-

The 5th Underboss handles gambling and betting, with the commander only known as 'Card Sharp', the Underboss seemingly changing every week so no one has a understanding of the boss yet. Their gambling dens are some of the most profitable businesses that the Wolves run, with only the brothels nearing the thrones earned.

-

John is the 6th Underboss, his Crew running nothing but handling the enforcement of the rules of the Boss in their territory, killing any Arbites or Gangers who enter their territory, and breaking up fights at any businesses that they happen to be near. John's crew wear heavier scrap armor then any other members of the gang and carry the most dangerous weapons among the Gang, the 'Hounds' fanatically loyal to their Boss to the point of killing themselves if they are captured by the Arbites and are unable to be rescued.

John also sells his crews services off to the other bosses as wetworker's, with his men leaving rivers of blood running through the gutters of the underhive after some hits they were hired for. John personally only gets involved in fights with Bosses or Underbosses of the other gangs, his crew handling most of the fighting otherwise.

[creepyalienghost]

Employee’s help

Sammy pulls the car into a parking space at a near empty motel and killed the Engine. He sat back in his seat, there in the dark for a long while thinking about what had he just done. He had just left his abusive boyfriend with his two children. It had took everything in Sammy to finally escape and it’s taking everything in him not to go back. He couldn’t go back. Going back is deadly. Joey would kill him and the twins if he went back.

Sammy turns his attention behind him. In the back seat the twins were there sleeping peacefully like nothing bad ever happened to them or like they never seen anything bad. Sammy had always tried to protect them when Joey was pissed at them. Sometimes it worked and Joey would beat him instead, sometimes it wouldn’t.

Sammy sighs, turning back around and pulling out the money he stole from his pocket and counted it. It was enough for three nights at lest but he would just need one night here. After counting he reached up and grabbed his mirror, turning it more to him so he could see his horrible reflection. His left eye had become swollen shut and his head had a huge goose egg on the side. Unfortunately Sammy had cut his hair really short as well as dyed it black to disguise himself at the pit stop two hours ago. He hated that he couldn’t hide his eye anymore. It made him feel expose. More vulnerable to the world. He had to though. He couldn’t continue to drive anymore for the night. He needed sleep and the twins needed a real bed to sleep in. He took a breath and stepped out of the car.

As he enters the office of the motel the Employee working there looked up from his book. “Welcome.” He greeted in a southern voice, setting down his book and standing up. He got a clear look at the man now. Seeing that deep purple swollen eye made him felt sorry for the guy. He wondered if who ever was beating on him was still with him. But he stayed professional. “What can I do for you?”

“I-l need a room w-with two beds please?” Sammy replied. He was squeezing his hands in first to help with his nerves of being exposed. “Just for one night.”

The employee nodded and pulled out his customer book. “I need your license sir.” employee asked.

Sammy hesitated for a moment before pulling out his wallet and Handed his license over to him with shaking hands.

The employee took the license and looked over the information needed to fill out the form. He couldn’t help but to notice the photo of Mr. Lawrence. Long Blond hair, bright blue eyes. He thought Sammy looked happy in the photo. It was probably taken before he started getting beat on by whoever.

Once the employee finished the form he handed back Sammy’s license and gave him a pen to sign it as he got him a set of keys. “I’m placing you in room 07.” He stated as he hands him the keys But didn’t tell him it was to watch over him.

“Thanks” Sammy mumbled taking the keys from him and turning away to leave the office. Until the employee stopped him.

“Wait. Sir.” He said. “I’m sorry to ask, I know it’s personal. But I need to know. Are you safe tonight?”

Sammy cringe that’s a question. Of course he had to get into his business, southerns couldn’t help but not to. Sammy sighed turning around to face him and nodded. “Yes sir. I’m fine. I’m safe.” Sammy replied. He could tell the employee thought he was lying. He didn’t blame him. He always said -I’m fine- when asked. It’s what Joey taught him to do. Lie. “I know it sounds like a lie sir, but this time it’s the truth.”

Eventually the employee nodded. “Alright Mr. Lawrence. You can come to me if needed, alright?

Sammy nodded in reply. “Alright sir. Thank you.” With that he left the office, back to his car. He awoke his children long enough to lead them into their room and to the farthest bed from the door. The twins both crawled under the covers and fell back asleep.

Sammy tucked them in nice and snuggled then he stuffed his hand in his pocket, pulling out his cigarettes and lighter as we walked outside. It was cool out with little breeze, which felt nice to him. Sammy sat on the edge of the Sidewalk, pulling out one of the cigarettes and sticking it in his mouth, lighting it. He sits there letting the smoke fill his longs for a long moment then releasing it into the sky. He hated smoking and knew it was slowly killing him. but he couldn’t stop it now. It a habit he got from Joey In their earlier days. Before Joey showed who we really is. He was stupid for trying it. But he had so badly wanted to impress Joey by taking his cigarette from his mouth and trying it. It nearly killed him right then but Joey helped him through the coughing.

He missed that Joey. When he was Kind and sweet, fun and adventurous. Things were good back then, before the studio started to fail. Now he goes to the bar every night and comes home drunk. Sometimes Sammy would have to help him up to his room, other times he would have to pick him up from the police department the night morning from fighting or speeding. And those were the good days where he nor the twins got hurt. He couldn’t take it anymore and now he’s here. Running from the man he use to love.

The office door slammed shut, snapping him back to Reality. He listened as the footsteps grew nearer, hoping that they would just pass him by. He didn’t feel like talking right now. He just wanted to be left alone with his cigarette. Unfortunately though the footsteps stopped right beside him. “Everything alright so far?” The voice of the employee ask.

Sammy huffed out the smoke before looking up at him. “Yes sir. Everything’s good” He turned back away from him.

The employee casually sits down next to him and held out an ice back. “Here. For your eyes”

Sammy’s Gaze at the Ice pack then again at the employee, before signing as he puts out the cigarette and takes the ice pack. “Thank you...” he mumbles placing it over his eye. It immediately felt nice around his eye from the coldness.

“Don’t mention it” the kind employee replied,with a smile. He didn’t ask any personal questions that could be uncomfortable for him to answer but he had to ask one thing. “Are you going back to whoever did that?”

Sammy shook his head. “No.” He replied shortly. “No way I’m dealing with him anymore.” Sammy mumbles dropping his hand with the ice pack in his lap. “I can’t. I can’t go back to him.” He said looking at the employee with a defeated look.

The look he gave makes the employees heart cry for this stranger. “Hey now. Don’t give up, alright.” He encouraged. “You made it this far already. You can make it the rest of the way.”

Sammy shakes his head. “But I don’t know where I’m going. I have to place to go!” He nearly cried and dropped his head in his hands.

The employee reaches out to him out of pity, hesitates for a second then places his hand on Sammy’s shoulder. “Hey. Look. I am looking for some help running this motel. If you want it of course.”

Sammy looked up at him in surprise. “Y-you really m-mean it?..Your give me a job here?” He ask hopeful.

The employee nodded. “I mean it. You can stay at my house for a while with your kids. There’s a school a few minutes away for them. Lots of things to do here.” He added.

Sammy nodded and thought for a little while of the pros and cons. “I’ll take the job.” He replied.

The employee smiled. “Then Your hired. He replied stirring a bit“now go some sleep, ok?. I’ll be needing you for day shift tomorrow.

“Yes boss” Sammy nodded standing up s and dusting his pants off. “Goodnight Mr-uhh-?”

“Norman.” The employee replied looking back at the man. “Norman Polk.”

This time Sammy smiled at him. “Goodnight Norman.

[tfw-no-tennis]

mtmte liveblog issue 19

it’s 2021 now!! time for more transformers 

we start off w/a flashback showing tyrest retrieving ultra magnus’s body from the ship - and we get a look at magnus’s spark, which is the green color of a 0.1%er [eyes emoji]

tyrest punching magnus..... grrrrr leave my dad alone bastard man

‘the divided self’ what a good title 

rodimus is like listen man this is a lot for my poor thot brain to take in

in flashback land, we see tyrest immediately launch into a crazy person spiel about how he can and will edit the law as he sees fit to conform to the situation, because that doesn't seem like a blatant abuse of power or a huge conflict of interest or anything 

oooh the screen in the corner that says ‘thought warfare,’ I see that

oof, poor magnus. its gotta be rough to hear your boss rant about how bad at your job you are....especially bc this is right after overlord called magnus a joke and nearly killed him

its especially brutal bc as magnus says, his job is his life 

augh, I love the panel where the armor is falling off around minimus, and then the one where he’s holding the ultra magnus head...poetic 

its fascinating that there was an ‘original’ magnus who was an actual guy, and then tyrest chose to make him into this legacy symbol - I'm assuming the OG magnus had no say in this, and probably didn't even know that he was gonna become this lawman legacy figure

I do wanna know though - obviously everyone thought that ultra magnus was one dude, but how did the different guys wearing the armor deal w/that? like, did minimus have people coming up to him like ‘hey ultra magnus old buddy! remember when we fought those guys in that one place? good times!’ like, do they have to study up on the lives of the past armor wearers to prepare for the role of ultra magnus?

augh poor minimus, of course he’s been wondering about what happened with overlord after he was KO’d

oof, drift...I feel like minimus looks surprised and a little skeptical at the idea that drift was the one behind the entire overlord thing - which is interesting bc as we saw at the beginning of the story, he doesn't exactly trust drift, but it’s still pretty far-fetched that one person orchestrated the entire thing

tailgate :(

the concept of a load-bearer is SUPER cool, I love it so much

it also puts a much-needed limit on things - as in, there IS a limit to how much weight/mass a normal cybertronian frame can carry, which is why you don't see everybody upgrading to be Massive - bc they actually CANT

oof, the worst part is that tyrest is RIGHT, minimus essentially DID have a nervous breakdown after the war ended bc of the rigid way he views the world

mental health support is clearly in shambles for cybertronians, yikes. they literally have 1 therapist for their entire race, and he’s not even licensed anymore due to hipaa violations. what a mess

the ‘attention deflectors’ thing is so cool and clever and also a great explanation as to why ratchet or anyone else never said ‘hey wait a minute, you're actually a much smaller dude in a trench coat’ 

I love tailgate knowing all the stuff about the autobot code bc of magnus...my BOY

and THATS why minimus was asking about skids specifically earlier!

oh minimus, please don't put so much stock in tyrest being stable and resonable...

aaaand there's skids and swerve! brainstorm says it best - ‘because something unexpected hasn't happened for at least nine seconds.’ lmao ily brainstorm 

finally checking in w/whirl and cyclonus - god I love that. whirl asking cyclonus how many cons he killed and cyc is like psh I wasn't keeping count....................ok it was six

hhhhh cyclonus IS looking for a cure for tailgate, even though he told tg that there wasn’t anything to hope for....excuse me as I go be emo 

and now we flash over to the unethical medical conduct hell zone, where pharma is being weird and horny and ratchet is appropriately horrified 

I seriously love how unhinged pharma looks, the art & colors do such a good job conveying his feral energy 

ratchet has some massive dick energy for taunting pharma when he’s currently just a head and pharma has dual chainsaws for hands 

ugh, I love whirls speech about anger...and I feel like he really does see cyclonus as a peer, despite cyclonus wanting to kill him, which is why he tells cyclonus all of this 

I fuckgin love that cyclonus’s reaction to very suddenly getting stabbed thru the abdomen is to just glance down at the sword, looking mildly inconvenienced 

back over to ratchet - and at first its like oh wow I can’t believe pharma was stupid enough to let ratchet goad him into this contest....but then you see first aid and ambulon and its like UH OH this is gonna be BAD

the idea that getting sliced in half is no big deal for a cybertronian is wild

‘you're gonna let doctor djd cut us in half?’ yeahhhh that's an appropriate reaction, yikes

FUCKING LENGTHWAYS GOD

pharma you piece of shit

poor ambulon :( :( :( that's fucking brutal. amazing panel but....jesus

and like, to further my point from last issue’s liveblog - the fact that this very gore-y panel is okay, but swearing isn't...that's really funny honestly. I guess robo-gore is acceptable, while I'm guessing regular ole run of the mill human gore wouldn't be

then back to cyclonus, who is still looking only vaguely put out by the sword stuck right thru him

and then cyclonus just pulls it right out, which is a very bad idea for humans but probably not as big of a deal for big near-immortal alien robots

circle of light stuck in capitalistic urban hellscape cubicals 

poor skids, being asked to stand trial while having no idea what his crime is due to Big Amnesia 

OH SHITTTT I totally forgot that getaway shows up here

that is super clever though, with chromedome confusing the name ‘getaway’ with the concept ‘needing to escape’

cant believe tyrest is really dumb enough to tell minimus all his evil plans

BUT that means its time for some very important forged vs constructed cold lore

jro spelling ‘program’ as ‘programme’ made me remember when he said that he considers everyone on the lost light to be british, which is perhaps the least valid thing he’s ever said vhbghjsdbfjkhasbjk

the idea that they used the matrix - which is portrayed as kind of a holy object - in reproductive experiments is really interesting

AUGHHHHH this is all so good and interesting...im really fascinated w/this particular brand of like, alien robot racism/constructism/whatever you wanna call it - I feel like it does such a good job as a plot device, where many other ‘fantasy racism’ concepts from other franchises fail, bc there's not really a ‘human metaphor’ being used here (as far as I know/can tell) - as in, this isn't a thinly veiled metaphor for something that happened/could happen in human history

in fact, this type of bigotry (or w/e you wanna call it) isn't something that is even really possible in humans - I guess if there was a stigma against being born via ivf or something...? but there isn't, so there's no obvious real-world equivalent, which I take as a sign of good writing and worldbuilding - it makes the cybertronians feel more Real, bc of course they would have their own types of bigotry based off of completely different things than humans 

additionally - and this is crucial - tyrest is wrong: there’s no like, inherent moral corruption in cold constructed bots. there's no difference at all, other than method of construction. fantasy racism plotlines often flounder here, with the oppressors having a ‘valid reason’ for oppressing the oppressed, but tyrest is just operated on religious zealot bs and some biased science

like, dude, did you ever think that maybe there are other reasons why your trials only condemned cold constructed bots? like, maybe the trial itself was biased? or societal conditions were to blame? correlation is not causation, my dude, especially when the conclusion is ‘cold constructed bots are inherently SINNERS’ lmao 

like, tyrest rlly said ‘FUCK separation of church and state,’ huh

anyways I just think the whole cold construction vs forged thing is really interesting and well-done, and serves as a good precursor to the more fleshed-out functionism stuff we see later 

so tyrest is clearly off his rockers w/the whole drilling thing - dude, you accidentally gave yourself a lobotomy, okay - but I find it kinda funny that he’s right about a lot of that stuff he said at the end, about primus and the guiding hand and stuff being real 

cyclonus saying ‘tailgate and the others’...I see you, man, I see you

also cyclonus looks fine now??? didn't he just get stabbed??? 

ah, tyrest sprinkling a little light genocide onto his plan to find salvation. nice, dude!

MINIMUS NOOOOOOOOO

‘fully deserved’ SHUT UP BIIIIITCH

poor minimus is taking a lot of Ls this arc, geez

oof, great issue! again, as usual....I loved the lore we got this issue, its so interesting...and some good character stuff too. I love minimus, I feel like he’s gonna be my fav this readthru; my first read my fav was brainstorm, second readthru was whirl, and I feel like its minimus/magnus this time. I just love his character arc...

hype af for more B) 

[thanksjro]

The Transformers, Issues #1-21: A Recap, For Research and Reference  Purposes, Because Otherwise it’s Just Going to Be Confusing

Before we begin, here’s a lightning round style recap on the 21 issues that took place prior to Roberts’ involvement:

Three years after the events of All Hail Megatron, the Autobots are in hiding, trapped on Earth with limited supplies, watching on as humanity attempts to rebuild itself. They don’t offer to help, because that would probably get them shot at- humans are still a little wary of the giant robots that friggin’ destroyed NYC, even if the Autobots are supposed to be the good guys. Sometimes the narration gets a little funny with words.

I know it has multiple meanings, but come on, who talks like this? I’ve always assumed Optimus Prime was the one narrating here, which is… well, IDW Prime has a very self-flagellating and elegant way of speaking. For better or for worse. God help you if Furman is at the wheel.

Of course, because the story needs conflict, Skywatch happens. Skywatch is a human agency whose job is to locate and eliminate all giant space robot threats. Prowl blows cover when the humans make it obvious that the kid gloves are off, ready to kill a Decepticon named Breakdown, and all hell breaks loose, as it is wont to do whenever the Transformers are involved.

Also, everyone looked like this, and it was bad for my eyeballs:

That night-demon is Ironhide. Don’t get too attached to him, he won’t be around for long. But then maybe also do, because he comes back, thanks to the power of comic books and being a giant robot. Do whatever you want, I’m not your mom.

Ironhide’s death leads Optimus to remove himself as leader of the Autobots, and he surrenders himself to Skywatch, because he hasn’t made a heroic sacrifice in the last twenty minutes.

By way of yet more property damage.

Optimus doesn’t name a successor, because he no longer feel fit to choose one. It’s probably actually so there’s plot tension over who the next Prime will be.

Also, Spike Witwicky fucks. He fucks and it’s awful.

With Optimus gone, Hot Rod- Rodimus now, though it’s never established when he decided to change his name or why- gets the hell out of dodge, having had his fill of Earth, and he takes a few friends along with him. Or, at least, he tries to. Decepticons kind of ruin that plan… and then they don’t, because they want in on some of that sweet, sweet getting the hell off of Earth. After all, the war’s over- no point in fighting anymore, right? Of course, Swindle is a part of the group, so take whatever that guy says with a grain of salt. A big grain, like the ones that come out of those fancy sea salt grinders.

Back with the guys who’ve decided to stick around for Optimus’ inevitable return, Bumblebee’s been nominated as the new leader of the Autobots. So much for being the kid appeal character- boy’s got responsibilities now.

Right after democracy happens, Ultra Magnus shows up looking for the boss.

He’s here to look into Ironhide’s death and Optimus’ defection/surrender to the humans. Dude must have booked it to get here, because that was like yesterday.

Any and all interactions between Spike Witwicky and Optimus go pretty much like this:

More people leave Bumblebee’s leadership. Rodimus is hunted down by Ultra Magnus for treason. Swindle channels his inner bisexual and starts dishing out some sweet finger guns.

He has excellent form.

Skywatch uses tech to lock the Autobots into their alt-modes, and starts targeting the defectors, in an attempt to get Optimus to talk to them.

Thundercracker watched TV for a year and a half, then had a midlife crisis, and now he’s following Swindle. Swindle starts asking Rodimus for more troops- er, friends to help them get off of Earth faster, trying to butter him up by calling him Rodimus Prime. I’d love to be able to tell you how that makes him feel, but you try parsing this friggin’ facial expression.

Magnus shows up, tries to arrest everyone, then leaves. Thundercracker has an epiphany about the nature of beauty he’s found in humanity, his soliloquy contrasted with the visual of a baby with a man’s head, and it’s genuinely upsetting to see.

All the faction insignias are photoshopped on, and it’s kind of distracting.

Swindle betrays Rodimus. Quelle surprise. Menasor shows up, and starts throwing robots around. Optimus Prime is released from prison and gets in touch with his inner monster truck. Rodimus steals Magnus’ ship and peaces out.

Over in space, the Decepticon forces have resorted to cannibalism to supplement rations, and Starscream has the Matrix of Leadership on a necklace.

The art switches over to something sort of like Hellboy, and that’s pretty cool. Too bad it only lasts for a single issue.

Skywatch and the Autobots form a tentative alliance. Megatron isn’t actually dead. Two guys in Skywatch throw themselves through a plate glass window for funsies. Spike commits a robot revenge killing. North Korea starts producing energon, and is working with the Decepticons.

Comic books are wild, y’all.

Spike doesn’t respect Bumblebee’s authority, going completely around him to talk to Prime while he’s having some alone time. The US President addresses the public in front of a hyperrealistic American flag.

The Autobots go covert in order to violate the UN sanctions. All the Transformers have vanity plates with their names on them. The Combaticons have a picnic on the lawn and show off their polyglotism. Optimus Prime gets in touch with his inner monster truck. The Autobot Naval forces get involved.

Bumblebee uses his pretty eyes on Thundercracker to try and convince him to help out, seeing as the Autobots don’t have any real air support at present, but it doesn’t work.

They’re very pretty. Thundercracker must have an iron will. Everyone gets weirdly handsome. The phrase “honked off” is used. Optimus Prime gets in touch with his inner monster truck.

I’m like 80% sure that license plate isn’t legal.

China gets involved, and it gets a little weird. Nuclear action is taken.

Cosmos will not be getting a lot more respect around here.

Thundercracker commits acts of terror to destroy the energon plants. Bumblebee addresses the rioting masses, and gets shot with a laser gun for his troubles.

Rodimus makes a pun and gets shot out of the sky. He survives by pulling a Indiana Jones fridge maneuver.

Starscream is turning into Gollum. The Cerebroshells are used with great flourish by Rodimus, who then holds Starscream at gunpoint. He shoots the Matrix.

Wow.

Rodimus attempts to sneak off of the asteroid, only to run into a rebuilt Megatron. Megatron proceeds to shoot him so hard in the chest he’s rocketed into orbit and is missing most of his torso.

The Don Figueroa cover of issue #14 seems to suggest that shooting Optimus Prime in the crotch is a valid plan of attack.

The gun Bumblebee was shot with looks an awful lot like Megatron’s alt-mode. Optimus isn’t mad, just disappointed. Ultra Magnus rejoins the narrative. Not a single human being in the military has a haircut that would pass regulation. The anti-robot cult is introduced. A sign that says “Fuck Robits” is seen in a protest. Soundwave shows up with his awful gremlin children and busts all the captured Decepticons out.

This guy needs to learn to double-knot his laces.

Megatron takes a little vacation in South America.

The gunman who shot Bumblebee was hearing voices from his electronics.

Megatron now comes in grape flavor and the Decepticons have a space bridge.

Megatron has a phone in his hand, and it’s very silly looking. As in, he makes a phone shape with his hand and that just works. I can’t take him seriously. The Megatron guns are actually part of Megatron, and were used to make the gunman shoot Bumblebee. Speaking of Bumblebee, he’s got one doctor keeping him alive at present, and it ain’t Ratchet. It’s some little old man.

Thundercracker comes home to find Starscream has broken in. Starscream has the Decepticon insignia on eight different parts of his body, including the crotchal region.

They show a woman get crushed to death on the news.

Brawn is given a solo mission, finds Starscream, and kicks his ass.

Megatron shows up on Earth. Ultra Magnus transforms to confront him, but he was carrying Bumblebee in his alt-mode and I’m not sure where he went when that happened. Megatron and Magnus have a little banter, then Megatron is shot, where it’s revealed that he’s actually running around in leather chaps and hot pants.

What a fashion icon.

Optimus and his team emerge from the depths of the ocean, having had their plane crash about three issues back. Everyone looks very put-out by the situation.

Brawn helps Thundercracker get to the doctor’s office.

Optimus Prime and Megatron finally have their little reunion. Turns out Megatron dumped all the Autobots with Ultra Magnus inside the city limits, where a bunch of hooligans with Megatron guns live. No word as to where Bumblebee went when Magnus transformed, but he’s here now. Jazz takes Spike and his coworker to save the day.

Megatron is having a moment.

Optimus fucking shoots Soundwave in the face, thus making himself just as bad as Megatron…? Not really how war works, but okay! Crisis averted.

Just kidding, because Jazz shoots a cop so hard he vaporizes. Good work, buddy.

Optimus goes on a solo mission to go kick Megatron’s ass, and jumps out of a plane, punching through the Decepticon’s ceiling. Megatron invites everyone to come out and watch him and Optimus beat the shit out of each other. Cosmos and Jetfire throw a satellite at Megatron from orbit.

An excellent question.

Megatron brings Optimus over to Omega Supreme’s digs and surrenders himself, then is promptly placed in the full-body harness. It’s… it’s something. Megatron reveals that it was Spike who murdered Scrapper the Constructicon like fourteen issues ago. Optimus is all “no waaaay, he’d never do that, I’d trust Spike with my life and also my wallet.”

Optimus immediately puts Prowl on the case though.

Rodimus falls down onto a planet, the Matrix having superglued itself to his chest to keep him from bleeding out. He looked pretty dead the last time we saw him, but he’s doing loads better now. He’s captured and made to be the power source of a large ship, so those who inhabit said ship can get off of the doomed planet they’ve been trapped on for ages. Rodimus ain’t cool with that, so he blows up his restraints with his flame-out ability and runs off. He hides in a cave, only to be attacked by a massive monster. Don’t worry though, because he’s saved by the mysterious Jangle Man.

The Jangle Man is Wheelie, who’s gone full Castaway.

Rodimus gets patched up and then watches Wheelie get high off music.

One of the lackys that brought Rodimus aboard the first ship shows up and attacks, only to be subdued and immediately spills all the beans he has. Rodimus channels his inner anime character.

Rodimus cooks up a plan to get everyone home, and it involves trickery, lies, and the power of music to tame the savage beast. He straps his chest into the power cables and, with only an addled Wheelie to watch over him, does the thing.

Rodimus wakes up to the Matrix having been removed from his chest. Problem: Wheelie piloted them to Cybertron, which is currently a gigantic, uninhabitable mess at the moment. Rodimus tries to get them pointed in the direction of Earth, but that doesn’t work out so hot.

Someone breaks into the ship. It’s Ironhide and Sunstreaker. Rodimus declares himself dead. He’s not, but he might end up that way if he lets the scout that just saw them loitering around outside the ship get back to his boss.

Galvatron comes into the picture, and Rodimus books it. They use their rations- because energon is blood, food, fuel, get well soon card, birthday present, and everything else for the Cybertronians- to power the ship and head back to Earth.

Speaking of Earth, Bumblebee’s not dead. He’s got a cane now. Rodimus shows up, gets some weird Bible-like captioning, and Bumblebee about has a conniption over the Matrix. Rodimus is all ‘whatever, little yellow dude’, and so is everyone else, as Rodders goes up to Optimus, hands him the Matrix, and then is officially named Rodimus by the space pope.

Optimus decides he needs to go to Cybertron to kick Galvatron’s ass, and invites anyone who wants to come with.

Bumblebee’s mad that no one’s listening to him anymore, not that they were really doing that anyway.

Optimus and his team fuck off into space, beginning their journey back to Cybertron.

Prowl gets a few minutes alone with Megatron prior to that, though. He’s well on his way to cracking the case of Scrapper’s murder.

Thundercracker fucks off into the sky, surely heading back to his bachelor pad to catch up on his stories.

And THAT, dear children, is the entirety of The Transformers, up to issue #22. We’re all caught up and ready for what’s to come.