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fernreads · 1 year

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Technology is touted as a privilege in prison, but it's a superficial fix—one that's both monetized and monitored at every turn—replete with the same dysfunction, violence, and other subterfuge that always hides what really happens in prison.

Before my incarceration at age 19 in 1997, my formal experience with technology ended with Windows 2.0 as a high school freshman. I played Sega Genesis and Super Nintendo video games, or paid quarters for tokens at an arcade. I saw dial-up internet exactly once, when my girlfriend logged into a chat room to find out when to purchase some concert tickets.

All of us who entered prison before the tech evolution of the early 2000s watched it play out on a television inside a prison dayroom, struggling to grasp new developments in our isolation outside of time. We were reminded of our isolation whenever someone new came to death row and spoke about "the internet." After a while though, they too became encapsulated in the concrete of yesterday, witnesses of the free world's technological glamor from a disconnected distance.

North Carolina prisons resisted technological advances until the mid-2000s, when canteens went cashless and a number of minimum and medium custody facilities provided limited access to pay phones. Weekly Rec Department movies were still 8mm films displayed on pulldown silver screens. Televisions were analog behemoths bolted to the dayroom wall. Nobody had hot plates, tape players, microwaves, or any tech other than a cheap digital watch and a hand-held AM/FM radio that used two AAA batteries.

On death row, we shared a single wall-mounted, steel-wired phone—identical to a pay phone, but without the coin slots—between 24 people. This system obviously came with its own limitations under normal circumstances. Those problems were exacerbated during the COVID-19 lockdowns when frustration and anxiety drove everyone to the phone, and tempers flared.

For a time, violence seemed inevitable—until a memo appeared on the block bulletin board in June 2020. In bold capital letters, it announced:

"NEW PRISONS TECHNOLOGY PROJECT"

"The Division of Prisons will introduce a new technology project that provides tablets to every offender, at no cost to you or the state of North Carolina, at all prison facilities."

Those reading the memo on death row at the time averaged 25 years in prison, each near the edge of 50. The concept of a "tablet," while simple to understand in a TV commercial, lacked any context in the carceral world.

Pay phones and profit margins

The advent of new technology in prison doesn't just allow for increased communication—it presents the state with new opportunities to make a buck.

Nationally, at the same time as the rise of social media and flip phones, an overburdened carceral system faced a growing crisis for mass incarceration. In 2005, as public officials searched for ways to cut budgets, Corrections Corporation of America (CCA) warned its investors that the demand for private prisons' goods and services would be negatively impacted by relaxed conviction and sentencing measures.

It was a perverse admission of the industrialization of prisons. More people in prison meant more money for private companies building correctional facilities—or supplying telephone services, tasers, electronic ankle monitors, and GPS tracking.

The 2008 recession supercharged the private prison industry when state governments struggled to maintain overcrowded facilities and bloated penal budgets without releasing more people from prison. By 2010 in the South and Southwest, 7 to 9 percent of all prisoners were in private facilities—compared to just 2 to 3 percent in the Northeast and Midwest, according to the U.S. Department of Justice.

Privatized prison services impact nearly everyone in the system. One such company to rise out of the 2008 recession is the online prison profiteer JPAY, a Florida-based money transfer service. JPAY streamlined the collection of money from friends and family members of incarcerated people, charging a fee for every transaction and depositing money in the prisoners' trust fund account.

North Carolina's progressive image compared to other Southern states often actually means catching up to the rest of the country. This is especially true of its prison system.

It was not until 2012 that JPAY eventually came to serve North Carolina prisons, leading the way for other profiteers to follow. Soon after, prison telecom giant Global Tel Link (GTL) contracted with the Division of Prisons to provide phone services to every cell block of every facility. By 2016, they reached Central Prison's death row. Before the phones' arrival, if one didn't write letters or get visits, a single collect call around Christmas was the only other way to connect to the outside world.

GTL—which was, and is currently the defendant in numerous individual and class action lawsuits for its aggressively opportunistic and predatory business practices, including improperly retaining money that was deposited in accounts after they went inactive for a short period of time—was the first to meaningfully connect incarcerated people with their friends and family.

For a fee.

By 2019, GTL—which rebranded itself ViaPath Technologies in 2022—reported revenues of $318 million for services provided to nearly 2,000 prisons and jails in all 50 states.

As beneficial as access to a phone is to the incarcerated population in spite of the fees, it also meant something else for prison officials: A new, amplified way to gather information from prisoners—and anyone communicating with them.

No longer did penal servitude stop at the gates of a prison. Now, it invaded the home, car, workplace, town, state, and country of anyone daring to accept a call from the inside. Through GTL, the carceral state received limitless access to the private lives of law-abiding citizens.

For us, reacclimating to a telephone seemed a silly thing at first. Who forgets how to use a phone? But after going without one for years, the rules of conversation, delay between lines, and 15-minute time limit for each call made communication discouraging for some. A number of older guys refused to use the phone. I stumbled and tripped over words while speaking to my parents. Even though an automated warning announced every call would be monitored and recorded, the pre-recorded message soon became so much background noise when it came to talking with my family.

Considering the frustration and despair caused by the pandemic and understaffing, the June 2020 memo announcing "The New Prisons Technology Project" was a welcome distraction.

"From the tablets," it read, "you will be able to make phone calls and enjoy a variety of programs and activities, such as health-focused offerings, self-help programs, and re-entry related programming to name a few."

These programs were especially tantalizing given that in 1994, the national Violent Crime Control and Law Enforcement Act stripped most prisons of educational programming and incentives for good behavior. What was referred to as the "No Frills" prison experience was really a human warehousing of many bored, frustrated, and dehumanized people with nothing but time.

The new memo about the tablets boasted video visits, a comprehensive education package that met "state standards," and a law library that had been absent from North Carolina prisons since the 1970s. Still, despite knowing the state has never been a benevolent caretaker, everyone immediately spun elaborate fantasies about movies, TV shows, music, and games. Conspiracy theories spawned rumors and misinformation, twisting talk of the tablets with dystopian cynicism.

The New Prisons Technology Project hung like a giant carrot dangling from the perpetual stick that is life in prison. Most understood the tablets as incentives for good behavior in a system devoid of them—and, of course, as a money-making scheme for prison profiteers. But many who read the memo overlooked the primary purpose of the new technology: An extension of the state's surveillance.

Screens that watch you back

As helpful as increased communication with the outside world seemed, it also allowed prison officials to monitor, record, and gather more data on incarcerated people, and their families and friends. While the impact of that access was not always apparent, there were obvious cautionary tales. Earlier this year after an incident at Central Prison, an administrator testified at the bond hearing of a man whose conviction and sentence were vacated and awaited retrial. Using the transcript of a phone conversation between the defendant and a co-defendant who turned state's witness, the Central Prison administrator helped to get the bond denied without her testimony being considered "hearsay evidence." When clips of the administrator's testimony aired on WNCN Channel 17 news at noon, it was a chilling reminder that the only private conversation in prison is the one you don't have.

Prison is fundamentally about incapacitation, punishment, control, and surveillance. Penal philosopher Michel Foucault held that in addition to surveillance, prisons should be considered as places for the formation of "clinical knowledge" about the incarcerated, both in behavior and the "deeper state of mind."

Advances in technology increase the body of knowledge prison officials build by seamlessly integrating surveillance with the ordinary course of life—and making prisoners dependent on technology in the process. This in turn allows law enforcement to collect information on ordinary people who unknowingly surrender their right to privacy by communicating with a prisoner—be it by mail, or by tablet.

North Carolina prisons had seen a rise in technology back in 2017, following an incident that April in which a prison guard was murdered by a mentally ill man incarcerated at Bertie Correctional Institution in Windsor, North Carolina. Later that same year, four other prison workers were murdered by prisoners attempting to escape from Pasquotank Correctional Institution in Elizabeth City.

After the death in April, The Charlotte Observer published a series of investigative articles by Ames Alexander telling lurid stories of compound corruption against prison guards—a result of chronic understaffing, poor wages, and little external oversight of a decaying penal system.

This increased violence—and coverage of its causes—revealed substantial dysfunction and embarrassed lawmakers. The governor's Crime Control Commission hired Duke University Sanford School of Public Policy to study the penal system's problems, and they in turn produced a staffing and security report containing recommendations for nine urgent improvements in personnel, organizational culture, and facility safety.

All of their suggestions advanced the use of technology in North Carolina prisons; from social media "good news stories" that drew attention away from the violence, to infomercials about career opportunities, to infrared scanners on perimeter fences and cell phone interdiction tech. The seventh recommendation in particular would more closely identify the penal system as a law enforcement entity by sharing information with the SBI, FBI, ICE, and local police through an "intelligence management system," citing similar models in Pennsylvania and Tennessee which they say have "allowed for more comprehensive investigations that expand beyond the prison walls to reduce crime both in prison and the surrounding area."

After the publication of the staffing and security report, the Legislative Oversight Committee on Prisons with the Department of Public Safety created the Prison Reform Advisory Board to advise the DPS on policies, programs, and services that would improve prison safety and security. Chaired by retired Major General of the U.S. Army Beth Austin, and comprised of current and former high-level prison officials, one discussion from a June 19, 2018, board meeting is especially telling.

One board member asked what the current "largest" drug problem is in North Carolina prisons. Another member replied that "synthetic cannabinoids" like K2 and spice—which are legally sold online and in tobacco shops—are especially problematic, because they are cheap and do not show up on traditional urine screens.

The meeting's minutes continue: "Mr. Mohr asked what intelligence gathering strategies are used inside the prison system. Ms. Sutton replied that phone calls, informants, and letters sent to offenders are used. Ms. Sutton stated that facilities use local law enforcement officials to assist with criminal investigations and they work with the department's Special Operations Intelligence Section."

After the Prison Reform Advisory Board submitted its findings and Todd Ishee, a former warden from Ohio's penal system, was hired as commissioner of North Carolina prisons, the next phase of the intelligence-gathering operation began. It would quickly exacerbate the dysfunction in North Carolina prisons.

Digitized and sanitized

Piloted in women's prisons in February 2020, TextBehind is another predatory profiteer like JPAY, which receives, scans, and sends digital files of personal mail to North Carolina, Wyoming, Colorado, Arkansas, Pennsylvania, and West Virginia penal systems.

Physical mail sent to TextBehind's Phoenix, Maryland P.O. Box is digitized and sanitized. No more scented letters or tear-stained notes from girlfriends or wives. No more 4 x 6 photos of siblings that remind us of a time when the whole family was together.

I had a small pop-up card collection that became my Christmas decorations. Each year, I received a new one and exchanged it with one of the old ones. When I told my mom about the switch to scanned mail, she said: "They've taken everything from us." What remained was a grainy copy of whatever was sent, several weeks after the fact, if it ever arrived at all. Physical mail became more uncertain and undependable, requiring certified or tracked letters just to be sure TextBehind could not claim they never received it.

Some states, like Florida, make prisoners pay for a paper copy of their own mail. While this does not include letters from attorneys and court documents, or books and periodicals mailed from a vendor like Amazon, few people ever receive their scanned mail, because it is either lost in this convoluted transit, or people on the outside have no desire to relinquish their privacy to the carceral state.

Commissioner of Prisons Todd Ishee claims TextBehind is needed in North Carolina prisons to screen out contraband, especially liquid cannabinoids sprayed on paper.

However, according to the U.S. Department of Justice, prison staff are the primary source of drugs, cell phones, and other contraband entering prison. The Federal Bureau of Prisons and the state of Pennsylvania, the latter of which uses TextBehind, found that once they began scanning mail through an intermediary, drug positivity rates in prisons actually increased.

Ironically enough, the North Carolina prison Advisory Board admitted at its meetings that prison staff are the primary source of contraband in North Carolina prisons too. If prison staff are the cause of the drug problem, then the switch to TextBehind was always about creating an easily accessible digital file for the Special Operations Intelligence Section and law enforcement.

Virtually identical to TextBehind, competitor MailGuard, of Florida-based Smart Communications, has "a smart tracker" surveillance system that gives officials a cache of intelligence into the public sender: home addresses, IP addresses, email, GPS tracking names, and location of devices in use, as well as any accounts connected to them.

These programs, as Stephanie Krent of the Knight First Amendment Institute at Columbia University, told The Intercept, "force writers to leave a lasting digital footprint of their words, even if they opted to send physical mail because they preferred greater privacy."

The final phase

In 2020, when the tablets were first given to every incarcerated person at Central Prison (except to those in disciplinary segregation or designated mental health segregation), a Global Tel Link sales rep-technician gave each cell block a 20-minute lecture on how to use them. The Android device, with its touchscreen, facial recognition software, and security code entry system, felt alien. The digital image of my face above the glowing keyboard appeared much older than what was reflected in the steel mirror on the wall of my cell. Others gave similarly bemused or perplexed looks. Some listened to the fast-talking sales rep, struggling to absorb an entire technological world in that fast-moving moment.

No internet access. A select number of apps to be downloaded through the GTL GettingOut app. Some of the programs, like Khan Academy, were free. Most of the apps, including messaging, access to digital photos, and music, cost $0.01 a minute—a fortune for anyone without money or an income.

One older mentally ill man in a wheelchair grew frustrated and wheeled off, leaving his tablet on the table. Another watched Jerry Springer on the TV, the tablet forgotten in his lap. It would take most of us days to puzzle through a device that had evolved during the decades of our confinement. Eventually though, the day room stayed empty for the length of the tablet's battery life.

That was another part of the tablet's purpose: Control through fascination. Distracted people are less likely to think critically about the prison system's designs or reasons for their sudden willingness to provide access to technology. The advantage of greater communication aside, self-isolating people reduced the likelihood of violent confrontation—as well as questions about the information gathered by prison officials.

Within a few weeks of the tablets being passed out, a regular population prisoner was stabbed to death on unit three. The assault was bad enough that a crime scene photographer was brought in. The stabbing, though not fatal, forced the unit into a series of lockdowns made worse by familiar structural problems like power outages and understaffing—and now, increased levels of frustration when the Wi-Fi signal was weak and inconsistent.

Sometimes the new technology worked. Sometimes it didn't.

When the GTL sales rep tried to convince leery incarcerated people that we needed the tablets, it was the same pitch used by every prison profiteer to date: a modernized, streamlined incarceration experience. Technology is touted as a privilege in prison, but it's a superficial fix—one that's both monetized and monitored at every turn—replete with the same dysfunction, violence, and other subterfuge that always hides what really happens in prison.

#article #full article under the cut #lyle c may #prison #prisons #prison industrial complex #surveillance #policing #police state #us politics #surveillance state #abolition #technology

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ausetkmt · 2 years

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Kanye West Ends Partnership With Gap

Does he even realize how he sounds saying this?

In 2020, the duo announced a planned 10-year deal for Ye to collaborate with the brand on clothing. Analysis from Wells Fargo in 2021 found the partnership could bring in $990 million in sales for the brand a year, per CNBC.

According to the Wall Street Journal, which first reported on the partnership's dissolution, Ye's lawyer sent a termination letter to Gap Thursday. This followed weeks of Ye posting about Gap and another corporate partner, Adidas, on Instagram in now-deleted posts.

The news didn't play over well for Gap's shareholders. The company's stock dropped 3.9% Thursday morning.

Why Ye's deal with Gap broke down

Interim Gap CEO Mark Breitbard cited operational differences in a memo to employees Thursday.

"While we share a vision of bringing high-quality, trend-forward, utilitarian design to all people through unique omni experiences with Yeezy Gap, how we work together to deliver this vision is not aligned," he said in the memo, per CNBC.

Ye was franker. "I'm sorry, I am not going to argue with people that are broker than me about money," he told CNBC. He has also indicated on Instagram he wants more control over his Yeezy products in general.

On Monday, Ye posted what appears to be some sort of contract with Gap and Adidas (that is now deleted, as is his habit) that said "Welp I guess the war's not over."

That same day, the New York Post reported Ye would be using Alex Spiro as his lawyer in his effort to break away from his deal with Gap — the same one who is part of the effort to get Elon Musk out of his merger agreement with Twitter.

Spiro lawyer is a partner at Quinn Emanuel Urquhart & Sullivan and did not immediately respond to an emailed request for comment.

Back in 2020, when deal was struck, it was agreed that Gap would sell a full Yeezy Gap clothing line in stores and online within the first six months of 2021, per the New York Times.

The first product that came out of the collaboration was a blue puffer jacket – in June 2021. The second was a hoodie launched in September 2021 that the company said generated the most online sales in one day in Gap.com'story, Insider reported.

Earlier this year, a collaboration between Ye, Gap and luxury fashion house Balenciaga made headlines because it was displayed in giant trash bags in stores.

Ye's lawyer told Gap that he was ending the partnership because the company did not put certain products in brick-and-mortar Gap locations or build Yeezy-focused stores, CBS News added.

What each entity stands to lose

Ye was estimated last year to be the richest black man in America. But a fair amount of his wealth is tied to partnerships with Gap and Adidas, CBS noted. He has also publicly criticized Adidas.

Gap has its own set of problems. Its stock is down 62% since the same period last year. The partnership with Ye was supposed to provide a fresh boost for the struggling retailer, per the NYT.

At the end of the day, it might have just been a bad match. Ye is someone who likes to "shake things up," whereas Gap is not, Neil Saunders, managing director at GlobalData Retail, told CBS. "In some ways, Kanye was just too extreme for Gap."

#ye #adidas #gap #ignorant

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trylkstopocket · 2 years

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New Amazon CEO’s Scary Meetings Make Sense

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Andy Jassy, Amazon’s incoming CEO, has a conference room nicknamed the Chop. As Business Insider puts it in a profile of Jassy, “The Chop is where ideas, and sometimes employees, go to get chopped down to size.”

Despite the alarming name, I’m not sure Jassy’s meeting management style is anything to be feared. In fact, other leaders could learn something from it.

The basic gist seems to be that if you’re going to be meeting with the boss, you’d best be prepared. To this end, employees prepare memos ahead of time instead of trying to wing it. Most of the meeting is spent discussing the contents of the memo, so a lot of preparation goes into it.

Amazon’s outgoing CEO, Jeff Bezos, has extolled these memos, saying Amazon doesn’t do PowerPoint. “The great memos are written and rewritten, shared with colleagues who are asked to improve the work, set aside for a couple of days, and then edited again with a fresh mind," he once wrote in a letter to shareholders.

Bezos has suggested these six-page memos take perhaps about a week to prepare. But in fact, it sounds as if Amazon employees may spend much more time than that preparing, given the high stakes and the desire to look good in front of their bosses. That sounds like a lot, but if you’re proposing a major new initiative at one of the world’s most successful corporations, why wouldn’t you put that level of thought into it?

These memos follow a structure: intro (overview), goals (business objectives and metrics), tenets (the principles that will guide the project, which should align with Amazon’s core principles), state of the business (why the project is needed), lessons learned (what we figured out last year) and strategic priorities (what we’ll do next year).

A former Amazon employee describing the memo process for The Writing Cooperative explains, “The goal is to fill up all six pages without any filler.” But there’s also sometimes an appendix that might bring the total memo length to more than 40 pages.

In the so-called Chop meetings, Jassy and the team review such memos — in the room, together, in real time. After reading and taking notes for perhaps 25 minutes, the meeting attendees then pepper the presenters with questions about their plan. It’s not a brainstorming meeting in which people bandy about ideas; the goal is to pressure-test the assumptions and data in the memo.

It sounds stressful. But it also sounds like a pretty good idea. How many meetings have you attended where a smooth-talking extrovert gets buy-in for a half-baked plan because he can make it sound good? How many sloppy PowerPoints have you seen that hide the weakness of a colleague’s logic in glossy photos and bullet points? How many meetings have you organized where half the group shows up not having done any of the prep work?

“Sorry!” the offender might breezily say. “I didn’t have time to read your email. What’s this meeting about?” Grrrr. Or maybe they try to fake it, dwelling on a short section they skimmed en route to the conference room.

Another problem that discipline avoids: the easily derailed meeting, in which a session that starts off well gets hijacked by some “blue sky thinking.” People “just want to run an idea up the flagpole.” And when you’re all finished “throwing stuff at the wall to see what sticks,” you somehow haven’t addressed the original matter the meeting was called to decide upon.

What a waste of time.

And money. If you’ve got an hourlong meeting with 25 attendees who each make $130,000 a year, it’s going to cost about $2,275. Now imagine you have one of those meetings a week. That’s $118,300 a year. If people are showing up unprepared, it’s money down the drain. And if the projects the business approves are weak ones, the meeting might cost even more. I’m willing to take a wild guess and bet that New Coke came out of some pretty lame meetings.

One more reason to bring discipline to your meetings: Most employees suffer from way too many of them. A day of back-to-back meetings leaves no time for any follow-up items to be followed up, or any action items to be actioned. Perhaps that’s one reason that 73% of people admit using meeting time to do other work — a figure that’s likely risen even higher now that so many meetings take place over video. Forcing people to actually prepare for a meeting is a good way to keep the overall number of meetings to a minimum and get more out of each one.

So, yes, Amazon prefers to run meetings in which people think through ideas before proposing them; show up prepared; do the pre-reading; and stay focused on the task at hand. No wonder they’re taking over the world.

And the scary “Chop” name? Reportedly it comes from the 492-page Stendhal novel “Charterhouse of Parma,” which Jassy read while an undergraduate at Harvard. The eponymous charterhouse is a Carthusian monastery that appears on the novel’s last page; the hero retires here to die. Jassy also named his college dorm room after it.

OK … now I’m a little intimidated.

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mostlysignssomeportents · 3 years

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Monopolists are winning the repair wars

In 2018, dozens of states introduced Right to Repair bills. These bills are wildly popular among voters, but wildly unpopular among monopolists ranging from Apple to Microsoft to Google to GM to John Deere to Wahl. Every one of these bills was defeated.

Repair advocates regrouped for 2021. 27 R2R bills have been introduced at the state level. Every single one that came up for a vote was defeated, thanks to aggressive lobbying by an unholy alliance of the country’s largest, most profitable, least taxpaying corporations.

In 2014, a pair of American political scientists published a groundbreaking peer-reviewed paper analyzing 30 years’ worth of US policy-making that compared policy outcomes to public polling results.

https://www.cambridge.org/core/journals/perspectives-on-politics/article/testing-theories-of-american-politics-elites-interest-groups-and-average-citizens/62327F513959D0A304D4893B382B992B#authors-details

They concluded that general public sentiment had almost no impact on US policy making — but the political preferences of wealthy people and large corporations were hugely predictive of what laws and regulations we’d get.

Or, in poli-sci jargon, “Economic elites and organized groups representing business interests have substantial independent impacts on U.S. government policy, while average citizens and mass-based interest groups have little or no independent influence.”

The Right to Repair fight is a hell of a proof of this principle. It’s really hard to overstate the popularity of the idea that you should be able to fix your own stuff, or choose where you get your stuff fixed.

Take auto-repair. As auto-manufacturing has grown more concentrated, car makers have squeezed independent mechanics — as close to a folk-hero as the American imagination can produce! — to the margins.

After all, forcing car owners to use official service depots has huge advantages: manufacturers can gouge on service prices, they can force drivers to buy expensive original parts, and they get to unilaterally decide when a car is beyond repair and force you to buy a new one.

Drivers have a good intuitive sense that this is going on. That’s why, when Bay Staters voted on Massachusetts Question 1 (an automotive R2R ballot initiative) in 2012, it passed with an 86% majority!

Mass Question 1 is a really good example of how monopolists can arm-twist politicians into frustrating the will of the people. Immediately after the 2012 initiative, auto-makers set about retooling their cars to escape the new right to repair rule.

The 2012 rule forced automakers to give mechanics access to diagnostic info from cars’ wired internal networks, so Big Car moved all the useful diagnostic data to their cars’ wireless networks. Hence the 2020 Massachusetts R2R ballot initiative, which closed this loophole.

The 2020 fight over the Mass. R2R ballot initiative was fuckin’ wild. The car-makers ran some seriously freaky scare-ads, in which the ability of auto mechanics to read wireless diagnostic data led directly to women being stalked and murdered.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/03/rip-david-graeber/#rolling-surveillance-platforms

I’m not making this up. The underlying premise was, “We turned your car into a hyper-aggressive mobile surveillance platform that incidentally gets you places. If we let other people see the data we’re nonconsensually extracting from you, it will put you in terrible danger.”

Thankfully, Bay Staters saw through this bullshit and passed 2020’s Question 1 with a 75% majority.

The thing is, people completely understand that they should be in charge of deciding who fixes their stuff.

They understand that the risk of poor repairs should be addressed through consumer protection laws (which also bind monopolists’ own authorized repair depots), not by having the repair market privately regulated by monopolists who have vast conflicts of interest.

This understanding has only deepened through the pandemic year, as authorized repair depots shuttered and vital equipment languished thanks to anti-repair laws and technological countermeasures.

For example, Medtronic’s workhorse PB840 ventilators couldn’t be refurbed without using a grey-market activation dongle that a single Polish med-tech homebrewed, encasing them in cases harvested from busted clock-radios and guitar pedals.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/10/flintstone-delano-roosevelt/#medtronic-again

Medtronic — a med-tech monopolist that effected the largest corporate inversion in history to escape US taxes — argues that letting independent med-techs fix its products puts patients at risk, but this argument is every bit as flimsy as the auto-makers’ Mass. scare-ads.

It ignores three important facts:

I. Med-techs have always done this kind of repair. The change isn’t that med-techs are demanding the right to do something new — it’s that Medtronic leveraged its monopoly to foreclose on the industry-standard practice

II. Medtronic’s own security track-record is comically terrible. This is the company that makes pacemakers that can be wirelessly hacked from across a room to kill its user, whose software update system doesn’t even use cryptographic signatures.

If Medtronic is an expert on any aspect of patient safety, that expertise is certainly hard-won, derived from its long history of lethal patient endangerment.

III. If there is a problem with indie technicians struggling to fix Medtronic products, the obvious answer is to provide service manuals, parts and diagnostic codes.

The case for Right to Repair is incredibly strong. Not only does R2R protect consumers from ripoffs, it also provides local jobs — 1–4% of US GDP comes from the independent repair sector, almost entirely in independent small/medium businesses.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/02/euthanize-rentiers/#r2r

Repair is an important environmental, labor and human rights story. As leaked internal memos demonstrate, Apple’s aggressively landfilling of devices (so customers buy more) is environmentally devastating and creates demand for conflict minerals.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/31/hall-of-famer/#e-waste-apple

The average American family loses $330/year because of the lack of access to independent repair, a $40b annual drag on the economy thanks to monopoly rents collected by monopoly firms.

To say nothing of the impact on jobs: landfilling a kiloton of ewaste creates <1 job; recycling that waste creates 15 jobs, while repairing it creates 200 good, local jobs that can’t be offshored (you don’t send a phone overseas for repair).

https://www.ifixit.com/Right-to-Repair/Jobs-Revolution

Then there’s the food security story: John Deere is an agribusiness monopolist that outraged farmers by claiming that they didn’t own the tractors they paid six figures for, merely “licensed” them on terms that forbade them from fixing their own machines.

Deere leads Big Ag’s anti-repair, forcing farmers to use official parts, preventing modifications that would allow third-party attachments, and collecting outrageous service call fees for a technician whose job is to unlock the tractor after the farmer replaces a part.

This policy means that farmers who fix their own tractors still can’t use them even if there’s a hail-storm coming and they need to bring in the crop. Farmers — who’ve been fixing their own gear since the first farmer built a forge next to their farmhouse — are desperate.

Some farmers download anonymously maintained Ukrainian firmware and overwrite the Deere software, creating unknowable risk of remote attack. Others have to maintain “backup tractors” they use for weeks while waiting for Deere to fix their equipment.

https://www.npr.org/2021/05/26/1000400896/standoff-between-farmers-and-tractor-makers-intensifies-over-repair-issues

Just like Medtronic and GM, Deere claims that allowing independent service creates infosec risk — but just like its anti-repair comrades, Deere’s own infosec is a dumpster-fire, with tractors across America at risk of mass-scale cyber-attacks:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/23/reputation-laundry/#deere-john

The common thread joining these firms is monopoly: a lack of competition that allows them to extract billions from the public, and a cozy cohort of business leaders who can mobilize that loot to ensure that politicians and regulators don’t give the public what it demands.

American industry is experiencing a wave of monopolism not seen since the Gilded Age, and it affects every sector. Take hair-clippers — a category that exploded during the lockdown thanks to the newly created need for home haircuts.

The clipper market is monopolized by a single firm, Wahl. As I discovered — the hard way — Wahl has designed its newest clippers so they disintegrate if you try to take them apart to sharpen them.

https://twitter.com/doctorow/status/1380554358824136706

Instead of sharpening these devices, you’re expected to buy a new $40 blade (for a shaver that costs $60 all in!), and throw out the old one — or, less realistically, you can mail them your razor for factory sharpening.

You won’t be surprised to learn that Wahl is part of the war on repair, sending letters to state legislators warning that letting people sharpen their own clipper blades could lead to fatal housefires.

https://www.documentcloud.org/documents/4446374-Wahl-Opposition-Illinois.html

Two years ago, the FTC convened an inquiry on independent repair called “Nixing the Fix.” The Nixing the Fix report was released earlier this month, and it affirms everything that repair advocates have said all along.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/07/pro-act-class-war/#we-fixit

The FTC calls bullshit on manufacturers’ claims about cyber-risk, housefires, and whether getting your car fixed by your family’s beloved mechanic will lead to your murder. It broadly and firmly endorses Right to Repair.

Which brings me back to 2021, were every one of the 27 R2R bills that has been brought before a state legislature for a vote has been defeated, thanks to heavy corporate lobbying by monopolists.

https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2021-05-20/microsoft-and-apple-wage-war-on-gadget-right-to-repair-laws

These bills were voted down after heartbreaking testimony from ed-tech repair specialists who described the devastating impact that a broken laptop has on poor families whose kids are doing remote learning.

They were voted down despite the record, the public support, the climate questions, the food security issue, the human rights issues — voted down to preserve the monopoly profits of a tiny number of firms whose claim to being “American” is tenuous at best.

These tax-dodging, offshoring companies view the American public as an all-you-can-eat buffet, and disclaim any responsibility to the country — while still expecting its lawmakers to defend their interests, at the expense of the voters.

Image: Jcaravanos (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:E-waste_workers.jpg

CC BY-SA: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

#pluralistic

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lubdubsworld · 3 years

Text

Falling for you ( Falling from grace) Jungkook x OC

Rated : 18 +

Warning : . Fuck buddies? Or rather enemies that have sex. They just really hate each other but also can’t keep their hands off each other.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6

“Are you sure you want to head back to work today, Areum? Hoseok told me that he would give you the rest of the week off if you like... That bruise on your face is looking pretty nasty.” My sister commented mildly, her eyes worried as she watched me dab concealer on the mottled purpling skin on my jaw.

“I need to finish a couple of reports by the weekend. And Namjoon oppa told me he wanted me to be there when we viewed the CCTV footage later today. It’s going to help getting that bastard fired.” I flinched at how bad this side of my face looked.

The bastard.

“He’s not fired yet?” My sister made a noise of outrage.

“Of course he is. There’s a restraining order against him. But formally he needs to be terminated and Namjoon wants to do it in a way that it goes on his record permanently. Especially considering he’s already out on bond.” I wrinkled my nose.

There wasn’t much chance of Junho going to prison over this but I definitely did not want him within fifty feet of me, ever again.

“Jungkook’s busy with his practice is it? I haven’t heard from him...” My sister prompted and I nodded.

“His big match is coming up on Sunday. That's like four days away ...he’s probably cooped up in that gym of his.”

“I know... Seokjin works out there too... its a great place...how come you’re never there?”

I frowned .

“He actually has me blacklisted. I’m not allowed inside the establishment. ” I muttered.

My sister’s eyes widened.

“What? Why?”

I shrugged. The memory was a good one and worth reliving. In fact i relived it quite often when I was particularly horny with only my own hands for relief.

“I seduced him against his favorite punching bag once and he had to get rid of it because the cum stains wouldn’t come off. He’s a petty jerk.” I grinned at my sister enjoying the way her eyes went wide as saucers. .

She stared at me slack jawed. And then she shook her head in disbelief.

“You talk about him this way but you always look like you're half way in love with him. I don’t know what is going on in your head when it comes to Jungkook.”

I laughed.

“I love him. Of course I do.... I’m pretty sure he cares about me too, “ I remembered how warm and content I’d felt when he’d held me, how the police officer had immediately concluded he was my boyfriend, simply from the concern radiating off him, “ But, I’m not going to push for anything. I like how we are ...now.”

“Friends with benefits.?”

“I prefer the term enemies who fuck” I winked and she groaned.

“Whatever you say. But remember, you’re going to have to DTR at some point and I hope you don’t get a shock if he isn’t on the same page. “

“Unlikely. Now go distract mom so I can slip out of the back door.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“That looks pretty fucking bad.” Hoseok winced when he saw me and I groaned.

“Don’t remind me. I ran into Namjoon on the way up and he swelled like a bullfrog. Is Jungkook in today?” I asked him brightly.

Hoseok frowned.

“you guys are awfully chummy these days ....Need I remind you about the clause on interpersonal relationships in the office?”

I flushed.

“We’re...not....I mean. We’re friends. “

“I thought the term was enemies who fuck.” Hoseok said thoughtfully and I jumped.

“What-?”

“Jungkook told me, you little brat. I asked him why he went over to the police station and broke Junho’s fucking jaw and he spilled...”

My own jaw came unhinged.

“ He what?!”

“He posted the bond money for the bastard himself to get him out and then apparently punched him hard enough to land him in the hospital.”

“Oh my God...is he in trouble?”

Hoseok sighed.

“Of course not... Mr. Jeon had it taken care off at once but I knew something was up . He’s too old to play knight in shining armor , unless there was something between you guys...”

I sighed.

“We’re in a purely physical relationship yes with of course a splattering of affection for each other. But nothing that deserves a label or close scrutiny from the HR dept. Please Hobi oppa, just let me be. “ I fluttered my lashes and he rolled his eyes.

“Just as long as you know that Jeon Jungkook is a chaebol. He’s not going to make a honest woman out of you.” Hoseok gave me a pointed look and I wondered if I really did wear my heart on my sleeve.

Apparently, everyone could sense that my feelings for Jungkook ran deeper than just lust and I wasn’t sure if it was a good thing.

“Anyway, yo answer you question, yes. He’s in his office right now.”

I made to turn away but Hoseok grabbed my wrist.

“You have thirty five memos to answer and seventeen appointments to schedule. Your desk is this way, I suggest you head in that direction.” His eyes glinted in a way that told me he was incredibly serious.

I pouted.

Fine... I’d wait for lunch to go meet Jungkook.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook had a secretary of his own , the smitten Miss Lee and she gave me an angelic smile, telling me that Jungkook was out to meet someone in the marketing department. If there was anything important, I could leave it with her.

Declining the offer and thanking her, I made my way to the fireescape and the back stairwell. One of the doors opened to the emergency exit in Jungkook’s office and it took me a little bit of running around but I managed to locate it easily enough.

Jungkook had left the door open and less than ten minutes later , I was in his office, staring around in mild awe.

Weirdly enough, I’d never been here. before, mostly because Jungkook himself wasn’t in here all that much. But there was no mistaking that he actually did take his work seriously . I peered around the expensive drawing Tablet and the three or so monitor screens , the stylus tossed about.

It was probably a huge breach of his privacy but I couldn’t help but click on the mouse, watching his monitor come alive.

I blinked in disbelief when I realized what I was staring at.

“Oh my fuck...” I

I felt my face flood with heat as I stared at the screen.

It was a drawing of me.

I was completely naked , reclining against what looked like a thick white fur rug , with countless plush cushions scattered all around me. The snow white fur set off the golden glow of my skin and I noticed the attention to detail, the tiny mole in the corner of my hip, the small half moon scar on the edge of my collar bone and of course an impressive collection of hickeys on my neck and my inner thighs.

I looked the way I usually did when I was mouthing off at him, a little angry and rebellious, my eyes blazing with a challenge and my lips parted in annoyance . I had one hand resting right between my legs, two fingers pressed against the labia while the other two disappeared into me. The other hand lay on my breast, fingers tweaking one hard nipple .

I turned away quickly, breathing harshly as I realized that Jungkook had literally drawn an incredibly accurate drawing of me masturbating , purely from memory.

Not entirely sure if i should be angry at this or not, I tried to clear the hazy cloud of arousal that was beginning to settle all over me. I wasn’t angry.

I was just ridiculously turned on.

And incredibly curious if he had other pics of me.

I whirled back around to the computer and then nearly jumped out of my skin when I realized that Jungkook was leaning against the doorway, watching me with an amused smile on his face.

“Oh, fuck...” I clutched at my heart which felt like it was going to give out.

“Pretty sure your desk isn’t here, Areum. Are you lost?” He drawled, stepping away from the door and stalking over to me.

I stepped back quickly, the action purely instinctive.

“Did you punch Junho?” I asked sharply.

Jungkook gave me a small smile.

“That is a very mild way to put it yes. He’s gonna be eating through a straw for a couple of months , yes.”

I glared at him.

“What if you got arrested.” I folded my arms.

He laughed.

“Baby, come on. fucker had it coming. Anyway enough about that loser. Why are you hovering near my desk. Corporate espionage is generally frowned upon baby... Am i gonna have to spank you, you naughty girl?” He waggled his eyebrows.

I rolled my eyes before walking up to his desk and turning the screen around to show the lewd artwork .

“how long have you been drawing me like that?” I pointed at the screen and Jungkook looked surprised.

Surprised but not particularly bothered.

“Ah... i love that one... Did you see the way I only drew four of your fingers between your legs baby, your thumb is supposed to be rubbing on your clit.... I was working on it when I got called away earlier....” He looked apologetic.

I felt like I had turned the exact shade of the marron carpet under my foot.

“Jungkook how long have you been drawing me naked...” I snapped.

“ Oh... probably the first time you let me see you naked.” He said nodding lightly and I stared at him.

“How come I’ve never heard of this?” I hissed and he gave me a grin.

“Because it’s for my own personal...use.” He grinned.

I glared at him.

“How many....?” I demanded.

Jungkook shrugged.

“50...? 60? Definitely at least fifty.” He said casually.

I stared at him.

“I wanna see them.” I said sharply. Jungkook sighed, like I was being a pain , which was so unfair it made me want to scream.

“Areum, I-”

“Jungkook?” A soft voice called from the outer office and I frowned when Jungkook startled.

“Oh, hey... Sana..... Come in.” His voice had shifted into something mild and pleasant and I felt my hackles rise.

“Oh..hello... Areum ssi...” The girl gave me a confused smile and I resisted the urge to fold my hands and demand what she was doing there. Instead , I moved away from behind Jungkook’s desk, grabbing a file.

“Good afternoon Sana ssi.” I smiled.

“I’m sorry, I missed lunch, Sana.... I wanted to give you this. “ Jungkook pulled out a small envelope from his jacket, smiling an absolutely angelic smile at her.

Sana looked suitably enthralled, her eyes trained greedily on his perfect face as she took the envelope.

“Oh.. are these--?”

“Tickets to my match on Sunday yes...” He smiled. “ I’m hoping you’ll be there.”

I felt my lungs expand as I took a deep breath to calm myself down. The urge to screech like a banshee was increasing by the second.

“Oh, I’ll be there for sure. I’ll be cheering you on from the front row, Jungkook !!” She all but bounced on her feet, looking positively giddy with excitement as she bowed to both of us and literally floated away.

I waited till she was fully gone before turning on him.

“There better be another envelope in there with my name on it.” I gritted out.

Jungkook grinned wide at that, eyes dancing with mirth.

“In my jacket? Not really. But there’s something much better in my pants with your name on it. Want me to whip it out for you baby?? “

He grabbed the edge of his belt buckle, tugging the leather out of the hoops and I glared at him.

“You are out of your mind if you think I’m going to be okay with you letting everyone watch you fight but me. That is just unfair and uncalled for.” I snapped.

Jungkook was still tugging on his belt, but he paused to give me a look.

“What’s in it for me?” He said softly.

I frowned.

“What?”

“I’m not going to enter a deal without an equitable pay off....Its obvious that you’re really turned on by the thought of watching me fight . So unless you give me something I’m thirsty for.... I’m not going to indulge you,” He said casually.

I laughed in disbelief.

“There is literally nothing I’ve denied you in bed , you're crazy to even suggest -”

“I haven’t fucked your ass yet.” He said casually.

I could feel myself turning red.

“No.” I hissed. “ Absolutely not.”

“Why the hell not?” He frowned.

“Because it fucking hurts. I’m not going through that again.” I snapped.

Jungkook groaned like he was in actual pain.

“Baby, its hardly my fault you’ve never slept with a real man before me, is it? Why should I deprived the pleasure of fucking your ass just because those buffoons didn’t know how to do it right?” Jungkook’s voice was dangerously close to a whine and I resisted the urge to throw something at him.

“I don’t fucking care...its a no. So drop it. ”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes.

“Fine. I’ll drop it. For now.” He muttered and then made a big show of thinking, “ alright fine. How about you let me tie you up.”

I stared at him.

“You literally do that every time we have sex.” I pointed out.

“And I get to use my toy box.”

I blinked.

“Your toy box.” I said , confused. He grinned mischievously.

“You know the one...Big mahogany box underneath my bed. The first time I showed you, you kind of screamed and called me a monster?” He grinned wide.

i had a brief flashback of an assortment of whips, floggers and gags.

I shuddered.

Nope.

This wasn’t working.

“How about this.... Either you get me those tickets or you don’t get to fuck me. At all.” I smirked.

Jungkook hummed.

“Why would you punish yourself like that love?” He drawled. “ You can’t live without my dick, the sooner you accept that the easier life is going to get for you.”

The audacity of this bitch.

I walked right past him , ready to stalk out, but his hand shot out, gripping my elbow and pulling me into his embrace.

I struggled against his hold, but he brought both arms around my waist, flexing his muscles so I could feel just how futile it would be to try and break free.

“Come on baby, walking out in the middle of negotiations...that’s just really poor etiquette. Think of the poor hostage....” He pouted , doe eyes wide and I nearly caved. He had no fucking business being sexy and cute.

I laughed in disbelief.

“Hostage??....are you talking about your fucking ego....?” I stared right up at him , tilting my face when he moved to kiss me. His lips latched on to my jaw instead, tongue licking the skin there gently as he hummed .

“No...I’m talking about my dick.” He grabbed both my elbows, swinging me around like I weighed nothing, one arm holding me in place as he pressed up against my back, hips rolling so I could feel the hardness of his dick right against the swell of my ass. “ Dude’’s feeling pretty darn trapped right now. Poor thing just wants to get inside you and ruin you baby, why you making it so hard for him...?”

I elbowed him sharply, vindicated when the sharp edge of it caught something hard and fleshy. Jungkook grunted in discomfort but didn’t let go of me.

“My little hellcat. “ He bit down on the juncture between my neck and shoulder, “You know why my dick is hard?”

“To match your cold unfeeling heart?” I snapped and he moaned in mock hurt.

“Not fair baby...I have the kindest heart... Soft heart, hard dick....That’s literally my entire persona.” Jungkook nuzzled my neck .

I fought the urge to laugh .

“So why then? Because I’m within ten feet of you? Isn’t that all it takes usually?” I muttered, wincing a bit when his teeth sank in a little deeper.

Jungkook let out a soft chuckle.

“Normally I’d agree but today... I’m so fucking hard because you looked like you wanted to claw Sana’s face off when I gave her those tickets....”

I flushed.

“Well, I just don’t think I should be the only one not allowed to see you fight.”

“Or maybe you just hate the idea of any one else getting to touch my dick...because like I said...it’s got your name on it right baby?” Jungkook laughed against my ear and I blushed .

“I still think its rude that you don’t let me come to your matches.” I grumbled.

“And why do you think that is, baby? Why do you think I’m so adamant about you not being anywhere near me when I have something important to do...”

I didn’t reply, eyes fluttering shut when he suckled on the skin near my neck.

“Its because I’ll probably lose..” He growled into my ear, “ Don’t wanna get knocked out in the first round because I was too busy staring at your pretty, pretty face and delicious fucking body... My only distraction, my favorite distraction.”

I felt myself melt like an ice cream cone in the fucking sun.

“Oh, fuck you....you honey-tongued son of a bitch...” I choked out, unable to fight the wide grin that was taking over my face.

Jungkook chuckled in victory, hugging me tighter.

“So tell me.... Can I tie you up tonight? Get some of my favorite toys...Want to play in your sandbox....” He leered and I laughed despite myself. How could this man make the most innocent of phrases sound so fucking sexy....

“Only if you let me pick the toys.”

Jungkook let go of me and gently turned me around. He was frowning deeply.

“Babe you don’t even know what their called.” He complained.

“But I can gauge how much damage they’ll do and that’s more important to me.” I pointed out.

Jungkook gave me a thoughtful smile.

“Hmm....fine... But I get to offer the choices. “ He said softly.

I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Okay, in that case you need to let me see every single drawing you’ve made of me... right now.” I smiled.

Jungkook grinned, already grabbing my wrist and tugging me back to his desk.

“Deal...but I’m gonna need you to sit on my cock and keep it warm while I show them to you..... okay?”

I glared at him but he was already moving to the wide , comfortable chair behind the desk. He sat on the chair, manspreading and unbuckling himself before wriggling the slacks down past his waist and tugging his boxers down.

I watched him reach in to pull out his hard cock , pumping the hard length of it a couple of times before smiling at me expectantly.

“Horny bastard.” I muttered under my breath, before letting him maneuver me into his lap, fingers slipping up my skirt and tugging my panties aside , before lining himself up against my center.

“Ready baby?” He kissed my cheeks fondly and I nodded lowly. He pressed a couple of fingers against my slit, dipping in just enough to make sure I was wet enough. I wasn’t dry per se, but it still stung a bit when he drove himself in with one swift stroke.

“Oh, fuck...” I groaned when he entered me , the rock hard length of him cleaving my insides and making my tongue go dry. I clenched down on him, thighs beginning to tremble already. I gripped the edge of the table in front of me.

“Maybe I should call Sana in now.? Huh baby...that’ll show her who this dick belongs to, right , angel?” He whispered against my ear and I moaned, a gush of arousal staining my thighs at his words., Jungkook laughed knowingly, wrapping an arm around my waist to keep me still before rolling his hips gently and settling inside me.

“So baby, which ones do we start with.... Solo shots? ones with me....? There’s one of me fucking your pretty pink hole, maybe that’ll change your mind about letting me take you in the back...”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : I’m stopping here because the next chapter is just like 5k of porn and I wanted it to be a standalone chapter.

Comments are love , Feedback is really appreciated. Send me your thoughts, ideas or even just scream about how hot Jungkook is....anything works.

taglist : @veronawrites @aamxxrii @brooky95

@apollukee

@ladyartemesia

@yoongisdragon

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ if you guys wanna be on the taglist just lemme know...

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook au #bts au #bts enemies to lovers #jungkook fics #jungkook reactions #bts smut #bts fics

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otasmile · 2 years

Text

IRON WINGS | Carlos Oliveira x OC | Chapter 2: Iron

CW: lots of swearing, mild sexual content, animal brutality

Things are starting to heat up >:)

“Have you found anything yet?”

“Nothing useful. C’mon there’s gotta be something.” Emily plopped her head on the keyboard, immediately rocketing it upwards when her monitor beeped in protest.

“Have you looked at past employee memos? I know HR has to have gotten something over the years.”

“I can’t get access right now,” Emily sighed, connecting with Brad from across the S.T.A.R.S office. Her short black bob hung limply around her chin, evidence of endless sleepless nights searching for something, anything on Brian Irons. The man was as slimy as they came, and yet his record was entirely clean, down to the perfectly posed headshot on the RPD website.

“Hey, that new rookie’s coming in soon right?” Brad prodded in a feeble attempt to bolster the young woman’s hopes, “Maybe we can ask him how Irons treats him and see if there’s anything we aren’t hearing because of the… incident.”

“It’s so… frustrating!” Emily growled. How could Irons treat S.T.A.R.S like this? After all that they went through in that Mansion from Hell. Disbanding the team, firing Jill, forbidding any talk of Umbrella…

“That’s it…” Emily breathed, eyes going wide. Brad sat up in his chair, attention drawn. Emily’s mind was working a hundred miles a minute, running through scenarios that her fingers couldn’t keep up with fast enough on her grimy office issued keyboard, “Umbrella. It’s always talking about Umbrella that triggers Irons.”

“What do you mean?” Brad hummed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his mahogany desk.

“I mean that Irons always gets the maddest when we talk about the mansion, or Umbrella’s connections to it. He’s scared for some reason. What reason would Irons have to be scared of a major corporation such as Umbrella unless…”

“He was working with them. Like Wesker.”

“No wonder Wesker could run around as he pleased. Hell, Irons probably knew he was a traitor. There’s no way he would have agreed to sending Bravo and Delta team…” Emily’s face broke into an almost manic grin. Suck on that, Irons. She was more than just a pretty pilot, she could investigate as well as the rest of the RPD.

“But how do we prove it? Obviously they’re keeping it under wraps,” Brad sighed, leaning back in his wooden chair. The wood creaked under the pressure of his slumping posture. It matched his energy. A tired pilot, and a tired chair. It was almost funny, Emily thought, that the two S.T.A.R.S pilots were the ones doing the brunt of the police work. Irons would never see it coming.

“If we could audit them… technically we are members of the RPD. We can get a warrant.”

“Not without Irons finding out,” Brad corrected and Emily’s heart sunk. Of course Irons would know if they tried to get a warrant, especially one made to expose him.

The office was silent, the two pilots falling into quiet thought.

“Can you distract him?” Emily finally broke the silence, and Brad’s eyes fell into a hard line.

“That’s a bad idea, Long, and you know it,” he hissed, crossing weather beaten arms across his yellow tactical vest.

“You didn’t let me finish-“

“And I don’t have to,” the older man shot back, “I know what you want to do. You want to go snooping through Iron’s personal artifacts in that rich-ass office of his. You’ll get caught, and I guarantee you, it won’t be as simple as Jill’s firing. If there’s something truly wrong about Irons—and there is—he’ll never let you live if you find it.” Brad’s tone held a hint of warning that settled a cold stone in Emily’s stomach.

It was true. And she hated it. But she was sick and fucking tired of letting the crooked cop walk all over her.

“I think he’ll end up beating my ass either way,” Emily spoke solemnly, “You and I both know he has it out for me. Both because I’m S.T.A.R.S and because I can’t learn to shut my mouth—” Brad huffed out a mirthless laugh at that, “I have nothing to lose. Raccoon city is going to shit—you know that infection is going to spread down here any day now—and this station is only going to plow it further into shit if we don’t do something now.”

Brad paused for a minute, considering the woman’s words. Emily knew just by looking at him that he didn’t approve of the idea of Emily breaking into Iron’s office, but no matter what he said, she was not backing down.

“Fine,” the man considered with a resentful sigh, and Emily felt her heart leap into her throat. With a giddy squeal she launched herself across the room to crush her comrade in a tight hug.

“You won’t regret this, Vickers! I promise!”

“I hope so. I really hope so.”

“Sir? I’ve come to drop off my weekly report.” Emily knocked on the misted glass of Irons’ office, heart pounding against her sternum almost painfully. The plan was going smoothly, so far, even if it was only in planning stages.

She waited with baited breath until finally, finally, the heart shaped lock on Irons’ door clicked. Quickly, Emily shot her hand out, chipped manicure meeting cold metal and pressing hard on the inside.

“It’s putty.” She had told Brad, holding up the kids toy, “If we can jam the lock with it, we won’t need to have his stupid key to enter the office later.

The play-doh squished as it made contact with the locking mechanism, and Emily could only pray it jammed them shut like she anticipated it would. She knew it was enough to be a door stop in larger amounts, so it had to be able to cause Irons a minor inconvenience.

“Miss Long?” Irons’ voice went from muffled to clear as the door swung open, but his pissed-off attitude remained. He didn’t sound surprised, more frustrated that she had interrupted whatever he had been working on.

Whatever he was working on that she would find in just five minutes time.

“My report, sir.” She repeated, holding out the papers. “Detailing where the RPD hasn’t been flying this week.”

Pushing Irons’ buttons wasn’t part of the plan. That was just for the fun of watching his pudgy face turn red with anger, then a deep plum purple.

“Get out of my sight, Long.” He hissed, snatching the papers and slamming his door behind him. To Emily’s satisfaction, she didn’t hear the lock click back into place. Only time would tell if the rest of the plan would succeed, now.

“Oh, sir?” Emily spoke, keeping her voice sickly sweet, and betraying the scowl on her face, “I also needed to tell you that there’s a reporter in the lobby asking for you.”

“That’s what I have a secretary for. Get the fuck away from my door,” Irons hissed.

“She’s asking for you, sir. She’s quite insistent.”

“Tell her to piss off.”

“I can’t. She’s the daughter of some big-wig politician.”

There was a heavy pause, then the door swung open. With a thick shoulder, Irons shoved her back from the door and stomped towards the staircase. Emily knew Brian Irons better than he even knew himself. The asshole was a kiss-ass to any politician he could bitch to. Everybody in Raccoon City knew it. The man thought he would be the next great president someday with how much he talked useless politics.

As Iron’s rounded the corner out of Emily’s vision, the turned her attention back to Irons’ door. Her pulse thrummed against her chest like a jackrabbit and suddenly she found it hard to breathe. Was this happening? She grasped the brass handle and turned, feeling victoriously when she felt the putty stick to the lock and the door swing open.

This was happening.

Irons’ office was the definition of “wannabe millionaire.” Taxidermy littered the walls, a plush red carpet adorned the floor. His desk was sturdy and dark, made of what looked to be fine wood engraved with various natural motifs. How much had he spent to make his office look like this?

But that wasn’t the point of this investigation.

Emily made quick work of scanning the office. Papers covered every surface in a messy fashion, but none of them looked incriminating in the slightest. Some were bills for the upkeep of the station, others were reports from the other officers. She was about to consider the mission a bust when she saw the metal door in the corner.

Now that looked suspicious.

She hurried across the room, pushing the door open with probably more strength than was necessary and gasped.

Figures of animals surrounded her and made her feel like she was the one in the cage, being feasted upon by the hungry eyes of predators. The collection was extensive. A tiger? A moose? These animals were huge. Had Irons hunted all of them? The glassy, vacant eyes of the beasts told her the story in silence. Irons was more than a brutal leader. He was a killer. A chill went up Emily’s spine and she remembered what Brad had told her in the S.T.A.R.S office. She needed to find information and get out quick.

She weaved through the hallway, keeping her gaze downturned from the horror’s embedded in the walls. Every square inch was a gruesome detailing of the life of Brian Irons. She was too relieved to be disappointed when the labyrinth ended and she was met with a locked cell door. She just wanted to get the hell out of there.

She made to turn around, adrenaline finally giving way to disappointment when she saw it: a leather bound journal on a dresser top open with the pencil still strewn across the pages. Like someone had just written in it. Someone being Irons.

She approached her bounty cautiously, another predator in the hallway of prey and feasted her eyes on the pages.

White-Tailed Deer (Male, approx.. 6 years old)

Place of Capture: Arklay Mountains

Length: 6’1” Weight: 353 lbs.

Pleased with how it turned out, but I’m getting tired of working on these puny things. May be time to move on to more challenging animals

Siberian Tiger (Male, approx.. 4 years old)

Place of Capture: Khabarovsk Krai

Length: 9’6” Weight 529 lbs.

I nearly came when I sliced its yellow belly open and its warn guts spilled out. I still smell of wild beast. This is the life.

Pig (Female, 22 years old)

Place of Capture: Raccoon City

Length: 5’3” Weight: 110 lbs.

The specimen’s body is soft, sweet, and white all over. And it’s—

Emily was going to be sick.

If this was indeed Irons… he was worse than she thought. Sexual fantasies about the murder of animals and stuffing their bodies full for display? Forget the predators and prey on display, Irons was a monster in his own right.

The pilot’s eyes wandered back down to the last entry. Something seemed… off. A 22 year old pig? Only weighing 110 pounds? It didn’t sound like any pig Emily knew. She wasn’t a farmer, but 22 seemed… old for a pig. And they had to be heavier than a young woman. And soft white skin?

The sentence was unfinished, leaving no answers to her questions. She wanted to find more… to see what other secrets this office held, but she had a sinking feeling that she had already taken too long. Soon Irons would realize there was no reporter in the lobby to feed his overinflated ego would be looking for her. She had to get out of here.

She pivoted on her heel, saving the information from the taxidermy log in the back of her mind. Anxiety drove her first step, but fear halted her second. The metal door to the private room she had discovered creaked with what only meant entrance. Swearing accompanied it, angry and blustering.

Irons was back. Irons was going to find her. Irons was going to kill her.

“Fuckin’ bitch. I should stuff her next. She’s gonna pay for fuckin with me. Forget the mayor’s—"

She was frozen in fear when Irons rounded the corner and locked furious eyes on her. Salt and pepper eyebrows contorted into a wild sneer, and the most violent of expressions darkened Irons’ round face.

“Look who it is.”

#resident evil fanfiction #resident evil x oc #resident evil x reader #carlos oliveira x reader #carlos oliveira x oc #resident evil 3 remake

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lady-divine-writes · 3 years

Text

Good Omens - “At Midnight” (Rated G)

Summary:

Crowley is devastated by how smoothly the world continues on after he loses Aziraphale to the bookshop fire. Adam stops the war between Heaven and Hell, and things go back to normal for everyone... except him. Crowley goes from demon to ghoul, haunting St. James's Park every night, caught up in his memories of his angel. Until one night, he comes across something unexpected that makes things a little better... (2416 words) ... and a whole lot worse.

Read on AO3.

The hands on Aziraphale's grandfather clock have crept dangerously close to eleven by the time Crowley steps out the door of the bookshop and into the night. He's not closing up. The shop was never open.

Not for anyone but him.

He’d spent the day lurking in the shifting shadows, coiled around the leg of angel's favorite chair, keeping guard.

Watching for movement.

Praying for change.

For resolution.

He marked time by the tolling of Aziraphale's clock, the ebb and flow of the commuters outside, and a single ray of sunlight carving its path across the floor, disappearing out the window at the stroke of seven. That’s when he came out of hiding, became his demon self once again.

Crowley pops his collar against the wind and locks the door behind him. He takes one last look at the pane beneath his fingertips, running them lightly over a ridiculous note affixed to the glass. It’s a note he wrote on Aziraphale's behest, proclaiming when customers can expect the shop to open.

The long and short of it being - don't.

I open the shop on most weekdays about 9:30 or perhaps 10 a.m. While occasionally I open the shop as early as 8, I have been known not to open until 1, except on Tuesday...

Crowley had written it to irritate his angel - a demonic dig, as it were. But after reading it, Aziraphale couldn't have been more delighted.

"Brilliant!" he'd said. "Masterfully convoluted! Now I can finally relax and finish my crossword puzzle in peace! Thank you, my dear."

Crowley had gone warm at Aziraphale's words. He had never felt so overwhelmed by praise.

But now, the sign makes him bitter.

It should have long been replaced with one that reads on holiday, circling the globe, or living the happily ever after life in Mayfair with my husband.

But that wasn't in the cards for Crowley and Aziraphale.

Crowley snaps his fingers to lower the blinds and snuff the lights, and takes off at a brisk clip to the park.

Alone.

He does this every night - haunts St. James's Park close to midnight when he'd rather be at home asleep. Crowley had planned to sleep the next seven millennia away, wait until the world started over again before he showed his face to the sun, but infuriatingly, he couldn't. It's impossible for him to get comfortable in his bed when there should be someone else beside him, sitting up and reading by his damned holy light.

Crowley never thought he'd miss that stupid light piercing his eyelids and interrupting his slumber, but he misses it more than anything.

There was nothing left for Crowley after he lost Aziraphale in the bookshop fire.

He'd always felt that if they went their separate ways, it would sever his heart, but nothing more. He'd go on. But the assumption had been that Aziraphale would still be - exist, just not in Crowley's life.

When Aziraphale went, everything good went with him - love, hope, color, and taste all vacated Crowley's world. But Crowley was too much of a coward to call it quits and join him in oblivion, since, as far as Crowley was concerned, that was where immortal beings ended up if they were eliminated from Earth. Heaven and Hell only existed for humans. Aziraphale and Crowley were created for this world.

For them, this was it.

He thought he would get into his car and drive, but he couldn't make himself leave. He would get as far as Kent or Surrey, then his Bentley would stop.

Whether he was the one pressing the brake or his car - it varied.

Either way, he'd take a deep breath, toss off his glasses, rub the blur from his watery eyes, and the next thing he knew, he was home.

Couldn't sleep.

Couldn't leave.

Couldn't escape.

Yup. This was Hell. Undoubtedly.

Since he couldn't stay put and he couldn't run away, he spent night after night roaming the park - a ghoul shrouded in shadows of the past. Selfishly, he did everything he could to make the park inhospitable after dark, the same way Aziraphale did for his bookshop to deter customers. He made the place dreary, filled it with suspicious shadows, cold spots, and feelings of dread. In his attempt to get rid of anyone who might bother him, he unwittingly thwarted a few mugging attempts and a handful of assaults, which eliminated crime in St. James's Park for the most part.

Otherwise, he kept to himself.

It didn't matter to Crowley one bit that Adam had saved the planet from Heaven and Hell's blasted war. Or that, in doing so, neither side seemed interested in Crowley anymore.

Without Aziraphale by his side, Crowley wanted none of it.

These nightly walks, re-visiting the spots where they'd met up through time, didn't help. His memories of Aziraphale had begun to erode what was left of his soul.

His regret over the one thing he had left unsaid.

But there was a handshake exchange afoot.

His late-night trips to the park were how he noticed the light, blooming, growing on the bench smack dab in front of the duck pond.

Their bench.

A thread of silver light that lasted one solid minute from beginning to end.

It was spectacular. Unbelievable in its brilliance. Of the few souls who braved Crowley's shield of demonic influence, only Crowley seemed to notice it. And he couldn't avoid it.

It called to him.

Crowley stalked the light for over a week, never getting too close. It seemed like the kind of thing Gabriel might conjure up to trap him. Heaven may not give two shits about him, but archangels have been known to hold serious grudges.

He resisted its pull, but Crowley is a curious demon, and curiosity got the better of him. Besides, what did he care if Gabriel got the drop on him? Crowley was up for a fight, even one he might lose.

He had nothing better to do.

Crowley walked straight to the bench and sat down the moment the light appeared. He stared at it, into it, trying to sniff out its origins, what it was doing there. Being this close to it, he realized he was wrong. It didn't appear out of thin air. It was a consequence - evidence of a seam ripping in the universe, and on the other side...

Crowley only saw him for a second, but that was all he needed.

Aziraphale.

They locked eyes. Aziraphale's face lit up as if he were seeing the stars for the first time.

Stars Crowley created.

He was quite a distance from the tear. Like Crowley, he avoided it as much as possible. But seeing Crowley on the other side, he ran toward it, calling out a single word. It was all he had time for before the rend closed, and he was gone again.

The word he managed was Crowley.

Every night after, Crowley would arrive at the bench with plenty of time for the two of them to speak. As best as they could deduce, something bizarre happened during that fire in Aziraphale's bookshop. Unprecedented. Crowley assumed, at first, that the flames that devoured his angel's pride and joy had come from Hellfire. But they didn't. And Aziraphale, standing in the center of the transportation portal in his corporeal form, never made it to Heaven. He got caught in between.

Purgatory.

A place that many supernatural beings consider scarier than Hell.

A railway station with a way in but no way out. For immortals, that is. Mortal souls can earn a place upstairs depending on how they behave in this celestial waiting room. But as humans and demons don't concern themselves much with Purgatory lore, there is no book in Hell or on Earth that can help. Crowley has tried finding one - traveled to libraries and broken into collections he would do only on Aziraphale's behalf. But for all of his lofty capers, he found nothing. There might be a book in Heaven, but Crowley has no way to access it.

And Aziraphale is trapped.

Wouldn't Crowley know it, but even under these circumstances, Aziraphale found ways to continue his insufferable good deeds, helping mortal souls trapped with him to move along. Though Crowley believes Aziraphale has an ulterior motive.

Peace and quiet.

Aziraphale has one of those faces that attracts people to him, people who long to share their woeful life stories. So he listens, and then he counsels. When that soul moves on, he earns the most sought-after prize of all - an additional measure of silence.

Crowley and Aziraphale thought Heaven would notice his absence by now. Gabriel’s memos were piling up on Aziraphale's desk, untouched. Or by the massive influx of souls arriving at the pearly gates.

But no luck.

The angels in charge of the prisoners in the bottomless pits of Hell are more on the ball than the ones who keep an eye on the poor souls stuck in between.

This boundary between Earth and Purgatory dissolves at the stroke of midnight but zips up as soon as the clock strikes 12:01. Then Aziraphale disappears, not returning again till the following day. They are permitted one minute to tell each other everything, and they do their best to get it all out.

There's one thing Crowley hasn't gotten to yet. Hasn’t for 6000 years.

His one regret.

He plans on telling Aziraphale tonight on the off chance they can't come up with a solution to this.

Crowley feels the light before it appears. It tugs at something deep inside, ushers him to his seat on the bench. It arrives with a clap like thunder, so loud he’s surprised when it doesn’t shatter windows and crack foundations. Air whooshes by him at hurricane speeds, sucked into the impending rend.

A second later, Aziraphale appears beside him.

In a different dimension but beside him, framed by the light as if he's a reflection in a mirror.

Crowley inches his hand close, knowing without seeing that Aziraphale’s hand rests similarly on the opposite side. They cannot touch. They’ve tried.

Neither can cross the barrier.

“So, my dear,” Aziraphale starts, looking through the shimmer at Crowley, “how’s the bookshop?”

“Right as rain as always,” Crowley replies. He used to mutter, “Hello, Crowley. How are you? You’re looking well this fine evening,” but realized how immature and hurtful that was when Aziraphale heard him, and his face fell. Aziraphale wasn’t disregarding Crowley by not asking after him first. It was too painful for Aziraphale to acknowledge how far apart they were from one another. “How have you been, angel?”

“Can’t complain. Although I could really go for a plate of crepes. Or perhaps a nice, hearty gazpacho.”

“Don’t you worry. The moment I have you free of there, I’ll take you to dinner. Anywhere you want to go.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Aziraphale says, the longing in his eyes heartbreaking. “It wouldn’t be so bad over here if I had a book or two.”

“I did try passing you one over, but… “

“Yes, yes, I recall.” Aziraphale sighs at the memory of a favorite Wilde hardcover disintegrating into thin air. Luckily, that didn’t happen to either of them when they attempted to cross. “Valiant effort. Disastrous outcome.”

“Meddled in anyone's affairs today, have you?”

“As a matter of fact… ” Aziraphale smiles brightly. “A charming lady named Agatha. Lived a good long life. Died at the age of 93, I believe she said.”

“Wot in the world did she do to make it into Purgatory?”

“The usual. Attachment to sin.”

Crowley nods, lips twisting with a knowing grin. “Let me guess… the premarital variety?”

“That’s the one. She also poisoned an abusive stepfather, not her own, broke into a research facility to rescue rabbits, and stole a petty neighbor’s tomatoes on the daily until the day she died.”

Crowley chuckles. “Ah, yes. You’ve got to love old ladies.”

“Indeed.”

“Wot did you do?”

“Same as always. I had her give a proper confession. I forgave her for the poisoning, of course… “

“Of course.”

“... and the rabbit liberation. But we talked through the issue with the tomatoes. I explained that trespassing on her neighbor’s property is wrong even if the woman did dye all her delicates on her drying line puce.”

Crowley makes a face. He has no idea what puce is, but it sounds vile. “Probably justified there.”

“But that wasn’t the crux of her dilemma.”

“Wot was?”

Aziraphale turns, eyes wandering in the direction of the pond even though he can’t see it. “She misses the love of her life.”

Crowley's eyes widen. “Oh.”

“I assured her that her lover would be with her soon. After that, she was fine moving on.”

“Is that the truth?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale says wistfully. “He beloved misses her very much. They make a lovely couple.”

“That’ll be nice. The two of them reuniting.”

“Yes. It will be… for them.”

Silence falls between them. They steer clear of silence when they can, seeing how short their time is together, but it can't be helped. Aziraphale could work from here till eternity joining lost souls, but he can't help himself do the same.

The weight of that overwhelms them.

Crowley's phone vibrates in his pocket, signaling their minute together coming to an end. The silver frame phases, its light dimming, sputtering like a candle about to go out. As with every time before, Crowley tries to stop it, tries to stop time to keep Aziraphale with him longer. But it doesn’t work. Either this rend works outside of the laws of time, or time has had it with Crowley’s antics, but this can’t be stopped.

Crowley’s imagination isn’t strong enough.

“We only have a little time left,” Aziraphale says, “and we’re no closer to solving this puzzle!”

“I know,” Crowley replies. “I'll keep working on it. I promise. But before you go, I just wanted to tell you… ”

The air crackles as the rip begins to mend, the noise drowning them out.

"Yes, my dear?"

"I need to tell you... "

“Oh, Crowley!” Aziraphale starts to fade as the gap sutures shut. “I’m so sorry… "

The tear closes, his angel gone, and in the ensuing silence, Crowley’s last words hang in the air, having escaped his lips a second too late for their recipient to hear.

“… I love you.”

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale #Crowley

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questioningstressing · 3 years

Text

Mr.Loverman part 1

Stardew valley bachlors x chubby! trans! male reader.

First story posted on tumblr. 1,537 words!

The faint chatter of false kind voices talking politely to customers over phones echoed through the cubicles, making Y/n feel empty, his chest felt hollow. His eyes stared at his computer screen, data and random memos flooded his head.

This really wasn't how he expected his life to go, sitting in a soul-draining, dream-crushing, aspiration-ruining, cubical, run by an evil corporation that had by this point taken over the grocery industries and planning to basically take over the world. He felt miserable.

And he wasn't even given time off after top surgery. In fact, he was being forced to work, but by this point, he couldn't sue. JoJo was so rich, they worked hand in hand with the government.

His chest hurt, he had to get help to get his fucking employee shirt on, he couldn’t get paperwork because it was always on high shelves, and he was turned into a go-for because his productivity was so low.

Y/n rubbed his hands over his face, trying to ignore the pain that was thrumming through his chest, the fresh stitches hurt so bad, he couldn’t focus, he sighed and stood up. Too quickly it seemed.

Pain shot through his chest, it stung, he gasped, looking down at his chest, blood seeping out onto his dark blue shirt, leaving a stain that slowly started growing. His body screamed at him to sit back down.

He whimpered and cried softly, he needed to call someone, but they took away cell phones to keep up productivity, he shouted. “Please! I need help!” he shook softly as pain shot through him.

Thirty minutes passed of this, of constant begging for help, shouting, and yelling as his chest bled before his manager came to his cubicle, basically making small talk while y/n cried in pain.

That was fucking it, y/n could fucking deal with it, so, after three months of bed rest, he got on a bus and went to Stardew Valley, and to his grandfather's farm.

The bus passed under street lights as Y/n leaned his head against the window, staring longingly out the window and at the stars, music blaring through his headphones. His mind was racing and anxiety pooled in his stomach as he thought about the fact he was uprooting his life and moving 17 hours away to his grandfather's old farm.

It was too late to turn back now, the bus was driving and Y/n couldn’t stop it, he couldn’t turn and run like a scared animal. He couldn’t, his eyes filled with tears, he couldn’t cry right now, he did this for himself, he did this for his own mental health.

Y/n let out a sigh as he closed his eyes and leaned against the window, soon falling into a blissful slumber.

Y/n was awoken by the sudden jolt of the bus stopping, he realized this was his stop, Stardew valley. He picked up his bag and his small suitcase, dragging it sleepily off the bus, greeted by a young woman.

“Hello, you must be Y/n!” The woman said enthusiastically, a bright smile on her face “I’m robin the local carpenter, mayor Lewis sent me here to fetch you and show you the way to your new home. He’s there right now, tidying things up for your arrival, the farms right over there, if you’ll follow me.” Robin turned on her heel looking back quickly to make sure y/n was following.

Y/n seemed a bit frazzled, having just come from a 17-hour bus trip and then having info dumped upon him, he followed quickly after the woman as they followed a dirt road down to a decent-sized house “This is F/n (farm name) farm.” Robin gestured to the farm with her arm.

Weeds, rocks, trees, and branches scattered across the ground. It dawned on Y/n that he’d need to do more work than expected, and his sudden relaxation seemed to be present on his face as Robin asked “What’s the matter? Sure it's a bit overgrown but there's some good soil under that mess! With a little dedication, you’ll have it cleaned up in no time!”

Robin encouraged Y/n who turned to look at Robin, who once again turned on her heel to lead him up to the door. Once they got up to the steps Robin’s smile stretched a bit “...And here we are! Your new home!” Y/n looked at the door and an older man walked out

“Ah the new farmer!” he said “I’m mayor Lewis, mayor of pelican town! You know everybody’s been asking about you!” Mayor Lewis said “It's not every day someone new moves in! It’s quite a big deal!” The mayor says, before turning to look at the rickety old cottage “So… you’re moving into your grandfather's old cottage? It’s a good house…. Very… rustic...” He seemed to be trying to make Y/n feel more comfortable, which was failing.

“Rustic is one way to put it! Crusty might be a little more apt though!” Robin joked, and the mayor looked shocked “Rude!” he said quickly as robin laughed “Don’t listen to her Y/n she’s just trying to make you dissatisfied so that you buy one of her house upgrades.” Lewis said to y/n

Robin crossed her arms as she made a noise that seemed a bit upset as the mayor continued “Anyway… you must be tired from the long journey you should get some rest. Tomorrow you ought to explore the town and introduce yourself, the townspeople would appreciate that!” Lewis said, a kind smile on his face, before he turned on his heel and began to leave before turning back around “Oh! And I almost forgot, if you have anything to sell just place it in this box here ill come during the night to collect it!” he paused for a moment “Well… good luck!” Before both he and Robin walked away.

Y/n let out a breath walking into his grandfather's old house as soon as he could and dropping his bags down on the ground, kicking off his old beat-up shoes, taking off his shirt leaving him in his underwear, he looked down at himself, his face twisting in displeasure as he studied his body.

Y/n was not a thin man by any means, in fact, he was a large man, something he got teased for constantly, his soft tummy, large thighs, and round face haunted him like a persistent ghost. He let out a sigh “Don’t think about it.” he muttered to himself, gently tracing the scars that rest just below his chest, the few things that made him happy about his body, his top surgery scars, inverted T scars sat beautifully under his chest, a reminder he was strong.

He let out a gentle sigh as he sat on the edge of the bed head in his hands, his body gently shaking as he began to cry, did he really uproot his life for this? He wanted to love it, the few times he visited his grandfather's farm he remembered loving it.

Every time he would run around the fruit trees, climbing them to pick any ripe fruit he could, sometimes falling and scraping his knees on the tiny rocks beneath. Water the plants with his grandfather, play in the field with the cows even though his grandfather told him not to.

The memories float into his head leaving this moment more somber, his heart heavy with sadness.

Y/n let out a shaky breath before breathing in deep and letting out a little laugh, was he really crying about it not being up to his expectations? How much more of a ‘stuck up city boy’ could he get?

He stared at the floor as he shook his head, no, he was gonna work hard on getting the farm to look nice, to be like his memories, to impress his grandfather, starting tomorrow he was gonna get this place tidied up.

Y/n laid in bed, pulling the warm duvet over him, causing him to soon fall asleep, and he dreamt.

He was in a field filled with F/c (favorite colored) flowers, that smelled familiar, he began to walk in a direction, the further out into the field he got he heard a group of male voices laughing and talking, he soon found the group.

They were in a cuddle pile, a man with short purple hair and a torn-up Joja hoodie held someone with short brown wavy brown hair with glasses.

leaning against the Joja hoodie guy’s shoulder was a man with long black hair that covered one of his eyes, and in his arms, a spikey blond-haired guy was curled up seeming to have fallen asleep.

On the other shoulder, a long-haired gentleman rested, seeming to be smiling as he read something, a short-haired man wearing a green sweater was reading over the long-haired gentleman's shoulder. Y/n smiled and he realized he knew them, they felt like home.

He quickly joined the cuddle pile, all of them seeming excited to see him. He fell asleep on their laps, his hair gently being pat.

#stardew sebastian #stardew elliott #stardew farmer #male reader #trans reader #chubby reader #stardew shane #stardew alex #stardew harvey #stardew bachelors #gay

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antoine-roquentin · 4 years

Link

In 1807, Heinrich von Kleist published a short story called The Earthquake in Chile. Its heroes are a man sitting in prison and a woman in a convent, each confined for the crime of conceiving their child out of wedlock. All of a sudden, an earthquake hits, the buildings that house them collapse, and the couple rediscover each other in the wreckage. Seeking shelter in the woods, they meet people who know of their sin but welcome rather than judge them. In the flush of the emergency, all is transformed: “Instead of the usual trivial tea-table gossip about the ways of the world, everyone was now telling stories of extraordinary heroic deeds.” Exhilarated, the couple follows the masses to the only remaining cathedral, where to their horror, the preacher rages against their transgressions. At the climax of the sermon, the crowd identifies the pair and clubs them to death. The inverted world is gone as soon as it came.

As the Covid-19 contagion passed through China, Western Europe, and the United States, we had our own version of the earthquake. Lockdowns have merged with uncertainty about economic growth to crater oil prices and spike unemployment rates to heights with no historical comparison.

As has become routine during such shocks—from the 1997 Asian Financial Crisis to the Global Financial Crisis in 2008 to the victories of Trump and Brexit in 2016—the rumor ricocheted through the op-eds and articles, think pieces, and tweets, that neoliberalism was dead.

How could anyone claim that markets were the solution to all social problems when it was the countries with strong states and safety nets—Germany, South Korea, Taiwan—where the virus was under control and those with a libertarian streak—the US and the UK—where leaders hesitated to intervene and let different parts of the country outbid each other for life-saving ventilators, test kits, and face masks? Daily applause for frontline health care workers must mean new value for the agents of social reproduction. Generous tips for delivery drivers and gestures of solidarity with Amazon warehouse workers must mean a clear-eyed look at the underpaid labor that makes modern life so frictionless. Visions of blue sky over Delhi and Beijing, air pollution indices registering green in the center of Los Angeles, companies paying people to take barrels of oil they no longer wanted… Surely, after the pandemic we would recognize we had been living in a cursed world and this is the correct one. Humanity had an unearned chance for redemption.

But if we were the couple in the story taking refuge in the woods, we are all now streaming into the cathedral for the fateful service. In the past weeks, a $2 trillion rescue package breezed through US Congress that will overwhelmingly benefit large corporations and the super rich, not ordinary workers. Speculation of a bailout for the US oil sector will surely keep high-carbon capitalism churning onward, especially as the Environmental Protection Agency has lifted regulations for the duration of the crisis. In Canada, the premier of Alberta pledged $7 billion for its own cherished pipeline project. The value of nurses and other health care workers has been recognized in the United States, but only in the sense that they are one of the few exceptions in a presidential executive order that otherwise provisionally banned all immigration to the country.

America has found its own sin-drenched couple to turn on. This week a strategy memo urged Republican candidates to “Attack China.” More than half of Americans surveyed want reparations from China for the virus; the United States has defunded the World Health Organization in protest against its supposed subordination to the country; and the state of Missouri has sued the People’s Republic of China (and a string of associated institutions) in a domestic court. A Fox News commentator beloved by the president shouted that politicians must “start working on how you’re going to punish, ostracize, alienate, and financially sanction and make China accountable for what they did to us and the rest of the world.” A fragile unity will be restored—as it so often is—by targeting the outsider, the alien, the nonwhite person.

Without intervention, the community after the earthquake reconstitutes the one that preceded it. The interregnum extends only if there are social formations to carry it. And right now, the streets are empty, with would-be marchers self-distancing and juggling children and babies.

The leading mainstream political opponent to Trump is an elderly man in a Delaware basement with a habit of vanishing from the public eye for long stretches of time. Joe Biden was the safety candidate against an insurgent Bernie Sanders. He now sits in a bunker with no movement behind him.

We have seen a world where capitalism stops. But it will start again. When America “reopens,” it will be much like the old America. Big companies will be bigger, ever more beholden to the leader for having saved them. Arguments for austerity will return in the wake of the unprecedented spending.

The “thought leaders” in Trump’s recently announced Great American Economic Revival Industry Groups are all from the “free market” think tanks that have advised the GOP since the days of Ronald Reagan—Heritage Foundation, Cato Institute, Hoover Institution, American Legislative Exchange Council—they’re the priests arriving to give their sermon. The church of neoliberalism will be rebuilt and the flash of paradise in the emergency snuffed out.

For the real story, look up. Above the steeple, the vultures are circling. The Wall Street Journal predicts a wave of defaults, bankruptcies, and restructurings. Imperiled companies will see their devalued stock scooped by so-called distressed debt specialists, more commonly known as vulture investors, who make use of the generosities of US Chapter 11 law to strip employees of benefits or offload them to the state before flipping their acquisitions at a profit.

A pioneer in vulture investing and now the commerce secretary, Wilbur Ross praised bankruptcy in 2003 as “the corporate form of Darwinism.” Howard Marks, director of investment fund Oaktree Capital Management, was even more graphic in a recent letter to shareholders quoted in The Wall Street Journal. “Capitalism without bankruptcy is like Catholicism without hell,” he wrote, suggesting that federal bailouts shouldn’t shield market actors from “a healthy fear of loss.” He failed to add that people like himself have learned how to monetize the flames. His own Oaktree Capital Fund is reportedly raising “$15 billion for what would be the biggest-ever distressed-debt fund.”

The next year will be a litany of the “workouts and turnarounds” that bankruptcy specialists are known for, ruthlessly wringing the value out of companies, while ignoring the human or social costs. Distressed debt funds are the loan sharks of the business world, and will feel no compunction about pursuing the bottom line. We have seen a preview of such dispassionate calculation in the last month, as stock values soared alongside record unemployment numbers and mounting deaths. The combination seemed shocking to some people, even scandalous. “The stock market doesn’t care about your feelings,” was the response of a Los Angeles Times business reporter, “nor should it.”

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warmau · 4 years

Text

ateez x coworker!au | sf9 ver *this post was commissioned (someone asked for some cute ateez) <3

hongjoong

diligent and always on time, he puts way too much effort into any project on his plate

if there’s any word to describe him its workaholic, but hongjoong insists that he’s just being a good employee - nothing more

but it’s like,,,,,,,,,,,you’re doing the regional managers job and you are literally not,,,,,,,the regional manager

he’s some how the assistant to the regional manager and like. no one understands how because like hongjoong most definitely does the brunt of the work

but during annual reviews he’s always downplaying it and that evil good for nothing regional manager takes the credit

wooyoung and san on a regular basis: what if the regional managers tires get slashed accidentally or what if we hide all of those ugly ties he wears or what if we hack into the company's assets and make it look like hes laundering money-

hongjoong: dont do that

wooyoung and san winking: yeah, sure, “don’t do that”

hongjoong: no like seriously dont do that

his little office space is really cutely decorated though and hes the best gift giver at office parties because he always gives something handmade and unique

you have a bracelet that you got last christmas from him when you guys got paired for the exchange, and it’s really so cute and colorful you always wear it

and the office guys tease hongjoong about it like, “hey - are you guys a couple? c’mon tell us the truth - you have a matching bracelet for yourself!” (hongjoong feverishly refuses this but the tips of his ears always get red)

one time mingi, with all the good naturedness of his heart commented that you must find the deep, dark exhaustion eyebags under hongjoong eyes cute - you know, like a racoons!

and you were like o-oh well- y-y-es?!?!?! and hongjoong had proceeded to drag the poor intern out of the break room by his ear

it’s like the shy office romance that everyone is cheering for that doesnt really happen

until one evening as hongjoong is getting ready to finally leave for the day he’s astonished to see you

frantically searching on your hands and knees for something in the dim office lights

“did you lose your keys?”

he asks and you’re so startled you hit your head on the desk you’re under as you come up - you put your hands up embarrassingly and mumble that no,,,,,you lost that bracelet he gave you,,,,

he lets out a little “oh!” and waves his hand in the air as if its nothing, he tells you not to worry - it was just a little gift-

“no, it’s important to me,,,,,,,”

your voice is a slight whisper and hongjoong barely catches

“w-why is it so important to you?”

“because you made it.”

you turn back to start looking again, when you hear hongjoong put his things down on the floor and join you

his hand is warm when it brushes over yours a little

he’s never had someone cherish something he’s made like this before and so even if you two have to spend the whole night searching - he’s down for that

and when you do find it,,,,and there’s still time to take you to dinner,,,,he thinks he’s very much down for that too

seonghwa

spends half his day running away from potential suitors who come down from all the different departments just to ask him out for lunch or after work drinks

he’s just a low ranking officer, he doesn’t get what the craze is about?!?!

hongjoong, taking one hard look at seonghwa: i know what its about

seonghwa: plEAse tell me so i can live a peaceful life

hongjoong, sighing: dude. its your face

and even on the days when he comes in with glasses perched on the end of his nose and a slightly crumpled shirt from having to rush to iron in the morning

like it does not matter - he looks like and literally is - an angel

has a weird irritation about little spots on documents, like if dirt gets in the printer and its on the page hes like,,,,,eye twitching,,,,,,,,,no

three bottles, at least, of hand sanitizer on his desk

his headphones match his laptop, which match his wireless keyboard, which match his mouse - the color scheme we are going for is a calming ivory

once got called in for causing a disturbance, but it was literally not his fault, he went to ask the billing department if they had any extra ink and came downstairs with like five people all chattering at max volume about if he had plans next saturday

wooyung: damn man being beautiful must suck

seonghwa: oh thank you for understanding, it really is-

wooyoung: SIKE it rocks how do i know? look at me!

yeosang to seonghwa: just ignore him, he does this at least twice a day

you know seonghwa, how could you not, and you agree with the majority opinion: he is insanely handsome

but you have your own problems to worry about, that being a very nasty manager who seems to have it out for you

so like seonghwa, you spend half your day hiding from someone, which means

solace in the supplies closet

one day, as you’re sitting inside there, trying to work on a memo draft on your phone

the door swings open - and you jump to pretend like you’re looking for staples

but instead, it closes with a harsh noise and the person slides down against the door - heaving and fanning themselves

“a-are you ok?”

you ask, worried that the shortness of breath is from them feeling sick - when in reality its just seonghwa, on the run from lovestruck coworkers

again

he shakes his head and mumbles that he’s sorry for barging in

but you shake your head, tell him its fine

you’re both under this impression that one of you is going to bounce soon - like this is a supply closet, not the break room - but after about five minutes of utter silence

seonghwa goes, “are you also running away from work people who are in love with you?”

you giggle, but shake your head “actually running away from a work person who hates me.”

he gives you an apologetic look, but you just wave it off - not like there’s much either of you can do about it anyway

its silent for a while, and you keep trying to do as much editing as you can on your phone, not really paying attention to the way seonghwa’s eyes flick toward you in the dark

not until he clears his throat and is like, “well i think the coast is clear so ill be going back out there-”

you nod, thinking you should probably return too before your manager goes bonkers and says you’ve abandoned your position or something

as you near the door though - suddenly seonghwa shyly extends his arm

you blink in confusion and he just goes, “maybe if we go out together itll be less scary?”

the sentiment is adorable and you take his palm in yours, giving it a gentle squeeze

though the moment you two step out - there are at least ten pairs of eyes on you and suddenly seonghwa makes sure to swing your hands behind your backs

he leans down, “dont want anyone to get the wrong idea and then you end up getting hurt too.”

but you think about it for a moment before tugging your hands out into the open - a wave of gasps passes through the people around you like a wave through the sea

you tiptoe up and explain, “maybe if they think you’re taken they’ll back off?”

the sentence shouldnt make seonghwa’s heart jump in his chest like it does - but hey, maybe your plan will work

(or maybe your manager will hate you even more because what - you bagged SEONGHWA? OF ALL PEOPLE?)

yeosang

really really REALLY good at bullshitting stellar work

and not in a last minute oh shit kind of wooyoung way, but in a i dont actually know anything about the material but damn am i going to make it sound like i do kind of way

and to be fair, if yeosang stared you down in a board room meeting for fifteen to twenty minutes selling you a pitch and blinking like a cat on the hunt then like

im pretty sure you’re just going to buy into the pitch

interns are scared of him because they think hes like the no nonsense, dont bother me type

which he plays into sometimes because its fun and the interns will do what he says without bothering him about it

but the reality is he can be quite silly,,,,,,,,,jongho has on occasion caught yeosang getting giddy over like kitten youtube videos on break and everytime yeosang is like you didnt see anything

and jongho is like sure, not until it becomes beneficial to me and i use it against you

yeosang: wh

jongho: so the weather, huh?

knows everyone’s business somehow, but only gets invested if its like super super super juicy - i.e. someone in corporate is stealing money or there’s a secret poker game on the weekend for promotions

like no, san, yeosang doesnt care that you lied on your taxes

you are one of the newer hires, not an intern, just new to the job

and although everyones been pretty inviting - you kind of maybe really think that yeosang,,,,,,,,hates you

he has this routine, an hour before everyone leaves on friday he goes around the department to see if anyone wants to go downstairs and across the street to get some coffee with him

you asume its a kind of “yay the weekends here” thing - which you are very down for, but its been like a month since youve been here

and yeosang has never asked you

hell, he even asks intern mingi - who half the time is doing these starbucks runs so he doesnt have the pleasure of ever really saying no

you had chalked it up to - oh im new, and hes maybe shy? but that makes no sense because this is kang yeosang

shyness isnt an adjective you’d use for him - so the only other logical explanation is,,,,,,,you must have had a really horrible first impression

you decide to ask san about it - he seems pretty close to yeosang and hes also been super open with you - but when you go, “did i do something to make yeosang angry?”

san nearly spits out the rice he’s chewing on - he gets fidgety in his seat, something you arent used to seeing, and says he has to go

curious, you decide to ask wooyoung the same question - but get the same panicked response

so you as yunho, who gives you a sad puppy kind of look and then jongho, who just???????? chuckles

it makes no sense and you’re even more confused than before - when suddenly its friday and yeosang - yesong is approchaing your desk

“do you want to go to starbucks with me?”

the way you jump up and beam must seem like a schoolkid getting their first a+ on a project, but you don’t care - and as you follow yeosang out the whole office gives a big sigh of relief

in the elevator down, yeosang keeps himself tucked in the corner and the bliss you had felt starts to wear down

wait,,,,maybe he invited me because hes sick of me asking other people if he hates me? is he about to tell me he hates me over some iced coffee?!?!

but as you step out and make your way toward the cafe, yeosang stops - putting a light hand on your elbow

immediately you start apologizing, you dont know where it comes from - but like an open faucet you just start saying sorry for the most random things and yeosang just gives you a confused look that shuts you up

“wait - why are you apologizing to me?”

he inquires and your shoulders shake a little, “well,,,,,i mean - didnt i piss you off?”

he looks to the side and sighs, “far from it - actually i pissed myself off more than anything else.”

“huh?”

he crosses his hands before returning his gaze to yours, a fine pink dust settles over his skin

“its just, i was avoiding you because im not, im not like - you know im not like good at like asking - asking peopl- people i like -”

he starts to stutter, or better yet almost malfunction, as he tries to explain

you almost feel like apologizing again for making this so hard on him, when he just throws his hands up

“i like you - and not in the we’re just co-workers kind of way - and yes, i find it hard to approach people i find cute. there. im not mad at you and yes im aware i look like a fool, so lets just go get our coffee-”

your smile almost stretches off your face as you hear his words, instead of knowing what else to say you step forward and takes his hands into yours

“you dont look like a fool, and yes we should get coffee but only if you admit that this is kind of our first date-”

he holds back the urge to laugh but stares down into the sparkles of your eyes

“are you sure? starbucks on a first date is kind of,,,,,,,”

“im sure, ive been waiting for you to ask me to come to starbucks with you for a whole month so its very fitting”

you and yeosang have a good giggle about that - when you come back to the office, san asks where his hot chocolate is but you and yeosang are so busy rubbing shoulders and being even cuter together that you just walk past him

san: im so deeply hurt, but also so deeply moved by how sweet they look with one and other

wooyoung

the office has wildly differing opinions on him, but one things for sure: hes brilliant in the weirdest of ways

on a 9-5 basis he gets like one hour of work done on a good day but lets say like the company is going through a major crisis

the person with the lifesaving idea SOMEHOW will be wooyoung (aided by hongjoong who probably just needs to curb some of wooyoungs enthusiasm)

but yes, like people will write him off as giddy and loud - but hes not dumb

wooyoung: “you can have a bachelors degree and do dumb stuff, like thats not illegal.”

jongho: “vandalizing the ceos car when you were an intern here is illegal though.”

wooyoung, eyes wide: “how do you know about- i never did that,,,,,,,,”

makes memes and shares them in the work gc and the only people who get them are san and jongho, san because he shares a brain with wooyoung and jongho because hes literally young

hongjoong and mingi everytime: i dont get it....

you are a transfer from the companys overseas office and wooyoung takes to you right away

mostly because you’re different and know all this cool stuff that he doesnt

and you really like his fun energy, even though yeosang will be like “dont get tricked by it”

so when you and wooyoung get paired for a marketing project - you are both over the moon

until

its the night before its due and you and wooyoung have. nothing

you’re both spread out in the empty confrence room, wooyoung chugging a monster energy - while you nearly fall asleep and drop the tablet you’re working on straight on your face

wooyoung is like “lets just ask for an extension” but you insist you cant, this is your first big project here and you want to make an impression

but the slump you’re both in is BAD

suddenly wooyoung takes the tablet off your hands and you sit up, hoping he’s thought of something, but instead he blasts some pop song and you cringe as you fall back in your chair

“turn it off, i cant think with that noise.”

“c’mon, dancing will help us think of ideas.”

“wooyoung - seriously, we need to do some work or -”

he doesnt listen to you, he just pulls you up from your seat and twirls you around

you groan and try to tell him that its not going to work - but wooyoung just says it doesnt need to, you guys just need to have some fun before you die over this stupid project

you dont want to admit that hes right - that your body feels like its been reduced to a bag of sludge - so you let him twirl you again until you’re dancing too

the anxiety from the project loosens a little as you watch wooyoung dance unabashedly, tie swinging over his shoulder and dress shirt a mess

you join him, kicking off your shoes and just letting go for these ten blissful minutes

you don’t notice and as you turn toward wooyoung, your ankle catches on one of the chairs and you go tumbling toward him as he catches you and cushions your fall

you both laugh and wooyoung looks up into your smiling face - happy to see it bright after you’d looked so miserable the whole day

actually, he doesnt say it outloud, but this happiness on you is probably the most beautiful happiness hes seen on someone

it glitters and for a moment he doesnt want to let your inviting warm weight off of him

and then - just as his eyes wavier down a little from your eyes to your lips he goes

“AHAH! IVE GOT IT!”

you sit up and he follows suit, grasping your shoulders

“IVE GOT AN IDEA!”

you want to ask him how he got it, what prompted it, but hes already talking a mile a minute

and to be honest, hes pretty happy you didnt get to ask - the answers totally embarrassing - like whats he gonna say

your natural beauty inspired me? how,,,,,,,,how sweet - corny, he means corny!

san

he can most definitely turn on the charm when he needs to, making himself out to be put together and organized

but troublemaking is just too good to pass up, no wonder he and wooyoung are often referred to as partners-in-crime

100% the host for the monthly office karaoke contest

somehow the bartender always gets a little pale when san comes tumbling in because,,,,,,,he is clumsy and quite good at breaking things,,,,,,

he outwits seonghwa into helping him clean up his desk when it gets too crazy

and frequently gets bonked on the head by hongjoong who catches him falling asleep over the keyboard

or trying to play on the switch - but then getting his headphones disconnected and now everyone can hear tom nook’s voice

he adheres to the dress code, but likes to have sparkly pins in his hair or a colorful belt from time to time

just because the bleakness of corporate life SUCKS and is not san’s vibe at ALL

but hey, money.

you like san’s karaoke contests and really enjoy just how much he puts into the performances

even if everyone else is giving their half-baked effort on songs from the early 2000s

you yourself dont ever get up to sing, just because of a shyness thing and also you much rather just watch san cause havoc

until one day you show up and you and san are the only ones,,,,,,,,there

somehow - everyone else has things to do this evening - so you tell him you can just comeback next month

when he insists that no, you two can have fun together!

you end up on what someone might call an impromptu date with san,,,,,

where he does his favorite songs and you cheer while the bartender sends over two drinks “on the house” and whispers to you when you collect them that he hopes you can “be the person who will calm san down”

its awfully embarrassing,,,,,but at the same time kind of fun,,,,,,until san invites you up for a duet

you are saying no, but san is waving you over, and someone wolf whistles from somewhere

and before you know it you are up there - and san puts a hand on yours as he passes you the mic

you kind of mumble into the mic, and believe me its nothing like what san belts out when hes up there

and still - san is jumping up and down and looks like he’s legitimately having the time of his life

his energy kind of boosts your confidence and one might say you even sing a bit of the song

when the night is over, san offers to take the train with you to your stop and if you want - he’ll even take the time to walk you home

just as you two are about to emerge from the station, just sort of basking in each others presence you both get your email notifications from work

taking your phones out you read the message

subject: finally hooking those two up body: ‘so, bets on a kiss - do you think they kissed? i think they did, or at least got close to it - you know how san is during karaoke’

the next email appears, this one is from jongho

subject: re: finally hooking those two up body: ‘which idiot cc’d san and them on the email,,,,,,,,,,,,’

you and san sort of stare down at your screens and then back up at each other

the realization dawns on you: nobody was actually too busy for karaoke,,,,,,,the whole office just wanted to set you up on a date,,,,,,

you are truly at a lose for words when suddenly san is typing back and before you can question it you get a ping!

subject: re:re: finally hook those two up body: ‘haven’t kissed yet, but the nights still young.

yunho

everyone's handyman - and by everyone, i mean everyone. the janitor has asked him to screw in lightbulbs before.

fairly good worker all around, he can come in late on certain days because hes helping grandmas cross streets or saving kittens from trees

and there have been instances of tiny mistakes, mostly because his attention was on giving feedback to the interns

but yeah no complaints, hes never even been given like a warning

very tidy work appropriate outfits - like tie tucked into sweater vest baby

feels guilty when he does have enough lunch to share with every single person, you know hes bringing his jumbo salad bowl to work

the worst lie hes ever told on the job is pointing to his cup and being like, yep thats my morning coffee!!!

when in fact it was soothing decaffeinated earl gray tea because coffee makes him jittery

your assigned to yunho for basic intern training and youre so lucky and thankful because like

youve heard the horror stories, but he is seriously just an angel

and doesnt get annoyed at your questions and even helps out when you get confused

the only thing is that sometimes he gets so engrossed in showing you how to format this document

or where to get the copy paper

that personal space sorta siezes to exist and now hes hovering over you with his big hands over your keyboard

or his chest pressed to your back as he helps get the supplies from the top shelf

and you are not complaining its just,,,,,,,,,,,you know,,,,,,,,embarrassing

and sometimes you have to excuse yourself

or just wiggle away and you dont want to hurt his feelings or anything

its just you hate that with each day you see yunho’s smile in the morning and something in your chest gets a little tighter

and you are not about to date a co-woker, no way no how

even though yunho meets every checklist for the perfect boyfriend

because 1) its probably against the rules and 2) you dont want to just get your heartbroken by the man who is just that kind to everyone

until one day hongjoong makes an offhanded comment about how yunho has never taken this much of a liking to an intern like you

and you think about it all day, up until its the only thing on your mind and it takes yunho five tries of calling your name until you snap out of it and go

“huh?”

“hongjoong suggested this good place to eat, do you want to come have lunch with me since i didnt bring anything in today?”

your mouth works faster than your mind and you go,

“like a date?”

before immediately clamping your palm over and muttering an apology

but yunho’s ears go bright and he sort of loses his composure for a moment till a small, squeaky answer comes out

“yeah,,,,like a date?”

mingi

eager to please intern,,,,,,,but add in a dash of absolute obliviousness

like he wants to help everyone but sometimes the instructions from like five different people just turn to mush in his brain

and hes like delivering coffee to the wrong person or printing out three hundred copies of that poorly photoshopped meme wooyoung made instead of the needed documents

but no one can get mad at him because have you seen him? like it would be straight up illegal to even raise your voice at him

hes so sweet that numerous people offer their homemade lunches to him and hes always like eating a sandwich from hongjoong or freshly baked cookies from yunho

the older ladies of the office just a d o r e him (a little too much, but like hes so sweet natured he doesnt even read into it)

his pants are always short and someone is always like poor mingi’s ankles are so cold

but at the same time he can lift like ,,,,, one hundred pounds of printer cartridge's so its like,,,,,,,,, ok so maybe those skinny ankles actually put in a lot of work,,,,,,,,

you’re the ceos only child and when they’re off on business, you’re in charge of the department where mingi interns

and like anyone else you have a huge soft spot for him, even though you dont try to show it because favoritism is a no-no

actually in general you try to be as fair and as understanding as possible, because your parent isnt really the type

a lot of the office really likes you, but now and then someone will say something snippy or rude about you

simply because they think you got your job through just being the ceo’s kid or that you’re only lenient to try and get in with one of the office heartthrobs

you try not to take it personally and you bite your tongue when it comes to putting those rumors and the people who spread them in place

but one afternoon, you can clearly hear a group of people talking about how you lack the leadership skills to ever take over the company

it hurts, you can feel the pain in your chest, but you try to wrestle through it until you hear mingi’s voice

“i dont think you should say that about them.”

you turn and peek your head passed the cubical - mingi’s tall frame is standing in front of the pack

“what do you know, you’re just a lowly intern.”

“thats true, but ive seen them work and theyre really good at leading. theyre also doing two jobs at once - both theirs and the ceos, i dont think anyone here has to deal with so much work.”

youd think his tone was being mocking, just like theirs, but his voice is clean and clear

like hes just stating a truth he believes in

when one of them starts badmouthing mingi, you step in and tug him away from the conversation as the office workers disperses back to their seats

you tug him toward the stairs and out of earshot and mumble a small thank you

“huh? why are you thanking me?”

“well you stood up for me so-”

he shrugs his shoulders, “i was just saying the truth.”

you nod, embarrassment on your cheeks as you realize that its mingi youre talking to - of course he wouldnt have any other motive but to -

“and theyre wrong you know, one of them was saying youre not pretty and thats a lie too. youre good at your job and -”

“wait, what”

you back up and mingi blinks - “i said youre good at your j-”

“no before that, you think im-”

“pretty?”

you both stare at each other as the realization sinks into mingi’s expression and he sort of opens his mouth like a gaping fish -

“i-i - i just - i -”

you stiffle a giggle and shake your head, “no no, its nice that you think that. it makes me really happy.”

“well, im just a lowly intern so i mean i dont know if its such a great compliment-”

you lean up and peck his cheek, making him freeze midstence

“youre not a lowly intern, i believe youre way more than that and sooner or later youll probably be promoted too!”

“pr-promoted? like to a worker or like ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,to,,,,,,,,,,your,,,,,,,,,,,,boyfriend,,,,,,,,,,,”

jongho

kid genius, has a higher position than most people double his age

knows everyone's secrets so no one even tries to start shit with him about it

loves watching the office go into chaos when the printer isnt working and apparently hes the only one who knows how to fix a goddamn paper jam

but hes on a coffee break, let him watch everyone tear each other apart before he actually just presses a button to fix this all

like mingi, he can actually lift way more than him, but why would he - the intern is there for a reason lol

probably has an early college degree from some prestigious school and he doesnt talk about it but he knows people whisper about it

and hes like so what i still work at this dump but like what - is someone gonna rat on him to the ceo? - no, because he’ll just tell the ceo about that one time that person tried to charge the company card for their vacation plane tickets :)

gets work done fast and early, spends the rest of the day just playing minecraft

you used to be jongho’s number one rival for youngest, smartest position

but he sorta beat you out over time and even though you were pissed about it for a long while

youve kinda gotten over the rivalry

instead youre comfortable in your other department and dont really see jongho around anymore

which you think is normal - and actually youre under the impression that jongho is happy to be rid of you

but the reality is he makes up way too many excuses to go up to your floor, i.e. “the bathroom is better there” “their breakroom has this k-cup i like” “the view from the windows are nicer”, etc.

no one notices, or if they do - no one dares to make a peep

but you ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, are starting to think its a little suspicious

so you confront him, as he stands awkwardly by the window at the end of the hall

“are you like spying on me?”

jongho turns around, dark eyes widening just a bit

“what? no. i just like the view.”

“jongho, your office is like three floors above mine - you arguably have the better view.”

he shrugs as if its nothing but you press on

“why are you coming down here - wait, oh my gosh - do you like someone in my department?!??”

you suddenly get bright and clap your hands together, “c’mon you have to tell me!”

he looks you over once and makes a hmph sound, “why would i tell you?”

you pout

“i know we were rivals for a while, but c’mon - i promise ill put in a good word for you so who is it?”

you step closer and jongho feels his tie get a little tighter

“the new intern? they’re cute - or is it someone older like in the-”

“you”

you stop and buffer - looking at him and for the first time jongho drops his eyes to the floor first

“m-me? you’re coming down here for me? is it because of our riv-”

“no.”

he sets the cup he was holding on the windowsill and suddenly you’re the nervous one

“you’re right. i come here because the person i like on this floor is you.”

he reaches out to touch your wrist but you step back, the confession is too shocking to handle and you scurry off before you can say anything in return

you slide down against the stall of the bathroom and let out the breath you’re holding

its not that you dont like jongho back, actually your whole rivalry was sort of just a cover up for your one-sided feelings

you just never thought that they’d be reciprocated,,,,,,,

you try to pull yourself together - marching out to the sink and looking into your reflection

we cant let jongho win again, he might have confessed first, but your still rivals no matter how much you like each other so just go out there and - and -

you cant think of exactly the word, but before you know it your rushing out and to the stairs

jongho doesnt look too surprised to see you bust into his office - but the rest of the office turns to look at you two

“you-”

“yes?”

“yo-you cant say you like me first, why? well - well because ive liked you longer, so im saying it now. i like you. so i win. no arguing. take me to dinner. bye.”

and with that you turn on your heel, jongho nods - secretly smiling to himself as he puts on his headphones

yunho to mingi: isnt it crazy, jongho just got asked out in front of the whole office!

mingi, blinking: wait what? i thought that person was just mad at him

#ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez au #members: ateez #sfw #office!au

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neokids · 3 years

Text

Fortune's Fool: Act XII

Masterlist (read previous and future ones here!)

Act XII

Tw: Lots of blood, character death, violence, murder, guns, knives, weapons, foul language, self-inflicted wounds, suicide, overall graphic content

When night fell in Seoul, it remained as bright as it was during the day. Yes it was a bit more quiet, but still the glowing neon signs from the shops and other bars made up for sunlight. The only things that could be heard in the city would be the distant sound of music and the buzzing of wires. In the eyes of a foreigner, one would say Seoul is peaceful. They do not know the danger slowly eating the city alive. They do not know that beneath the mask of calm and peace, remained a city run by violence. This time violence, but madness would soon start its reign.

In the clamor, a dancer who had just finished her night shift exited a club. She hugged her faux fur jacket close to her figure, feeling the cold wind wind of Seoul brush through her. She shook her head to free her hair from her ribbons that have been tied there all day, the sudden release calming her down. Her ribbons were a bright royal purple in color, signifying her alliance with the Viper Gang. She wore the ribbons on her wrist to keep her safe as she walked through the deep alleys where Viper gangsters remained, a sign that she is on their side and would not cause any hassle.

The dancer shivered as she continued to walk, quite certain no one was following her. She looked behind her to see no one there, she was at ease. Nevertheless, she felt someone watching every move she took. With that feeling creating an unsettling emotion bubble in her stomach, she started to quicken her pace.

A few moments passed, and the dancer completely halted in her steps. Leaving the dull buzzing of the electrical wires fill her sense of hearing. She thought she had heard panting near her, but she saw no one. The more she listened, the more she heard the droplets of water hitting the ground. Droplets of water that weren’t there before.

The more she focused, the more her sense of hearing widened. She felt the presence of someone with her.

But the thing is, it wasn’t someone. It was something.

It revealed itself from the shadows, its thorns shining in the dark. It looked like someone had placed ten daggers all along its back. It raised its head to make eye contact with the poor dancer, a pair of opaque silver eyes stared back.

The dancer flees, panic overcoming her entire body. She ran as fast as she could in her heels, ultimately causing her to trip and stumble to a fisherman who wore the wrong colors.

The Neo caught sight of her and her purple ribbon tied to her wrist, he was ready to fight.

“You!” He bellows, “Are you lost?”

He mistook the dancer’s shocked silence as confusion, the dancer thought he would help her. As soon as he approached her, he whipped his gun out.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching out on our boundaries,” the dancer explained as she reached for her gun strapped on her thigh, “Bloody Vipers,” he spat through grit teeth, “You think you can stroll here anytime you want, don’t you?”

He aims the pistol at her, the dancer shaking while holding her own gun. “Y-you don’t understand, something is back there and it’s coming–”

A sudden splash broke their tension. The dancer felt droplets of water hit her exposed leg and when she looked down, the water was tar black.

She sprints to her right, ducking at the alleyway. The fisherman mistook her fast pace as a sign of war and so gunshots were fired. When she had got away to shield herself from the Han river, her whole body was already shaking.

Then something erupted from the Han River

Soon enough, screams resonated all throughout the night.

The dancer had sat in her hiding place, muttering all the prayers she knew. Eyes closed tight as her knees were brought to her chest, whole body shaking. The only thing that had caused her to stop, was when she heard nothing at all. The screams were now dead silent, the only thing that could be heard was the constant buzzing of the electrical wires. The dancer willed herself to get up and go back to the scene, only for something horrible to unravel in front of her.

The fisherman, along with several other people, had dropped dead on the floor. Throats scratched until blood was seeping to the floors.

Along with that, she found several insects skittling and bumping towards each other before jumping to the Han river.

. . .

Yeji smoothed the fabric of her dress down, her chauffeur taking her to the address Karina provided her. She was on her way to Secretary-General Jinyoung Park’s office, hopefully able to find something before she would return home. She always wore a beaded flapper dress, similar to the ones Western girls wore when she was in America. In order to blend-in, she had to look like everyone else. She had to wear her roaring 20s hanbok and finger curl her hair.

Jinyoung Park was a very secretive person. He was the chief editor of a newspaper called The Korea Press, and their address was supposed to be public information. Yeji had expected a somewhat formal corporate office, people in suits and formal attire. She did not expect a bunch of workers running around the tight office with typewriters clutched in their hands as they frantically screamed and demanded about the latest update being pressed.

As she walked in the building, she held her chin high. Yeji couldn’t help wrinkle her nose as she eyed the mess that is this office. She didn’t bother stopping by the front desk, they were Rovers weren’t they? Surely they would let her wander around until she stumbles upon Jinyoung Park’s office right?

Yeji smiled to herself.

As she weaved through the chaotic establishment, she snagged a random notebook and pen in attempts of making herself look busy. She made her way to the basement, the sudden brightness suddenly starting to fade. The whole basement level was darker than the floors above it, they didn’t bother putting in more artificial illumination. The whole level was made out of solid cement, from the floors all the way to the ceiling. It wouldn’t surprise Yeji if she found out that this establishment was used as a prison before turning it into this.

She continued striding forward, her heels clacking loudly in the process. She examined and took a look at all the nooks and crannies of the prison-like office. Everyone and everything was so chaotic that they did not mind her presence at all, it was like she wasn’t there in the first place. All the workers were busy writing, making phone calls, or scribbling down notes. As Yeji scanned the desks she passed by, one desk caught her attention. There seemed to be one desk that was unoccupied, she was even more intrigued when she saw a note pasted on the clipboard: MEMO FOR JINYOUNG PARK

She quickly ducked under the desk, searching for all files she deemed useful. She found nothing but old newspapers and drafts for new ones. Why was this desk empty? Yeji thought. Surely this desk did not belong to Jinyoung Park who had his own space, she found her hands wandering to a certain opened drawer. She found drawings.

When she saw the first one, she broke out in a cold sweat. It was a drawing of wide, snake-like eyes. The other drawing was of claws and claw marks, impossible made by an animal on earth. She felt the tiny hairs on her neck spike up.

“Goemul,” Yeji breathed, a monster.

Before she could think over her actions, she quickly snatched one of the drawings, the one where it showed its enitery, and folded it as she tucked it in her pocket. It joined the masquerade invitation she had forgotten about, causing her to feel annoyed again. She stood up after glancing around the room, making sure no one was watching her. She wiped the sweat from her palms as she marched out the basement floor.

Yeji paused suddenly, hearing and seeing the door behind her shuddering.

Suddenly, all Yeji could think about was the drawing folded in her pocket. She reached for the doorknob hesitantly, fear almost clouding her vision. “Hello?” She said quite hoarsely, “Is someone–”

“Who are you? What are you doing here?”

She leaped away from the door, the door stopped shuddering. She quickly turned around.

“Oh, me?”

The man wore a strange hat, his suit being more Western than the rest of the people here. Judging by the way he carried himself, and his arrogant stare, he was of high ranks. Possibly along the ranks of Jinyoung Park, he was definitely not a mere assistant.

“I came to talk to your chief-editor,” Yeji continued, “I got a bit lost.”

“The exit is that way,” The man said, pointing to his left. It was something about the way he said it, he was treating Yeji like a lost child who got separated from her parents in a theme park. Yeji did not like anything about it.

Her blank face immediately morphed into a cold, wide smile.

“Official Viper business,” She said, chin held high. “My father, Lord Hwang, sent me here.”

There was a moment of silence, the man digesting her words. You could see the man’s expression suddenly turn into discomfort. Still, he smiled and gestured for her to follow him.

The man did not bother hiding his impatience, he ascended the staircase three steps at a time. Yeji, however, took her sweet time as she looked around the establishment. The contrast between the prison-like basement and the prestigious first floor levels was abrupt. The Rovers only cared what the common people saw, which were the first floor levels. They wanted to come across as established, known, accomplished.

Yeji eyed all the designer clothing that the workers on this floor adorned, they were much different than the workers who looked underpaid in the basement. When Yeji brought her attention back to the man, the man was already waving her impatiently towards him. With a huff, she followed suit.

The both took a turn around the corner as the man led her towards a spacious waiting room. The waiting room had two parallel rows of waiting chairs, placed directly on the opposite sides of the walls. Yeji finally understood his impatience, seeing as there was already another person there.

Jeno cocked his head forward.

“What are you doing here?!” They both demanded in unison.

As soon the man felt the tense air of the place, he removed himself from the situation quietly. As soon as the man was nowhere to be seen, Jeno jumped from his seat and grabbed Yeji’s arm. She was so offended that he even dared to touch her that she stood grounded to her place, rage bubbling in her stomach. Jeno had already moved them to the corner of the waiting room, making the cold wall hit Yeji’s back. Only then was Yeji able to react.

“Let. Go. Of. Me.” She hissed, trying to shake her arm away from his grip. Jeno must have heard the same things, causing him to gather information for himself as well.

Yeji bit back a curse. If the Neos found answers first, the whole of the Viper gang was doomed. If the Neos knew more than they did, people would start putting their trust more in them. People would start fleeing to their side, leaving the Neos to prosper while the Vipers to suffer.

“Listen,” Jeno snapped, “you have to leave.”

Yeji couldn’t believe what she was hearing, “I have to leave?”

“Yes,” Jeno muttered as he reached up to examine Yeji’s dangling pearl earring. He made eye contact with her fiery eyes, flicking the dangling pearl in the process. The pearl had hit her jaw, causing her to fight back the breath threatening to her throat, she wanted to scream at his face so hard right now, but she knew better.

“I was here first,” Jeno said as he placed his palm on the side of her head, “Go play dress-up somewhere else.”

Dress-up? Was this all Yeji was to him? When she wasn’t in her usual clothing? Just a dress-up? But she did not care.

“This is Viper territory.”

“These people are Rovers, you hold no bearing nor power over them whatsoever.”

Yeji grit her teeth hard, he was right. The only thing she found comforting was that Jeno didn’t look too confident either. If she had no bearing over them, that meant he didn’t either. The man Yeji met earlier immediately shut up as soon as he discovered Yeji’s identity, the neutrality was a good thing in this situation.

“Our relationship with the Rovers is, and will always be, none of your business.” Yeji refuted, “No if you would excuse me, please get out of my face.”

Jeno only narrowed his eyes at her, taking it as a threat.

“I am not going anywhere.”

God, the audacity of this man. Yeji straightened to her full height, holding her head up high. She was in heels, their height difference wasn't much. “I won’t say this again,” Yeji breathed, toxicity lacing her voice. “Get out of my face. Now.”

Jeno held her stare a second longer. Slowly, he backed away from her. As he stepped back, he scrubbed his hands to his eyes. Yeji glared at him while making the act, but she realized it was an act of exhaustion. The shadow underneath Jeno’s eyes a bit more prominent, eyes a little red.

“Have you not been getting sleep lately?” Yeji finds herself suddenly asking, her question startled both her and the man in front of her. With Jeno striding a few steps away, she found herself wanting to kill him less.

“I’ll have you know,” Jeno turned back to her, his hands finding its way to his pockets. “That I am very much well, thank you.”

“I wasn’t asking about your well-being.”

“Oh just give it a rest, Yeji.”

Yeji folded her arms, not quite believing his words. She had heard of the news last night of the dancer and the fishermen, a number of deaths on the side of the Neos suddenly spiking up. It meant that Jeno wasn’t gonna leave because Yeji had told him off, he needed an answer just as she did. Death was already on its way to his door.

“Is that his office?” Yeji asked as she nodded towards the door in front of them, she didn’t need to explain some more as she saw Jeno nod in the corner of her eyes. “Jinyoung Park is disciplined, he won’t take any line-jumpers. Don’t even try.”

Try what? She wanted to ask nastily, she couldn’t possibly engage in a gunfight with Jeno right now. She needed an answer so they really needed to be civil, at least for this time being.

Yeji hastily stomped down towards a chair and sat down. She lifted her gaze towards the ceiling, looking at the cracks and chipped paint of the poor paint job. She made sure to look at anything else. She dug her hand into her pockets, feeling the folded drawing crease in her hands. The drawing didn’t confirm what the role of the Rovers was, but it was something. From the drawing’s blurry and harsh lines, she knew it was near the docks of the Han river.

Meanwhile, Jeno returned to his seat opposite the row where Yeji sat. He kept her gaze pinpointed on her, focusing on her whole-being. Much to Yeji’s annoyance, she could feel his burning stare directed towards her. She felt like she was being inspected, each sweep of his eyes, she felt like being torn apart piece by piece. The longer he stared at her, the more Yeji could feel the sudden rush creeping up her neck, coloring her neck and ears with discomfort and rage.

She wanted to skin herself alive, anything to make his attention turn elsewhere. He was just looking for heaven’s sake, people look all the time. Yeji decided that she would just have to wait until Jinyoung Park could finally meet her and–

“What?” Yeji snapped, unable to take his stare any longer. He did not say anything, he just looked at her again. Finally, she tore her gaze away from him.

Jeno let out an amused noise, as he turned his attention towards the door. “What’s got you so worked up?”

“For the last time, it is, and alway will be, none of your business.”

“If it has something to do with the madness then–”

“Bold of you to assure that it had something to do with with the–”

Jeno roared, “Will you let me finish my goddamn sen–”

The door then slammed open, revealing a very stressed assistant as she gestured for Jeno to come inside. Before joining Jinyoung Park, he gave Yeji a huff. This isn’t over.

Yeji had to wait an antagonizing wait. She tapped her foot impatiently and aggressively, her fingers playing with each other. She cracked her knuckles every few minutes as she played with the hem of her skirt now and then. As she felt like a thousand years, the door cracked open.

It was clear, Jeno’s blue head of hair hung low as his shoulders slouched, that he wasn’t able to get the intel he needed. He was met with Yeji’s knowing stare. She mocked him, pitied him. Jeno’s ways of persuasion had no limits, he was a liar through and through. Stopping at nothing until he got what he wanted.

“Don’t look so smug,” Jeno hissed, causing Yeji to chuckle.

“That’s just my face.” She replied as she stood up, chin held high as she entered Jinyoung Park’s office.

“Well if it isn’t my lucky day.” Jinyoung Park said once Yeji sat in front of him. He quickly put aside his letter and pen as he eyed Yeji, and then the door. “First it was the prince of the Neos, now we have the proud heiress of the Vipers. What can I do for you, Miss Hwang?”

Yeji briefly took in his plain office. She saw a few framed pictures of him and guessing his wife on the shelves behind the Rover. The office didn’t look old, nor did it look new. It was just as plain as any regular office, nothing special. Yeji turned her gaze back to Jinyoung Park, letting out a relaxed smile.

“You know how rumors travel nowadays, right Mr. Park?” She asked as she squinted, looking at her fingernails. “You won’t ever guess what I heard the other day,”

Jinyoung Park leaned forward, mildly curious and entertained. “Do tell, Miss Hwang.”

“They say–” Yeji leaned forward as well, like a classmate telling another classmate a secret, “that you know what caused this madness.”

Jinyoung Park didn’t say anything, he remained silent after a beat had passed. He looked at Yeji, blinking rapidly this time. “I have no clue what you–they are talking about.”

Yeji raised her brows, an innocently shocked expression graced her features. “You don’t?” She asked lightly. “You didn’t come up with this madness to kill all the gangsters? So that no one would be left to rule the city? So that the people of Seoul would be under your control and command?”

She took in his astonishment, guessing that Jeno didn’t directly confront Jinyoung Park about the madness. He must have tiptoed on thin ice, not really bothering to press nor aggravate the man in question. That was very unlikely of him.

“Miss Hwang,” Jinyoung Park began, “that is–that is preposterous.”

Yeji wasn’t going anywhere at this rate, she straightened up in her seat as she crossed her legs. The typical meek flapper girl long gone, seated in front of him was the heiress of the most brutal gangs in all of Seoul.

“The truth will be revealed sooner or later,” Yeji said sternly, “I would save both of our time if you could just speak right now or else I will skin you using my–”

“Miss Hwang, it is safe to say that I could save both of our time right now,” Mr. Park interrupted, “I have no clue what you are talking about so please leave. I am working and I won’t allow your silly accusations to disturb my line of work.”

Yeji carefully thought about her next actions, it didn’t sound like Mr. Park was saying anything false, but he sounded uneasy. He kept glancing at the door as his foot tapped the floor repeatedly. Was it because of her presence? Or did he know something she did not? If he didn’t cause this madness, then what was his role?

Yeji relaxed as she leaned back in her seat, “What if I have questions regarding your political party?”

“You are welcome to stop by any of our meetings anytime, Miss Hwang.” He answered stiffly, “Otherwise, please leave.”

Yeji took her sweet time stretching and fixing the fabric of her expensive dress. With an exaggerated bow and smile, she fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Thank you for your patience and time.”

She left the office as she rolled her eyes, what now?

“Woah–” Yeji immediately staggered back as she collided with someone. The moment she looked up to see who the hell was in her way, the only thing she could see was red.

Jeno had caught her wrist before Yeji had the chance to slap him, he held her wrist as he bore into her eyes.

“Careful,” He said warningly, his tone too soft and feathery to be a threat. It was a trick, it was his way to lure Yeji’s attention to his lips in attempts of calming her down. It was working, Yeji wanted to strangle him alive for that.

“We wouldn’t want to cause a scene in a Rover establishment, right?” He asked as he gave a mocking smile.

Yeji tried to jerk her arm away from his grip, but he held her wrist in place. If Jeno did not let go in three seconds she was drawing her gun.

Jeno let go.

She quickly tugged her wrist back, smoothing the area of skin where Jeno had gripped. When Jeno still remained in his place, she demanded, “Why are you still standing in front of me?”

Innocently, Jeno pointed to the chairs. “I left my hat,”

“You weren’t even wearing a–” True enough, there indeed was a hat. He simply shrugged as he went to pick it up, tipping it to Yeji as he hid his blue hair. She hurriedly made her way to the exit as she was finally able to breathe the air of the outside. She tugged her coat closer to herself as her hands found warmth in her pockets, she froze.

“He better not have…” Yeji fished the paper from her pockets, she only had one paper left. To her fortune, she was greeted with a pair of monster eyes staring back at her, she let out a breath of relief.

Yeji scoffed, Jeno had gotten the masquerade ball invitation.

“Fool,” she muttered before finally walking away.

#jeno mafia au #nct mafia #nct mafia au #nct dream au #jeno smut #jeno angst #jeno fluff #rival gang au #itzy mafia #itzy mafia au #yeji mafia #yeji mafia au #yejeno au #yejeno #aespa mafia #aespa mafia au

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hydralisk98 · 3 years

Text

Opinions over Trudeau’s double standards

So on Thursday morning there were quite a few radio news that I deemed interesting to discuss some about. Especially concerning First Nations’ issues.

With the full context of the previous news segments about worker rights and employee shortages, I felt like what the Amerindian representative, Michelle Baudet, was describing very precisely what I felt was wrong about the current government of Trudeau’s. I mean, the long lasting issues for both Natives, Immigrants and European-descent Canadians made me feel heard in this NeoLiberal sea of Wilsonists. Not that they can’t do anything good but like most Wilsonist ideology descendance they fail at implementing much good as of their cursed systems and tools. (Neo-Conservatives, NewLeft, Leninisms, NeoLiberals, Stalinisms, Maoisms, woke SJWs...)

Beyond nuances though, I think most of those Wilsonist types of people haven’t gotten properly formatted memos to explain what’s wrong and to do instead. I would be happy to provide my advice and knowledge to those willing to enact such change and which won’t do any backstabbing. I am not perfect but you know, there are several good arguments to be expressed and enacted over many things that went horribly wrong ever since Woodrow Wilson got elected in 1912.

And for those of whom fights back against such constructive attitudes similar to Libertarians, Republicans before 1912 and Solarpunk folks, I am sorry to address it to you but if you don’t change course towards that constructive direction I am talking about, you are very likely some of the reasons why this entire world is falling from the quality-of-life grace which started back ~500 years ago. The world has not always been this high in terms of living standards for quite long historically speaking but that ain’t a excuse to not work towards that grand dream unless you have a fair share of arguments to convince me.

For those curious enough, the USA (and the things that could be done fast enough for the rest of the world) was going in a fairly grand direction after the assassination of McKinley in 1901 thanks to the famous Theodore Roosevelt’s terms and to a degree William Taft’s. But as soon as Woodrow Wilson got elected, which was a lost-cause revisionist historian supported mainly by the same types of people that made McKinley a undecisive corporate piece of meat (religious fanatics/institutions, corporate magnates and wrong-minded powerful individuals), the grand majority of 20th and 21st century problems came from such a root and amplified ever since.

Espionnage Act, Sedition Act of 1918, segregation of the US Government, massive levels of foreign countries’ ill-fated diplomatic interventions, wars upon third-world countries for “Holy Democracy”, up-bringing of Nazism, Leninism, Wilsonism itself, blatant racism upon Japan leading to the Second Sino-Chinese war, Executive Order 9066, massive surveillance actions by governements, the wrong-doings of Vladimir Putin (it ain’t all bad I think but there are some things that originate from global Wilsonism), massive internet censorships since at least the mid-2010s, the midigations of the US military into fiction productions to muddle anti-war messages... These are just a few of what Woodrow Wilson and his collaborators did to the world.

I am sure there might be some good things behind the curtains but you have better show me strong evidence for it because what I appreciate of this Earth seem to have next to no positive link with these Wilsonisms and often it goes the other way around. Computers, the World Wide Web, the popularization of Internet access, social welfare policies, small use of Land Tax in a few instances, the rare regulation of big businesses, worker rights, smart tools and all those nice things I strongly appreciate are not the result of the misery induced by Wilsonism, but by dreams slown down as much as possible by Wilsonist details from what I can tell.

Let me just clarify though that not all powerful people are bad, not all billionaires are wrong-minded and not all Wilsonist-minded people are cursed forever. As long as the people get the right tools with a proper mindset and that make a significant effort to fight that inner and outer battle for the well-being of all sapients/humans, yourself included, I will see the value that are behind the eyes of such comrades. You still have value without but you know, it ain’t much positive/ethically-valid value as far as I understand right now but more like a “They did the opposite of what should be, let’s see together what we can learn from this”.

Not gonna lie here, I am preparing a escape from this world because with my personal (and of several people in fact) values don’t align with the coming of ever stronger dystopic burdens to me and especially to the generations born after myself.

Climate change, ecologial collapse, diminution of new specific niche services ny new-comers in the sea of obligarchic capitalisms, total mind control, propaganda everywhere, corruption of fairer alternatives like Linux and soon BSDs, unavoidable online advertising by big corporations with little considerations for the fairness of the entire experience, the ethically-doubtful corporate influence of big banks over society, the ill-fate of Desjardins from a fair cooperative to a toxic corporation, constant puchasing of indie companies innovating enough into big corporations to profit from the product and not enhancing it much after the buying, the search engine bubble of promoting less than ethically relevant bodies and pages, the closing of indie local companies to a bigger multinational brands that won’t serve much of what was good about the local versions, the monopolistic-like behaviors of Government & Big Companies, the lack of skilled works and employees because of alientating work conditions and corporate social ecosystem, the ever-growing gap between the rich and poors, the sponsoships of strong violence in third-world countries, proxy and civil wars, the use of human links by the sides of the corporate state apparatus like the CIA’s hidden courts to exploit good-willed individuals worldwide, the YouTube’s rise of censorships and shutdowns among all creators, the repression of quite a few esoteric good-willed sublimninal makers and overall promotion of twisted esoteric gurus for as long as possible, etc...

I truly dislike having to tell such strong words in the light of some great things I have on this planet. But as I wanna feel safe, closer to happiness than existential dread and avoid most massive issues of this world, I am gonna flee in a similar way to Snowden as far going away from the core of the mess goes. Not even to fight back at all as it ain’t my priority right now, but as a just memo of “letting you all know” about truths I emotionally feel are relevant to me and to several more people thinking similarly to me over these topics of key importance truly.

If you really want to get me back to work for you all on the long run, you have better send somebody honest and humane to convince me and get fixed several of such details in a pretty significant fashion, along with several proof pieces to assure me it has been done or at least on-going well enough. Which is very hard I know it is but as far as I can attest, the consequences for fixing those issues (or not doing anything constructive about it all) is gotta be tremendous. And before somebody asks, yes it is hard in a similar fashion than how I feel about this entire problematic series of world instances that had continued to pursue the nightmare-ish details and policies it naturally goes up to by path of non-resistance. Many minds have already travelled elsewhere by many means and I am gonna be among them because that deeply-rooted feeling of existential dread that Wilsonism amplified by a crazy factor ain’t gonna be fixed in time, even with a righteous use of esoteric and secular methods combined.

I don’t expect anything much here as far as the probability of those getting a fair chunk fixed (also in time) goes is really minuscule so perhaps before I say a final goodbye (as I am exactly not gone away just yet), may your definition of God bless you with understanding and empathy to let me go and contact me when it is gotta be a way fairer trade on my end.

Good luck for those who follow in my footsteps in this path for a honorous existence beyond the (some are truly illegitimate really) chains of this planet.

Cordially yours comrades of this Earth.

Olyvier Klara Bouchard, the lady baby-witch which is autistic, non-binary, transfeminine and definitely a kind-hearted honest INTP-T individual.

#maskoch #spirituality #witches vs patriarchy #wilsonism #rant

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leverage-ot3 · 4 years

Text

notable moments from The Homecoming Job

leverage 1.02

Dr. LeRoque: Pardon me, Mr. uh?

Nate: Oh, uh, Nathan Ford. You’re Dr. LeRoque?

Dr. LeRoque: Can I talk to you outside?

Perry: Doc, he’s cool, I found him on the internet.

Dr. LeRoque: Yes, that never goes badly. (to Nate) With me.

Nate: Uh… I’ll be in touch.

(Perry hands him the flash drive and Nate follows the doctor out of the room)

okay but big mood “I found him on the Internet” “that never goes badly”

but also,,, bruh we NEED to know how their clients found them,,, like ??? H O W

- - - - -

Dr. LeRoque: You can’t just come in here and get his hopes up!

Nate: I’m just here to provide options.

Dr. LeRoque: There are no options.

Nate: The Veteran’s hospital …

Dr. LeRoque: Is 400 miles away and has a five month waiting list. Everybody in that rehab room is a reservist. When reservists get out they get sent home no matter where home is or how far it is from the treatment they need. Nobody thought this through. We’re not a rich hospital, I cashed in every favor I had to take care of these kids for as long as I could but I have to go back in there and tell Perry we can’t treat him anymore. I have to do that. Run your scam on somebody with money.

Nate: It’s not a scam. I’m here to help.

Dr. LeRoque: People don’t just show up to help. That’s not the way the world works.

leverage really called out the us government’s negligence and neglect for veterans in episode TWO and we stan them so hard for it

leverage said “go big or go home” from the VERY beginning

- - - - -

[Audition Room]

Sophie: Why? Why? I can’t live like this anymore. With the lies and the filth. No. Help me. I want to be clean. I want to be clean.

(two directors watching are overwhelmed by just how awful Sophie is)

Rogers: Yeah, you understand this is a soap commercial, right?

Sophie: Uh huh. When I thought about Peggy I came up with this idea that the dirt was really this giant metaphor, for sin.

(Sophie’s cell rings, she glances at her purse)

Rogers: You should take that. No, no you should take that.

Sophie: Oh. (answers phone) Hello? When? (hangs up) Peggy killed her first husband.

Rogers: Thank you

I literally scream every time I LOVE SOPHIE S O MUCH WHAT THE FUCK

- - - - -

[Parking Lot]

(one man is laying on the hood of a car and another falls on top of him. Eliot turns away from the car as the last man pulls a gun on him. They stare at each other for a moment, then a phone rings)

Eliot: That you or me?

(man seems unsure as the phone continues to ring)

Eliot: Could be important. Does your mama have your number?

(man looks down and Eliot grabs the gun, punching the man in the neck. The man goes down, choking. Eliot unloads the gun and tosses it away before pulling out his phone and answering it)

Eliot: Yeah? Nothing, why?

“nothing”? I’m-

- - - - -

(guard walks by a painting hanging in a museum gallery. He looks away for a moment, and when he looks back a rope is dangling where the painting had been. A cell phone rings)

Parker: Parker. Shh. No, I wasn’t shushing you.

I love her, your honor

- - - - -

(Parker, Eliot and Sophie come around the corner and head down the hall)

Parker: From the first job?

Eliot: Yeah.

Parker: I put all that money in a Swiss bank account.

Eliot: Millions of dollars and you didn’t buy anything?

Parker: I don’t like stuff, I like money.

Sophie: I bought a little retirement home, an island.

Eliot: Nice.

Sophie: In Dubai. And Tokyo.

Parker: What about you?

(they reach the door which has a small envelope with Sophie’s name written on it. Sophie takes it off the door and opens it)

Eliot: Yeah, I’m not about to tell two known thieves what I did with a multi-million dollar payout.

Sophie: Don’t you trust us?

(Eliot doesn’t answer.)

- - - - -

Hardison: This is our new cover story. Welcome to Leverage Consulting and Associates, founded in 1913 by the great Harland Leverage the Third.

(Hardison points to a painting on the wall of an older man that greatly resembles Nate)

Sophie: I’m sorry. Nate is going to kill you.

Eliot: Did you paint that?

Hardison: I’m gifted.

Eliot: That’s weird

HARLAND LEVERAGE THE THIRD

- - - - -

Hardison: Now Leverage Consulting Inc. is squeaky clean, all corporate taxes on record as being paid for the last ninety years. (He gives them each a cell and a folder) All your identities as partners, your payroll taxes are paid, you guys have pension plans and dental, those are employment records, case files and company newsletters.

(the group walks the halls of the Leverage offices as they discuss the files)

Parker: In 1998 I won the sack race at the 4th of July picnic. Cool.

Hardison: Now these, these are your offices. Now you can bring something like a photo, you know what, a plant! I’m a big supporter of dandelions.

hardison goes hardcore when coming up with backstories

- - - - -

(Hardison opens doors to a conference room that holds a long table with many chairs around it. One wall is dedicated to large TV screens)

Sophie: Nice.

Eliot: My man.

Hardison: Long version or the short version?

Sophie: Short.

Eliot: Short version.

Parker: Shortest.

(Hardison hits a remote the TV screens illustrate his explanation)

Hardison: Photo and video forensics programs, back doors into every electronic banking system in the world, running heuristic data crawls all over the news sites to find our clients, oh also!

Parker: This is the short version?

Hardison: Facial recognition database tied into CIA, NSA and the FBI. But, the real pièce de résistance (changes screens to sports games) DirectTV HD Total Sports Package. NFL, NBA and I threw in a little bit of hockey ‘cause I know you people like that.

Eliot: Hockey.

hardison nests SO HARD

like, bring in all the highest tech into your cozy new office you designed for you and your fellow adopted criminals? heck yeah

- - - - -

Nate: Our client is the cameraman. Corporal Robert Perry. He says that the Castleman contractors spooked and started firing.

Eliot: 5.56 NATO rounds mixed in with some 9 mils from the sub-machine guns. Insurgents would have used AK-47s with 7.62 ammo. It has more of a... (hits the back of his hand to his palm) crack. Contractors shot 'em up all right.

Parker: You ID’d the weapon from the gunshot sound?

Eliot: It has a very distinctive sound

D I S T I N C T I V E

- - - - -

Nate: Yes, and lobbyists in every office in Washington, DC. The problem with a cover-up is all the paperwork it takes to keep the lies straight.

Hardison: Internal emails, memos.

Nate: Exactly.

- - - - -

[Roof]

[Hardison and Parker are wearing black and connected to repelling gear)

Hardison: I gotta go back to the office I just remembered something.

Parker (adjusting Hardison’s harness): What?

Hardison: I just remembered gravity and the squishiness of all my manly bits.

Parker: I designed this rig myself. The line is carbon fiber. Five point harness. Weight support here, here, and here. Auto-breaking resistance on the main pulley back here.

Hardison: Okay cool, so it’s tested?

Parker: Not yet.

Hardison: Not yet? When the hell was you gonna test it?

(Parker pushes Hardison off the roof. She smiles, he screams)

Parker: Big baby.

(she jumps after him. Hardison screams until he stops upside down. Parker lowers herself to his side)

Hardison: Seriously? Seriously

hardison’s first time rappelling decidedly Did Not Go Well

- - - - -

Sophie: My company’s focused on meeting senators, but I’m thinking congressmen.

DuFort: You know the great thing about congressmen? Fifty, a hundred grand well spent will get one elected, but then once they’re in the incumbency rate is over 95 percent so you can get an average 18, 20 years’ use out of one of them. In these uncertain times buying a United States congressman is one of the best investments a corporation can make.

[DuFort’s Office]

Hardison: Oh I just threw up in my mouth a little bit. I’m a professional criminal and I find that disturbing

they’re going at america’s THROAT in this one and I love it. thank you john rogers

- - - - -

(while DuFort is distracted Sophie pulls out his wallet and removes the RFID card with her teeth. DuFort takes off his coat to look at the stain)

I am but a simple gay and this was Hot™

- - - - -

the phones hardison gave the team have six main buttons: internet, text, files, to-do, id scan, and mail

- - - - -

Nate: Parker, what’s the status of the voicelock?

[DuFort’s Office]

Parker: Uh, I’ve been sampling DuFort’s speech but I still need a few more sounds.

[Private Party]

Nate: How many?

[DuFort’s Office]

Parker: Well I only need the sounds puh, tuh, oo, ah, eh, oh, ah, ke, a, ef.

[Private Party]

Nate: Ah, only those. Eliot.

(Eliot walks by carrying two trays of appetizers)

Eliot: I’m on it. Pardon. (approaches Sophie and DuFort) Hello.

Sophie: Ooh. Mmm.

Eliot: (to DuFort) Appetizer, sir?

DuFort: Sure, what do you got?

Eliot: I’ve got the pâté d’escargot avec bière d'Argentine and (looks at second tray and grimaces) what looks like old duck, kind of greasy.

DuFort: I guess I’ll have the first one.

Eliot: Of course.

(Eliot offers him the second tray and Dufort looks at him expectantly)

DuFort: Well? May I have some?

Eliot: The greasy duck?

Sophie: Oh, no, no, no, I wouldn’t have the greasy duck.

Eliot: No I wouldn’t suggest it.

DuFort: No, the other one.

(Eliot pretends confusion)

DuFort: The the pâté d’escargot with the bière d'Argentine!

Eliot: Excellent choice sir (gives DuFort the first tray).

DuFort: (takes food) Who is this clown?

[DuFort’s Office]

Parker: Pretty good. Got most of them. Okay, now all I need is ef, uh and kuh.

[Private Party]

(DuFort spits out the appetizer he has taken)

DuFort: This is shrimp!

Eliot: Very good then. (walks away)

DuFort: It’s shrimp you stupid F----!

[DuFort’s Office]

Parker: Oh, there they are. Really loud too

parker being so competent and knowledgeable about voice activation codes? amazing. iconic.

and the whole scene with eliot and the food? hilarious.

also there already another meta post about this but this scene shows just how SMART eliot is,,, like coming up with that on spot??? don’t get me wrong, hardison is “the smartest man [any of them know]” but damn

- - - - -

continuing list of non-weapon objects eliot uses as weapons:

an IV stand

+ bonus

nate: the defibrillator/AED

- - - - -

Perry: Mr. Ford!

(Perry pushes a defibrillator towards Nate, who grabs the paddles. The first man runs toward Eliot with a knife, but Eliot grabs his arm and pushes him toward Nate)

Nate: Hello.

(Nate hits the man in the chest with the defibrillator paddles and he flies backward, unconscious)

eliot looking Impressed™ at nate for that

- - - - -

Eliot: Play time’s over Nate, it’s only a matter of time before they come after us. The tall one, the way he used a knife, ex-Marine, probably Force Recon.

Hardison: You ID’d a guy off his knife-fighting style?

Eliot: It’s a very distinctive style.

two distinctives in one episode

- - - - -

Hardison: I didn’t sign up for any of this. What I did before, nobody got hurt.

Sophie: I stole paintings for a living.

Parker: I never hurt anybody.

Eliot: I actually hurt people, so…

LMFAO eliot but also- notice that sophie never said that she never hurt people, she just said she stole paintings for a living

- - - - -

Sophie: Nate, if anything had happened to this kid--

Nate: You know you guys called on me. You remember? You begged me to run the crew, agreed to play by my rules. Now walk out if you have a problem with that. Walk out any day if you have a problem with that. It’s simple.

(everyone looks hesitant)

Eliot: We finish this one.

Parker: Just one

PSH like any of y’all believe that

- - - - -

Hardison: How do we hit ‘em?

Sophie: Congressman Jenkins, he’s our in. Looked me straight in the eye and told me he’d never even heard of the shooting.

Parker: So?

Sophie: Looked me in the eye? When men are telling me the truth they’re not looking me in the eye. A man only ever looks a woman in the eye when he’s making the effort to lie to her.

Eliot: ...Well you can’t argue with that.

Hardison: Noted and filed

LMFAO

- - - - -

Nate: All right, Jenkins is DuFort’s pet congressman, let’s see if we can get him to bite. The best way to get two people to reveal a secret, get ‘em to turn on each other.

- - - - -

Sophie: You should look out for the signs congressman. Missed phone calls, no more little favors.

Jenkins: Those are the same signs that your wife is cheating on you.

Sophie: That’s right.

Jenkins: What am I supposed to do when that happens?

Sophie (hands him her card): Play the field

- - - - -

Hardison: Congressman Jenkins is very careful. No direct bribes but he’s renovating his house and so far he’s received over $600,000 worth of work for a little over fifty grand.

(Hardison brings up pictures of Jenkins’ house on the screens)

Eliot: Castleman owns the contracting company, huh?

Hardison: I mean, he’s going through like three shell companies but yeah. And this man loves his house. Just check out his web browsing habits.

(Hardison changes the image to a website for wood panels)

Hardison: Look here, see the man spent three weeks picking out the perfect mahogany wood panels. This site is like wood porn.

Eliot: Is his house finished?

Hardison: Not even close.

Eliot: Can I borrow your phone?

Hardison takes out his phone, dials for Eliot and hands it to him.

Eliot (on phone): Hello? Yes, I’d like to cancel delivery on some mahogany wood paneling. Please.

(Hardison tries to help, Eliot walks away)

Eliot: The Jenkins house. Yeah, you know what, do me a favor man, just go ahead and cancel the whole order. Yes sir.

(Eliot leaves the room as Nate enters with a bowl of popcorn and two beers)

Nate: What’s he doing?

Hardison: Yanking the congressman’s chain

I love chaotic (pre)boyfriends

plus at one point it high hey looked like they were holding hands

and eliot’s SMILE at hardison ,,, you soft man, you never stood a chance

- - - - -

Hardison: A woo--whoa, whoa! A wood-- a wooden box?

Nate: A wooden box.

Hardison: Wood? Well, we can put a man on the moon but all our laws go into a wooden box.

- - - - -

Hardison: I mean, break a law, everybody’s done that, my mama’s done that but steal a law. Oh, she’s gonna be a legend baby.

(on screen, C-SPAN news shows the Senate floor where Parker is walking to “The Hopper”. She waves at the camera and puts the fake bill into box.

Parker: The eagle has landed.

Nate: It’s in!

Hardison: Uhn! Go ahead girl! Sexyness! Unh. Rrrnnn.

Nate: Might want to ease up on that a little bit.

Hardison: Just saying.

Nate: Yeah.

Hardison: Between me and you. Between me and you.

Nate: Never leaves the room.

adorable “the eagle has landed” parker + already-gone-for-her hardison ,,, I love it here

- - - - -

(also, again I am reminded that there is a 250 text block limit so imma have to make a part two and apparently this is my life now)

#leverage #leverage 1.02 #leverage 1x02 #the homecoming job #notable moments #mine #leverage season 1 #season 1

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