#get that mons so i can keep getting debt

[gurugirl]

Can We Start Over? | Ch. 2 The Job Offer

Series Summary: From the first day you and Harry meet, your relationship is beyond complicated. A one night stand leads to hurt feelings and then a job opportunity that you simply can't pass up is offered. But can you handle working for a man like him? rich!harry x plus size!reader | enemies to lovers

A/N: This is a 5 part series commissioned by @justfattiethings (thank you hon!).

Chapter 2. Summary: You can't stop thinking about what happened the night you met Harry and how much you hate him. But then you get some really good news about a new job. Except there's a catch.

Word Count: 9k

Warning: 18+ only, angst, alcohol consumption

Can We Start Over? masterlist

“Oh my god, Y/n. What a fucking dick. But your response was gold! I wish you’d stayed to see what happened. Holy shit!” Brandy laughed as she clinked her glass with yours, “That was some gangster shit right there!”

You both laughed at your recount of what had happened with Harry. You met your best friend Brandy for Sunday brunch at your usual spot. You had called her on Saturday after your exit paperwork was taken care of with Mr. Spector and said you had some very interesting news to tell her but that you wanted to share it in person. This wasn’t over-the-phone kind of gossip. It was a with-a-martini-in-hand face-to-face kind of gossip.

“And besides… the most important thing is at least you got off. Typical fuck-boy, good in bed but an absolute slut.”

You nodded, “Exactly. And it doesn’t bother me too much, really. Not now. Plus Mr. Spector gave me a really nice parting bonus. And I’m sure I’ll be matched with someone soon for another gig but even if it takes a few months, I won’t have to dig into savings thanks to him.”

And it was true. Mr. Spector presented you with the check and a hug and well wishes and you were nearly in tears by the time you left his estate. The movers were there the whole time, taking furniture out of his lovely home. A home you’d gotten to become very familiar with over the years. You held events and small parties there, you helped him redecorate the master suite and all the bathrooms (well you organized it all and helped the decorators and builders with the design and material selection). You even had your own room there. Not that you often needed to stay but that was part of your job description as a personal assistant. Sometimes you needed to stay. But usually, you’d go home at night.

The service that you worked for assured you there were a few clients in need of a personal assistant and if it was a good match, they’d refer you. That was important. To have the right match. You were lucky you were single and without kids. That meant you were more flexible. But that didn’t guarantee a good match.

You were sure you’d be enjoying a couple of weeks off work off to do nothing. It sounded fantastic.

.           .           .

You hadn’t expected to get an offer so soon. When Monica emailed you on Monday afternoon with the file and details of your new assignment (if you accepted) you perused the document with your mouth agape. You’d been matched with someone with what was known as stealth wealth (most were), who traveled frequently. You’d need to keep a bedroom in their home (not out of the norm) and travel with them from country to country. You would negotiate holidays and time off once meeting in person but the salary offered was the first thing you saw when you looked at the contract. There was no pressure to sign but how could you say no to an offer that would erase your college debt and allow you to buy a home in a year? You couldn’t let this one slip away. 

You emailed Monica back right away that you’d accept it and like to move forward. The next step would be to meet in person. Then, you’d find out more about who you’d be working for. The service was very discreet. The client was always given absolute anonymity until it was time for the first meeting.

You stared at your computer screen as if to will Monica to respond faster. Sipping your coffee you tapped your foot against the floor in anticipation. You kind of would have enjoyed some time off. A week or two of downtime. Sleeping in. Catching up on all the movies and shows you hadn’t had time to watch on Netflix. Order in pizza and Chinese, and day drink in your pajamas. But this opportunity wouldn’t be on the table for much longer. Another person would snatch this up in a heartbeat. That dollar sign alone would see to it.

When Monica finally responded you placed your mug of coffee down, held your breath, and clicked the email.

You’ll be meeting with the client tomorrow at 8:00 am at an address that will be sent to you via our private messaging app at 5:00 am. He requests you bring a physical copy of your resume and if you both agree to terms tomorrow he’ll bump up your salary 10% automatically. Confirm this is okay and I’ll set up the rest. Monica

You squealed as you quickly typed back a resounding Yes! Book it! Thank you!

You stood up and paced. Okay. So you learned the client was a he. Well, you’d blow him away. You’d make him want to hire you on the spot with that lovely little 10% bump.

You already knew the outfit. Thanks to working for Mr. Spector, you’d been allotted a stipend for very nice, and well-tailored outfits for when you needed to look chic and professional. Great for a first meeting, your double-breasted jacquard wool coat in neutral colors with a pop of blue, and your blue silk button-up tucked into your jacquard wool skirt, matching the coat. Stylish, flattering, and appropriate for meetings with a wealthy man who would undoubtedly be dressed very nicely as well.

It was perfect. You couldn’t believe how lucky you’d gotten. A new assignment so quickly and one that paid so well? It felt like fate.

.           .           .          

Harry had his house manager, Lucio, contact a highly recommended service to find a personal assistant for himself. He hated to find someone new because that was just one more person who knew his business. And he preferred having very few people in his circle. But Thasi was dumb. He couldn’t bear to have her working for him another minute. She had trouble with very basic tasks, like adding events to his calendar. She’d even missed two flights that he had booked for her and the last flight she missed he only realized it when she came into his study with a folder asking him about an account he needed to close out.

He stood from his desk and looked at the girl in astonishment, “Thasi. Why are you not 30,000 feet in the air right now? Why are you here standing in my house asking me this question? You are meant to be headed to New York City.” His voice was firm. Irritated.

The girl dropped her mouth open and blinked her eyes until it had finally dawned on her that she had forgotten to make her flight to meet with an art dealer on Harry’s behalf.

“I take it by the look on your face that you now realize your irreversible blunder. You’re fired. I’ll have your things sent back to your home by tomorrow afternoon.”

The poor girl couldn’t even argue with him. She knew she’d blown it. That was her second missed flight, of equal importance. And Harry felt he’d been quite generous and patient with her by giving her another chance. But he shouldn’t have.

So when he learned about Personal Premier Services from a few of his colleagues he decided to look for a PA that way rather than on his own like he had with Thasi. Harry’d had good luck finding staff for everything he needed for the last five years without help. The personal assistant was something rather new to him as he usually did most of his own errands by himself or had Lucio do them. But things were changing in his business and he needed an assistant quite desperately.

Harry woke before the sun rose and took his morning jog. He loved getting his day started earlier than most people. It meant he had time to do things like, exercise, catch up on world news, meditate, shower, and eat breakfast all before most other people would even be out of their beds. He also wished he could just stay awake forever. Wished he didn’t need sleep. There were so many things he could accomplish during the hours he wasted sleeping. But, being that he was only a mere human, his body required sleep.

“Sir? Y/n Y/l/n has just arrived. I have her waiting in the sitting room. Would you like me to bring her up?”

Harry cocked his head and looked to Lucio as he sat his pen down, “What did you say her name was again?”

“Y/n Y/l/n.”

Why did that name somehow feel so familiar?

“No. That’s okay, Lucio.” He stood from his chair, “I’ll go and greet her myself. Thank you.”

Harry’s immediate instincts told him that name was familiar. But why? And oddly, he first let his mind wander to it being you. But it couldn’t be. You were at the ball and he was certain you were wealthy just like him based on your outfit and your demeanor. He’d only gotten your first name that night, not your last name. And while Y/n was your name, the person looking for a job waiting for him downstairs certainly wouldn’t be the same woman who had put a used condom on his hotel door’s handle only to have his now ex-friend-whatever-she-was find it.

Yes. The ex-friend. Aster. He knew he should have stopped their little arrangement before she got too attached. It was never meant to be anything serious. From the start, he told her he was seeing other people but she never wanted to hear about anyone else he might have been sleeping with. And when he realized she started getting attached he should have recognized it was time to end it. But he didn’t.

Harry clenched his jaw and swallowed.

The knocking on his door had come a lot faster than he’d hoped. Aster wasn’t even supposed to be there. Her flight had been canceled so she wasn’t going to make it to New York City. He told her he’d see her the following day when he flew back. But of course, she rebooked a later flight without him knowing. As a surprise. And the call from Aster telling him she was on her way had shocked him and really put a damper on the night he thought he’d be enjoying with you. He just hoped she hadn’t passed you on her way to the door.

As soon as he opened it up, Aster slapped him across the face and held up a napkin with a blush-colored lip stain on it and a scribbled note. But what really had his attention was a droopy condom on his doorknob. Fresh with his come.

“What the fuck, Harry? What the fuck?!”

“Aster, I don’t… what is this?” He knew goddamn well what it was. It was you. “I think someone is just playing a joke on me. This isn’t mine…”

“The note, Harry? Whoever it is knows your fucking name.” Aster pushed passed him to make her way into the room.

Harry looked down the hallway and then cringed as he pulled the condom from the knob with the discarded tissue he picked up off the floor.

“Babe, this was just a cruel joke from someone–“

“Don’t you dare call me babe! And I don’t believe you. Who is going to play this kind of joke on you and then write your name on a napkin from the event you were just at?” She tossed him the napkin, “Hmm? I bet I know who. Someone you just fucked and kicked out because you didn’t think I’d come.”

Harry looked down at the napkin. Sure enough, it said A Secret Garden in the City with Alfred Spector’s company logo printed on it, as well as the note you’d written – Thank you, Harry xx. Bitch. He dropped the napkin onto the bed and ran a hand through his hair.

He didn’t know what to say. And it wasn’t like he’d been all that serious about Aster to begin with. She was gorgeous and they’d known one another for a while but that was where his attraction ended. In all honesty, he didn’t like her that much. Perhaps this was for the better, as much of an asshole as that made him seem.

“Aster, look…” he sighed and sat down at the edge of the messy bed, “You and I weren’t exactly serious. It’s always just been casual. You know that,” he looked at her with her hands on her hips, red in the face, tears just breaking her lash line. “I’m sorry. You and I were never headed for marriage. It was just some fun for a bit.”

“Some fun? I flew out here to see you on a whim. Not because I thought you were just a bit of fun but because I actually did like you. But you know what? You’re right. I don’t think I could have ever pictured myself marrying someone like you. Selfish, pathetic, overly regimented. You’re doomed to die alone, Harry.”

She pressed her lips together and waited for a response but when it didn’t come she stomped toward the door, slamming it behind her on her way out.

Harry smoothed his expensive blazer out and brushed off the feeling he was getting as he walked through the hallway to the foyer and then peeked into the sitting area where his interviewee would be sitting and waiting for him.

He nearly jumped back when his eyes met yours. Both of your faces held the same expression. Complete shock lined with minor disgust.

“This must be a joke,” you stood up from the plush silk-lined chair you’d been sitting in and looked around the room as if someone were going to pop out and tell you that you were on that show, Candid Camera, and it was all for a good laugh.

But the only person in your sight was the man you had a one-night stand with. The cocky asshole who’d treated you like garbage and then kicked you out of his room when he got a call from someone.

“I think there must be a mistake… You’re… are you a personal assistant? I’m confused.” Harry mimicked your body language, pivoting himself to look around to see if he could find someone and demand answers.

“Yes. That’s what I do for a living. But clearly, I have no intention of working for anyone like you, so if you don’t mind…” you picked up your briefcase and began to walk toward Harry to move past him and see yourself out.

But just as you walked through the threshold of the sitting room to the foyer Harry spoke, “Y/n.”

You stopped and turned to look at him in question.

“Come. Let’s have a chat,” he turned and began walking toward the grand stairwell that led upstairs, turning back to make sure you were following.

You blinked your eyes and scoffed as you looked down at your red-painted nails. Should you follow him? What would be the point? Just to hear him insult you and turn you away at the end anyway?

“You are looking for a job, are you not?” Harry spoke from the bottom of the stairwell, his hand on the lacquered wooden banister.

“I am. But… I don’t think this would work out.” You gestured at him.

“You and I are professionals and you come highly regarded. I’m in great need of an assistant. At the very least we can have a discussion and see where it takes us. I don’t like my time wasted and I’m sure you don’t either. You came all the way here. Let’s at least talk.”

Harry thought you looked cute and he could see the gears turning in your head. He could deal with the one night he’d had with you and the very improper thing you’d done which outed him to Aster if you were good at what you did.

“Yeah, but we…” you chose your words carefully, “Friday night? I honestly don’t think–“

“I can look past that if you can. This is strictly professional. I’ve no interest in anything more.”

What were you to do? He hadn’t just been a one-night stand. He was an asshole. Could he really pretend that none of that had happened? Could you?

But. There was the matter of the salary he was offering. An enticing and frankly irresistible number that could have you swallowing your pride.

“Fine. But I can assure you I will not tolerate being treated like…” you paused to carefully choose your words again. You were certain his house had staff listening in.

Before you could find the word you were seeking, Harry spoke, “Like an assistant who is paid to do her job flawlessly?” He began to take the steps upward and you followed.

You frowned at his description. As if you wouldn’t do your job flawlessly. You weren’t sure what he was implying but you had a bad feeling about this.

When you followed him into a large study with dark woods and big windows with heavy drapes, a huge walnut desk with an expensive chair and bookshelves lining one of the walls he closed, and locked, you noted, the door behind himself, “Sit.”

You looked at the plushy green velvet chairs with tufted cushions and ornate carvings in the arms and legs and placed your bag down on the chair next to the one you sat in. He sat in his own chair at his desk and looked at you, a harsh expression on his face. He was far more intimidating in this setting.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” he spoke clearly as he kept his eyes pinned to yours, “What you did when you left that night is unforgivable in a personal setting. And because of that, you and I will never be friends. But that doesn’t mean we can’t work well together as boss and employee. I expect complete discretion and a professional attitude from anyone that works for me. Is that a problem for you?”

You felt your ears growing hot as your anger slowly rose, “I am the most professional and discreet personal assistant you’ll ever find. Anyone else will disappoint you and I would also expect that any employer would treat me professionally and fairly. What you did to me that night was insulting and something I will never forget nor forgive. So don’t worry, I’d never want to be a friend to anyone like you.” 

Harry clenched his jaw at your response and nodded, “Fair enough. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s talk job details and salary.” Harry looked down at his folder and opened it up.

“Salary? That part was already determined. Plus 10% on top if we come to an agreement on terms of employment today.” You reminded him.

Harry laughed and looked up at you with his head tilted to the side as if he were curious about you, “That was before I knew who I was offering such a generous salary to.” He looked down at the paper in front of him, marking something out and scribbling over it. He held the sheet of paper out to you.

You squinted at him and leaned forward to take the paper and your eyes widened at the new number he’d written in on the contract. You laughed and crumpled the paper as you stood from your chair, dropping it onto the floor and lifting your bag, “Goodbye, Mr. Styles.”

Turning and walking over the grand Persian rug that took up most of the floor you reached for the handle and when you pulled realized the door was locked. You placed your fingers over the keyhole and turned back to the smug fucker. He sat comfortably in his chair with his brows raised at you, unimpressed.

“Unlock the fucking door. This conversation is over.” You were fuming.

“And why’s that? I feel like that’s just a starting place. A negotiation if you will. Tell me why you deserve more and maybe I’ll consider it.”

“This isn’t a game. You had a perfectly fine offer that I was willing to negotiate off of but now you’re just insulting me, once again might add. I’d never work for anyone for that wage. Much less a self-absorbed man who treats women like rubbish.”

Harry folded his lips into his mouth as he tampered his grin. His cocky attitude was infuriating, “Oh please. Save the dramatics. Sit.”

You scoffed and shook your head, “No. You’re an overly egotistical moron with nothing to back it up. I will not stand for being insulted this way.”

Harry pushed himself out of his chair and began to walk toward you, “Nothing to back it up? Wrong,” he grinned as he looked around his extravagantly decorated room and back toward you, “This home is a great example of what I’ve got to show for my accomplishments. My bank accounts as well,” he slowly walked to your side and put his hand onto the heavy oak door you were standing in front of as he licked his lips and looked down at your outfit before looking directly into your eyes, “And I’m pretty sure I had you crying my name over and over again when I made you come. I’d say that’s a great reason for my inflated ego. You certainly thought I was great when I had my dick inside of you.”

You swallowed and then scowled at his nerve to bring up such a thing, “Well, like you said, I’m a bit dramatic. I was overplaying it that night because I didn’t want you to feel bad. Now open the fucking door.”

Harry’s smirk didn’t fall as he leaned in closer, “Liar. You loved it,” then he backed away, giving you enough space to breathe, “Not that you’ll ever have a chance to experience it again.”

“Like I’d want that little thing anywhere near me. Now, are you gonna open the door or do I need to call 911 for attempted kidnapping?” You dug into your bag and pulled your cell phone out.

Harry laughed and you watched in dismay as his dimples appeared. He looked too handsome to be such an asshole. He put his hands up in surrender, “Okay. Fine. We’ll go back to negotiating off the original salary plus 10%. Okay?”

You sighed. You hated that you were even considering it. The salary he was offering was too good, though. You could handle him if he kept personal matters out of your working relationship. The worst-case scenario would be that you quit and told the service about him and how he treated you (of course you’d gather evidence so no one else had to put up with his shit) and then find another job working for someone else.

You rolled your eyes and moved past him to go back to your seat.

Harry rounded the desk and sat down, putting his elbows on the desk once again, just like he’d done when you both first sat down to negotiate terms, “There we go. Money talks doesn’t it?”

Unfortunately, he was right. Money does talk.

You rolled your eyes again and looked at the back corner of his office to relieve yourself from his intense gaze.

“Less attitude, Y/n. Let’s begin, shall we?”

You suffered through an hour of going back and forth on expectations with Harry but at the end realized it wasn’t that bad. Once you both got out your frustrations at the beginning it seemed to flow smoothly after.

You even talked him into paying you 15% more, rather than just the 10%. Which you felt was a big win. Harry didn’t seem that phased by it.

He led you to what would be your room, which had your jaw dropping to the floor. It was… gorgeous. Like the rest of the house, it was grand and old but well-kept. The wide plank dark floors were covered with a light cream wool rug with small yellow, green, and blue flowers woven into the fabric. Long soft, lacy drapes hung from the ceiling and brushed against the floor over the tall windows that overlooked the massive back garden full of trees and flowers and fountains. The king-sized four-poster bed had a pale yellow, silk canopy with tiny blue birds sewn into the material. The bedspread was white silk with the same yellow and blue birds sewn in. Ornate, heavy wooden side tables, a dresser with a big vanity and silk-covered cushion sat across from the bed. An antique chandelier hung in the center of the room, high above the bed. Flowers and potted plants with green leaves rounded out the space. There were two closed doors. One led to a small closet (not a surprise it was so small for the period of the house), and the other to a fully updated, spa bathroom which… you really had to pause for a bit as you took it all in.

Harry handed you keys to the house and a fob key that would allow you in the gates that surrounded the home and told you to arrange to have your things moved in by the following day (on his tab) and that you would start work at 8am sharp.

You called Brandy the moment you drove out of the gates to tell her what had just happened.

“It’s him. It’s the asshole one-night stand. I just accepted the offer to be his assistant.”

“I’m coming over with a bottle of wine. I need details in person.”

“Brandy, I’ve got to make arrangements and get everything ready, I don’t know…” you hemmed as you drove down the road with your heart beating fast in your chest. You couldn’t believe you’d just accepted to work with Harry Styles.

“Don’t make stupid excuses with me. You can do all that with a glass of wine in your hand.”

.           .           .

“I see why you took the job. Damn. I’m jealous,” Brandy spoke as she stood in your bedroom doorway while you packed up things you’d need right away. Harry explained that you’d be staying at his house more often during the week than your own apartment. He ran a tight schedule and driving an hour to his house every morning didn’t sound appealing and he didn’t like to be kept waiting.

“Yeah. I was going to say no. I really was but… how can I turn down that offer? I’ve never made so much in my life and honestly? Probably never will again. I figure it’ll be like a trial run. We’ll see if he can be professional.”

You called around and found movers and arranged for them to have everything delivered to Harry’s address the following afternoon. It was still early in the day so you scheduled to have a set of your spare keys delivered by a courier by 5 pm so they could have access to your apartment the following day as you’d be gone.

You were busy the whole time Brandy was there but you were glad she was with you. You marked items you needed to have delivered and printed out a sheet of paper for a checklist for the movers.

But by the time your keys were picked up by the courier and you were halfway through the bottle of wine, you’d finally had time to sit and relax.

“You two are totally gonna fuck again,” Brandy grinned as she looked at the TV.

You scoffed and smacked her arm, “We are not. I’d never go near him again. Not after that night. I actually, fully despise him.”

“Yeah… sure. I mean… I know he was an asshole but also the way you spoke about how good he was in bed? How do you turn that down? You two are gonna practically be living together and traveling together. I don’t know… I looked him up. He’s hot, Y/n. An asshole but… we all have needs.”

Shaking your head you sipped your wine and ignored her. The thought had very very briefly crossed your mind but it was quickly pushed away because the reminder of how he treated you Friday night couldn’t be ignored. You’d never ever forget the way he made you feel so little and so disgusting.

“He literally cheated on someone while he was with me. He had a girlfriend. He fucked me as she was on her way over. Like…” you flailed your arms dramatically, “how could I possibly sleep with someone that is a cheater? I mean willingly? Now that I know?” You shook your head.

Still, Brandy didn’t seem deterred in her assumption, “Yeah… but we don’t really actually know who called him. And if it was someone he was seeing? I mean… come on. It’s not as if they were married. We can gather that much. Yeah, he’s shit for what he did but like… I don’t know,” she shrugged, “It’s not like he cheated on his wife or something.”

Brandy had always looked at things through rose-tinted glasses which was annoying. Where you were more practical and stubborn. There was no way you’d end up in his bed ever again. You didn’t know the excuse for why he kicked you out after he spoke on the phone and called someone babe. But that was beside the point. The more important factor was the way he treated you and that was simply unforgivable.

.           .           .

You were running late. You couldn’t believe it. Your alarm had gone off on time. You showered, ran through your quick morning routine, double-checked that all your things would be delivered to the correct address, and then you were on the road by 6:45 am. You allotted an extra 15 minutes in case of extra bad traffic.

But traffic is unpredictable.

“Hello?” Harry spoke into the receiver. You had your phone on speaker.

“Harry? Mr. Styles!” You corrected yourself, “Um… I’m stuck on the highway and it’s a bit backed up. I’m just giving you a heads up that I’ll be like…” You sighed and looked at the clock trying to make some kind of conservative estimate, “twenty minutes late?”

You heard him grunt in response and then sigh, “Fine. Please come up to my office the minute you walk in.” And then he hung up. That was it.

And of course, you half expected such a response. He gave you little indication of his opinion on you being late. You just hoped he didn’t hold it against you on your first day. It had genuinely been out of your hands. But then again, you being at the house with him on subsequent mornings would mean that being late in this way wouldn’t happen ever again.

When you parked at the front of the house you finagled your suitcase out of the backseat and lugged it up the front steps just as the door opened, “Good morning, Miss. Can I bring this to your room for you?” An older man stood with a smile as he scooped your suitcase away from you.

“Oh. Uh… Okay. Are you sure?” You followed him inside.

“Absolutely. Mr. Styles is expecting you right away.”

You swallowed and watched the man walk away as you took a breath. Your first day working for Harry Styles. Possibly also your last, depending on how everything went.

You climbed the stairs toward his study and knocked twice before pushing the door open gently.

“Come and sit.” He spoke right away. He didn’t even glance your way as he continued typing at his computer when he spoke.

You sat in the same chair you had the day previous and waited for him to finish whatever he was doing.

He cleared his throat and squinted at his computer screen, “I’m an art dealer as I mentioned yesterday. But… it’s more complicated than that sometimes. I deal in art and cultural artifacts that can sometimes be a bit…” he looked at you, “morally grey in the way they are handled. It’s rare but I do occasionally have opportunities and come across certain pieces when a collector is willing to pay an exorbitant finder’s fee for the item.”

“Morally grey. Which means illegal.” You corrected, keeping your eyes on him.

He shook his head, “No. Nothing I do is illegal. Some take issue with some of the items I procure and where they come from, but ultimately, everything I do is technically legal.”

You nodded. You didn’t know what he meant exactly. But you assumed you’d be finding out soon enough.

After Harry explained in detail your schedule from day to day, he had Lucio give you a quick tour of the parts of the house you didn’t see the day before. He even had a binder with your tentative weekly schedule, important numbers to have on hand, addresses, passcodes, a new laptop, and passwords to his login details for various online accounts. He also handed you a credit card, “You’ll make all your own arrangements as well as mine. The limit on this card will cover the cost of flights and accommodations. You and I will be traveling frequently, as I mentioned yesterday.”

Your morning was filled with short bursts of Harry giving you information and what to expect, but half of that consisted of you waiting while he spoke on the phone and typed out emails. You couldn’t imagine why an art dealer would be as busy as seemed to be. Clearly, he was making lots of money so there was no doubt that he was busy with clients. But why?

You researched the ins and outs of being an art dealer the evening before, once Brandy’s Uber arrived to take her home. The typical art dealer did not make the kind of money you knew Harry had. Most also typically worked through auctions, galleries, and museums. Harry seemed to be his own entity doing deals as an individual.  So you knew he wasn’t typical in his field.

At lunchtime you were hungry. You’d eaten something small before dashing to your car that morning but that had long been digested.

“Mr. Styles?” You looked at him from your spot in your chair as you closed your new laptop.

He looked at you with an eyebrow raised.

“It’s lunchtime for me. I was hoping I could get something to eat if that’s okay? You should probably also eat. I can bring you something if you take your lunch up here.” You honestly couldn’t have cared less if he ate, but you were so used to making sure Alfred ate that asking Harry was automatic.

Harry’s brows scrunched together and he looked at his computer screen, “Hadn’t realized the time. Sure. Feel free to make something for yourself or you can ask Carl to. I’d like a vegan cassoulet.”

You stood and looked at him in confusion, “A vegan… what?”

“A vegan cassoulet,” He pronounced the word obnoxiously, “Carl will know what I want. Just tell him.”

You repeated the word to yourself. Cas ooo lay – cas ooo lay… You thought it sounded like one of those French dishes you’d never ventured to try.

In the kitchen, you found Carl right away and told him what Harry wanted.

“And what for you?” He began to pull out pans and got to work right away.

“I can manage. I think just a sandwich. Is everything here in the fridge?” You opened up the door and immediately were overwhelmed by the amount of groceries and items packaged inside. The fridge itself was state-of-the-art. Everything in the kitchen was.

Carl laughed and stepped up behind you, “You can find everything you might need in this kitchen yes. But perhaps we’ll leave the cooking to me today, just until you get used to where everything is. What kind of sandwich would you like?”

“Oh. Maybe that’s a good idea. You don’t mind?”

Shaking his head, Carl reached passed you to pull out some vegetables, “Not at all. This is what I do. How about a French bread panini? I can slice up some turkey and Swiss, load it with vegetables? Or maybe you’d prefer grilled chicken and pesto? Egg salad? Or are you vegetarian?”

You laughed and shook your head, “I’m definitely not vegetarian. And the first one sounds fine. Turkey and Swiss panini. Any veggies you put on it will be good. I just don’t like mayo.”

It was wild to be having lunch made for yourself by a professional private chef. And Harry’s cassoulet looked divine but after googling it you learned it’s usually made with various kinds of meat and that the duck confit is what makes the dish. But since his version was supposedly vegan, you couldn’t imagine it tasting anything like it was probably supposed to.

You also learned that Carl wasn’t just a personal chef. He also did all the grocery shopping.

After lunch, your belongings arrived. The movers placed everything in your new bedroom and handed you the key to your apartment before they left.

“This is it?” Harry asked standing in the doorway as he looked around at the boxes and bags you’d had delivered.

“Yeah. I don’t have much I need to keep here. You’ve got the room fully furnished. Just my clothes and essentials.” You shrugged as you opened up the box near the bed.

You could feel Harry’s eyes on you as you dug into the box and pulled out your potted Pothos plant. “What?” You looked at him as you placed the plant on the floor.

“Nothing. Um,” he scratched the back of his neck, “I think it’s a good stopping point today. We’ve got you set up on everything so you can unpack and relax. Normally our days will be longer but since it’s your first…” he put both arms down by his side and stopped fidgeting, “It’s good for today. And like I said earlier, you are free to watch TV in the main room downstairs or get anything from the kitchen you need at all. You don’t need to just stay in your room all night unless you choose to.”

You squinted at him, wondering if there was some kind of catch. He was rather pleasant, you had to admit. After you both got everything out of the way the day before things had been fine. Normal even. But you still had to keep your guard up around him. And all it took to remember who you were dealing with was what he’d done that night.

You decided against going downstairs to watch TV. Maybe you’d feel comfortable enough to do that later on but that night, it felt nice to take a long bath and listen to music and then curl up on your soft, silky bed with your laptop and Netflix.

Though you did get thirsty. And a bit hungry around 8. So you ventured down and hoped to not run into anyone.

Except of course, you ran into someone. When you entered the kitchen you saw Harry standing in front of the refrigerator looking in. Apparently, he had the same idea as you.

You cleared your throat and Harry turned to see you there, “Oh, hey.” He closed the fridge and faced you, “Need something?”

You nodded and stepped toward the pantry, “A little hungry and thirsty. Is it okay?”

“Of course it is. Help yourself to whatever. I was just about to make some pasta. Something simple. Would you like some?”

“Yeah. I can help you make it. What do we need?” You neared the fridge and opened it up, pulling out a glass pitcher of water.

Harry ran down the list of ingredients, which weren’t many, and you helped him slice garlic while he boiled the pasta and poured a can of San Marzano tomatoes into a small pot.

Everything came together quickly and you both sat at the island to eat the late-night meal together.

“Tomorrow we’ll book a trip to Vancouver. Someone has a few pieces I’d love to see in person.” Harry explained what to expect on the trip as you listened.

Then you got to talking about your parents and then college. Harry shared a little about himself but it wasn’t much. You didn’t expect that he would, but he did tell you about his mom and sister. You could tell how important they were to him just by the way he spoke. It made you feel warm toward him in a way knowing that he cared about people other than himself. Something you hadn’t been sure about as he seemed so cold.

When you were both done you tried to help him clean up, “You don’t have to do this, Y/n. I’ve got a housekeeper who will be here in the morning. Why don’t you go to bed?”

“Are you sure? Are you headed to bed?” You asked as you placed the forks into the sink.

He nodded, “Yeah. Time to call it a night.”

“Do you always go to bed this early,” you grinned as you refilled your water to bring it with you to your room.

He raised his brows, “Yeah. I get up at 4:30 in the morning to start my day so 9:30 or 10 is about when I go to bed.”

You cringed to yourself. 4:30 in the morning? That sounded like hell.

You both went your separate ways as you bid Harry good night.

.           .           .

You had a busy morning. You booked a trip for the following week to Vancouver for yourself and Harry. Two nights at The Four Seasons (2 separate rooms, connected), first-class airline tickets, a reservation for the 2nd evening at a nice restaurant for four people, an on-call driver for the whole visit, and set-up details with someone’s assistant named Lana for the meeting.

Harry wanted everything to be perfect so you had to work at extracting as much information from Lana as possible. At first, Lana sent you an itinerary that was rather simple and would have most people feeling good about the meeting. But Harry took one look at it and knew he needed more information. So you spent the majority of your morning speaking with the young woman and filling in details that appeared to be missing.

“This is excellent, Y/n,” Harry looked up at you as he stood from his desk. The itinerary and all the bookings were taken care of. “I’m leaving to take care of something personal. You can have the rest of the day off. Thank you.”

You felt pleased. So far, working for Harry hadn’t been all that bad. He was picky and hard to please but you could handle him. You just hoped that the momentum you two had would continue into the weeks ahead.

.           .           .

You met Brandy out at your favorite club. You wore a cute black dress and black booties and your black leather jacket.

“Oh damn, girl! You look good!” Brandy called to you when she spotted you through the crowd.

“I can’t stay all night! I have to work in the morning, so I stop at 2 drinks!” You spoke loudly so Brandy could hear.

Brandy’s side eye told you that your friend would be trying to get you to enjoy yourself for longer. But you couldn’t. The last thing you wanted to do was to be on Harry’s bad side and be hungover the next morning.

But, Brandy was convincing. Too convincing at times.

Four martinis in and you were painfully aware that you wouldn’t be driving back. You’d need an Uber and that kind of sucked because Harry would know when your car wasn’t there. But… since you’d already need to Uber and you were already out, you had a fifth martini and danced with Brandy and forgot all about your promise to yourself.

The night grew blurry and you couldn’t stop talking about your boss.

“He’s so put together too,” you slurred as you and Brandy leaned into one another, too drunk to dance or drink anymore.

“I know. You keep saying that. And how big his cock was,” Brandy laughed and you pushed her, causing her to stumble back dramatically so you reached out to steady her but wound up falling with her to the floor in a fit of laughter.

Yeah, you’d gotten sloppy drunk.

“I need to go,” you pushed yourself up to stand as you reached for your cell phone. You could hardly see straight, and pulling up the Uber app was simply not going to work. Instead, you called the second to last person you’d texted, Harry. You really hadn’t put much thought into it.

He answered the line and you pushed your way toward the front of the club to go outside, dragging Brandy with you, “Harry!” You howled loudly.

“Where are you?”

“I’m at Club Yega. Can you pretty please come pick me up? I’m so drunk.” Your voice was scratchy and your words were watery.

Once you got outside you repeated your question, unable to hear what Harry had responded to you.

“Okay. Just wait for me outside. Is there anyone with you?” He sounded concerned.

“Brandy is here and the security guy standing by the door,” you said matter-of-factly before hiccupping.

Harry told you he’d be there soon and Brandy wobbled into your side as she used one eyeball to call an Uber for herself.

You were unable to recall how long it took for Harry to arrive, or when Brandy had gotten into her Uber and left but when you saw him, he was standing over you with his hand out, “Up you get,” he grasped your hand and helped you stand up. You’d been sitting on the sidewalk.

“Should be more responsible,” Harry chided you as he helped you to his running car, “No one’s watching over you. Where’s this friend you had with you?”

“She was here I promise but her Uber came to get her,” you stumbled into his car and plopped down into the seat with an umph!

Harry looked back at the front door security person and nodded to him as he rounded the car and got inside.

“Harry, I’m sorry. I was going to only have 2 drinks. Swear.”

“It happens. But you should have called me sooner. Don’t like that you were sitting out there alone like that. It’s late. And we have an early day tomorrow.”

You turned to look at him as he pulled into the street and reached a hand up to the curl that covered the top of his ear, “You’re so pretty. Which is weird because you’re such a fucking dick.”

Harry shook his head and laughed to himself as he kept his eyes on the road.

“I’m serious. You’re too pretty for it to be real. Your voice even.” You croaked.

Harry glanced at you quickly, “Oh yeah?” His grin widened. He knew the alcohol was talking but he certainly didn’t mind hearing your thoughts about him while you were inebriated.

“Yeah,” you lowered your finger to his shoulder and then poked at his bicep before dropping your hand back into your lap, “Nice everything. Except you’re not actually nice are you?” You let out a garbled laugh and closed your eyes for a moment.

“Hey… Come on. You’re drunk. Just close your eyes and we’ll be home soon.”

You shook your head and looked back at him, “Bossy too. But it sucks because it was so good that night. God I still think about it… and then I remember how you kicked me out like I was filthy. That was mean. Hurt my feelings.”

Harry sighed and stayed quiet. He was not going to engage in this kind of conversation with you while you were drunk. He was sure you wouldn’t remember any of it anyway.

But you didn’t stop there, “I wish I could stop thinking about it, though. S’not fair.”

Harry kept his eyes on the road and listened.

“The way you sounded when you were coming. I keep hearing it,” you squeezed your thighs together and looked out the window with a soft sigh. “Never had it like that before. But fuck you.”

Harry swallowed and blinked his eyes. He was a little surprised by your drunk confession. He liked that you thought fondly of some aspects of that night. Clearly you had enjoyed the sex. But to hear you saying how your feelings were hurt and that you were still angry about it all?

He looked over at you and down to your thigh where your dress had ridden up quickly before looking back at the road. He still refused to engage in this. You were drunk. Very much so.

“And your hands, Harry…” you reached over to brush your fingers over the back of his hand that was gripped on the steering wheel, “Oh god…” you breathed your words, “Your fingers. How good you are with them,” you bit your lip and leaned your head back into the leather seat and closed your eyes. “But still fuck you.”

When you were silent for a few minutes Harry looked over at you and noticed you were asleep.

He was glad you’d stopped staying the things you were. Your words had him confused. You were going from hot to cold fast. But he knew you wouldn’t ever reveal such things to him if you hadn’t been so far gone.

Waking you up gently, he put his arms under yours to help you out of his car, “We’re home, Y/n. Let’s get you up to bed.”

You were able to use your legs, but things were spinning. You clung tightly to Harry as he slowly brought you upstairs to your room.

When your bottom hit your mattress you laid back and sighed, “I might throw up,” you said.

Harry laughed quietly and shook his head as he helped you out of your shoes. He knelt down and unzipped the leather to pull each one off. He didn’t intend to let his eyes wander over your legs and your thighs, but your dress had gotten bunched up so he could practically see your panties. And then they were fully on view when you scooted yourself into your bed further.

Harry leaned over you and pulled your blankets up over your body, “I’ll be right back with water.”

He couldn’t believe how adorable he thought you were. Even though you were still angry at him over what he’d done he liked the sass a little. He was definitely attracted to you. There was no doubt in his mind about that. He tried not thinking about that night with you but after you’d brought it up he couldn’t help himself but to indulge in thoughts of the way you felt and how wet you got for him. Your body, your voice… You were good with your hands too, he smiled remembering your comment about how you liked his hands. But of course, the smile fell from his face when he remembered how the night ended. How shitty he’d been. But now things were too complicated and he wasn’t sure that any kind of apology would ever be enough.

When he got back to your room you were asleep. Out cold. He placed the water on your nightstand and brushed his fingers along your forehead. You were cute.

He plugged in your cell phone and smiled at your sleeping face.

“Good night, pretty girl,” he whispered as he turned off the lamp next to you before leaving the room and closing the door behind himself.

Part 3

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[quinloki]

Kinktober 2023 - Day 11

Today we're going to get a little... Unstable.

Character: Black-Leg Sanji Reader: never explicitly stated, but cis-fem implied Notes: This is part of @nagumoan's Dance with the Dead Collab.

Warnings: DARK YANDERE! You have been warned.

More psychological tension and vibes than anything else. No blood, broken bones or violence. Implications that the Straw Hats are dead. Reader's been kidnapped and held for a long time. No sexual non-con implied or otherwise, 18+

Summary: It's been too long, you've run out of fight. You're just going to accept your fate and accept his "kindness". -:- 1244

Tricks with Sanji

“Are you alright?” The blonde-haired man asks, offering his hand to you. Considering he’d just beat the hell out of your assailant, his hands were pristine, but thinking about it, he hadn’t used his hands in the fight.

“I… yes. Thank you.” You respond, putting your hand in his as he helps you to your feet. His hand’s warm, and his touch is gentle. A little firm, as though he wants you to be able to lean on him if you need to, but he’s not pulling you into him against your will.

“It’s dangerous to walk home alone so late at night, miss.” He says, turning to you with a kind smile. “You’re lucky I was out for a smoke.”

You let out a nervous laugh. “Ah, haha, it would seem so. I stayed too long at my friend’s costume party, and missed the last train. I’m in your debt, ah-.”

“Sanji.” He answers.

“Sanji… my name is -.”

There’s a heavy metallic sound and you wake up. The dream plays in your mind, and you shake it off. However long ago it had happened wasn’t important anymore. Time was irrelevant. A day passed when you had five meals – three main courses, and two snacks.

You were pretty sure they happened at the same time every day, and so every five made a single day. But you’d stopped counting days a long time ago. Over the last few months, years? You didn’t care, you’d stopped doing a lot of things.

You sat up, scooting to the edge of the bed and adjusting your night gown to be a little more presentable. He didn’t care how you looked, but you wanted to look good for him. It was a decision you had made last night, and you were going to do your best to follow it going forward. He’d been through a lot, more than you, you realized, and this was something you could do in return.

The lock to the main area turned, and you heard him enter the main room. You could hear the soft melody of the song he always seemed to hum in the morning. You’d hated the sound at first, but it was welcome now.

Humming meant he was in a good mood.

It worked better for you if he was in a good mood now that you’d made up your mind. When the door to your bedroom unlocked and he stepped in you gave him a bright smile. You hadn’t smiled in a long time, but you wanted it to be as genuine as possible.

“Good- Good morning, Sanji.” You say cheerfully, trying not to sound insincere.

“Oh, Good morning, mon bleu.” He responds. You can see the smile on his face, but there’s also some hesitation in his voice.

Not that you’re surprised, you were downright hostile at the start of things, and then almost non-responsive for a couple weeks. He’d had to force feed you to keep you alive, and that had never been a good time for either of you. The look of worry on his face, the constant muttering that he couldn’t risk losing you a second time.

You were left bruised, and Sanji exhausted, but you survived it. Both of you did. Right now, that was the important part.

You’d become resigned, and compliant, the last – you think – few weeks, but the air had always been tense. He would do most of the talking, and you would barely make a sound. No matter how quiet you were, as long as you ate and bathed and exercised, he didn’t get upset. His primary concern was always your well-being and health.

It had just been hard for you to see that at the start.

“Did… did you sleep well?” You ask after a moment. He’s been putting away clean clothes for you, and you know you could leave the room, as you had before, but you wanted things to be different.

“… I did.” He answers. His voice is a little tight, but he answers with a smile on his face. “How did you sleep last night?”

“W-Well enough.” You answer hesitantly. “I just woke up when you came down, I…” You put your hands in your lap and fidget with your fingers. “I was up thinking about things and didn’t fall asleep until late.”

Sanji closes the drawer and turns toward you. He’s usually always smoking, but he never does so when he’s putting your clothes away. “Oh? What were you thinking about, sweet one?” He prompts, coming over and sitting down beside you on the bed. There was quite a bit of room between the two of you. He never invaded your space unless he had to for your own good.

“I… um… want to…” You stopped, trying to recollect your thoughts. Sanji was hanging on your every word at this point, you hadn’t vocalized a desire for months and he didn’t want to miss it. “I want things to… to improve between us, and I thought I needed to be more, um, grateful for everything you’ve done.”

He smiles at you, reaching out slowly and brushing his fingers through your hair lightly. When you don’t flinch or pull away he smiles brighter.

“You don’t have to be grateful, mon bleu.” He says reassuringly. “But I’m glad you’re ready to talk things out.”

“Y-yeah.” You tuck an errant strand behind your ear. “I’m… not really sure where to start, though.”

“Will you let me protect you?” He prompts after a moment, turning toward you.

You give him a soft smile. “You have been all this time, how could I not?”

Sanji shifts a little closer, sliding off the bed and kneeling beside you. “Will you let me serve you, Nami-chan?”

It wasn’t your name. No, now it was. You’d decided to improve things between you, and this was one of the things you needed to accept. If he needed Nami, whoever she was, then you would be Nami. As best as you could possibly manage.

You nod. “Yes… as… as you see fit, please do.”

He reaches out and puts his hands over yours in your lap, shaking his head a little. “Your wishes are important to me too.” He smiles shyly. “As long as you let me stay by your side, I’ll do everything for you, Nami-chan… my all blue.”

“Then… then can we start over?” You ask hesitantly.

Sanji’s smile falters, but he doesn’t look upset. Just confused. He’s not sure what you’re implying by your request and doesn’t know how to answer you. After a moment you manage as sincere a smile as you holding your hand out for a shake.

“My name is Nami, it seems I’m in your debt, Sanji, thank you for saving me.” You say, paraphrasing the exchange you’d had in the alley that long time ago.

It takes him a second to understand what’s going on and he brightens more than you’d seen from him for months. Standing up smoothly, he bows easily, taking your offered hand in his and bringing it up for a swift kiss against your knuckles.

“It was my pleasure, miss.” He says. “You’ve been through quite the ordeal, I’d like to treat you to a meal, if you’ll let me.”

“As often as you wish to serve me, I’ll happily accept.” You reply, feeling relief wash over you for the first time since you woke up in the chef’s basement.

#Release the Quin #Kinktober 2023 #x reader #reader insert #black leg sanji

[tcwmatchmakingau]

The Sixth Language (part 2)

Pairing: Waxer x Fem!Reader (single parent)

Rating: T 

Wordcount: 2.1k

Warnings and tags: pure fluff; smooching; Star Wars politics; reader is a foodie; DJ don’t philosophize about food for one kriffing fic challenge (impossible)

Read the full series: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

You and Waxer exchange countless comm messages over the next few days, and he is relentlessly charming. He sends you silly holovids of tookas, terrible puns, and descriptions of his brothers’ ridiculous antics. As you get to know him better, you look forward to hearing the chime of your commlink, and you always check it as soon as you hear a message arrive. Nyra notices your distraction at work, but she wisely says nothing, merely looking smug when she catches you with a dreamy smile on your face.

Your second date is in Little Mon Cala, as planned. You meet up on the mid levels of Coruscant and wander through the quarter, admiring the way the Mon Calamari and Quarren who live here have adapted the buildings to survive away from their oceanic homeworld. Seawater fills gargantuan tanks of transparisteel, where aquatic plants and fish sway and swirl through them in hypnotic motions, and every so often, a Quarren or Mon Calamari swims by with effortless grace.

The air is dense and humid, and the scent of saltwater mingles with that of wet plastcrete and speeder exhaust. The walkways here are never dry. Even when Coruscant’s planetary climate control system isn’t dumping rain on the city, a glossy film of water covers the ground, and small puddles collect in the depressions and uneven spots. The vast tanks have a series of tunnels running through them for non-marine beings to navigate the district, and the light that filters through the water tanks casts a soft blue glow on all the beings making their way through the tunnels.

Waxer loves it.

“I came from an oceanic planet, but it wasn’t like this at all,” he says. “I’ve heard rumors that there were tunnels under Tipoca City, but I never saw them myself. Not sure if they’re even real.”

He stares, transfixed, as a star squid drifts by the glassy wall of the tunnel, and his hand rises slowly toward it. He catches himself before he touches the transparisteel, though, and turns to you with a self-deprecating smile. He takes your hand in his and holds it—to keep you from slipping on the wet paths, he says—as the two of you continue your walk through the district, taking your time and admiring the sights, before heading to one of your favorite restaurants in the whole ecumenopolis.

The owner of the restaurant is a delightful Mon Calamari woman named Pashna who came to Coruscant as a refugee during the war. When you lead Waxer into the restaurant, she calls out your name immediately.

“There’s my favorite girl!” she says, pulling you in for a tight hug. Pashna gives the best hugs: the kind that envelops you in a safe cocoon of affection that feels like home. “How have you been, dear? And who is this handsome fellow? I haven’t seen you with a boy before.”

“Pashna, this is Waxer,” you introduce them.

“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” he says politely.

“A clone trooper!” Pashna exclaims delightedly, nudging an elbow into your side. “You clever girl, I didn’t know you had it in you! I’d find a trooper myself if I were about five decades younger. You know, this man saved my planet during our civil war. He’s quite a hero.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” he says with an embarrassed expression, “but I didn’t serve at Mon Cala; my battalion was deployed elsewhere at the time.”

“Well, either way, the galaxy owes you a debt we can never repay,” she replies. “Your meal is on the house, as a small token of my gratitude.”

“Oh, no, ma’am, that’s not necessary!” Waxer says, alarmed. “I couldn’t possibly—”

“Nonsense, young man,” she chuckles. “The best thing about owning my own restaurant is that I get to call the shots.”

Waxer tries to argue, but Pashna pretends not to hear him as she saunters away from your table. He looks comically stunned, and you laugh at his expression.

“I take it that doesn’t happen often?” you ask.

“More like never,” he replies. “A lot of people blame us clones for the war.”

“That’s ridiculous!” you object. “You didn’t even have a choice to fight. They should be directing that anger towards voting in new senators, if they have such a strong opinion.”

Waxer looks thoughtful. “It’s strange to think I’ll actually be able to vote in the next election. I didn’t think that would ever happen.”

“I’m glad it’s finally happening,” you reply. “I just wish it could have been sooner.”

He nods in acknowledgement, but he changes the subject. “So, what’s good here?”

“Everything!” you exclaim. “The chowder is amazing, but the yobshrimp à la Devaron is fantastic if you like spicy food, and the grilled octopod comes with an aioli that will change your life. Ohhh, and they have an opee bisque that’s served in a fresh choya bread bowl, and the Berbersian crab salad is delicious if you want something lighter—what are you laughing at?”

“Sorry,” he chuckles. “I’ve just never seen anyone get that excited about food before.”

“Well, once you taste the food here, you might be just as enthusiastic,” you say with a grin.

“Maybe,” he says. “I’ve been eating rations and mess hall food for most of my life. It’s only the past year that I’ve really had an opportunity to try anything else.”

“Is that why you wanted to try all the different samples at the market?” you ask.

“Yeah, I guess I wanted to figure out what I liked.”

“And did you?” you ask.

He meets your eyes with a small smile. “Yeah, I did.”

The warmth in his eyes makes your heart thump painfully hard, and you take a deep breath to try to calm it. Your brain absolutely refuses to formulate a response, so you end up just staring back at him, hoping the stars in your eyes aren’t too obvious.

“What about you?” he asks. “Why do you love food so much?”

You think about the question for a moment before you reply. “Food connects us all. It’s something we all have in common, whether we’re human, or Mon Calamari, or Zabrak, or any other species. We all need to eat, and we’ve all developed our unique cuisines that tie us to our cultures and our homes, and even when we have to leave everything else behind, our food is what we take with us.”

“Like Pashna did,” he says.

“Yes,” you say. “She lost everything on Mon Cala, and when she came to Coruscant, she had to start all over. She told me once that when someone comes to the restaurant to eat her food, it’s an opportunity for her to communicate without words—a way that transcends language. Does that make sense?”

“I think so,” he says, a slight wrinkle between his eyebrows. “You’re saying that food brings us together.”

“Exactly,” you say. “Even bad food; how many times have you complained with other troopers about bland rations?”

“Every single day,” he laughs.

“I can imagine,” you smile. “For me, cooking is an act of love. It’s not just about providing for my loved ones’ physical needs; it’s a way to show them how much I care.”

“I hadn’t really thought about it like that,” Waxer said. “I don’t think the mess hall droids care much about us.”

Your heart twists. At every turn, you’re reminded of how different Waxer’s experience has been from yours, and yet despite all of the hardships he’s endured, he remains the kindest, gentlest man you’ve ever met.

“Well, that changes tonight,” you say. “Because Pashna definitely cares, and so do I.”

In fact, Pashna doesn’t even let the two of you order. Instead, she sends out a parade of food from the kitchen—small portions of everything on the menu so Waxer can try it all. By the time the meal is over, both of you are so full you can barely breathe, and Waxer has an expression of pure bliss on his face. You try to sneak payment into the server’s hands, but Pashna catches you and scolds you. 

“Don’t even try it, young lady,” she says as though you aren’t a whole-ass adult with a child of your own. “And you, young man, be sure to come back and visit me again soon. Bring a few of your friends with you. Maybe I’m not too old to settle down with a nice trooper after all!”

After Pashna hugs you goodbye, she pulls Waxer into one of her tight embraces, and when she lets him go, he looks a little dazed.

“Take good care of my girls,” Pashna tells him.

You suck in a quiet breath as you dart a glance at Waxer to see if he noticed the plural, but nothing seems amiss as the two of you leave the restaurant.

“I can’t wait to tell my brothers about this place,” he says. “Pashna is amazing. Do you think she would adopt me?”

“I think she unofficially adopts everyone she meets,” you reply. 

Waxer takes your hand again, and a warm glow of contentment settles over you. You find yourself stealing glances at him, admiring the way the azure light catches the planes of his face, emphasizing his high cheekbones and lovely, broad nose. In the dimness, his warm brown eyes are almost black, and when he catches you staring, you nearly fall into their depths.

“Did you enjoy the meal?” you ask, scrambling to mask your confusion.

“It was the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” he says. “I wish I knew how to cook so I could eat food like that whenever I want.”

“I could teach you, if you’d like,” you offer tentatively. “I’m no chef like Pashna, but I could show you the basics. No pressure, of course, but—”

“I would love that!” he exclaims. “When can we start?”

You consider for a moment. “What about Benduday? We could meet up at the market again, shop for groceries, and then go back to my place and cook dinner?”

“That’s the best offer I’ve heard in years,” Waxer says, his face alight with a beaming smile. “Thank you!”

The two of you wind your way back through the subaquatic tunnels until you reach a landing platform, where you hail a taxi.

“Need a lift?” you offer.

“No, thanks; I rode a speeder bike,” Waxer replies.

“I guess this is good night, then,” you say, gazing up into his eyes.

“I had an amazing time,” he says.

“Me, too,” you reply. “I can’t wait for Benduday.”

His eyes flicker almost imperceptibly to your lips, and he swallows. “Yeah, me either.”

He starts to step back to help you into the air taxi, and—

“Kriff it,” you say.

You collide into him with a kiss, flinging your arms around his shoulders as your lips meet his. You feel his hands settle on your waist before they slide around your back and pull you hard against him. His lips are soft and warm against yours, and you brush the tip of your tongue experimentally across them. He groans quietly and opens to let you in, your tongues sliding together as you taste and explore each other’s mouths. You run your hand up the back of his head and feel the soft, velvety prickle of his hair as your bodies mold to each other.

“Hey lady, ya want a ride, or are ya just gonna stand there and suck his face all night?” the taxi driver demands irritably.

Waxer breaks the kiss reluctantly and raises an eyebrow at the driver. “Really, man?”

The driver mutters under his breath, and you huff out a small laugh. “I guess that’s my cue. I’ll see you Benduday?”

He nods, and you give him a quick kiss on the cheek. If you’re honest with yourself, you admit that you want to ask him to come back to your apartment with you, but Kaia is there with the sitter, and you reluctantly accept that it’s not going to happen tonight. So you bid him good night and step into the taxi, doing your best to ignore the quiet voice in your head that whispers that you made a huge mistake in not telling him about Kaia in the first place. You weren’t expecting to fall so hard, so fast, and you are terrified by the thought that he might not feel the same way once he discovers your lie of omission.

Benduday, you resolve. I’ll tell him on Benduday.

—

Second A/N: the title is a reference to the idea that food is the sixth love language.

—

Tagging: @blueink-bluesoul @secondaryrealm @spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar @523rdrebel @goblininawig @merkitty49 @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella @cloneloverrrrr

#tcw matchmaking au #clone matchmaking au #212th Attack Battalion #lieutenant waxer #clone trooper waxer #waxer x reader #waxer x you

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Learning from Silicon Valley Bank's apologists

My weird hobby is taking pictures of signs, especially “vernacular” signs, handwritten and odd. The best kinds of signs tell you what other people think you are thinking, or what you don’t understand. I’ve nabbed over 4,600 of ‘em:

https://www.flickr.com/search/?user_id=37996580417%40N01&sort=date-taken-desc&text=sign&view_all=1

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/15/mon-dieu-une-guillotine/#ceci-nes-pas-une-bailout

I think you learn more about the world by delving into others’ misconceptions than you learn from their factual understandings. Facts are out there for anyone to discover, but when someone inadvertently affords you a glimpse into their wrong beliefs, well, that’s something that can’t be learned in any other way.

Which brings me to the apologists for Silicon Valley Bank, who are busily churning out incredibly revealing bad takes about why bailing out SVB was the right thing to do, and why you’re wrong to call it a bailout, and why all of this is Very Regrettable but nevertheless The Right Thing To Do.

Here’s a terrible reason to support the SVB bailout: because if we let all the tech companies who did business with it fail, you might not be able to get into your house anymore after your smart-lock fails because the cloud service it depends on cuts off the startup that made it because their bank account went up in a puff of smoke:

https://www.wired.com/story/silicon-valley-bank-collapse-fallout/

Look, if you think the fact that my Internet of Shit door-lock failed because the company that designed it made no plan to let me into my house if they went out of business would make me sympathetic to that company, you are out of your fucking mind. If that happened to me, it would make me want to tear the lock out of my door, hunt down the CEO of the company that made it, set the lock on fire, and throw it through their front window.

Here’s another terrible reason to support the bailout: if SVB’s depositors lose their money, every other large depositor will flock to Morganstanley, on the theory that Morganstanley is too big to fail, and will behave just as recklessly, but will never be allowed to go under precisely because they are so structurally important:

https://marginalrevolution.com/marginalrevolution/2023/03/can-the-svb-crisis-be-solved-in-the-longer-run.html

I’m pretty sure this is true! It doesn’t make me want to support an SVB bailout though — it makes me want to break up Morganstanley, regulate the everlasting shit out of the resulting fragments, and create massive public banks that are run by and for their depositors, insulated from the reckless, speculative conduct of these maniacs who keep crashing the world economy:

https://prospect.org/economy/2023-03-15-federal-reserve-banking-public-option/

One more very bad reason to support the bailout: “it’s not a bailout.” The Biden administration wants us to know that SVB’s creditors and shareholders aren’t being bailout here, just the depositors — everyday folken with more than $250,000 in liquid cash in their checking accounts. Whomst amongst us can’t relate to that?

https://www.nbcnews.com/meet-the-press/first-read/biden-administrations-message-dont-call-bailout-rcna74628

There are a lot of totally normal people who would suffer if not for this bailout — the people who clean the toilets or answer the customer-service calls for tech companies aren’t stock-option-fattened bros in Patagoinia vests. They’re totally normal working people who took no risks and bear no responsibility for the failure of SVB.

But come on. Does anyone seriously believe that the absolute fucking ghouls who came out against a barely-there student debt cancellation as a precursor to literal Stalinist gulags are advocating for endless billions for SVB’s depositors because of the janitors?

https://www.forbes.com/sites/mattnovak/2023/03/12/larry-summers-says-now-is-not-the-time-for-moral-hazard-lectures-about-bailouts/

Listen: people aren’t pissed off about the bailout because they want startups to fail. They’re pissed off because they are living in the century of “socialism for the rich and rugged individualism for the poor”:

https://www.reddit.com/r/LateStageCapitalism/comments/iaqdrl/as_martin_luther_king_jr_said_in_1968_this/

They’re pissed off because the Treasury official who presided over the theft of millions of houses by corrupt, bailed-out banks after the 2008 Great Financial Crisis and then wrote academic articles defending the decision to “foam the runways” for the banks with everyday Americans’ homes is about to join the Federal Reserve Board:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/06/personnel-are-policy/#janice-eberly

They’re pissed off because Biden reneged on his promise for muscular, sweeping StudentDebtCancellation in favor of a self-immolating weaksauce version that would barely dent the crushing financial devastation faced by millions of young people:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/03/utopia-of-rules/#in-triplicate

Only to have the illegitimate dotards of the Supreme Court make even that symbolic gesture moot:

https://www.npr.org/2023/02/28/1159606491/student-loan-forgiveness-supreme-court

(As to what Biden should do about it? The same thing Trump would: Pack the court. Pack the fucking court. Pack it. Just do it. The court’s legitimacy could not sink any lower. There is no downside. Do it.)

The rage at well-capitalized startups being rescued from unearned distress isn’t motivated by a free-floating techlash rage at “bros.” It’s rage born of the fact that young Americans are being put on the hook for their dead parents’ debts:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/19/zombie-debt/#damnation

There is infinite political will and bottomless appetite for money creation when VC-backed companies face distress, but when the death of your parents is followed by years of brutal debt-collector armbreakers chasing you from phone number to phone number, it’s just crickets.

There’s no question that the SVB failure resulted from a series of extremely technical phenomena that offer a fascinating peek into the behind-the-scenes forces that power an economy built on private banking and home ownership as the sole means of intergenerational wealth transfer.

But the fact that this is a complicated circumstance doesn’t mean that laypeople don’t have a right to be furious about it. We should all be suspicious of the inevitabilist narratives of the “experts” who claim that none of this could have been avoided:

https://prospect.org/economy/2023-03-15-qa-daniel-davies-venture-capitalist-bailout/

When finance “experts” tell you that you have no business opining on this highly technical matter, just remember that these are the same experts who were paid fantastic gobs of cash to certify that all these failing banks are just groovy, mere weeks ago:

https://www.wsj.com/articles/kpmg-faces-scrutiny-for-audits-of-svb-and-signature-bank-42dc49dd

Those same experts were caught bribing government officials to help their top staff cheat…on ethics exams (!!!!!!!!!!!!):

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/04/aaronsw/#crooked-ref

Even if it turns out to be true that the kind of risk that SVB was exposed to is an inevitable consequence of an economy built on private banking and housing as an asset, rather than a human right:

https://www.bitsaboutmoney.com/archive/banking-in-very-uncertain-times/

Remember that those choices are not inevitable. The decision to make housing the primary driver of intergenerational wealth transfer is both recent and very, very stupid:

https://gen.medium.com/the-rents-too-damned-high-520f958d5ec5

Private banking doesn’t need to be an unregulated free-for-all, nor does it have to be the only game in town:

https://publicbankla.com/

As SVB’s apologists insist that tech startups should be preserved lest our IoT gadgets brick themselves, or that SVB should be preserved so that the Morganstanley cancer doesn’t creep into more of our social organs, or that bailing out SVB is acceptable because it’s to defend elite startup founders, not ultrawealthy bank owners, they are missing the fucking point.

But they’re missing it in a useful way. Like any weird sign, these bad takes teach us a lot about how the people who utter them model our own beliefs. They think that people like smart gadgets. They think that we don’t want the finance sector reformed. They think that we’re motivated by schadenfreude, which means that they also think we’ve forgotten about broken student debt promises, about robosigning and the foreclosure epidemic. They think we are fully onboard with rugged individualism for the poor and socialism for the rich.

These bad takes reveal a profoundly out-of-touch elite, the spiritual descendants of the French aristos who went to the guillotine with sincerely baffled hearts, unable to imagine why anyone would be this angry at them.

Upton Sinclair said, “It is difficult to get a man to understand something, when his salary depends on his not understanding it.” It’s even more difficult to get a one percenter to understand something when the system that insulates them from the endless, spiraling economic wreckage of our new feudal economy is on the line.

Next Monday (Mar 20), I’m doing a remote talk for the Ostrom Workshop’s Beyond the Web Speaker Series.

[Image ID: A sign reading 'Pull on handle to open closet. Handle is rigid and doesn't turn.']

#pluralistic #wrong takes only #silicon valley bank #bank meltdown #what they think we think #guillotine watch #commafuckers #svb #finance #bailouts

[marvelstars]

One of the discarded scenes from ROTS which I regret where taken down other than the dialogue in which is made obvious Palpatine uses darkside energy to turn Anakin into Vader was this scene between Anakin and Padmé on Mustafar where Padme tried to kill Anakin with a knife before deciding not to because she still loved him but this was enough for him to think both Padmé and Obi-Wan planned to kill him together. This scene makes a lot of sense for their character arc in the movie.

Before their meeting on Mustafar there had been this growing tension that stayed subtext between them for most of the movie in which Anakin is asked by Palpatine to stay more and more time around him, linking Anakin to his political manouvers towards building the Empire at the same time Padme, Bail and Mon Mothma are developing the beggining stages of the rebel alliance, including developing some links to the separatist side.

There´s a moment, which is in the movie, where Padmé asks Anakin if he can talk to the Chancellor about giving up his war powers and start elections once again, which makes Anakin mad because

1.- That´s not supposed to be something decided between individuals but on the Senate

2.- He´s already been accused by part of the Jedi Council, including Obi-Wan, for being too close to Palpatine and getting benefices from that relationship when Anakin didn´t ask anything of the Chancellor, it was Palpatine decision to ask Anakin be put in the council to "keep him informed" while the Jedi Council accepted the offer to ask Anakin to spy on Palpatine using that opportunity.

Anakin didn´t decide any of that. he simply questioned why he was put on the council without being a master, which later he understands is because they want him to spy on the chancellor.

3.- So now Padmé is also thinking he must have some kind of good relationship with Palpatine which can be used to address the situation at the Senate but in reality Anakin doesn´t have any control over what Palpatine does or doesn´t do.

This is such an interesting tension because while Padme and Obi-Wan show worry over Anakin´s emotional state Palpatine has made sure to isolate them from Anakin by putting doubts not only on Anakin´s mind about them but also on them about Anakin. They start lying to him about those secrets meetings in which Padme´s discussed the creation of the alliance and while she wanted to tell Anakin she knew he was too close to Palpatine and defensive of him to be able to trust him with the information.

What´s tragic was that Anakin agreed Palpatine needed to give up his powers once the war was done, sure he believed Palpatine has been a good Chancellor so far and he agrees the Senate needs to become a more able goverment body to make decisions quicker but this doesn´t mean he believes Palpatine should stay in power indefinitely, this is in part why he was so excited in the movie to end the war because he thought everything would be solved that way, if the war ended he could leave the Jedi Order to built a family with Padme without worrying about Obi-Wan´s well being, his debt with the Jedi Order for their training would be paid, Palpatine would give up his extraordinary political powers which would lead towards the Senate and Padme being less wary of him and Padme and him could be married openly without fear of reprisals.

Anakin´s big tragedy in ROTS for me was that he wanted to help everyone of his loved ones, do what they wanted him to do, including Palpatine, even agaisn´t his better judgment, which only resulted in him being manipulated by Palpatine and distrusted by everybody else.

The problem was that Palpatine started to low key accuse Padme and her coalition of senators of betrayal to the republic(he isn´t wrong but the republic is now a dictatorship) and while Anakin didn´t believe him he also knew they have been holding secret meetings on Padme´s appartment but he decided not to say anything on the matter, much of Anakin´s cooperation with the Chancellor had to do with Anakin trying to disuade Palpatine of the idea Padmé was a traitor and the obvious consequences this would bring for her and their secret family.

So when Anakin was sure Palpatine was the sith, he told the Council who attacked Palpatine, got killed and Anakin tried to stop Master Windu from killing the Chancellor fearing only Palpatine knew how to save Padme of dying, Palpatine kills Windu and Anakin joins the Sith and attacks the Jedi temple, Padme was aware of all of this and planned to kill Anakin herself.

Their hug on Mustafar was about this, that´s why Padmé takes some time for herself before going out of her ship to meet Anakin but when Vaderkin starts ranting about them becoming leaders of the Empire, kill Palpatine and make everything as they wanted it to be, Padmé knew for sure how truly lost in madness Anakin had become, so it makes sense for her to try to kill him but decide not to because she knows Anakin wasn´t fully in control of himself and that Palpatine was in a big way responsible for the state her husband was but also that she and Obi-Wan didn´t notice it until it was far too late.

I honestly think it was a last minute decision by lucasfilm to change cut this scene because even in Stover novel, when Padmé knows Anakin is not with Obi-Wan and her and that he isn´t on the ship, she starts crying, saying sorry over and over again to Anakin before she starts giving birth? Why would she apologize to Anakin after all of this if she didn´t do anything to him? or didn´t plan to do? it doesn´t makes sense, it makes more sense she did plan something but could not bring herself to do it and that´s why she decided to ask him to run away with her because she knew Obi-Wan was coming to kill Anakin and he had a bigger chance than her on actually doing it.

Well, I think this makes for a full story which considers Anakin´s and Padme´s character arcs and I think this would have made a great addition to the tragedy within Revenge of the Sith. This moment confirms Anakin truly did lost both Obi-Wan and Padmé even before their confrontation on Mustafar and how he was way too insane at the moment to notice what was happening and gives Padme´s political arc a nice ending because she´s indeed one of the founders of the rebellion, the mother of Luke and Leia despite the tragedy of losing her husband to Palpatine and the darkside.

So in the end after both Padmé and Obi-Wan tried to kill him, Anakin knows nothing of the evil things he did served for anything, he´s now completely at the mercy of Palpatine, the Republic is lost anyway, nothing of what Padme, him or the Jedi Order did could stop it from becoming an Empire, Padme and their baby are dead and he´s become a Sith now betraying not only his loved ones but himself as well. He´s now completely dominated by the darkside and lost everything and everyone in the process, including Palpatine because he knows now everything in the "friendship" was a lie to make him fall to the darkside.

This covers some plotholes the actual ROTS movie had and completes the tragedy for all characters involved.

#anakin skywalker #padme amidala #obi wan kenobi #Emperor Palpatine #Jedi Order #Revenge of the Sith #George Lucas #Concept art #Rebel Alliance #Youtube #padme naberrie #darth vader #Palpatine

[nokingsonlyfooles]

And, Again with the Art!

This illustration is for Tin Soldier #13, Flour Power. It's been through some changes!

Woo! Finally came up to one with lyrics!

I'm doing some civil disobedience here, with a metred amount of disobedience. I'd be willing to pay songwriters a reasonable amount (like, an amount comparable to something a human being would pay for a single/MP3) for the ability to reprint/remix music with credit and a link to the original. I would be willing to work with a reasonable copyright of 2-7 years. That's not an option right now. So, I rewrite lyrics and link you to the original on YT (which has paid for the privilege of skirting copyright and can afford it), with credit. And I try to give views to the artist's official account, if possible.

I also use song titles, because we seem to have decided those are not unique enough to be copyrighted, but I have no idea if that, or the rewritten lyrics, will hold up if someone gets pissed and comes after me. This is, conceivably, a risk, but any jailbreak is.

My lyrics are Creative Commons, BY-NC-SA. I would go full public domain, but Disney likes to pull things out of there and copyright the hell out of their version, so I gotta add something to keep them away. Just in case! So, with that disclaimer out of the way, here's a parody of Master of the House that tells a different story. You can listen to the original and read along in mental stereo! (To substitute, or "sub" means to use a thing as another thing, or alter it with magic enough to do so. "Master of the Kitchen" doesn't scan, and Maggie has asked to learn about substitutions. But, by all means, reblog and make the obvious joke. Any publicity is good publicity!)

Welcome, mon Dieu, sit yourself down

And meet the greatest handler around

As for my friends, they do their best

But I can manage any request

I’ll settle the debt

Aren’t you glad you met

This guy with few supplies

Who’s a nervous wreck?

Master of the Sub, confidence is key

Specialize in baked goods and psychology

Answer with a nod, service with a smile

Invisibles require you to be versatile

Keeping track of gods and favours

And remember to be nice

But nothing costs you nothing

Before you buy, you’d better know the price!

Master of the Sub, herder of the cats

Ready with some poison or a friendly chat

Water down the wine, I can fix the taste

Somebody will want that, it won’t go to waste

Everybody loves a handler

Everybody's trusted mate

If you need it, I’ll do it

Screw it! My own mental health can wait!

Master of the Sub, always finds a way

Available for counseling both night and day

Servant of the gods, slave of the possessed

Confidant, psychologist, and total mess

Everybody’s first defender

Everybody's chaperone

But though I’ll help you through it

Screw it! When it counts I’m on my own!

Food beyond our means. Food beyond belief

Mix it with some bouillon and they’ll think it's beef

Turkey tastes like sheep, chicken tastes like rat

I can fix the texture, they won’t notice that

Deities are always welcome

Residents are pushed aside

Help them make the best deal

Then I mind them while they’re occupied!

Pay 'em for their skills, careful who they kill

Negotiate the prices and pay all the bills

That’s survivable, just a little pain

Don’t call a god to fix it, or you’ll pay again

When it comes to filling orders

There’s so many tricks I know

All these chains of deals, questionable meals

Screw it! That’s the way the money goes!

I thought the park might be more fun than school.

But gods in heaven, will you listen to this fool?

Master of the sub? Couldn’t cast a spell!

Confidant, psychologist and dull as hell!

Very little skill. Story’s pretty tragic

Guess he’s halfway clever, but where’s the magic?

I’m s’posed to write a paper, what do you want me to do?

It’s still not three pages even with the part about the zoo!

Master of the sub!

Master of the yuck.

Confidant, psychologist

I may upchuck.

Servant of the gods, slave of the possessed

Devious, incompetent and clinically depressed!

Everybody needs a handler!

Everybody likes his grub!

Let’s all learn to substitute!

Let’s all admit the point is moot

Let’s all learn to substitute from the Master of the Sub!

And, here's the shaded version. It has slightly different lyrics, but I think the newer ones are better.

No pen-paper-scan version of this, 'cos I didn't make one. Tin Soldier is a thing. I wrote it. Go read it!

#tin soldier and soldier on #writers on tumblr #artists on tumblr #illustrators on tumblr #illustrations #indie fiction #illustrated fiction #parody song lyrics #creative commons

[yoiku]

just some life updates, both yay and meh.

whoa. the doctor who diagnosed me last year and is in charge of keeping up with my mental health finally called me. it's only been uhm... almost 10 months lol. we were supposed to have a phonecall appointment last august :'D I had no way of contacting him(they always call from unknown number) so i've been phoning the clinic itself and asking them to send word that he'd need to call me. I've done that every other month since september last year. finally got my prescription meds for adhd renewed and a proper phone appointment for catching up in 3 weeks. Also a physio visit a bit before that, because boy my back is fucked so badly that the pain is now spreading to my left side in a way i don't like one bit.

I havent been able to draw much for a few weeks and i feel sad and annoyed by that. but i've just been too exhausted to focus, either from having to deal with stuff or being in pain. doing tha bookbinding at workshop for a few hours mon-wed has felt like a break from... everything else. that's been nice. finally managed to push some of my own health stuff forward, not looking forward to having to deal with doctors frequently again but here's to hoping i can get something that actually helps.

I've mainly been stressed out due to having to figure out mom's stuff again, and finding out bit by bit that she's been lying about things again. My siblings are handling stuff at the location but i'm handling everything that can be handled long distance. the medical side is pretty straightforward but the welfare and finances side has turned into a big ol' mess. I terminated her apartment's rent contract last week, since she's staying at the palliative care clinic for the remaining time. that also went surprisingly smoothly, but then came the financial stuff. she's told me and my siblings both that she's been debt free for a over a year. turns out that's not the case. I received information about her tax refunds for this year with the information that it's all being reclaimed to pay off debt that's in... what's the word i wonder... foreclosure? So i've had to call so many places only to get told nothing can be done or that i don't have the rights to do anything abt it. So I've been in contact with the social workers in her area, so that they could send requests and forms for welfare aid in my stead (they have more power over it) and I'll just send any files and financial information I can, whatever they need. while i also have to handle my own welfare stuff(which thankfully isn't as complicated right now).

All I can say is that as much as i always hear about how we have free universal healthcare in here, is bullshit. If you'd have insurance(a thing that for an example i've never been able to afford) or a benevolent enough employer who would cover some of the costs it wouldn't be bad at all, but if you're poor? good fucking luck, you have to fight the system and plead for welfare to cover the expenses, it's a whole ordeal that someone who's sick can rarely handle. Thankfully the social workers I've met so far in my life have all been stellar human beings. They actually want to help and will do whatever is in their power to do to aid you.

I'm not tired but I'm also exhausted at the same time. I'd have the energy to focus on my own stuff but the mental state is not there.

#shut up yoi #medical stuff #kinda ranty about the same stuff again toward the end there sorry about that

[moistreicher]

Chamber as a service boyfriend.

Yomber (BottomChamber)

Chamber would try and get to know Yoru so much that once he finally found out what ramen is his favorite or favorite dish to even drinks, he will buy it for Yoru. He will literally buy everything for him. From foods to leather jackets. Since Yoru is a lone wolf but learning how to interact more to valorant agents Chamber took that as an advantage to get to know Yoru till they have relationship. Yoru thinks it's just a game for Chamber this whole thing but to Chamber this is real. He will try and keep it all together considering giving all what he have for Yoru.

Imagine Yoru just saying "I know this all a game to him and these gifts so I will play along" then take whatever he can from Chamber. Enjoying himself with the Chamber's money spent on the items he asked for. Yoru asked a lot and Chamber only thought is give everything what Yoru wants. Even in mission, he will back him up and willing to play as a support for him and giving Yoru the kills as Yoru takes the pride.

Yoru did noticed something. He noticed how Chamber is going too far he thinks. Too far on how much he gives him gifts, how much he spends, how many fancy places he brings Yoru to and how many items he had asked for and Chamber didn't complain a thing. He somehow feels bad that he is using Chamber for his own advantage as he intends to in the first place. He now thought "how did I repay him with all this?" He could only recall Chamber being so nice to him. Chamber is different towards him. To everyone his a suave french man but with Yoru, he has a genuine smile. Almost honest. No, he didn't even repay him at all. He even recalled the time when they were on the mission, Chamber got hurt for Yoru while Yoru is so distracted on hunting down the enemies he forgot to check on Chamber. He felt so bad to Chamber.

The next thing Yoru does is go to a bakery and picked a sweet pastry as he doesn't even know what Chamber likes. He bought it and now it's time to find Chamber. It's unusual for the French man to disappear from his side for more than an hour. He did find him tho, he was sitting at the corner outside of the Valorant headquarters. He hold his hand up holding the bag of pastry and said "here, for you." Chamber was surprised. He just received a gift from Yoru.

He blushed then replying "Mon dieu Yoru! You shouldn't have!" Yoru only insisted for him to eat it. Chamber however, felt something in his chest. It felt warm but also a pang in his heart. He feels happy but he also feels undeserving. He couldn't stop thanking Yoru that day. Even messaging Yoru in the middle of the night. Yoru felt happy too. Finally repaying Chamber and then he gotta repay the rest . He started gifting Chamber more and more now as he feels great giving Chamber some little things that makes him happy although he fears it's not enough to repay Chamber. Chamber on the other hand is confused now because Yoru is now gifting him such pretty items and other sweet pastries Yoru thinks he would like and feels he doesn't deserve all this much. It's a little war between them gifting each other until unexpected thing happened.

"Yoru, can you... Stop gifting.. me?" He said meekly. Feeling so undeserving of everything and would rather give than recieve. Yoru was surprised cause why should he stop? His giving the man he now loves a gift to make him happy. Chamber turned his head away and spoke "I just think... It's too much.."

"Too much?? " Yoru repeated. A bit baffled with his eyes wide open. "I just think--"

"Chamber, you gifted me so much that I feel in debt to you because I can't give you anything in return." Yoru explain. He held Chamber's hand. Chamber looked at him with worried look. "It's only right that I give something in return. I want you to have beautiful things too even tho they're not so expensive." Yoru continued. Chamber doesn't want anything in return. He feels happy giving what Yoru wants and he feels so guilty when he gets a gift instead because he thinks he put a burden to someone to gift him and is indebt to them. Clearly thinking his undeserving of them but Yoru is here to make sure he deserves all good things as much how Chamber makes sure Yoru gets the best quality products. Yoru forcefully dragged Chamber tugging his tie and kissed him directly. With their lips touched, they both felt a tingling in their body as their heart beats faster. They pulled away at the same time and Yoru pointed his finger to Chamber. "You deserve all good things as much as how we deserve each other. Remember that." He said. Chamber felt happy hearing that despite sounding as a aggressive love vibe.

#valorant chamber #chamber #yoru valorant #valorant yoru #yomber #fanfic

[meirimerens]

I'm sorry if this is a weird question and its totally ok if you dont want to answer it but, if you dont mind, how did you enjoy your experience in art college? Do you have any tips or things to say to those who want to or are considering following the same path? I'm finishing high school in some months and i really dream of persuing art in the Academic's Way but everyday i fear not being able to "get a proper job" or "be a 'productive' functioning member of society" if that's what i decide to do (or even worse: Getting a job, or just getting into college, but starting to dread (making) art. I think this is what messes with me the most. I know how capitalism can make you hate your job and i dont know if i'm ready to. Idk. Go through that when it comes to art-making). I really love drawing and making art and studying and observing art and there's nothing in the world I wish to learn more about than it, but suddenly I feel so much doubt & fear & etc... again sorry if this is too personal, you definitely dont need to answer if you dont feel like it !!! hope you have a good night/morning anyway

Hello my darling i can try to answer that

long to follow:

let me start with a few things/disclaimers of sorts which weighted Quite A Lot in my ability to enjoy college and that might be wildly different where you live:

i went to an art college in France (because. i live here) and through post-highschool education without having to worry once about being in debt in my early twenties. i have no loans to pay back. i could go back to the school and get a master without needing to take one, i could decide to go to a different uni without having to worry about debt. i don't have on my back the Weight you might have, if you're American, to know you might have to reimburse thousands or tens of thousands of bucks in student loans.

another thing: i did not, and do not have still, parental pressure to Get A Job. my parents always have been insanely supportive of my desire to go to art college, and even as i now, today, am overcome with doubts and "damn i should do other studies to have a chance in the job market", they've never been like ":/ you're not gonna go very far in life with that art degree…". they want me to get a job i will Like bc they've accumulated Sucky Jobs their whole lives but they've never mocked me for my art studies path, for my desire to work in the arts/literature. they're not people who value Being A Good Capitalism Pawn And Doing A Sucky 9-5 Until You Die, which i am very thankful for, but it might not be the case for your family, your friends, your culture.

ok now that The Lore is out of the way let me keep going

our art college experiences WILL be fundamentally different unless you go to the Specific one i went in france. the functioning of that school is apparently even very different than its own neighbors within the country, so everything i say will be vastly different for you, period.

art college To Me mostly brought me four things: new ways to see, speak of, decipher, understand, and make art (so valuable); new frameworks to talk about and understand my own art and others (SO VALUABLE!); new skills (namely engraving and photography); and fantastic people to meet. if you do go to art school i Pray you meet people who are so interesting so different from you and do art in such specific ways that you will have your world rocked. to me, just these 4 things fundamentally Changed Me (for the best), and even if i get no money from it i consider that experience so anchored in me.

this is likely a Culture thing, but most of us in art school knew Damn Well we had a lot of chances to not make money with our art LOL. like the recurring joke was "étudiant en art aujourd'hui, chômeur demain" ["art student today, unemployed tomorrow"]. and it wasn't a… big deal? like it wasn't a Hustling Culture at all. number of my classmates were fucking hippies (AFFECTIONATE) LOL.

that's a lot of rambling to say that i wasn't 1) brought up in a Money-Centric family who will push me out of the house so i can go #grind and are perfectly comfortable with me taking time to build a portfolio bc covid kinda prevented me from doing that teehee 2) studying in a Money-Centric school. even if, today as i did then, i'm very much aware i might not have the Best Perspectives For A Bountiful Coin-Getting Future, i still have the ability to Go Back To School if i want without it being a sure way to get myself in thousands of bucks in debt.

our experiences Will be insanely different, so LET ME GIVE YOU A FEW TIPS THAT MIGHT OR MIGHT NOT WORK FOR YOU

connect with people. YES it's hard and harder if you're shy you're gonna have to do it.

go to any lectures or whatnot that interest you so you can 1) connect with people 2) Meet New Interesting Faces

if your school brings artists from Outside for workshops/lectures/whatnot, ask them question… look at their work… etc… some schools have Working Artists as professors so if there's one whose work you love TALK TO THEM ABOUT IT.

if something your professor says Interests you, asks them for more reading on it, more references, etc… even if you don't read em! it will 1) show them you care 2) give you more stuff to come back to if you ever DO want to read em lol.

if your school has photography/engraving/design/whatnot classes that interest you, jump on the occasion. it might Unlock something in you, and that's a skill you can market anyways.

if some students in your school decide to make a little.. school newspaper, or artists' group, or this or that, JUMP ON THE OCCASION. again, that might be a marketable skill later. you can even try to make one yourself!

in case of another covid lockdown: CHECK WHICH OF YOUR CLASSES HAVE POSSIBILITIES TO BE HAD ONLINE! a lot of art history classes can be online, but most classes where you learn a new skill With Your Hands will get fucked over if covid hit. my school relied A Lot on you Coming To It and being on your own in huge rooms and working on your own and then meet professors about it, so then covid hit, a Huge Part of the actual work you did in school got fucked over, which made my 2nd and 3rd years Not The Best. if you can, try to have a good balance of classes you can have online and classes you have in-school so you don't get Too fucked over if another plague hits.

if your school organizes like… exhibitions, or has artist calls for projects… keep an eye on em. participate if you can. i didn't participate in a lot during my own years and i'm sad about it :( don't do like me!!! actually bite life as it comes baby.

damn that's long. ok. tldr: we Will have vastly different experiences. that's unavoidable. here ^ were some tips.

from me to you + something i might abide by: if you Love art hugely, but feel like Making It for money so you can eat will make you feel like shit… well i can understand. i can empathize. at the end of my cursus, most students are kinda expected to become self-employed artists, but as you can guess… rough life. SO! if you love art but Making It For Profit fills you with dread, here are a few ideas from me:

study art history! even if you're not interested in being a professor of that (which is also A Good Thing To Be + my 1st year art history professor easily one of my favorites i've had), museums or galleries or institutions sometimes look for people who've studied that for mediation jobs (when you welcome a public and Tell Em about what they're looking at). you can study art history Broadly or focus on little things. for ex. i might decide at some point to go back to uni for a art history focus and maaaybe even prehistoric art focus.

what else. if you an artist Now try to participate in zines, or make your own even if they suck so you can put that on a resume (and again, IF you go to art school and your classmates/YOU start a little school newspaper… that shit goes in the resume!!!)

if you have any time and/or motivation, get yourself some online classes about like. adobe suite (you can pirate it honestly) or generally softwares that Art People Love. again -> marketable skill babey!!!!

i'm not sure if Any of that is valuable to you. i wish you all the best in this Bitch of a world.

#ring ring (answers) #anonymous

[slightlysuspect]

State of the Union

The Galactic Senate meets to address their financial state now that the Clone Wars have finally ended.

Bail Organa

"I'm very eager to discuss our options to pay your debts." Senator Nix Card announces on the Senate floor. "Rest assured we will be most flexible."

"We meaning the banking clan." I say to Representative Binks next to me. Now that the Separatists have officially surrendered, all anyone wants to do is discuss finances.

Chancellor Taa asks, "Well what specifically did you have in mind?" As if he doesn't already know. I'm sure Taa has already agreed to it, and collected his fee. All that remains now is to sell it to the Senate.

"Believe me friends, nobody wants to see the Republic bankrupt." Card says.

"Deregulation of the banks was a grave mistake." I say to Jar-Jar. The amount of debt we managed to accumulate in the tail end of the war is obscene.

"Weesa in deep doo-doo." Jar-Jar says. I've always found him rather insightful.

"I am pleased to announce the Banking Clan's latest initiative." Card continues. "We wish to get involved with the reconstruction effort for the rebuilding communities across the galaxy."

"Could you please enlighten us what it means for you to get involved?" I ask to the floor.

"It's simple really." Card responds. "In these times of uncertainty across the galaxy, people need a localized governing force. A force the Banking Clan is looking to oversee and develop. If our legislation could come to pass, I am certain we could restructure the Republic's interest rates." Oh the interest rate is drowning us. For a fleeting moment I'm almost willing to hear him out.

"Am I supposed to believe you would be remotely concerned for the well-being of these people being governed?" I ask.

"That's enough Organa." Taa says. Incredible. Not only does he do nothing himself, but he makes it more difficult for the people around him to do anything as well.

"I will not be intimidated off the stand!" I exclaim. "If we aren't willing to talk about the people at risk, then what on Earth are we debating?" Taa has nothing to say to that. He's such an idiot. Dangerous as Palpatine was, I almost prefer his tenure.

"Bail rest assured I hear your concerns." Card says. "And believe me the responsibility to serve the people is one the Banking Clan does not take lightly." What a load of fodder. But what more can I say? Thankfully Mon Mothma jumps to my aid.

"I, for one find that notion laughable." She says. "People this is not the way! We made mistakes in the Clone Wars, but as we move forward, we must push out of this shadow of corruption we've fallen into! If we allow the Banking Clan to occupy Star Systems, then we are truly lost." Mon is truly an unstoppable force. Even with Padme in a coma, she's just as ferocious on the floor. I on the other hand feel I've lost my edge.

"Thank you, Mon Mothma." Taa says. "She is right. We cannot allow this."

"Chancellor please if you would only listen, you would realize the sincerity of our words." Card interjects. "In the massive power vacuum across the galaxy, the people are suffering. If we could just be allowed to help them."

"Keep in mind these are Confederate systems." Senator Ask Aak says. "They can't be left unsupervised. They may just go and start up a rebellion!"

"Oh no, let me quell your fears Senator." Card says. "No rebellions will be springing up in areas that are supported by our resources."

"How much of the Confederacy are you looking to help?" Chancellor Taa asks.

"Well all of it of course," Card continues, "but unfortunately we can only do so much, so we wish to focus our effort on the Inner Rim Confederate planets."

I interject, "First of all those aren't Confederate planets, those are Republic planets. We fought a whole war to keep the Republic alliance unified, and then we would so easily sell them to the Banking Clan?"

"Please Senator you are demonizing us." Card says. "We only wish to aid in rebuilding these Republic communities, as they struggle to recover from the terrors of war, and my friends from the Techno Union and Corporate Alliance also wish to reach out to the people."

"That's correct Senator Card." Senator Gume Saam of the Techno Union says. "We can focus our relief to the Middle Rim, while the Corporate Alliance can provide the Outer Rim with the help they have desperately needed since before the war." I'm surprised the Corporate Alliance even wants the Outer Rim. It can't be controlled, we just loosely claim ownership over them, and mostly leave them alone. But more importantly...

"Why is the Corporate Alliance involved in this deal?" I ask. "They were clearly aligned with the Separatists for the entire war!"

Senator Card retaliates, "Senator please the Corporate Alliance was deceived by evil the same as everyone else. They were just as blinded by Count Dooku as we were by Chancellor Palpatine. As we move forward, we must unify and forgive our past transgressions, and assist our neighbors in these times of growing uncertainty."

"You speak of unity, but remind me again why none of the Confederate systems have been allowed representation in the Republic Senate?" Mon Mothma asks.

"Please Senator Mothma that has nothing to do with the matter at hand." Chancellor Taa says.

"I beg to differ." Senator Mothma retaliates. "If there is to be a vote on the occupation of the Confederate systems, then the Confederacy should be allowed to vote on it." A reasonable request by any metric, but I fear she speaks upon deaf ears.

"Senator please this is no occupation." Gume Saam says. "At its core it is a relief aid initiative. Our focus is on healing these worlds, and we absolutely want them to be represented in the Senate, but should the people continue to suffer while we argue over policies?"

Mon Mothma says, "You really think you can sell me on the idea that you care about the people? Take your blatant lies and-"

"That's enough deliberation for the moment." Chancellor Taa says. Mon gives him a look of violent fury. "Let us reconvene tomorrow."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"Unbelievable this new era of corruption." Mon Mothma says to myself and Representative Binks after the meeting. It's incredible what they've already gotten away with. Both the Techno Union and the Corporate Alliance financially backed the Separatist's war machine, and both should've gone into crippling debt as a result. However, the oh too convenient timing of both Nute Gunray and Lott Dod's death left the Trade Federation completely vulnerable. When the blame game got played during surrender talks, everyone pointed to the Trade Federation, who also conveniently enough owned the lion share of the Separatist debt. The Trade Federation goes under, the Neimoidians are condemned as warmongers, and everyone else comes out richer. The only people paying their war tab is the Republic.

"The Corporations can propose whatever they want on the floor, that doesn't mean it will pass." I say. "Who are our allies Mon?"

She scoffs. "When did it become so rare to be a Senator who wants to do the right thing?"

"Meesa will be opposin' the relief bill." Jar-Jar says.

"It's not a relief effort!" Mon exclaims.

"Mon please, Jar-Jar is on our side." I say. She's a fantastic voice on the Senate floor, but Mon can be bad with people more directly. That was always Padme's specialty.

"Yes of course. My apologies Representative Binks." Mon says. "Oh how I wish Padme were here. She was always so good at pulling allies out of thin air, and altering votes."

"Yes it has been hard without her." I say. "But we must strike this legislation down. It's what she would want."

"Indeed." Mon says. "So let's get to work."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"Surely you can see the danger of complying with the corporations, Meena." Mon says to Meena Tills, the Senator for Mon Cala.

"Obviously I don't like it, but you haven't addressed the elephant in the room." Meena says.

"That elephant being?" I ask.

"How are we going to pay our outstanding debts?" Meena asks. "As little as I want to entertain the Banking Clan's proposal, I quite simply don't see any other options. Our financial irresponsibility has left us drowning, and if we don't negotiate with the corporations, we will have to file for bankruptcy."

"Yes we would." Mon says. "Believe me bankruptcy would be a far superior option compared to corporate occupation."

"Maybe. Maybe not." Meena says. "But if we refuse corporate aid, then we will be broke, and people across the galaxy will suffer while the war profiteers sit on their fortunes."

"So you really believe the people will be better off if this bill passes?" I ask.

"I do." Meena says. "If we refuse this aid, then where will help come from? We certainly don't have the means to help anyone at the moment."

"Are you really so blind Meena?" Mon asks. "The corporations have no desire to help anyone, and what happens when the Corporate Alliance comes knocking on Mon Cala?"

"Maybe you're the one who's blind." Meena responds cooly. "In your desire to be against this legislation, you refuse to acknowledge the wealth of positive outcomes from supporting it. And Mon Cala never defected from the Republic. The Corporate Alliance won't interfere with us."

Mon scoffs. "We'll see about that."

Author's Note

I really like this one. I don't know if politics is interesting to read about, but I think the political landscape of the galaxy is critical to my AU. So have patience my nonexistent readers. It's all coming together.

#star wars #fanfic #alternate universe #bail organa #mon mothma

[jehovahhthickness]

So I’m getting closer to re-newing my lease(I have to be out by Sept.) and I’m toying with the idea more and more to live in my ‘21 Nissan Sentra and go travel to the east coast and just do Uber eats until I can find a steadier office job in some state over there. I currently live in TX and I’ve lived my whole life here except for 3 mons before the pandemic I lived in NYC. I LOVED the East coast. I’m 29 yr old college graduate with no kids (I have a little dog tho) and I’m not crazy close to my family here in TX, and I HATE my temp job at a multi-national company job making $16 (which they just recently cut our hours to only 40 hrs a week so I’m barely making it now)…I’m in credit card debt $4.5k w/ no savings, no real friends..I’m unhappy and there’s nothing keeping me here. I figure I would need to make around $1.5k a month to pay all my bills(gas and food included) if I live in my car. If you were me, would you go out and do this? Or is living in your car too scary for you?

If I were you … I pick the option that won’t leave me homeless and living in a car with my dog.

And I would try to lock down housing and a very promising job before I move anywhere.

[moreonthisanon]

08/06/2023

I know it's been a while, but I've been distracted and working and reading more than I've been writing. But I have an entry now.

I know this blog doesn't really get around because it's new and it doesn't really have to possibility of showing up in people's tag searching or anything like that. But I thought Id write something to ask an opinion anyway, whether or not I get one.

And yes, it's about my husband and his girlfriend again. I wish I had something else to blog about or a more interesting life, but that doesn't seem to be the case here.

So, from my husband's girlfriends family, they apparently go on these camping trips. Which is cool, I like camping. My husband and I were invited.

Until I wasn't.

Or shall I say UN-invited.

My husband just told me today that she feels bad about it, but since it's on their 2 month anniversary, I think, she just wants him to come. He said he'd talk to her about it, but I can't help but wonder....

I know I'm not DATING her as well, so it's not like it's required that I'm included in the things they do. But I feel like whatever we had established before, is being tread on a bit more.

When the relationship virtually OFFICIALLY started, my husband did say he established "guidelines" sort of, and told me of them as well.

But what I'm seeing, is curious...

I was told:

• Weekends are my time because I work 2nd shift Mon-Fri and don't get to hang out except for in the mornings when we wake up.

- She's been invited to spend the night Sunday night at our house because she's off Monday, so they hang out on Monday until she leaves. She comes at like 8 at night on Sunday night to do so, but I barely get time with him when he takes his 3 hour naps just before she comes over. And that depends on if we're actually doing anything together beforehand. So I feel as tho my time is being stomped on.

I don't know if this is confirmation that I'm not poly in some way, I guess? But I feel as tho that I'm not enough or being replaced in some way.

I can't do much else than work my life away and have very little time or the weekends to do anything because I'm doing everything I can to pay debts, bills, and rent, to keep everything in our life functioning. But then he's free to gallivant around with his girlfriend, without a care in the world.

I know he feels like shit for not being able to work for approx. 5 years and he's been cleared now so he's waiting for people to get back to him for job offers. So that's good. But all I can see is my efforts being shoved back into my face.

I know in poly relationships, even if not everyone in involved it, like one is poly and not the other, they should make time for both or agreements for such things to keep everyone happy. And I'm not exactly and outspoken person, espeically if I have concerns because I have controversy issues from trauma. But I feel like as the one who is married to him, I feel as tho I'm just being shoved to the side.

I'm not a demanding person and in introverted as hell. I don't need a lot of attention. But I've been with him for 6 years. There's some kind of bond there that feels like it's being challenged and stretched beyond it's limits right now...

Don't get me wrong, she's well within her rights, based on how poly relationships work, to want alone time with just him. I may want to take part in anything that's not just eating, sleeping and working, but technically I know it's not my decision to make when I'm not technically involved in THEIR relationship. I have no right to tell them what they can or can't do, within reason of course, but I can't demand that I go if they, more so she, doesn't want me there.

When he told me, I said if you don't want me there that's fine, I guess I'll just continue working my life away while y'all have fun. I like camping, I'd like to do fun stuff and relax outside of boring work and worrying about money. But what say do I have when it's technically involving just him and her and her family traditions.

But at the same time, what am I then?

I know I can't give him any sexual release because I'm ace, and that's just not my thing. And he got a girlfriend because he wanted companionship and sexual relationship while I'm at work mostly. But what else am I, if all I do is pay bills and work. We may be in a relationship, but nothing really comes out of it aside from living together in the house that I pay for basically.

I don't know what to think or do, i know I can fix things by saying something, but I'm so constipated when it comes to talking about the things that bother me because I'm a people pleaser and I don't want him upset or her upset. And I know my thoughts are valid, but I don't know what to think right now when it feels like I'm not needed aside from taking care of the expenses for us to have a home to come back to. But that seems to be all at this current moment in time.

Am I wrong? Opinions?

- MoreOnThisAnon

#journaling #anon #journal #personal thoughts #poly #relationships #blog #open discussion #poly relationships

[voidcat]

HI DANYLLLLLL

It’s been so longgg since we’ve talked indeed!

I’m being buried alive in schoolwork and tests and not to mention I’m accumulating more sleep debt than last year that at this rate I won’t be able to pay it off :’) it’s a miracle how childe still hasn’t come for me because of how much debt I have to be repaid eHe-

I’ve reached ar35 on genshin and things are so much harder now 😭 the talents and weapons and artefacts take so much time and resources plus levelling up characters tooo. Luckily my team’s elemental reactions are carrying me but I am still trash against level 60 hilichurls in the second ascension quest 💀:’)

I’ve recently had my piano performance for an assessment in music class and it went pretty well; and then I accidentally wrote 1975 instead of 1795 which my teacher caught on because I had written “this Beethoven sonata was composed in 1975” and IT WAS SO FUNNY LMAOAOA

How are things going for you mon amie? Anybody whom I need to beat up? <3

KICKING SCREMAING CRYING THROWING UP FORGIVE ME J THOUGHT I ANSWERED THIS IRL NOT JUST IN MY SLEEP

Anywyasss hiiii my dearest Silver how are youuuu i missed u lotsss

With summer near the shore I hope you are finally free of the hell that is school work. And go get that sleep or else 🔪

If u were in eu server id pop by to help uuuuu artifact farming is pure hell sadly

And aaaa i hope the performance went as lovely and amaizng as uuuu<33

God i missed u pls talk more in the server bc i keep forgetting abt this website nowadays,,,, im v exhausted lately as u can guess lol

#silver !! #answered

[grandmasickomode]

ok so I wanted to do something like @unmecha's oc pages for their ocs so here we go.

PAULINUS

TYPES: Poison and Dark predominantly but will keep any Mon that suits her fancy

CENTRAL STRATEGY: Depends on the upcoming fight but mostly focuses on disrupting existing strategies by any means.

ALLIGNMENT: Royale

Paulinus TECHNICALLY isnt a Pokemon Empire oc, shes from the Lobotomy corporation universe but im not gonna make a brand new oc for these games.

Paulinus is wrapped up with the royal family in ways she's willing to disclose... not that you can tell if she's lying. She will say shes an illegitimate heir one day, then say her family has worked with the royal family for generations.

The fact remains that Paulinus has internalized her role in the royal family's lives as the unofficial Official Black Ops unit and Evil (tm) Advisor to the crown. She's more than willing to step over the line if it means that the Royal family is put back where they belong. She personally will put the council's heads in pikes if she has to, and stand there and take the blame.

Ultimately, she isnt a total barbarian. Paulinus is a calm, supposedly unflappable young woman, who does her research. She doesnt like going in unprepared, and will always want at least SOME modicum of knowledge relating to what lies ahead before she takes a step forward.

While she seems charming and amicable, she also is not here to make friends. After all, friends are jettisoned once shit hits the fan, and she would prefer not to deal with the emotional fallout and ties. Unfortunately, life happens so the few people she marks as 'friends', she will personally move heaven and hell to make happy. Even if it conflicts with her morals, she rationalizes that its all part of the plan, that she can use this opportunity later. That they will owe her for this and that they will need to do things for her to repay their debt.

In Empire, the game gives you two childhood friends. Pauli likes neither of them and tolerates them for the sake of appearances. Well, with Alanah at least. Alanah is a good link to the Council's movements and rumblings, and North is... in Pauli's words, 'a simpering barking little Council pet who would lick their boots to feel some sort of satsifaction with his life." She DESPISES North and once he stops being useful, he's going to be stabbed in the back and burned to ashes.

And yet, she cannot help but have a fondness for Jeanne, @unmecha's oc.

Her non-Council, non-Royale mindset are 'adorable', and she would gladly assist her in her many endeavors... for favors, of course. She thinks that she's simply misguided, that her talents might do better on a more refined side. She also adores Jeanne to piss Taylor off, and doesnt hesitate to sneer and comment on everything taylor does. Never in a rude tone,just rude enough that the message gets across.

Pauli's battle strategies are what she calls 'run and gun', meaning she will generally opt for the typical strategies one uses in a pokemon game (stats up, baton pass, sweep, or hazards abd whirlwind strats). She also will use any strategy in order to handle whatever is in front of her, be they gym challenges or rivals. However, if she can get away with it, she prefers to deal with slow debilitating statuses, as well as changing pokemons type to remove stab, and expose them to adverse hazards.

Hwr naming schemes tend to be old timey names, usually inspired by greek or roman naming schemes. But she cannot help but get lazy naming her mons if she catches them at a late hour. Such examples include Euripedes (Poison/ice Boreaptor), Antigonus (Fire/Dragon Chemera) and Bart (Gulpin).

#Octag #Sorry about the lack of formating Im on mobile #I need to work on Castillo's and Anthony's next...

[devil-enby]

.

#i want death #why is it so hard to jsut live #i keep going bad with money #i try so hard to stay alive and keep bills paid but its so damn exspensive #and im so damn tired #so fucking tired #theres too much going on #so many things to think about and i just want peace #i just want to cry it all out but im at work✌ so gotta keep it together #get that mons so i can keep getting debt #love this system called capitalism

[gentrychild]

no but i bet its super funny cuz like. u know ppl speculating whether aoyama thought izuku was also secretly working for ofa? imagine him assuming that no, it's just a coincidence... until izuku just. starts getting more quirks. aoyama is so confused clearly he must be working for afo there is no other explanation but WHAT is he offering him, considering aoyama basically got indebted for life for just ONE quirk and izuku just. keeps getting more (and its ones that are a LOT stronger than his one, what the hell even was that black whip monstrosity??). he must think izuku is like, the most loyal inner-circle afo spy lmao.

This is hilarious but this must have been one of the most stressful and frustrating experience for Aoyama, which makes it doubly hilarious.

Aoyama: "I am very small, very tired, and my parents signed me off for one hell of a student debt when I was four. You can imagine the kind of stress I'm under."

Midoriya: *breaks the zero-pointer and also 25% per cent of his bones*

Aoyama: "Okay, I guess it could be worse..."

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Aoyama during the Sport Festival: "Okay, I don't know if Midoriya is really than unlucky or if he is also a traitor, probably charged with stabbing All Might in the back?"

Midoriya: *repeatedly breaks his bones just to mess with Todoroki*

Aoyama: "No, seriously, did he made fun of the main character of my night terrors before he got his quirks? What could have pissed him so much to give him a bone-breaking quirk???"

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Izuku after Hosu: *comes back with a quirk that looks completely different right after he was in a place full of multiquirked villains*

Aoyama: "Okay, I was convinced that I was imagining things but that's it. He asked for another quirk. O mon Dieu, I have to betrayed my friends and live in fear for a quirk that keeps hurting him. What the hell is Midoriya supposed to do?"

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Aoyama after he heard that Midoriya put Overhaul into orbit: "Hey Midoriya, my friend, mon ami, my pal, potentiellement la personne chargée de réduire UA en cendres, do you have a minute to talk about how similar we are and cheese, but in a really cryptic way?"

Izuku, just vibing with his haunted quirk: "Sure!"

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Aoyama: "Midoriya is a pure soul, a true hero, and even though his quirk is fucking weird, I am now convinced that he has nothing to do with All for One."

Midoriya: *gets Blackwhip out of nowhere*

Aoyama, later that night: "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA OF MUCH STUDENT DEBT YOU'RE ACCUMULATING WITH THE DEVIL HIMSELF???"

Midoriya, still confused about the Cheese Incident: "Is that the French way to ask if we could hang out?"

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Todoroki: "Yes, it was kind of crazy when Midoriya started to fly and manifested the ability to sense danger."

Aoyama: T_T

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Izuku's notes: "Yeah, so I got this quirk from All Might..."

1-A: "All Might can do that???"

Aoyama: "Okay but what about the three other quirks????"

#Aoyama just assumed that the solo arc was just Izuku on the run from AFO because of how much he owed him #The French is still very confused #bnha 336 #bnha manga spoilers #bnha asks #aoyama yuuga