#oh shit so I actually finally filled out my tax forms this year

[imaginetonyandbucky]

The Buy In

Chapter 3: Puzzle Wrapped in an Enigma 

by @dracusfyre

On the way back home after the brothel closed, Bucky logged into Discord and dropped into a channel labeled only with random numbers and letters. First day of work was :thumbs up:  but there were two dudebros who tried to jam up my shit. Wish they would back off, he wrote. The channel was monitored 24/7 in case of emergency or actionable intel.

He waited as the dots danced, then his police handler wrote, that sucks. who are they?

Bucky typed the last four of Rumlow and Rollins’ badge numbers and put his phone back in his pocket. This operation was way more important than those two swinging dicks; between the video from tonight, which was going to be a PR nightmare for the department, and his request, Rumlow and Rollins better be manning a desk for the foreseeable future.

He was pulling out his keys to his apartment building when he heard a car door opening nearby. His head whipped around and his other hand was already on the pistol in the holster at the small of his back when he heard, “Whoa there Blue Eyes,” in a familiar voice. The figure that stepped out of the car held his hands up and stepped into the light.  “Hard day at the office?”

“I’ve had worse,” Bucky said warily.

“How’d everything go today?” Stark shoved his hands in his pocket and leaned against his car, the streetlight casting harsh shadows on his face.

“Fine. Didn’t KT give you a debrief?”

“Yeah, I heard his side. I wanna hear your side.”

Bucky thought about it, wondering if he should put a shine on it or be honest. “KT and Hawkeye’s play tonight was clever and would have worked perfectly against a different set of cops. But I think those two won’t give up until they get back at the person who embarrassed them. Might have made more problems than they solved.”

“Yeah?” Stark tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. “You sure about that? KT's been on the job for a few years now and thought it was a good call. It's your first day and you saw the cops for all of fifteen minutes.”

Bucky shrugged. “I’ve met guys like them before. Don't strike me as the type to know when they're beat. Best thing would be for them to be encouraged to take a long walk off a short pier.”

Stark made a thoughtful noise. “But KT explained office policy on that?”

“Yeah. Only as a last resort.” Bucky tried to sound neutral, but something of his skepticism must have bled through.

“You don’t agree?”

The note in Stark’s voice put Bucky on high alert. Higher alert, since his heart was still racing from before. “I get the logic, it’s just…different,” Bucky said. “Makes sense though. Bodies attract attention.”

“Is that the only reason you think it's a good policy?” Stark asked neutrally.

Bucky hesitated. He got the feeling there was a right and wrong answer to this and wished this conversation had happened six hours ago when he was less tired. “Killing people changes things,” he said finally - honestly - hoping he wasn’t about to touchy-feely himself out of this operation. Between the military, the police, and then undercover work with organized crime, he had been so steeped in machismo that it had become second nature – to those guys, life was one big dick measuring contest - but Stark didn’t seem to work like that. Or at least, he didn't want people to think he worked like that. “Not just changes people, but like…it sends a message to everyone else. ‘This is what a life is worth.’” Bucky took a deep breath and let it out slowly, forcing himself to maintain eye contact with Stark.  “People respond to that. Makes them…mean. Hard. So if you can avoid that...” He ran a hand over the back of his neck, feeling like an idiot. He probably sounded ridiculous. “So, yeah. Anyway. Guess if it ain’t broke don’t fix it, right? Seems to be working for you.”

“We do alright,” Stark said slowly, and Bucky figured he must have said the right thing because he straightened and held out a hand for Bucky to shake. Bucky looked at it with surprise and took it, feeling acutely aware of the strength of Stark’s grip and the callouses on his palms. “Welcome aboard.”

                                               ***

Tony got back in his car as Blue Eyes continued into his building, cranking it and pulling away from the curb on autopilot. If Blue Eyes hadn’t been a cop, Tony would have told himself that he was too good to be true; as it was, Tony wondered if it was possible that the police or feds or whoever had profiled him well enough to give “Brooks” a gold plated script to work from. But it hadn’t felt like the new guy was playing him tonight; his comments had been too rambling and inarticulate to have been prepared in advance. Rhodey was going to think he was an idiot, but he really though Brooks was being honest with him tonight, which had the potential to change things.

At the first stoplight, he pulled out his phone and texted Rhodey.

I like him.

Rhodey sent a rolling eyes emoji almost immediately. Blue Eyes?

Yeah I want to keep him. he’s wasted as a cop.

The three dots must have started and stopped a dozen times; Tony was almost back to his own place when he finally got a response. You’re playing with fire.

Tony smirked. I know, he wrote back. It’s what I do.

Yeah, but this time, if you get burnt, we all do. Tony pulled into his private garage and turned off the car, listening to the engine tick as it cooled. Rhodey was right. As much as he was intrigued by Blue Eyes, he couldn’t put his people at risk by tugging on that thread. “Dammit,” he said out loud, scowling as he got out of the car. “Ten years ago I wouldn't have thought twice.”

                                             ***

A few weeks into the operation Bucky and KT were making the rounds, checking in with the businesses and people on their beat, and Bucky was suddenly struck by two things: one, just how much this gig felt like being a street cop, walking the sidewalks just observing the neighborhood; and two, how no one was ever this happy to see him when he was a street cop. People saw KT and more often than not, they were smiling, chatty about business and local gossip. Most of them greeted Bucky (“Oh, this must be Blue Eyes,” which had yet to stop making Bucky’s ears burn) and were happy to introduce themselves. The ones that weren’t smiling were the ones that had something to complain about: permit not going through, shipment delayed, broken equipment that insurance wasn’t paying out for. KT took notes, nodded and commiserated, and when they left almost everyone looked at least mollified, if not cheered.

“You know, for us playing the bag men today, we sure aren’t picking up any money,” Bucky commented. A couple of times KT had taken a store owner to the side and Bucky, straining his ears, heard something about loans; these people always had the look of someone explaining why they couldn’t pay but it wasn’t their fault, honest. Like everything else, KT made notes and listened politely.

“That’s not what we’re doing,” KT said. “This is check in. We do it every two weeks or so. Money stuff is all handled online.”

“Yeah?” Bucky knew for a fact that the FBI had been working with the Treasury to trace Stark’s money, and, failing to find any signs of dirty money or money laundering, had concluded he must be operating with cash only.

“Yeah. Boss didn’t want to tempt anyone or make them a target.” That was smart, Bucky reflected. Ripping off other gangs was an art form in organized crime. Still, he had to wonder how Stark kept the money transfers so well hidden from the best financial analysts in the US government.

“No targets except his accountant,” Bucky joked, fishing for info. “Like with Al Capone.”

KT just shrugged at that, like he didn’t know and didn’t care, so Bucky left it alone. “So what do we do with that stuff?” Bucky said, gesturing at the notebook KT had been writing in all morning.

“We take care of it.” He took the notebook out and flipped through it. “Not too much stuff this time.”

Bucky turned that over in his head. “So under the Mechanic, fixers actually…fix things,” he said. “You’re really going to call a shipping company and an insurance office and everything?”

“Yep. Well, we are.”

Made sense; if businesses were paying Stark for protection, he could also throw in other services to sweeten the pot and keep people from rolling on him. Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets and was lost in thought while he mostly followed KT around the neighborhood. Granted he’d only been here for less than a week, but so far nothing was adding up to what he’d read in the case files on Stark and his organization. It was making him uneasy. He’d come here with a picture in his head, and a goal of filling in the holes so they could make a case against an organized crime boss; but now he was increasingly realizing that something was wrong with the picture. So when KT told him one night that they had the next two days off, Bucky sent another message on the Discord channel and when he got a confirmation, he went to the New York Library, the big one with the stone lions and millions of tourists. He went to the adult services desk and asked for a laptop. The librarian studied his ID, went to a safe, and handed him a laptop from inside. Bucky found a study carrell in a quiet spot and logged on with an 8 character name and 16 character password, established and memorized before he’d started this operation, and opened up the case files on Stark.

Scrolling through, Bucky felt some of his disquiet ease as he re-read the laundry list of crimes Stark was reportedly involved in: racketeering, tax fraud, illegal gambling, high-end car theft. Armed obberies; he opened up the file on robberies and realized with morbid amusement that even while Stark protected his own people from being targeted, he had no problem targeting bagmen from other gangs, making off with hundreds of thousands of dollars at a time. Tax fraud, obviously; if Tony was hiding all of his income from the FBI, he was definitely hiding it from the IRS. Though as he opened up Stark’s tax statements, gotten from a subpoena to the IRS, and noticed that the document for just one year was hundreds of pages long, Bucky reflected that a good accountant could hide a lot of money in his legitimate businesses and all the assets that Stark had inherited from his parents.

At the back of the file was sex trafficking, which was based on a handful of reports that said that prostitutes were disappearing from other parts of the city and showing up working for Stark. Bucky put a note next to that one recommending the line of investigation be dropped. After spending hours and hours at the brothel chatting to the Widow and the ladies there, waiting to see if Rumlow returned, he knew none of the men or women there were being forced to stay, not even for lack of other work. Widow recruited from all around the city, helping people get out of the business if they wanted to and offering others a chance to work for her. Turns out, most of that building was devoted to the people who worked in the brothel: everyone got their own apartment, which was separate from the suites they entertained clients, and there was an in-house doctor and even childcare in the basement. All the money went straight back to the sex workers, except for this mysterious buy-in that no one had explained yet, and they were using it for a bewildering array of side projects that the women were more than happy to talk about during their down time.

After a few hours, which included writing up his reports from the past few weeks of working for Stark, Bucky sat back and closed the laptop. It was his first month, he reminded himself. No one was going to let him close to the real work of the organization after just a few weeks. He sent another message to his handler on Discord, and when he got a confirmation back, he stood up and walked away from the carrell; when he was about twenty feet away, he saw his police contact, dressed like a soccer mom, come by and spirit the laptop away.

His next stop was the gym; by the time he was done, shirt soaked wet with sweat and muscles aching, his head felt clearer.  He didn’t know why Stark was trying so hard to seem like a good guy, but if Bucky was patient enough he’d scrape past all the pseudo-philanthropy and get to the real man underneath. Stark wasn’t the first guy to be handsome and charming and charismatic while hiding a dark side.

#tony stark #bucky barnes #tony x bucky #winteriron #no powers au

[carpetreveiws]

Helluva Boss Episode 6 Review

It's Saturday, the twenty-first of August. I wake up at ten. This week has been, to say the least, taxing. My morning routine has fallen into a lull lately. I wake up, find something to eat (usually nothing more than a slice of bread). I open my phone, and the rather rigid itinerary continues:

Open discord

Open twitter

Open instagram

Open snapchat

Open youtube

Open any games that give free daily rewards (though I barely play them anymore).

This routine is borne not out of a personal need for structure, but purely out of apathy towards anything I see. I don't care about updates, I don't scroll through social media, I very rarely type in comments sections. I am done in five to ten minutes.

So, I had kind of forgotten about Helluva Boss. As a matter of fact, it didn't even appear in my youtube recommended, which it has unfailingly done for its past 5 episodes. I had said, a few months ago, when I wrote my last review, that I was losing faith in the series. I didn't think Vivenne had the right mindset for writing, visible in the series' basic structure and frankly cringeworthy sense of humour. By this time yesterday, I had no expectations left for Helluva Boss and no concern over what its future was going to look like. About a year ago I bought a funny little Hazbin Hotel merch t-shirt that I am wearing right now (Ironically, I was wearing it before realizing a new episode had been released. I put it on this morning because it was Saturday and I don't have to see anybody. I like the colors).

So fast forward. It's now around five-thirty in the evening, and I am checking my twitter again. There's an image on my feed, captioned by somebody (I can't remember what the caption is). A Helluva Boss screenshot. I close the tab instantly, and go to youtube, typing into the bar "Helluva Boss episode 6". There it is. I look at the timestamp, 22 minutes, and immediately think to myself: Oh shit, it's review day.

And it is. So here's my review. This intro was a joke, and most of it's made up.

Summed up: This episode is a step in the right direction. All these random character points, that felt too simple, or too back-seated in previous episodes get to take center stage (finally). It's focused only on Blitzo and Moxxie, but by the end of it, they actually feel like fairly complete characters. We start in the center of the action, which works perfectly for a show like this. Even though it's been two months, I am pulled back into the show almost instantly. It opens with some clever animation, of the tv screens, but these aren't the best visuals we'll be seeing this episode by any stretch of the word. In a few quick lines, each character is not only placed into their element: Blitzo's vulgar admonishments, Moxxie's sardonic reproach. Millie is aggressive, but we're again reminded how much she cares for Moxxie. She shouts at Loona to open the gate, and Loona refuses, citing her knowledge of Blitzo, and how she knows he's serious. It's perfect. I love it.

From here we have Moxxie and Blitzo restrained in a high security facility, as some agents begin to question them. The next scene is my personal favorite, of possibly the entire series, because we finally get to see Blitzo and Moxxie acting in sync, being friends, I guess, when we've only gotten bits of that before. They've mostly just bounced off of each other, so it's some nice character development. Good job.The rest will come in a bit. Rogers also gets to show off a bit his knack for the snappy dialogue. Though, every silver cloud: the scene ends with a "your mom" "my mom's dead" joke, that would hardly be funny in a reddit thread. It is downright awful here.

Loona and Millie are infiltrating the facility for a violent intermission.

So here's the real meat of the episode: The agents release into the room a "truth gas" that does exactly what the name implies (oddly enough, they never bother to question the imps before the gas dissipates). After realizing what the gas does, both Moxxie and Blitzo enter musical hallucinations, in which they confront each other, and the personal issues in each of them that contribute to their flawed relationship. Before, I continue, I want to note that the music and animation here are stellar, but again, the episode has better visuals still on the way. This number is essentially what all those bits of development between them were leading up to, and it's great. All of it is paying off. The series will change from here on out, hopefully: We'll get to see a healed Blitzo and Moxxie taking on all the villains that were set up. I was going to mention it later, but I guess I'll just awkwardly shoehorn it in now: Each episode has set up a new villain and none have recurred yet and that is not at all a good thing. I have no idea how Vivienne gonna get through all of them in a meaningful way. Back to the scene at hand: We're going through Moxxie's natural submissiveness, and Blitzo's fear of both intimacy and of being alone (does some of the dialogue here feel too imitative of Rick and Morty? I don't know. That's your call). When it's over, Blitz realizes his love for Stolas (romantic) and for Moxxie (platonic) (probably). They agree to be better friends. Congrats. We did it. The payoff is here.

Let's celebrate with a big ol beautifully animated fight scene that's just as edgy as these 2012 deviantart furries (Loona is back as a wolf, thank you). It's fast, bloody, at one point Blitzo pulls out a comically large rocket launcher labeled "MY DICK" and it shoots a missile labeled "PUSSY DESTROYER" and to my absolute shock, I laugh. That's right: This episode made me laugh one time. But honestly, that doesn't matter to me too much, because this isn't trying nearly as hard as the other episodes to be comedic. It's focused on other things, and I can appreciate it for that. As a twist, the original two agents escape, and slam that big red button. They're locked inside, guns pointed at them, and when it seems as though all hope is lost, Stolas arrives, which a demonstration of his power. Yet another piece of this episodes that fills some previously teased aspect. He's possessing people, raising dead in here, and his "true form" is what I mentioned a few times earlier: the most beautiful visual in the series yet. Or maybe I just like owls.

The episode is over, and I close the tab, thinking about how I'm going to write this review. I'm astounded. I had legitimately lost hope for this series. And just when I least expect it, Vivienne comes with an episode on par, maybe even better, than the second. Each character is realized, the animation is stunning, it feels like it's exactly what it wants to be. To put things into perspective though, I still don't think this episode nears the series' hypothetical full potential. It's certainly not on par with the best of some of the shows it recalls. The comedy still suffers, and the character development doesn't have a ton to work off of, and I that age warning at the beginning still feels misplaced. But you know what? Vivenne has made something half-decent here. And I can appreciate that. If the show keeps this up, hopefully even getting better, and minds bringing back one of those six or seven villains that have already been set up, then the future looks bright. It is with pride, joy, and definitely definitely tears in my eyes that I give this episode a 6/10.

#helluva boss

[therearemorethanfivenights]

Chapter 10 is up!

Getting back to the writing.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11674818/chapters/37276622

Or alternatively, read it under the cut -

"Now that we're alone, you wanna do adult things? Like taxes? Or scrabble?" Vincent asked. The parts and service room was colder than anywhere else. The only warmth came from a small heater they'd borrowed from Dawn's room. "Oh, how romantic, I thought you'd never ask" Mangle replied, giggling. The two of them were already aware that this is all they'd be talking about for a long time and were aware of how irritating they were going to be too. 

"Ok, but for the next few weeks, I'm not calling you anything except 'girlfriend'. Oh, and sighing constantly. When they ask if I'm sad, boom, I'm just thinking of you. We are driving these people crazy." He snickered at the thought. This was mostly just revenge for all the teasing. And of course, Mike acted in the same way about Amy, pulling her around like a new puppy. Everyone could tell even Mike and Amy were sick of themselves, but they'd kept going for the sake of annoyance. 

"Likewise, 'girlfriend'." Mangle teased, "Maybe we could do something productive. Like... clean this place up? It's kind of a mess..." She looked at all the various computer chips, nuts, bolts and tools spread across the floor, coupled with the large mound of bottles of beer and whiskey she'd collected over time. "Could always turn the trash into useful stuff. If we cleaned the bottles we could use them as decorations. Put little lights in them and stuff." Vincent said picking the little bits and bobs off the floor.

Meanwhile, Mike and Amy had headed over to the office. "Think we can snoop on Jeremy's internet history?" Amy asked, a smile forming on her face. Mike ignored her. He'd always been fond of mystery stories and cop shows. Finally, he was living in one, and he had a lead to follow. "Amy... be honest with me here... do you think I'm crazy for thinking that... maybe William didn't take suicide?" He asked her. She looked at the screen, waiting for the pages to load. 

"I know it sounds stupid, but maybe he faked his death to get off the grid? The one who found him was Henry, and he announced it to the public. No service, nothing. Nobody except Henry's family could say whether he was alive or dead... what if he's the killer? Revenge?" He busily began taking mental notes of all the details of the event. Nobody, of course, could prove him wrong or right, but it was better to have a semi-crazy theory than nothing, he thought. Amy thought about this. 

"It's possible. But Will sounded like a nice enough guy. I mean look at what the internet says. 'Described by company founder Henry Ross as a quiet and humorous individual. He was known by few, yet was more loved than any other employee, and will surely be missed." Doesn't sound like a psychopath, does it?" She said, highlighting the text to read it better. Mike didn't want to dismiss his idea, however. "Sociopath Amy, sociopath. It's unlikely he'd been crazy before. And all the stuff he'd been through... no man can deal with that much pain. Either he snaps and does something awful, or maybe, maybe he does some amazing heroic shit like start a charity or something to make themselves feel better."

“So what, you think the dead guy is behind all this?” She peered at the articles on the screen. “Well… I did some digging and… Michael… he isn’t actually…” Mike was struggling to form a sentence. He almost didn’t believe it himself. “Michael Afton is alive.” He said finally. He turned to his girlfriend as slowly as he could, hoping she would believe him. She just kept reading. “Uh… anyway…” He trailed off. Amy frowned. “But doesn’t that just put more holes in your theory?” She leaned back on the desk. This seemed logical. If Michael was indeed alive, and so was his father, then surely killing would be unnecessary. The dad could just get his son back, problem solved, right? 

“You’d think. Except that the only evidence about him being still in the hospital, ergo the only evidence for him being alive was a small blog piece someone wrote. Apparently, this dude is super invested in the franchise, he’s kept tabs on this kid from day one.” Mike shuddered. “So he posted something months ago about the kid possibly not making it anymore. As in: just before the first murder. If William is responsible, maybe he read that post.”

“That’s not that dumb now that I think about it. Still pretty crazy how they kept this kid in a coma for ten years,” Amy gave him a small congratulatory pat on the shoulder. “See? Even if it’s not Will, we might at least have a motive for whoever it is. Who knows? They might be doing it involuntarily.” He said triumphantly. “Wait, what do you mean by that? Involuntarily?” Mike quickly searched up more articles. 

“See like you remember how your dad was in the army? How he had PTSD for the longest time so if he heard something that sounded like gunfire he’d just drop for cover? No matter what was going on? Same thing. Just way more messed up. If the murderer was exacting revenge on the kids responsible for ‘killing’ that kid, he’ll be basically hardwired to react in the same way if he hears anything is threatening his life again.”

“So this guy just goes out and murders six kids again? Seems a little extreme.” Amy said. She thought about the way her dad had acted during the Fourth of July. “So that’s why it’s gotta be the dad, right? Nobody else would like that kid enough to murder other kids in his honor.” Mike nodded. It all made sense in theory. Unfortunately, neither of them knew a thing about tracking down dead people.

“Did it hurt?” BB was still sat by Marie, waving his hand through her body. He just had to be sure ghosts could really walk through walls. Toy Bonnie yanked his hair. “Oh my god, B, you can’t just ask people that!” He folded his arms and scowled at him. In truth, he also wanted to know, since robots never experienced anything like death. “BB, please get your grabbers out of my chest, it’s weird. Yes. It hurt a lot.” Marie grabbed BB’s arm and removed it from her insides. “How’d they do it?” He continued, rubbing his head from where T-Bone had hurt him. Marie sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it.” She said, closing her eyes.

It was cold and dark. She felt it, burning, stinging, biting… it hurt and it hurt bad. Her knees wobbled. In front of her lay her baby brother. Little Alex Sanderson. Poor Alex. She took a step towards him.

“You can’t.”

She felt her knees crumble below her. She coughed as her lungs filled with blood. Another step.

“You can’t”

She collapsed in front of him. He was beaten and bruised, dead. Hours had passed, he had gone stiff. She took his hand.

“You can’t”

She knew she was dying. She knew from the moment she felt the rush of pain. She lay Alex on his side. She cried. She coughed. She felt something slide from her back. A large kitchen knife. “You can’t”

She took Alex’s hand and clutched her doll tight. She lay by him and waited for the pain to die away. Footsteps. They got closer. Paws, white and pink. They screamed but she couldn’t hear them. They tried to wake her but she was dreaming. Then they collapsed. They were dragged away. She closed her eyes.

“Marie? Hey! Puppet! Hey, wake up!” She jolted awake. “Marie dear, are you ok?” It was Chica’s voice. “What… Chi… Wha?” She was confused. She was lying in the middle of the dining hall floor. “Whoa now, easy, get up slowly.” Freddy. He had his hand behind her head. She looked at herself. Long spindly limbs, suit, buttons, she was in her body again. “What… what did you see?” She asked the huddle. 

She didn’t know how she got there, in the room, in her body. “I don’t think that matters.” She looked up to see Vincent. “Are you ok? He knelt to be at eye-level with her. She tried to sit up. “Ugh… no.” She murmured. “Where are BB and T-Bone? I think I’d like a nice polite word with them.” She growled. From behind the crowd, she heard whimpers. “Please Marie, don’t blame them. You passed out; they just wanted you to be safe.” Chica said. She had armfuls of what appeared to be rescue supplies: Food, water, a blanket, some painkillers from Dawns room and a box of daily hay fever pills. “What’s all that for?” The puppet asked, pointing at the items. Chica placed them in her lap. “I… didn’t know what to grab…” She said, watching her supplies tumble onto the floor.

“I’m going back to my box now.” The group began to whisper. Vincent grabbed her arm. “No, you’re not.” He said, pushing her back down. Chica sighed and grabbed the boxes and bottles. Marie grumbled. She seemed much bigger, trying her best to intimidate her friends into releasing her. “Oh? And who are you to try and stop me?” She hissed. But Vincent’s grip remained firm. “Your best friend, that’s who. I get that you’re stressed but this isn’t going to help. Don’t bottle all this up, we’re your family.” He sat down. 

Everyone slowly followed suit. It was rare that Marie looked anyone in the eyes, and now all eyes were on her. She lay back down again and held Freddy’s arm as it followed her head down. “I… I just want to sleep.” She said. She stared at the lights above her before closing her eyes once more.

“So this is the big secret you’ve both been keeping?” Attention had turned to Vincent. He let go of Marie’s arm. “Yes. Her name is Marie-Rose, a victim of our killer and a witness to… the bite,” he said, “and I figured that maybe letting her be might jog her memory faster than stressing her out.” Dawn and Mangle looked at each other and nodded before heading to parts and service. BB and Toy Bonnie had already scurried off to pirate’s cove and were hiding with Foxy, who wanted nothing to do with it. Toy Freddy sat at a nearby table. “Why though? Why keep it from us? It’s your job, we wouldn’t have intruded if you’d just told us why she-“ “Because she’s scared.” Vincent cut him off. “She trusts me.” “And why is that? What makes you so special?” Toy Freddy continued. Vincent took a deep breath.

“Marie came in almost every weekend. She hated everything. She wrecked stuff, got into trouble, anything she could think of to tear her parent’s eyes away from her brother. Alex. They stopped caring about her the minute he was born. During weekends and holidays, she’d hang out by the puppet box, pouring her secrets into it. Her anger, her fear, everything. The kind of stuff you’d scream into the abyss. Eventually, her parents found out where she was going and forced her to take Alex. Her space was gone. So I went and talked to her. I let her vent. She shared the kinda troubles you’d never expect a girl her age to have. I think it was… maybe a year in? She sent me presents on my birthday, started treating Alex so much better and to top it off every other time we spoke she called me ‘dad’ by mistake.”

Finally, Vincent slumped forward, a weight off his shoulders. He looked exhausted. “Were you?” Toychi asked. “Like, that’s… actually so sweet.” She smiled. Vincent sometimes was like a father to everyone around him, but Marie was the most obvious. He looked at the puppet. “Yeah, I guess I was.” 

He thought about that. Marie’s father, from what he could understand, was always too busy trying to calm her mother down or looking after Alex. She never called him dad once. So despite his better judgment, and the mere 10 years between them, he’d accepted his fate. “Made me feel old though.” He added, chuckling. Marie smiled. “You’ve been awake the whole time, haven’t you?” He sighed. She grinned. “You’re grounded.”

#fnaf #ThereareMorethanFiveNights #TAMTFN #five nights at freddy's #Chapter 10 #of part 1

[pieandmurderwednesday]

Shitty Canadian Hangman

Also known as: Arguing With Canada, my new job title.

I could put it on my resume. Role: Front Desk/ Office Administrator. Experience: orders shit for kitchen, argues with Canada.

Realistically, we have issues with exporting things with many different countries, especially Vietnam. But those issues are generally handled by our international office, while Canadian issues tend to fall right on my (completely unqualified) shoulders. 

Background: we were trying to send a laptop to our Vancouver office. A thing we have done before. A thing we have had issues doing before, and those issues were long and arduous and should have been solved already. Because I solved them (mostly).

See link for details: https://pieandmurderwednesday.tumblr.com/post/185484398919/the-continuing-struggles-fedex

So there’s this paperwork you fill out, right, for Power of Attorney for FedEx. Supposedly, this means that they will take your account and deal with all customs issues with a certain region and never bother you with it again. Supposedly.

Here’s the thing, though. I filled that paperwork out when I was young and fresh-faced and innocent, a mere babe in the woods (about three months ago), and also it had already been passed around to Canada, Texas, back to me, to the office next to mine, to the Chief Financial officer, back to the neighboring office, back to me, then to Texas and Canada again, and then to FedEx. Twice.

That paperwork got around, is all I’m saying.

And it asked for a “Business Number,” which no one at the time knew, so I left it blank and it got sent to Customs and they accepted it and everything was fine.

For like two months.

Then we try to send another laptop, secure in the knowledge that we have Filled Out All The Things, and it got stuck at the border. Because they wanted a Business Number.

A Business Number, for all you lucky bastards who have never needed to know, is a tax thing in Canada that you apparently apply for when you set up a business there. We didn’t have one (I think?) until March of this year, because back then our Canada office was under a different name and only used by remote contractors, so our shipments were casual instead of commercial and basically no one in Canada gave a single solitary fuck.

Then our parent company acquired us and our Canada branch and set up a business there Officially and didn’t bother to get an import-export account (which does fuck-all except add some extra digits after your Business Number and pacify Customs when you try to send shit to yourself, so I can understand why they never bothered). 

So we had the paperwork but didn’t put the number, FedEx and Canada both thought this was a terrible heinous crime, and they contacted us to get The Number to resolve the issue.

I was on break and totally unaware of the Canadian Shit Storm I was about to walk into when I returned. The laptop had been sent, all bells and whistles attached, I returned to the office to start my day, and then the issue was dumped in my lap.

So I sent our FedEx representative the copies of the paperwork we had already filled out, including the paper that explicitly stated that from this moment forward, they would deal with this shit so we didn’t have to, and they said “this looks fine except you need a Business Number or all of your hard work means nothing.”

(Why is it that you need a Canadian Business number for a Non-Resident power of attorney form anyway??? Doesn’t the very fact that you are Not A Resident of Canada imply that you don’t have a Canadian Business Number??????)

Anyway, I emailed the Canadian IT guy back asking for the Number, he sent me a number that identified their business but had the wrong suffix-- intended only for tax purposes, and not import-export. He suggested I ask payroll about it because accounting people apparently know these things.

I sent the number to FedEx, saying “This is what we have, the suffix is different apparently but can we at least use this for now?” And what I got back was, “We’ll check with Canada if this is correct but without the all-important suffix, this number is just farts in the wind.”

So they called Canada, and then they emailed me in a tither because “OH HEAVENS, CANADA SAYS THIS NUMBER IS NOT ASSOCIATED WITH YOUR COMPANY.”

To which my response was “Shit.” And a moment later, “What the fuck? That can’t be right, this is the number we use to pay our people, OBVIOUSLY IT IS OURS.”

But then I remembered my company exists under an umbrella company (parent company? I forget the term. Our tiny IT ex-startup has a helicopter parent, is what I’m saying) and it might be under that name instead.

Told FedEx, they said, “If it is under that other company, you need to fill out these three forms and then check if the number is correct and then click your heels together three times and pray the Wicked Bitch of the North will accept your humble offering.”

To which I saw turn red, wrote and deleted several very strongly worded emails, finally whittled it down to a polite-sounding “That seems excessive, can we at least check that the number is under our name and see if we have an account without sending the paperwork to get lost in our other office for a week, please oh please? And also, we pay for all this shit and not our parent company, so isn’t it technically ours to deal with anyway?”

Cue Shitty Canadian Hangman, where I hope at least the Canada Revenue Agency (CRA) was having fun, because FedEx Poor Bastard (herefore dubbed FPB) and I sure weren’t. Vaguely, it went like this.

Me: *calls FPB* Okay, so this is our company’s name, is it under that name?

FPB : *calls CRA* “Is this the name?”

CRA: “No, you have three more guesses and then I take your first-born child.”

FPB: *calls me* “No.”

Me: “Okay, is it ~slightly more official name of our company~?”

FPB: ...huh.

FPB: *calls CRA* “How about this?”

CRA: “The first word is correct, I cannot tell you more. You have two more guesses, then I take your first-born child.”

FPB: *calls me* “One word was correct, but is there an official suffix or anything?”

Me: “.... Hang on.” *stands up too fast, bruises knee badly against corner of desk, limps to supervisor* “What’s our company’s official name?”

Supervisor: “~Name Canada has already rejected once~”

Me: “...oh.” *limps back to desk* “This is it, bub.”

FPB: “Can you please call Canada this time, they scare me.”

Me: “Fine.”

Me: *calls CRA*

Me: *on hold*

Me: *on hold some more*

Me: *on hold for an hour*

Me: *opens email, sees Accounting has sent Official Canada Name of Business, which is... just great.*

CRA: “Hi, how can I help you?”

Me: “Can you tell me if this number is associated with ~Actual Official Business Name, for real this time~?”

CRA: “Yes.”

Me: “Okay, phew! So, do we have an import-export account?”

CRA: “I cannot release that information without authorization.”

Me: “... But I work here. Well, not in Canada, but this is our company. That we want to send a thing to. I just want to send a thing and I need to know if you will let me do that.”

CRA: “You need to fill out form IDK and IDC, and also form GO FUCK YOURSELF before I release that information.”

Me: *dying inside* “Okay fine, you’ve been very helpful. Have a... nice day.”

CRA: “Va te faire foutre.”

Me: “To you as well.”

Back to FedEx, they said they couldn’t do shit either, dumped the whole mess into Accounting’s hands, because they originally didn’t set up whatever account it was and I, a lowly front desk worker, don’t have the authorization.

Shirley Bassey: “I love her to bits, but she doesn’t have the authorization.”

This is the culmination of four days of work.

I have talked with FedEx, with Canada Revenue Agency, with our Vancouver office IT person and hiring manager, with Accounting and with my supervisor, and the result of this effort and time is: I confirmed that the number that we use is, in fact ours. And that I cannot use it until Accounting consults with Legal and sets up the fucking account we seem to have been using already (because how else did we manage to send anything before????). And I googled how to curse people in French while I was on hold.

So all in all I was very polite on the phone, while my subtitles were more like, 

*raises middle finger* 

“Thank you for your help” 

*raises other middle finger* 

“throughout this process” 

*raises third middle finger* 

“and I hope you have a great day.” 

*finger-spelling F-U-C-K- O-F-F* 

“I appreciate your time” 

*scribbling on paper “You Useless Bastards”* 

“and I hope you have a great weekend” 

*continues writing “along with the last of my fucks, which has died of fuck deprivation”* 

“Goodbye!” 

*finishes writing “I hope you step on a Lego every night before bed and that the toilet paper always runs out when you go to a public bathroom”*

#the continuing struggles of Struggles-to-Adult Mcgee #Shitty Canadian Hangman #should be the name of an indie band #FedEx service is fine but their paperwork abilities are nil

[aes-k]

The Murderer From Block D

Characters mentioned: Min Yoongi, Jackson Wang, Park Jimin

Genre: Thriller(?)

Summary: A wide-eyed boy begins his new job at the SDC, little does he know there’s a big storm that lies ahead.

Words: 2K

‘In Korea's most populated maximum security prison, Seoul Department of Corrections Facility, there are four blocks separating inmates based on their offenses.  Each block is guarded by a team of special ops specifically trained for the area and is on watch by both men and security cameras 24 hours a day and 7 days a week.  They are listed as followed:

Block A:  Inmates are placed here for minor offenses, such as theft, tax evasion, and traffic-related incidents.

Block B:  Inmates are placed here for offenses such as robbery, DUIs, B&E, and drug related charges.

Block C:  Inmates are placed here for charges related to assault, sex trafficking, and gang related violence.

Block D:  Inmates are placed here for battery, assisted suicides, terrorism, and the most popular of all, murder.’

"God dammit, I'm going to be late!!" the boy huffed, throwing his arms up in the car as traffic was at a standstill, once again.  Normally, he wouldn't care too much about it, but today was completely different.  Today was his first day of his new job at the Seoul Department of Corrections Facility, or SDC for short.  After graduating from the military service, he applied to be a police officer in his hometown of Daegu to be closer to family.  But after evaluating his training and paperwork, the police academy decided to transfer the boy to something that would suit him better.

He sighed, putting his left hand forcefully back onto the wheel as he took a sip of his coffee, relieved that traffic was beginning to move slightly, but at the same time not at all.  The radio wasn't going to calm him any, especially since all that was playing at this time of the morning were talk shows, and the fact that he woke up past his alarm didn't make things any better.  He made a mental note to take the alternate route tomorrow.

When he finally arrived, he quickly grabbed his things and rushed out the car door, locking it with his keys as he ran to the door of the facility, careful not to drop any of his scorching hot coffee onto his shirt as he's done once before.  He approached a help desk window, bidding the woman good morning.

"How may I help you, sir?"

"Hi, I'm the new guard, Min Yoongi," he introduced himself, feeling his heart calm a little more now that he was physically inside the building.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Min, I'll grab the Warden for you so you can go through the paperwork and get your uniform, after that you'll be assigned to your qualified block," she smiled, holding up a finger as his sign to wait while she paged the warden.

"Just breathe, Yoongi, it's alright.  You'll only get assigned to some middle aged guy that stole a pack of Viagra from a gas station or something," he mumbled to himself with a slight chuckle, but also found it funny because it might actually be true.

Footsteps caught his attention as he saw an average height blond in uniform walking towards him with a warm smile on his face.  "Are you Mr. Min?" he asked, holding out a hand, "Jackson Wang, I'm the Warden of SDC, it's nice to finally meet with you," he greeted, shaking the pale boy's hand so firmly he thought it might fall off.  "Right this way, if you please," he guided and Yoongi rose, following him into a separate office and taking a seat across from the man's desk.

"So, I see you've done military service, actually a top member of the bomb squad," he raised his eyebrows.  "I never would have imagined."

Yoongi shrugged with a faked laugh.  "Just because I'm small doesn't mean I can't handle a big package."

"Well, it looks like you're more trained in physicality than we thought.  You earned an honorary medal, your record is completely clean, and excelled in the physical training as a cadet.  I'm impressed," Jackson commented, setting aside Yoongi's file and opening up a laptop that had every guard on file and their placement.

"It looks like Block A and C are completely filled, so you'll most likely be assigned to B or D, depending on where the hours are needed.  But in the meantime, I'll grab your gear for you and let you get changed in the locker room.  When you get back, I'll have your assignment."

Yoongi nodded and grabbed the uniform from the taller man and walked across the hall to the locker room.  He eyed himself in the mirror with a face full of pride as he put on the black pants and shirt matching in color.  His shoes were shined, and belt neatly tucked in, making him feel like he had just won the lottery.  Putting his things into an unclaimed locker, he headed back into the office where Jackson laid out a few things on his desk for the other.

"Here is your gun, a taser, a pair of handcuffs, pepper spray, a bat, and a walkie.  Oh, and don't forget this," he added, handing Yoongi a gold pin with his name engraved on it, attaching it to the pocket of his left breast.  Now it felt official.

"And it looks like you'll be assigned to Block D, Mr. Min, good luck, and your higher up will meet you near the security room to handle your training hours."  He bid farewell, shaking hands with Yoongi for the last time and leading him out.  Yoongi, being at the SDC for the first time, approached the window near the entrance once more.

"Excuse me, could you direct me to Block D?" he asked with a smile.

The lady's eyes widened, which sparked sudden fear within the boy as she eyed him up and down.  "Down the hall, take the fourth right and you'll hit it head on," she explained.  He bowed and thanked her, but before he began his trek he heard a door shut behind him and fast heels clicking on the floor to see the woman holding out a vest to him.

"You're going to need this for Block D," she looked at him with a worried expression, holding out the vest to him to which he was confused.

"Is this for the training?" he asked with a cocked brow, putting it on and adjusting so it fit tightly.

"D-Do you know what Block D is?" she questioned, almost unable to form words.

Yoongi shook his head.

"It's the murder block.  Death Row."

Pounds were heard on the solid doors that decorated the halls of Block D in response to a sinister laughter that seemed to be heard almost every single day.  The laugh was one of almost a child's, mixed with a pure evil that only few people in this world contained.  It was never directed at anything particular, but it seemed to create only one thing for the person it came from: happiness.  

"Will someone shut him the hell up!"

"Someone outta kill this motherfucker before I do it with my own two hands."

"Park!" yelled an aggravated guard, slamming his baton across the bars that covered the window of the psychopath's door, "shut your damn mouth before we send you to the hole."

More laughter echoed from the room in response, this one was a sound of humor.

"You think I care?  Take me there, tighten those handcuffs around me tighter this time, I like feeling helpless," he teased with a wicked smirk on his face, grabbing the bars around the door.

"Keep laughing, Park," another threatened, "it's one day closer to your execution; we'll see who'll be laughing then," which instantly cut the laughing and caused the boy's jaw to tense.

"I'm glad I won't have to deal with this shit anymore.  Damn fool's making me go insane..."

"What's that?" the inmate tilted his head with a smile, "I'm getting a new toy?"

The guard rolled his eyes.  "I've heard this one's a veteran, Park, he won't play any games with you."

He licked his lips at the thought of some fresh meat entering his territory, already conjuring up plans on how he would mess with the newbie to make him quit his job.  Once he flirted with a new guard and made him so flustered and uncomfortable that he quit the day after he started, much to his accomplishment.

The inmate's name was Park Jimin.  He was in for life for the murder of three people, put on Death Row at only age twenty.  He hadn't committed the biggest crime of Block D, but he was infamous for his mentality; causing everyone around him to lose their shit within minutes each day with his sinister laugh, permanent smirk, and his tendencies to make people undeniably uncomfortable.  

He had pale skin, black hair that almost covered his eyes, and noticeable arm muscles that caused the sleeves of his uniform to tighten around his biceps.  His plump, dark pink lips were constantly chapped due to the amount of times a day he licked them, not having any access to chapstick.  He was only allowed outside for one hour a day, and his meals were brought to him through a slot in his cell door, the only window in the whole room being the one facing into the hallway, never getting to see the light of day until his one hour of daily freedom.

Due to his crimes, Jimin wasn't allowed to have a toothbrush with a handle, nor a razor, nor anything to write with or on.  He was considered highly dangerous, guards near and for his cell always carrying automatic weapons and bulletproof vests, ready to take action in case the boy were to suddenly snap.

He hadn't been in contact with his family since his trial two years ago, and often found himself thinking about them.  He had a younger brother, Jihyun, who was most likely into his second year of high school, and two happy parents who always gave them the world.  If there was one thing Jimin regret about his crimes, it was definitely throwing away the privilege of seeing his family.

Jimin perked up at the sound of two voices and footsteps nearing his cell and he rose from his bed, peaking out the window to find the origin of them to see the Warden and an armored guard nearing him.  A smile grew on his face as he scanned the appearance of the new face, subconsciously biting his lip as he took in his beauty.  He looked very thin and vulnerable, despite his weapon and him being experienced with such a thing, but Jimin couldn't help but think of all the things he would do to the small blonde.

"Park, this is your new assigned guard, Mr. Min," Jackson introduced, patting the shorter on the back.  Yoongi gulped as he made eye contact with his inmate, immediately feeling powerless against the criminal.

"Park Jimin," he introduced himself, smiling even bigger after they were left alone while the other guards prepared a practice range for Yoongi.  The new guard stood directly by the door of Jimin, properly holding his gun without sparing the raven a glance or another word.  To this, Jimin chuckled and leaned towards Yoongi's ear.

"I'm going to have so much fun with you."

#bts #bangtan #fanfiction #fanfic #thriller #criminal au #yoonmin #park jimin #min yoongi #jackson wang #got7

[doomednarrative]

Ok, so something sad that happenes but it gets better. Flug, while mixing chemicals together one day for an invisibility serum, manages to somehow grab the wrong chemical to mix with the one hes currently holding, because he was busy shouting at Demencia to "PUT THAT DOWN BEFORE IT SHATTERS!", and the mixutre ends up exploding in his eyes. The rest of his face is fine, but his eyes become damaged. He becomes black and white colorblind. Hes only able to see in monochrome. His visions slightly blurry too, but aside from that and now being colorblind, he's ok. This wouldnt be such a problem, except that he needs to be able to see the colors of certain wires to make certain inventions work correctly, and he needs to be able to see the colors of different chemicals so that he doesnt cause a wider scale explosion in the lab. For a while he makes things work. He has to work a bit slower on some inventions, and he often needs Demencia's help in differentiating colors of liquids and machine parts and such, but other than the slower pace, which agravates Black Hat a good bit, all is the same as it was before the incident. One day however, Flug comes into the lab to find a suprise on table: a pair of goggles that will fit over the bag he wears. (Prior to this he didnt wear goggles over the bag. He just had eyeholes cut out of it.) He goes to put them on, and almost screams when he does because EVERYTHING IS BRIGHT AGAIN!! The goggles turn out to have lenses in them that can correct colorblindness and "Holy shit I CAN SEE THE COLORS AGAIN!! THIS IS AMAZING!!" Demencia walks in the lab with 5.0.5 in tow, and notices Flug walking around, looking at everything, clearly happy about something. And then she notices the goggles. "Neat goggles you got there! Where'd they come from?" "I don't know but Demencia, they allow me to see colors again!!!!" And shes kinda suprised because "Wait they make goggles like that?!" And Flugs just so happy because he can finally do his work again without depending on someone else to help him, and this will speed up his work process againc and Black Hat won't be so upset with his work time and - "Wait, Demencia, you didn't get these for me?" "Nope, no idea where they came from." He's a bit puzzeled, because these goggles obviously didnt just show up out of nowhere. Someone got them for him. Someone who knew he was colorblind. Someone who wasn't Demencia, and certainly not 5.0.5. That left one person. Well, demon more like it. Flug walks to Black Hats office, and opens the door just slightly to see that his boss is busy filling out that years tax forms, because "We may be a team of villains, but we still live in a house and own a business, and as such we owe taxes to the idiotic government that runs this country, and I will NOT have my company run to the ground because of tax evasion!!" Flug waits until he finishes writing up the page he's on, and then steps into the office the whole way. "What is it that you require Dr. I'm very busy at the moment and you have orders to fill." "Well um, Sir I just..just wanted to let you know that those orders you gave me yesterday? They'll uh..they'll be done by tomorrow. Tomorrow morning actually." Black Hat looks up at that because "Flugs work has taken longer than two days since the incident that doesn't add up" and then he notices the goggles. "What's with the new headwear Flug?" "Oh the goggles? They appeared on my um. My desk this morning. They actually..they correct my vision?" "...meaning?" "I can..i can see colors again Sir." Black Hat sits back for a minute, taking in the information. "Is that why you'll have those orders done so quickly compared to your normal time?" "Yes Sir." "...fair enough. Make sure they're as good quality wise as the ones you've been producing. We don't want to sell rushed work to our clients and ruin our reputation now do we?" "No Sir, of course not. I'll um..i'll have them ready and done well by tomorrow morning for you." "Good. Now go back to working on them, I need to finish these forms, least my company go down the drain from failing to comply with thw government's asinine rules." Flug turns to leave, and gets halfway out the door, before turning back to Black Hat. "You wouldnt..you wouldn't happen to have been the one who got the goggles for me, were you Sir?" Black Hat looks up, small scowl on his face. "Of course not Dr. Why would I ever do such a thing like that? I have no idea who gave them to you. Just be greatful that you have them now and get back to work." "Yes Sir, will do." And with that Flug leaves. He doesn't see the small smile on Black Hats face after he leavws because "he liked the goggles I got for him."

#this came to me in the shower #if you squint really really hard it could be considered paperhat just a tiny bit #black hat #dr flug #villainous #headcanon #theory #story #villanos #dr flug villainous #dr flug villanos #black hat villanos #black hat villainous #paperhat #sort of #me talking

[elevenhoursinfront-blog]

14th September 2017

Steve woke up the moment the alarm went off and left the room. Weird for him, but I presumed he was going to wet himself. He usually plays of his phone for 15 minutes and then goes for a wee. He came back after 10 minutes and he had made us both a coffee! What a lovely surprise. Neither of us have had a hot drink since we were in Tasmania. We got ready for work and jumped in the van. I took my GoPro in to take some photos and videos. I wanted to make a really good film in the shed and I've planned what filming I need to take. It's going to take the rest of my time here to make it, but it'll be worth it. It'll keep me busy! I took a few photos of some people as we were waiting for the bell to start. I was at the back with Maggie and we found out that we only had 2.5 trailers to do. We normally complete 26 trailers per day so we should be done within an hour or so. It just goes to show how fast we work. There are around 60 tree bunches on each trailer. There are are 8 hands to each tree bunch and a singular hand has about 20 bananas on. Noah worked out that in his 3 months of working at the banana farm, he would've seen 9 million individual bananas, roughly. Any way, back to where I was actually going with that. We should be finished today by the first break which means a long weekend again. I can't hide my excitement to be off but I'm sad about losing money. I'm not sure what we'll do if our days keep getting shorter. I was working away and I was so hyper. Really, really hyper. Maggie and I were singing along to songs stupidly, splashing each other with water, having a great laugh. Time went by so quickly. I was messing about with my GoPro with Cait and Mitch too. I filmed them being stupid, I filmed the shit shoot to show how many bananas are thrown away. I also put the GoPro into one of my banana boxes to go through the machine - don't worry though Dad, Cait was well aware and got it out before it was sent away. Mitchel took my GoPro too and did some funny films. I had a great morning. We finished packing the bananas after about 1-2 hours. I got started on the cleaning whilst the two other belts finished. Top belt always finished first. We did a big clean, a really big clean which became boring after a while. There's so many of us girls that the jobs run out pretty quickly. It was 0950 when we all stopped, went to the break area and waited for the bell to go. I went around taking pictures and filming Steve doing some cleaning as that's a rare sight. He ended up turning the industrial hose on at me so I was absolutely soaked. My feet started to foam like fairy up liquid. At the start of our shifts, we have to go through a metal tray type thing of liquid and chemicals that stops us bringing in any diseases that could harm the bananas. That's why I started foaming. The bell went and we had our lunch. April, one of the older ladies that works there, told me that we weren't going home now. We were staying to help Jenny outside for a little while. I was dead excited - outside! Finally. It's like a prisoner getting to leave the cell. I told the girls and made sure everyone of us put factor 50 sun cream on. Vicki got us as many hats as she could find too. The bell went for work again and I was very excited. We all lined up outside and waited for the actual outside staff to leave so we could go. We walked about 5 minutes, not even that to the first paddock. It was the closest one to the shed. Jenny put us all into pairs, female with male. I was put with Maggie's Matt and Steve was put with Maggie. We were given a massive knife that was almost like a machete and was told to get on with it. We had to go to each individual tree, untie the banana bag and take it off, then pull the string down and put them into separate bags. One bag for bags and the other for string. The paddock is 400m long and the trees are pretty much on top of each other. Matt and I got into the swing of it fairly quickly. He would untie the knot as I couldn't reach them and I would pull the bag off the bananas and put them into the bag. I was carrying the bags and he would carry the knife. The knife would be to cut the bunch down should it be too high for Matt to untie which wasn't too often because he's quite tall. We took about an hour to do the whole line which went really fast. We were in the sun and I was loving it. I desperately needed my water though and you don't have the hands to carry it around with you. No wonder the guys pass out. Once we finished the first line, we walked back to get water which was strange for Jenny. She just said "go have a water break". Jenny is all about hard graft. Matt said to Steve that he was worried because we were basically chopping down perfectly fine bananas to rot into the ground. This paddock was only planted last year. How strange. We did another line (of trees, not cocaine) before Jenny said we were heading back. We were told we'd be finished helping the odd job by 1230. I was happy, I really enjoyed being outside. I wish I could work outside permanently. I might say something to Vicki should the opportunity arise but it's a bit too far down the line. We all got back to the shed and sat in the break area. We have to wait for Vicki to come out and say you can go home before just leaving. There could be more work that’s needed. We waited for about 10 minutes and most of the staff turned up, waiting around. Steve and I saw Blayde and little Matt who were on holiday this week. We knew then that something was not right. We asked why they were here and Blayde said his mum said he had to come in (Vicki). Oh god. What was happening? Were we losing our jobs? What was going on? We all started to worry, saying that what would we do if we were to lose our jobs. We saw the big staff in the office upstairs through the window. We waited about 20 minutes before Graham, the owner came out. He stood on the bench and said "There's just no easy way to say this so I'm just going to say it. We are closing the farm, as of today. We've tried for two long years to get this working but we can't." He started to cry. He carried on saying "I want to thank you all for your hard work and I'm so, sorry. There's too many bananas in Australia and the market is no longer there". Everyone was silent. Completely silent. Someone said "Thank you Graham". I started to clap and everyone joined in. People started to cry, including me. Vicki and Jenny were in absolute pieces. Their whole lives have just stopped. Tristan, our supervisor from the Philippians could not stop crying. He was on sponsorship to provide money for his whole family back home. Anthony, the outside supervisor, just stood up and walked out. Got in his car and left. He didn't say a single word. I don't blame him. Supervisors had the right to know beforehand, the company should've had the respect to tell the exec staff first. Give them notice what was going on. The big managers had meetings with their financial advisers who said on Friday evening to cut their losses and shut. Vicki and Jenny found out on their lunch time, as casual chat, that they were losing their jobs on Thursday. Vicki had to leave the shed because she couldn't face anyone. She drove the buggy into the paddocks and spent the afternoon crying. She has a house to pay for, she's 49 years old and she only gets 8 weeks redundancy pay. Jenny is well off so money isn't her problem, her house is paid off. It's her family business though so it's heartbreaking for them. I was shocked. I didn't know what to think. Vicki stood up and said "We will call your names out individually and you can come and collect your letter, if you don’t have one, come and see me after". We got our letters which contained our final payslip, a letter of contract termination and a final tax summary for taxback/visa purposes. Those that didn’t have their letter, were getting their second year visa granted by the owners. They were only doing it for those who had 1-2 weeks left of working which is completely fair and I’m so pleased they did that. They would have to wait for their payslips to be processed next week to show that they did their 3 months.

We started to say our goodbyes to staff and eventually left. Gobsmacked. I couldn't stop crying. What were we going to do now? Our plan was completely ruined. We drove the other hostel home and pulled up outside ours. The guys at the hostel came walking out with cold beers to help the mood as they found out which was nice. I couldn't help but feel sorry for the full time staff. People who's lives were just completely ruined. Bills for homes and children that have to be paid. They had been fired on the spot, with no warning or help. I saw many men crying because they couldn't support themselves or their family anymore. It's an awful situation. In fact, awful isn't the word to even describe it. I rang the Seafarm the moment I got back and the man told me to go in to fill in the application form. The waiting list would be about 4 weeks which is far too long for me but any options I have is better than none. We jumped in the van straight away and drove to the farm. We got the forms and they told us to bring them back tomorrow. On the way back to the hostel, I jumped out at one of the cafes called Annie's Kitchen to see whether they were hiring. They said they were quiet at the moment, maybe in a months time.

The problem is, Cardwell is going to go downhill now. Backpackers bring in so much money the whole town because of the banana farm. The farm was the only reason we came to this small little town and now nobody will come. Leonie was panicking because she relies on backpacker money for her income. She said she's going to have to get another job now. She reckons things will be closed down after a while. It's going to have a bad domino affect throughout the whole town which is absolutely crazy. Steve and I got showered and sat in the room. We were just silent. I didn't know what to say, I didn't know what to say. I started to cry and Steve laid there with me. He said that we'd write today off and talk about it tomorrow. I felt sorry for us and everyone else at the same time. We went outside after a while and sat chatting to everyone. We were all in a pity-party. We were talking about it for hours. I text my family and told them the news but they weren't awake yet. Steve started to feel hungry so he went to the kitchen to make us dinner. He wanted to make us chicken curry pasta which I've never heard of before. Steve said his mum used to make it and that it was nice so I went with it. He bought it down whilst we were chatting still and we ate away. It was nice to be fair. It would've been better with a different curry sauce. It was Ciar, Matt, Caiome and Bines last night tonight so we were all meant to be going to the pub for a drink at happy hour. None of us were feeling up to it really but we had to go. We left around 1700 and walked the 5 minutes down the road to Yasi. It was shut but the owner came out and said we could sit in the garden as the inside had been hired out for a private fishing event. Fishing is so big here. We chilled for an hour or two. Steve and I got one beer each which was $4.50. I didn't want to buy anything because we no longer had a drink but Steve's an avid spender. I wanted to FaceTime my Dad so we left earlier than everyone else. We got called boring and what not, as we always do. Last Saturday, Ciar came over to me in the entertainment room when we were all drinking and she said "You don't have friends because you're always in your room". If I'm honest, I was hurt. I don't want those types of 'friends' if they make me feel like rubbish for not doing something everyone else is doing. Yes, I'm actually a fairly boring person and I do enjoy chilling in my room of an evening after work. Whatever. I called Dad whilst he was eating his porridge. He asked what our plan was, which we don't have. At all. The call ended fairly quickly and Steve and I went outside. We chatted to people. The majority were still down. I spoke to Cait the most. She and I are the most devastated. We waited for everyone to come back from the pub and then we went to the entertainment room. Everyone was enjoying a good few drinks as it was probably going to be the last time with people here... We played a drinking game called Arrogance. You have one cup and you pour a bit of your drink in. The player next to you will flip a coin. Heads or tails - you guess. You get it right, you pass the cup on. You get it wrong, you drink. Eventually, our cup was filled with beer, cider, goon and peppermint tea (thank you Harriet). That got people fairly drunk and before you know it, we were up on the benches dancing and laughing away. The boys were on the grass playing "see who can kick the ball through the window first". Steve won! He shot it in first which was great because the game had been going on for ages. Luckily, the window was smashed a few weeks beforehand so none of the lads could do it this time. The drinking, laughs and what not continued. Steve and I didn't really drink much. Scrap that - I just asked him and he said he was drunk. I didn't realise. I didn't really drink much, in fact, I wasn't even tipsy in the slightest. I was still very deflated after the words longest, most rubbish day ever. I kept wondering when my bad luck streak would end... Bines had a go at kicking the football through the gap in the window and ended up kicking his trainer onto the roof. Bad idea for someone who was leaving in the morning. We had to get the trainer down and luckily Nick was able to get it. Cahoime wanted to try but she was very drunk. We weren't letting anyone too drunk climb up on the roof. The trainer was saved and the night carried on. I went to bed around 2330. Steve stayed up but he joined me after about half an hour. We fell asleep straight away. Thank God, the day is finally over.

[concussed-to-pieces]

Deadline

Fandom: WWE

Pairing: Irwin R. Schyster/Unnamed OFC

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Thirst Party Saturday ahoy! In honor of April fifteenth (the usual filing deadline for U.S. federal income tax returns), I give you an incredibly indulgent installment. Because I am a terrible person and I make no excuses for myself. Tagging the usual suspects @tox-moxley, @oraclegazes and of course the incredibly courageous @hardcorewwetrash (who will probably keelhaul me for this installment...I may in fact deserve it but after all this Wattpad malarkey I figured some levity would not be amiss).

Enjoy!

Irwin R. Schyster was a simple, orderly man. He liked his receipts signed, his socks matched, and his tie tied just right. He came to work every day, ready to get down to business. Tax fraud and evasion was at an all time high and he was more than happy to lay the smackdown on the miscreants who tried to falsify important documents or claim more than two percent of their gross income as deductible.

It wasn’t often that clients came knocking on his door this late, though.

It was timid, almost didn’t catch his attention. He glanced at the clock. After nine already? Probably the janitor. “Sorry Gene, I’ll head out.” he called, starting to shuffle the papers on his desk back into their folders.

“Excuse me, uh, Mr. Schyster?”

That was not Clean Gene’s voice. Irwin looked up, startled. Standing in front of his desk was a young woman in a denim jacket. Attractive enough, but it was very late. “Miss, my consulting hours were up at four.” He said bluntly, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice. “You’re going to have to come back in the morning.”

“I’m sorry. I saw the light on and figured I’d give it a shot. I promise I’ll be quick.” She seemed nervous, wringing her hands. “I just needed help and a few of my friends recommended you specifically.”

Irwin felt a rush of pride at that, pushing his glasses up his nose. “You have five minutes. I’m listening.” He propped his hip up against the side of his desk, crossing his arms over his burly chest. This was highly unorthodox but he was intrigued to say the least. Never mind the fact that his own methods were incredibly unorthodox in and of themselves. Effective, but unorthodox.

“I have…numbers don’t cooperate with me.” She began. “I’m afraid that between this year and last year my finances have gotten a little tangled, so I need a professional’s help.”

“What do you mean ‘numbers don’t cooperate’?” Irwin asked, thoroughly confused. “Numbers don’t change. They’re the only constant on this planet.” He tapped the toe of his shoe on the ground, a little annoyed with this woman. She was starting to sound like one of those cheats when they tried to weasel their way out of an audit.

She winced. “Numbers have always been a difficult area for me. You should see me trying to figure out change. It’s a mess.”

“So you need a tax preparation? A consultation?”

“Yes, as soon as possible. I know you must be very busy with your current clients. I promise I’m not trying to cut the line. I also know this isn’t exactly a service you advertise specifically, so I wasn’t sure if you were even able to help. I didn’t see a number to call though…” She trailed off.

Irwin blinked. I never actually put my number or specifications up, did I? Just my general ‘financial services’ sign. “Well Miss, I’m in by eight and I close up shop at four. I break for lunch at noon. Exactly noon.” There was nothing worse than having his routine interrupted. “If you arrive during the half hour between twelve and twelve-thirty, there are seats in the hallway. I have an open schedule tomorrow, so whenever you have the time you’re free to stop in.”

“Really? That’s wonderful! Thank you!” she said excitedly, bouncing in place and then hugging him tightly like she was a child.

Irwin stiffened in surprise and pushed his glasses back up on his nose after she released him, clearing his throat awkwardly.

…

At twelve o' clock on the dot the next day, Irwin flipped the sign to his office around to the 'out to lunch!' side and locked the door behind him. He strolled off down the hallway and out of the building, whistling a tune. The sun was shining brightly; it was another beautiful day in early spring and Irwin felt remarkably good about the work he’d gotten done so far.

He settled down on his usual bench in the park, unwrapped his usual peanut butter sandwich (no jelly, it always dripped onto his shirt so he chose to forgo it), and took a bite.

A body landed solidly beside him on his bench and he almost jumped out of his skin. No one ever sat next to him. That was how he liked it. Irwin sighed, shoving his glasses back up on his nose and taking another bite out of his sandwich.

Abruptly a hot cup of coffee was waved in his face. “Figured I’d come pester you on your lunch break, seeing as how you’ll be helping me out.”

Oh. “Miss, this is technically harassment.” Irwin said sternly, trying to ignore how delicious the coffee smelled. He was failing. Coffee was one of his few vices, but he usually only indulged in a single cup every morning. Being overly caffeinated led to shaky hands, and in his line of work that meant mistakes.

Her laugh almost got him to smile. Clearly she was dangerous. “Yeah yeah, isn’t that supposed to be my line? I brought my lunch too. There’s no law saying I can’t sit next to you on a park bench and offer you one of my two suspicious coffees.”

“You don’t even know me, Miss. What if I don’t drink coffee?”

“I saw the way you ogled the cup. Nice try, Mr. Schyster.” She tugged on his hand and put the second coffee in it gently. “Here. You’re doing the world a service by keeping me from drinking two cups in a row.”

Irwin momentarily debated dropping the coffee and running for his life. This was quickly turning into a social situation, and he knew full well that he was outmatched. “Thank you.” He finally replied.

“He’s got manners! Your mom must be so proud.” She teased, tucking in to her own sandwich. It looked like a somewhat revolting mixture of cheap white bread, marshmallow Fluff and...were those cornflakes? Schyster only barely managed to contain his gag, hurrying to finish his sandwich before his stomach lost its nerve.

“How long have you been doing this, Mr. Schyster? What got you into it?” She asked after slogging through a few bites of her thick, sticky mess of a sandwich. “The tax stuff, not eating your lunch alone.”

“I…” Irwin paused, his brow furrowing. He had found himself opening his mouth to answer without a second thought, which was rather startling. He had never been much for conversation. “My father would sit at the kitchen table late into the night, doing all the taxes out. He was abysmal at them but having someone else do it was too expensive for him to justify.”

She nodded. “Understandable. You guys probably got audited a lot, huh?”

Irwin shook his head. “Only two or three times. But it was legitimately terrifying for my parents when it did happen. I decided…I mean when I was relatively young, I realized that this wasn’t a good solution. I’ve always been a number-minded individual, so I went to the library and got out everything that I could on the I.R.S., on tax systems and financing...how it all works. I was a child. I wanted to know everything. I dedicated time after school, studied through the summers. It really is a fascinating subject, so many things constantly in flux while others never change. I went to college for it and I guess the rest, as they say, is history.”

“So you were the family hero, huh?”

Irwin frowned. He’d never really thought of it that way. It made sense though. “I prefer the term ‘savior’. Paints me in a better light.” He replied dryly.

She almost spat out her coffee, giving him a sideways glare. “Was that a joke?” She coughed. “Warn me, I could have died!”

Irwin couldn’t help his smile then, successfully camouflaging it by taking another sip of coffee.

“What would you have done, if you didn’t succeed at being the family savior?” She asked when a minute or two of quiet had passed.

“I’m not sure.” Schyster mused, crossing his arms over his chest. “Maybe take up sailing. The idea has always appealed to me. I think I’d like to be the captain of a schooner.”

“The captain, huh?”

“Naturally! I would be the most knowledgeable. Obviously the captain.” Irwin glanced at his watch and got to his feet, dusting the crumbs from his sandwich off of his trousers. “Lunch time is over. Shall we get started, Miss?”

She quickly crammed the remainder of her sandwich into her mouth and practically jumped up off the bench. “Fin’ly!” She mumbled, grinning.

…

He had originally thought that perhaps she was just lazy when it came to numbers and that this would be a quick fix. Not that it mattered, that was how he made a living, after all. But her taxes from last year had been improperly filed. To the point where Irwin would suspect it had been deliberate. There were the marks of a professional all over her forms but they had been botched so royally it was incredible.

There was an ex-husband involved, maybe just an ex-fiancé or ex-boyfriend, one that made her an absolute mess when she realized that his name was still on some of the paperwork. They didn’t share a last name, but apparently they had shared a life. Irwin had never heard somebody apologize so many times in his life, continuing to silently fill out his forms while she interacted with this…cretin over the phone.

“I...I understand. I’m sorry I bothered you.” She sounded close to tears. Irwin glanced up, instantly made uncomfortable by her facial expression. She placed the phone gently down on the receiver and then dropped her head into her hands. “Mr. Schyster, I’m so sorry, he won’t-“

“Then we make a new account at a different bank under your name.” Irwin said curtly. “Standard procedure.” Which wasn’t technically true. In his experience though, if people thought it was anything but the standard they tended to ask for more. And nothing irritated Irwin quite like blatantly greedy people.

She looked up at him with her face all tear-streaked and Irwin was struck by how young she seemed. “You can do that?” She asked.

“What kind of question is that?” Irwin pushed his glasses up on his nose.

It was entering his busy season and the clients started piling up, but Irwin always found himself making time for her. One day he even took his lunch ten minutes late, which was unheard of for him. She’d promised she would be there with coffee so he waited though, and sure enough she showed up. Schyster wondered in the back of his mind when she would stop this…whatever the hell it was. Were they friends?

Not that it mattered, he was a grown man after all.

…Acquaintances maybe. Associates.

The day finally came to put the finishing touches on her forms. Irwin knew he should be relieved, it meant he could bid her farewell and not have to worry about her damn screwed-up, numbers crossed-through and crossed-through again, ‘initial here here and here’ paperwork. At least until next April. But all he felt was melancholy, straightening his suspenders with a quiet snap and rising from his desk to stare out the window to the street. It was raining. Irwin wasn’t a man prone to poetry or moping, so the effect the dreary weather was having on him was immensely worrisome.

It’s not the weather and you know it, Schyster.

Irwin shook his head, busying himself with watching the morning traffic go by. He couldn’t really afford this little break. He had so much catching up to do but his body seemed unwilling to move, keeping him rooted by the window.

He was just returning to his desk as she erupted through the door, making him almost miss his chair when he went to sit. “Raining cats and dogs out there, Mr. Schyster!” Her grasp of the obvious was absolutely impeccable.

Irwin did his best to look severe, peering over his glasses at her. He had been told many times that he had a glare that would stop misbehaving children in their tracks, perhaps it would work on a confusing (yet damnable attractive) woman as well.

“Geez, what’s with the look? Is it because I’m dripping on your rug? Are you okay? You sick?” She sloughed off her sopping jacket and then leaned over his desk to press a hand to his forehead. Irwin flinched away, making her pause. “…Mr. Schyster?” Her voice had gone soft. She looked worried, of all things.

Irwin cleared his throat. “Just tired. It’s been busy lately.” He started shuffling the papers on his desk aimlessly, trying to look occupied so he wouldn’t have to maintain eye contact. “We need to get your papers signed. Hopefully if you return next year this won’t be such a damnable fiasco.”

“Oh I’m definitely coming back if you'll have me. You’re an absolute genius when it comes to this. You even explain stuff sometimes and I can understand it. You’ve totally earned that ‘savior’ moniker.”

Her praise made him flush. Irwin tugged nervously at one of his suspenders, feeling a little overwhelmed. Usually he got a handshake, a promise to come back the next year. This was…unexpected. “Miss, we need…I have a lot of other clients and you’ve taken up an exorbitant amount of my time as is. So please.” His pen clicked loudly in the silence of his pause. “Sign your papers so you can be free of this.”

So we can be free of this.

She took an eternity to sign everything, reading and rereading and asking questions. But then again, not double checking her papers last time had gotten her into this mess to begin with, so Irwin could understand her care.

“What are you going to do now?” Irwin didn’t know why he asked. It was pointless, a few more minutes and she would be gone.

She looked up, pausing to smile brightly at him. “Get my own apartment, of course! Get an apartment, get a better job…having someone hold financial sway over you is an absolutely terrifying experience. I want to be secure so that it never happens again, Mr. Schyster.”

“Why did you…” Irwin trailed off, flushing again. It was hardly his business, what did he care? Just finish signing the papers, woman!

“Because I thought he was someone else.” Her smile had gone wistful. “I believed what he said. I let myself get caught up and…well, full of silly ideas and then before I knew it I was stuck in a nightmare.”

Schyster snorted, pushing his glasses back up on his nose. “You sound like an adolescent.” Christ, he hadn’t meant to vocalize himself in such a cruel way. But...the idea of getting all tangled in emotions, to the point where you would believe anything the other person said? It just seemed so childish.

“I was, actually. Only fifteen.”

Irwin wasn’t sure what hyperventilating felt like, but it had to be close to this. Her birth-date was all over her papers, hers and that man’s. There was a twenty-two year difference between them. He hadn’t really ruminated on it but now it made sense. She had been too young to know better, probably surviving on pretty words and promises of affection alone. Maybe her home life was troubled, maybe she’d had nowhere else to go and had clung to an older man who made her feel special or safe and then…

“Christ.” He muttered. He felt nauseous.

“Oh God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset, Mr. Schyster. That’s just…” She shrugged. “I mean, that’s how it was. I have to figure out how to live on my own now. I was allowed to have a job, of course, but it's not one that will support me. Just give me a little spending money or something. I’ve applied at a couple of places, although without a home address it’s been-”

“You don’t have a place to live?!”

“I do! I definitely do. I…I stay at the women’s shelter.” She sounded defiant, almost like she was daring him to judge her. Schyster had more pressing matters to worry about, though.

“Christ.” Irwin put his head in his hands. “Where the hell are they supposed to mail this? You don’t even have a P.O. box, do you?”

“...I hadn't thought of that.” She admitted weakly after a moment or two of silence. “I guess it'll go to him, won't it? To my old address. God, God I'm so stupid.”

Schyster could tell before he even moved for the first drawer that this was a terrible idea. Rifling through it, he selected a different pen with great care. The second drawer was the one that held all his forms. Hopefully this would go much quicker when he was just copying down the information instead of deciphering it from the previous year's forms.

“What are you doing?” She asked warily, getting to her feet and leaning over his desk so she could see the papers better. “Oh no, you're-”

“I have to do this all over again. Correction fluid isn't allowed on documents like these.” Irwin was proud of himself for keeping his voice steady when what he really wanted to do was lose his goddamn mind for a few minutes. Then, have a cup of coffee and get on with it.

Christ. All that time, wasted. She at least looked properly chastised. Well...she looked like she was going to burst into tears, really. “Don't cry.” He said sternly when he heard a threatening sniffle.

“S-Sorry.”

“You don't need to apologize, but you don't need to cry either. It'll be alright.” When the hell had he turned into someone who gave reassurances? Irwin was appalled at himself. “Crying solves nothing.”

“You've just been so patient with me for this and I don't...I can't even help with any of it.” She mumbled, wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her threadbare denim jacket. “If I hadn’t been so stupid--”

“Now you know better, though.” Irwin pointed out. “’Fool me once, shame on you’ and all that. God willing, for both of our sakes, something like this never happens again.”

“Yeah.” Her voice was forlorn as she curled up in the chair. Having her knees up with her arms wrapped around them appeared to be her favorite position, regardless of how uncomfortable it seemed. If it had been anyone else Irwin would have been furious about having those mud-caked sneakers on the seat, but for some reason when it came to her he couldn’t bring himself to say anything.

The slow drip, drip, drip of her jacket on the edge of hardwood floor beside his door practically echoed in the silence. Schyster was more than thankful that this was essentially brainless work, otherwise that might have been incredibly distracting. He had a ‘flip’ clock for a reason; he couldn’t stand the monotonous ticking of an analog clock in the relative stillness of his office.

He could have told her to come back later, once he was finished with everything. Where the hell is she supposed to go, Schyster? It’s pouring out. You love your solitude that much, that you’d send this poor woman off into the rain for an hour or two? Schyster winced inwardly, a little ashamed of himself.

She had fallen asleep by the time he was done, her cheek resting on her knees while she dozed. Something, Irwin wasn’t sure what, tugged at his chest, and he found himself stapling her papers together and carefully putting them off to the side before opening up his next file. Her being here wasn’t hurting his progress at all, what was the harm in letting her sleep a little longer?

She woke herself up almost four hours later when one of her feet slipped off the chair. The disgruntled look on her face almost made Irwin laugh.

Almost.

She signed the amended forms without studying them at all this time. Irwin wanted to scold her for it, but she was obviously saddled with more pressing matters. Plus, if he was being honest, it was a bit of an ego boost to know that she trusted him to the point where she didn’t think she needed to look everything over. “I need to--“ She yawned widely, stretching her arms after she dropped the pen. “'Scuse me, sorry. Need to get back to check in for the night.”

“You…do you want me to call you a cab? Is it a far walk?” The half-incredulous, half-grateful look she gave him almost made up for the extra paperwork he’d dealt with. Irwin cleared his throat, looking back down at his desk. “A-After all, it’s still raining you know.”

“I should be okay. It's not too far.” She started putting on her coat, yawning again.

Irwin still felt like he ought to do something, logic and common decency practically demanded it. He stood from his desk and walked over to open the door for her. “Use this.” His umbrella hardly saw the light of day, usually just sitting forgotten behind the door to his office. “It's pouring out, and you catching cold isn't going to help you find a better job. No potential employer will look at you twice when you have to use a Kleenex every minute.” His smile was brief but warm as he pressed the curved handle of the umbrella into her palm; hopefully it was enough to soften the blow of his less-than-charitable words.

She stared up at him for a minute, full-blown stared, her mouth slightly agape. Irwin didn't know why he finally reached out but he did, gently closing her mouth with his index finger on the underside of her chin.

“You…I-I’ve never seen you smile before. It’s…you have a nice smile.” She stammered.

Everything seemed to grind to a halt as Irwin processed this information. A nice smile wasn’t exactly something you could take to the bank, and yet it was apparently important enough that she felt the need to mention it. As if it was a good quality, or one worth commenting on at least.

He raised an eyebrow and she flushed bright red, then headed off down the hallway without another word.

Clean Gene was thoroughly unamused by the puddle of water that seeped out from beneath Irwin’s door into the hallway.

...

Irwin scolded himself for days, weeks afterwards. What the hell had he been thinking? Touching a client, and in such an inappropriate manner! The audacity of his actions knew no bounds. He’d probably terrified her. He didn’t know why that concerned him so much but it did, it did.

Hasn’t she been through enough, Schyster?

Irwin knew he was…odd was probably a kind word. Obsessed with his work, paranoid about money to a fault. Growing up with so little had forced him into a vicious cycle of prioritizing needs almost exclusively, while wants were left in the dust. Any and all luxuries were agonized over, budgeted for. Hell, he’d waited for almost six months to buy a new pair of suspenders because he knew there would be a spring sale and he just…the old ones still worked alright, the teeth were a little worn and the elastic was starting to sag but they worked.

He was odd. Private and severe, dressed in a manner that fit more in the ‘Big Band’ forties than it did the early nineties, egghead to a fault, he knew he was odd. But it had never bothered him before.

She liked my smile.

Why the hell was that a sticking point? Never mind that no adult had ever commented on any part of his physical appearance, just on his incredible mind for numbers and his dedication. Never mind that her words had made him feel warm inside in a way that Mr. DiBiase had never managed with his long-winded motivational speeches.

Never mind that the way she had looked up at him, mouth slightly open and eyes wide, had made him want to…hell, it made him want to kiss her. Which was ludicrous, she was a client and no compliments or kind words on her part would change that.

When her refund check arrived in his mailbox, he brought it to his office and sat, staring at the phone for over an hour while clenching and unclenching his fists at random. He loathed talking on the phone with a passion.

Suspender up on one shoulder, down on the other, switch sides indefinitely. If he kept fidgeting maybe he would run out of time in the day to make the call.  

I stay at the women’s shelter.

Irwin grimaced. It wasn’t exactly fair of him to withhold her only method of attaining security just because phones made him nervous. The number of her workplace was scribbled in the margins of his notes, he could at least leave a message.

Of course, someone picked up.

“Diesel's Pizza, what can I get for ya?”

Without intending to Irwin rolled right into the usual spiel he left on his clients’ answering machines. “Hello, my name is Irwin Schyster. I’m calling because-”

“Wait, didja’ say Schyster? Hang on a sec.” There was a loud scuffing noise, like the man had covered the receiver with his palm. His words still came through though. “'Ey yo! Kid! It’s for you!”

“What do you mean ‘it’s for me’? I don’t get-”

“I mean, it’s for you. It’s that guy, the one you ain’t shut up about.”

“Ramon! Give me--he can probably hear you!” She sounded panicked.

Irwin pushed his glasses up on his nose. ‘The one you ain’t shut up about.’ Him? She was talking about him? At her workplace? But why?

“H-Hi, Mr. Schyster. Is something wrong again?” Irwin distinctly heard some strange smacking noises in the background. “Knock it off, Razor!”

“Not at all, I just have your check here. When can you pick it up?” Irwin tugged at one of his suspenders. “Would it be easier for me to bring it to you directly?”

“Oh no, I don’t want to bug you with that! I’m sure you’re busy, I can come over on my lunch--”

“She’s just leavin' now, aren't you sweetie?” Another deep voice butted in, softer than that Ramon character.

“B-but Kevin, I’m-”

“-Just leavin' now, yeah, I know. Get a move on!” The phone clicked and Irwin was left with the dial tone beeping in his ear.

She seemed exhausted when she made an appearance. Irwin noticed that she still had a dishrag sticking out of the back pocket of her jeans. “I…oh my God, thank you.” She looked at him like he was the best thing she’d ever seen. It made him feel immensely uncomfortable but also a little...a little good. “You won’t get in trouble for having them mail it to your apartment, will you?” She asked tentatively, making no move to take the check from his desk.

Irwin shook his head, clearing his throat and rustling some papers around. “No, I believe the check going into your account will be proof enough that I’m no cheat.”

“I…this is so much money.” She sounded lost, the tip of one Band-Aid-wrapped finger smoothing over the check. Like she was afraid to touch it.

“Do you have a budget planned out? Investing ideas are a little bold at this stage, but have you thought about them, about the future at all?” Irwin frowned when she shook her head. “You may want to look into your options. I know…” He hesitated, not wanting to sound inadvertently cruel again. “I know that seems like a lot of money, but before you know it, it’ll be gone again and you’ll be left with nothing but an empty stomach and an apartment you can no longer afford.”

“You’re right, of course.” She said softly after a minute, sitting heavily in the seat across from him. “I’ve got no real plans, I haven't had hardly a free minute to think. Kinda’ been winging it. It’s worked out alright so far, Kevin's given me a lot more hours and stuff. I haven't learned how to throw a pizza right yet though.”

Irwin could feel a headache coming on. He leaned forward, lacing his fingers together on the surface of his desk as he fixed her with a stern look. She briefly held his gaze, before ducking her head and starting to pick at the already-frayed hole in the knee of her jeans. He wasn't expecting the quiet, “I'm sorry,” nor was he expecting the feeling he got in his chest at the words. “It's alright. Being on your own teaches you a variety of fast, hard lessons. You've made it this far.” He cleared his throat. “When is your shift over? I'll see if I can make a rough budget draft up for you to pick up on your way home.”

“You...really? You'd do that for me?”

“It will be very rough.” Irwin warned her, trying to stall whatever outburst of gratitude would come next. “Bare bones, I'm busy today and I-”

She got up from her chair and essentially threw herself across his desk to hug him fiercely. She nearly broke his glasses when her shoulder bumped his nose. “You're the best.” She said, her voice sounding a little quavery. “I know you don't want anyone else to know that, but you really are. I should be out around te-”

The customary knock on Irwin's door was the only warning they got before Mr. DiBiase was opening it and stepping in. “Whoa! Am I interrupting something?” The self-proclaimed 'Million-Dollar-Man' held up his hands, chuckling incredulously. “Schyster you sly dog, didn't think you had it in you!”

“I believe it's time for you to leave, Miss.” Irwin couldn't tell whether he was embarrassed or infuriated, but either way, enough was enough. She went absolutely scarlet, obviously just as flustered as he was and stammering out an apology before making her retreat.

Ted swatted Irwin on the shoulder after she was gone, propping his hip up on the desk. “Whoops, looks like she left something--”

Schyster quickly snatched the check away from Ted's questing fingers, whipped open a drawer at random and dropped the check into it. “Can I assist you in any way, Mr. DiBiase?” He asked through gritted teeth.

“Aw come on Irwin, don't be like that! You know all you'd have to do is mention that you had uh...company, and I'd leave you alone.”

“Charming policy.” Irwin replied dryly. “You tell all of your employees that rendezvous in their offices are allowed with proper notification, Mr. DiBiase?”

Ted laughed again, a good roaring one this time. “You're a card, Schyster! Nope, I'd only make that kind of exception for you. No offense, but you seem like you could use it!”

“I'm honored sir, truly, but I don't fraternize with clients on the clock.” Irwin straightened his glasses. He didn't know why he bothered with Mr. DiBiase, sarcasm always seemed to fly over his head. “She's just...odd in the way that she expresses her thanks. Juvenile.”

“I think I could live with a little more oddness in my life, if that's the case!” Ted grinned, giving Irwin a wink. Irwin sighed heavily and DiBiase relented, starting to rattle on about how he was trying to buy more property upstate, “They keep saying they won't sell, but everybody's got a price, Schyster!”

…

Irwin ended up working long past four. Ted had a way of demanding all his attention, regardless of whether he could afford to spare it or not. So here he sat at quarter to ten, several sheets of graph paper spread out around him as he made the finishing touches on the budget that might never see the light of day. Factoring in food and miscellaneous expenses was always the hardest part for him when it came to his own budget, he could only imagine how much worse it may be for her.

His irritation had cooled a little. More than a little, if he was being honest. He was too tired to be annoyed with her behavior, childish and compromising though it had been.

Irwin tucked everything into a file that said 'Budget' on the tab in small, red letters and put her check in the pocket of his shirt for safekeeping, then pulled on his long overcoat and turned off the desk lamp.  I have to be back here in less than twelve hours. Ridiculous.

Diesel's Pizza was relatively close by, a short walk up the street and into the plaza it resided in. Schyster felt like his legs were betraying him, as he was there long before he was ready. The neon Open sign flickered in the front window of the establishment, a few patrons still lingering inside with their preferred slices.

He was startled by the ringing of the bell attached to the door as he pushed it open, wincing at the noise and the way it instantly drew attention to him. But he wasn't nearly as awkward in person as he was on the phone, only just resisting the urge to glare over his glasses at the large man in the violently pink shirt behind the counter.

“Christ, you're a cheery-lookin' guy ain't ya'? 'Ey chica, he's here!” Irwin recognized Ramon's voice from the phone call earlier. But how on earth could the man know who he was?

“Who's...oh.” She looked like she wanted to vanish through the linoleum flooring, twisting the dishrag between her hands as she stood on the threshold of what Irwin could only assume was the kitchen.

“Everything okay? You need me to toss him out?” Another man even taller than Ramon stepped out from the kitchen, resting a hand on her shoulder. He narrowed his eyes at Irwin, who stopped resisting the urge to glare.

“No no, it's okay Kevin. I um...I had something to take care of still.” She said, trying to wiggle out from beneath Kevin's hand. “Tax stuff, y'know.”

“Oh, more of that fuckin' Greek.” Ramon groaned, “Let her talk with the poindexter, Nash. Keep all that mumbo-jumbo outta' your 'stablishment.”

“If you need us...” Nash trailed off, his lip curling.

“I assure you gentlemen that there is nothing shady going on with our interactions.” Irwin went full stiff-business, figuring a little formality couldn't hurt in this place. Judging from the two men behind the counter, it wasn't exactly their bread and butter. “I am merely here because she forgot her paperwork earlier. I also included a few beginner investment ideas, something I'm sure neither of you are interested in.”

“Whoa there chico, hold up, you callin' us dumb or somethin'? Nash, I think-”

“Razor, please.” Kevin interrupted the other man, tilting his head to the side as he studied Irwin. “You aren't here to fuck with the kid?”

“Hardly.” Irwin wasn't sure what the hell possessed him to raise an eyebrow. “She's my client.”

“Alright then. Go ahead, sweetie.” Kevin gave her a gentle push forwards, making her stumble. “Talk to your nerd man.”

“Kevin!” She hissed, obviously mortified.

Nerd man? Really? Maybe it's the suspenders. Irwin opened the file up on the counter, helping himself to the space there. If they wanted to alpha-male posture by all means he would posture. “So here's the rough budget draft, it doesn't factor in all the details but I left portions blank for you to fill in on your own.” He tapped a finger down on one such blank area. “I tried to do as much with as little as possible. I'm not sure what you're doing in terms of a living situation, electricity may be more than I factored but it's also a necessity so you'll have to adjust. I...” Irwin slowed to a stop as he realized that he'd garnered an audience. She looked overwhelmed, biting her lip while she just...stared at him again. Razor and Nash hung over her shoulders, Razor chewing on a toothpick avidly.

“You catch any of that, big guy?” He asked after a second or two, shooting Nash an incredulous look.

Surprisingly, the other man nodded. “It's good, Ramon. He's takin' care of her. C'mon, we've got the uh. Oven. Need to clean the...the brisket. Chef stuff, he wouldn't understand.” Kevin winked at Irwin, catching one of Ramon's lapels and hauling him back into the kitchen.

Irwin sighed. “Look, if this isn't making sense or if it's too much right now I can give you this and be--”

“No no, it is! I'm just...I'm...you didn't get in trouble earlier, did you? That guy was your boss, right?” She asked timidly. “Would it be a good idea for me to maybe come in and try to explain myself, or will that just make things worse?”

“Mr. DiBiase has been my employer for a few years now. I detailed the situation to the fullest extent of my abilities, and I believe he understands.” Irwin ‘harrumph’ed. “You coming in after the fact would probably be more detrimental than anything else, considering the fact that DiBiase was incredibly willing to encourage illicit behavior in my office.”

“He…what?” She sputtered.

“Well, perhaps I worded that poorly. He seems to believe that I need to ‘relax’, to put it in layman’s terms. Regardless of the method.” Irwin was startled when a hysterical little giggle exploded out of her. “Miss?”

“Well shit, anybody could see that you need to relax Mr. Schyster!” She snickered. “Just by the way you freeze up when I hug you, never mind anything else.”

Irwin tugged at the collar of his shirt self-consciously. “I had no idea there were so many people concerned about my...well-being.” He remarked dryly after a minute, making her snort.

“Once I’m settled in and stable, you can bet your ass that I’m buying you dinner.”

“Miss, that’s technically--“

“Yeah yeah, bribery, harassment, whatever Mr. Schyster. I already know I’m a bad person, I just want to say thank you. And give you the opportunity to loosen up a little.” She lightly punched his shoulder. “So it’s a date. I’ll keep you posted. You can’t refuse. It’s bad manners.”

“I--”

“She’s stubborn man, give up!” Kevin called from the kitchen.

“…We will be splitting the bill. I’m not allowing you to pay for everything. That’s rude.” Schyster said finally, trying to sound more annoyed than he was. He definitely wasn’t pleased by the way she smiled at him.

Definitely. Wasn’t.

…

He hadn’t meant to forget. He’d actually been looking forward to their little outing, planned for a Friday evening at a hole-in-the-wall style Italian place. But one thing led to another. DiBiase had finally gotten what he wanted when it came to the land he’d been trying to purchase and Irwin was kept so busy drafting the papers for the agreement that he lost track of time.

The thunderous knock on his door made him jump, and his brow furrowed when he looked at the clock. That couldn’t be the time, four fifty-six? It was dark out!

“Irwin I know you’re in there, I saw your light from the street!” She sounded furious.

“It’s not locked! What time is it?” He asked when she had opened the door. Judging from the expression on her face, it was…late.

“What is all this?” She gestured at the uncharacteristically cluttered surface of his desk with quick, jerky motions.

“A personal project from Mr. DiBiase. You didn’t answer my question.”

“It’s…well we were supposed to meet at seven, Mr. Schyster.” She had her hands on her hips and she looked about ready to tear him a new one. She’d dressed rather nice, much nicer than usual. A black skirt which bordered on being too short, but her nylons kept it decent. A button-down shirt, top two buttons undone. Just enough. She had obviously put some thought into this. She huffed out a breath and tilted her head up to stare at the ceiling.

Irwin was awestruck and a little terrified, taking a second to collect himself before stating, “That would imply that it is later than seven.”

“Irwin, you...I mean, if you didn't want to go out with me all you had to do was say so. I looked so dumb, sitting there all alone. And I felt dumb, too!” She covered her face with her hands. “The waiter kept on coming over and asking me what I wanted and it was one of the most embarrassing moments of my life!” Her anger seemed to have gone more the teary route. He knew he would have to work quickly to nip that in the bud, she would only feel worse if she started crying. Christ, did he feel like an asshole!

“It was not my intent to stand you up.” Irwin said firmly, getting to his feet and turning the clock on his desk around so that it faced her. “I've actually been looking forward to this all week, if I'm going to be honest. You look absolutely lovely.” She snorted, probably in disbelief. Irwin carried on. “Mr. DiBiase is finalizing a sale and paperwork tends to occupy most of my attention in this field. Also it seems that my clock is broken. Not an excuse, mind you, an explanation. I...I offer my most sincere apologies, and I ask for another chance.”

Footsteps approaching in the hallway interrupted what promised to be a great answer. The expression on her face changed rapidly from irritated to worried. “Oh shit, is that-?”

“If it’s late, he’s the only one in the building norma--what on earth are you...?” Irwin sputtered as she shoved him out of the way and ducked beneath his desk.

“Shh!” She hissed, pressing a finger to her lips. “I don’t want to get you in trouble!”

“You didn’t the last time! Will you-”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t dressed like this last time now was I, smartypants? Just shush!”

Before Irwin could respond the knock on his door came and then Ted poked his head in. “Schyster! I didn’t think you were still here. How’s it coming?”

“As well as can be expected, sir.” Irwin stood awkwardly beside his desk, barely daring to lean against it for fear that he might draw attention to the woman beneath it. Thank God the front of it was solid! Her ducking under there had escalated this whole situation, if only she’d stayed put! If she was found now--

Well, it wouldn’t look good, that’s for sure.

Ted planted himself in the chair in front of the desk, waving his hand. “Sit down, Schyster, I need to talk with you about a few things.”

Christ.

Irwin chanced a glance down at her and she offered an incredibly helpful shrug in reply. He gingerly sat in his chair and scooted it in as far as he dared. He couldn’t help his flinch when her hands gripped the underside of the cushion, urging him closer. What the hell was she doing?!

Irwin coughed, opening the top drawer on the left and flipping through his files until he came to the one labeled ‘DiBiase Land Venture’.

“Ah, that’s what I like to see Schyster!” DiBiase said approvingly, craning his neck to study the documents. “Impeccable, but then I’d expect nothing less from you.”

Irwin felt her cheek rest against his thigh and had to grapple with the armrests of his chair momentarily. Having her that close…he could feel the heat of her skin even through his pants. He swallowed hard. One of her fingers started tracing slow, torturous circles on the inside of his left thigh.

“You know Schyster, I’ve been thinking. Maybe, if you retooled the writing here, and here, we could get a few more acres out of these tight-fisted idiots.” Ted tapped the paper in two different spots, oblivious to the fact that Irwin was having a bear of a time trying to pay attention to him.

Her nose was abruptly nuzzling at his groin. Irwin sucked in a startled breath and Ted looked up at him for his input. “I uh…yes, absolutely sir. I can get it done.” Schyster fumbled, attempting to remember what the hell he’d even been rambling about.

“Good man!” Ted grinned and then returned his gaze to the papers in front of him.

Irwin risked dropping a hand underneath the desk. He wasn’t really sure why, maybe to push her back. Maybe to pull her in. He brushed against her hair and then, in a fit of desperation, he cupped her cheek blindly. She suckled his index finger into her mouth, teasing the pad of it with her tongue.

“Schyster, are you even listening to me?” Ted asked, raising an eyebrow. Irwin flushed, nodding, and it seemed to satisfy Mr. DiBiase as he started talking about having potential investors look over the documents. “Warrior and Steiner will probably lose their minds once they find out that I finally bagged this.” Ted said gleefully. “I told them time and time again, Schyster, everybody's got a price. They never listen!”

Irwin chewed on his lower lip as he felt the button and zipper of his slacks come apart. She was...strangely gentle, stroking his cock through the slit in his boxers. He was embarrassingly hard already, the nearness of her combined with the thrill of getting caught no doubt to blame. When she took him into her mouth though, was when things got a little...intense. He couldn't stifle the groan he let out, attempting to camouflage it into a yawn after Ted gave him another look.

“Sorry Schyster, I promise I'll let you go home. I just need to confirm the wording on the last portion...here! We need to change that to something a little less vague, don't you think? The last thing I want is them trying to weasel their way around a negotiation.” DiBiase pointed out, tapping the sheet beside him.

Irwin, in one last bid to pretend that he was paying attention, tried to lean forward over the desk . All he succeeded in doing, however, was thrusting his cock further into the warm, velvety embrace of her mouth. He fought for control, his hips shuddering as he wrestled not only with himself but also her, because she seemed more than content to swallow him down as far as he decided to go. “O-Of course, Mr. DiBiase.” He cursed inwardly, that hitch in his breath nearly did him in. She'd started worked the base of his shaft with her hand and it caught him off guard, having a mouth and hand moving in unison on his cock. Was this his punishment for getting caught up in his work? Because if so, he might lose track of time more often.

Finally, finally, Ted stood up, straightening his tie. “Well Schyster I think I've taken up enough of your night. You know what you're doing! I'll be in bright and early tomorrow morning to give everything another once-over, and hopefully we'll be done by lunch.” He held out his hand and Irwin almost bit a hole in his lip in an effort to keep silent while he shook his employer's hand. “Get some rest soon, Schyster. You deserve it!” Ted said warmly before closing the door behind him.

“Christ.” Irwin snarled once he was sure DiBiase was far enough down the hall that he wouldn't hear him, pushing his chair back just a fraction so he could see her, so he could card his fingers through her hair.

“Hi.” She seemed almost shy, which was absolutely moronic to think when her tongue had been on his cock mere seconds ago. “Sorry.”

“You are not, so don't lie. I can't stand liars.” Irwin replied shakily, making her giggle. “I'm the one who's sorry. I honestly didn't mean to abandon you to dinner alone. There's no need to torture me.”

“Mm, maybe I'll take a rain check.” She teased, thumb swiping back and forth directly beneath his cock head. “If you make it worth my while.”

“How can I convince you?” This game definitely had merit, if it was going in the direction Irwin thought.

She bit her lip, looking up at him through her lashes. “On your desk?”

Schyster swallowed hard. “My--”

“Yes.”

Irwin shoved his chair back even further and stood, then caught her around the waist. She practically melted against him as with one quick motion he pushed hours of his hard work off the desk and onto the floor. “Are you sure about this?” Irwin asked, tilting her chin up. “You're not obligated just because you've 'gotten me started', so to speak. I'll probably miss more things, you know. Anniversaries.” He warned. “I've...I've never had to worry about anyone else before. This isn't exactly something I do lightly.”

“I don't either.” She breathed, taking his glasses off for him and slipping them into the front pocket of his shirt. “Please.”

“We'll have a real date next time.” Irwin promised quietly, fingers slowly and carefully rolling her nylons down her thighs. She whimpered at his words, grabbing his shoulders when he crouched and lifted her up to lay on the desk. He quickly shrugged his suspenders off over his shoulders so he could pull down his slacks and boxers, hissing out a breath at the feeling of the cloth on his aching cock. “Christ, you're so beautiful.” Endearments were normally difficult for him, but when it was the truth it made it easier. “May I kiss you?”

“Irwin.” Her exasperation was oddly heartwarming. Her fingers dug into the skin on the back of his neck as she pulled him down to her mouth. “All the time. Whenever you want.” She murmured between kisses.

Irwin wasn't sure if it was appropriate to laugh in relief so he stifled it, focusing on tugging her panties down and dropping them on the floor with her shoes and nylons. “I look forward to it.”

“Good.” She reached down and gave his cock a few lazy strokes, her boldness probably the most attractive thing he had ever encountered in his life.

He couldn't help the way he surged forward hungrily, all but pinning her hips to the desk while she guided his cock into her cunt. She was wet, tight enough that he lost his breath for a second as he wondered at that, at the fact that she wanted him like this.

He knew for a fact that even without the oral warm-up he probably wasn't going to last very long. He debated warning her but then she arched up against him, moaning and raking her fingers down his back as her walls gripped his cock rhythmically. “Christ, Christ, I--” Irwin shook his head and hooked one smooth leg over his shoulder, pressing kisses to her thigh as he pushed her skirt up a little higher. His fingers sought out her clit with relatively minimal fumbling and she bit her lip, her eyes rolling back.

Her hands fluttered restlessly over his shoulders, her voice whimpering his name and please the sweetest thing he'd ever heard. Irwin was legitimately lost, just moving with her body and feeling everything, every breath she took and every sound she made singing across his nerves. This was juvenile, it was frenzied and it shouldn't have been this good but it was, it was and it was so confusing, so beautifully overwhelming that he hardly knew what to do with himself.

“Thank you.” He finally panted, his fingers working in small circles over her clit and making her squirm. “Thank you so much.”

“Yes-!” She gasped, her body shaking underneath him as she came. She grabbed the collar of his shirt and dragged him in for a kiss, using his mouth to muffle those wonderful moans she kept making. Hopefully in the near future he would be able to focus on coaxing more of them out of her. “Please come, please, I need you to, I need you to, please.” The way she begged him, egging him on with trembling fingers kneading at the fabric of his shirt was too much for him to resist. She wanted him.

The realization hit Irwin like a punch to the gut, leaving him all breathless and light-headed as he spilled into her. She buried her face in his neck, crooning soft nonsense words to him while he groaned and rolled his hips and just was, for a moment.

“Oh my God.” He managed to say when he could speak again, tenderly brushing the hair back from her face like he'd wanted to so many times before. “You're amazing.” She went bright red and he couldn't help his smile, his laugh. “Especially when you look like that. Amazing.”

“Shh, what if your boss hears?” She whacked his shoulder, unable to hide her own smile.

“I don't care.” Irwin replied, kissing her fiercely. “You're amazing. I'm just sorry it took this long for me to realize.”

“So...you want to come back to my place? I promise you can continue to be as amazed as you want.” She teased, wrapping her legs around his hips and pulling him in closer. “And I'll have you up in time to get back here for eight. Sound good to you?”

“Mm, the idea has merit.” Irwin bumped their foreheads together, giving her a serious look. “Thank you.”

Her eyes softened and she rumpled his hair, taking his glasses back out of his pocket and settling them onto his face. “Any time, all the time.”

#irwin r. schyster #thirst party saturday #i make no apologies for this #mostly feels #also taxes #wwe #wrestlers without the wrestling #irwin r. schyster x OFC #irwin r. schyster smut #this was way too much fun to write #i.r.s. (wrestler)

[onestowatch]

An Interview With Hippo Campus: The People’s Band

There are certain bands that are meant to be heard live. You are meant to hear the lead singer’s sarcastic quips, meant to see the guitarist’s and bassist’s mid-song guitar duel, meant to feel the lyricism of the songs invade your mind, and ultimately, meant to sit back and listen to some damn good music while it all plays out before your eyes. Indie pop-rock band Hippo Campus is one of those bands, and believe us, they are well on their way to headlining major stages across the globe. 

Self-described as a band “that people really connect with,” Hippo Campus is comprised of four 21-22 year olds: vocalist Jake Luppen, guitarist Nathan Stockar, bassist Zach Sutton, and drummer Whistler Allen. They’ve amassed a strong following over the past three years by dropping a few EPs and hitting the road with bands like Walk the Moon and Saint Motel. 

On March 1, they released their debut album, Landmark. The record is chock-full of catchy tunes that are reminiscent of the band’s signature progressive, sunny sound. Hippo Campus has spent most of 2017traveling for their very own headline tour in support of the new release, but have since postponed shows due to lead singer Jake Luppen’s case of the flu.  

I spoke to Luppen hours before they took the stage in Washington D.C. to discuss their new album, why everyone is so wrapped up in their age, and how they’d like to be perceived as a band of the people.

Ones To Watch: Congratulations on your first album! How does it feel to finally have it out now?

Jake Luppen: It feels awesome. Obviously, we’ve been working on it for a long time. The whole process took 8 months so it feels good to finally have it in the world. It’s definitely a little bit weird to have something you’ve been so close to for so long be available for everybody to listen to, and to gain their own experiences from, but I think overall it’s a really great feeling.

OTW: Let’s go back to the beginning--you guys met at a fine arts high school. Were you in two separate bands at the time?

JL: Yes, Zach and I were in a band called Blatant Youth and Nathan and Whistler were in a band called Northern, and we used to play shows together in high school.

OTW: When did you guys form Hippo Campus? Were you still in high school?

JL: Yes, we were still in high school. I think it was the beginning of senior year when we technically formed in secret actually. [Laughs]. We didn’t really want the other members of the other bands to know because we weren’t sure if it was gonna be a real thing or not, but Nathan and I throughout junior year had been jamming on and off for a while.

OTW: That’s a little scandalous! [Laughs].

JL: I know, it was scandalous. It was terrible when the other bands found out. They found out in the worst way possible, or at least Zach and I’s band did.

OTW: Oh no! What happened?

JL: Zach left his Facebook open, and we had a Facebook group. The other guys from Blatant Youth saw it, and they were pretty upset with us for not telling them about it.

OTW: So you guys formed your senior year. When did you start to gain recognition for your music?

JL: That wasn’t until probably about halfway through my freshman year in college. The local radio station sort of caught on to what we were doing, and they started spinning us, and that’s kind of how we gained some traction in Minnesota. We played a few college gigs too. We were in this one battle of the bands, which we finished second in actually. [Laughs]. But it was mainly the local stations that kind of got us some local attention.

OTW: It’s really difficult to make the decision of choosing to pursue your dreams over your education. What had to happen for you to ultimately leave school?

JL: I was attending the University of Minnesota. I went there for a year and a half, and Zach went there for half a year. Basically we got our first tour offer and I was sitting in a philosophy class, and I remember opening my e-mail and our manager sent over the first tour offer. 

I texted my mom, and I was like, “I like college but I think that I need to pursue this. I think I need to leave and try out touring and stuff.” It all went over pretty well.

OTW:: Let’s talk about the songwriting on the album--it’s really well done. It feels very intricate and thought out. What’s your favorite song lyrically?

JL: I think “Vacation” is probably my favorite song lyrically on the record.

It’s kind of the most raw and the most real. It’s honestly the least thought out, I would say...those were pretty much kind of the first words I wrote. It directly deals with the struggle to write the record and maintain relationships within the band while writing this record, because it really tested all of us. I think it’s just kind of an informative song--you can hear a lot about the record, and the way it was made in the song.

OTW: Is there a particular topic that you like writing about or that you’re drawn to?

JL: I think it varies. It’s all about what you’ve experienced, and what’s honest at the time. I think with this record, obviously we had two years of touring experience after having never done that before. It made that pretty easy to write about on this record. We kind of undertook writing about some social themes, especially with people our age and the way social media influences us. 

That’s another thing we had to immerse ourselves in, is this world of social media--and as an artist, whether we want to or not. We have to engage our fans at this level. So that was definitely something interesting to write about--this world we are kind of forced to be in when we don’t necessarily want to be in it.

OTW: Does anyone else write lyrics as well?

HC: Yeah, Nathan will write lyrics with me.

OTW: The album feel very cohesive but then you have two writers, which can bring up different thoughts and views. How do you maintain that cohesiveness?

JL: We usually split it up song to song, so you can point to a song, like “Monsoon,” Nathan would write the majority of the lyrics to that one. But “Vacation,” I wrote majority of the lyrics to that one, as well as “Way It Goes.” It’s just like that but there’s usually maybe a line or two where one of us will serve as an editor or something like that. It allows things to feel cohesive, but it allows you to have some sort of editor or moderator, and someone to bounce ideas off of which has been helpful. This is the first band where we’ve both kind of done that in, and it’s been nice. 

OTW: I saw you perform at SXSW, and there’s a natural chemistry between you guys and the audience. Has it always been that way, or is that something that has progressed?

JL: I think the live shows have always been our bread and butter. It’s been the thing that keeps people coming back to us. 

I feel like it’s kind of hard to understand what we’re doing unless you’ve seen it live because it’s kind of a different experience. You see a lot of bands that don’t look like they’re having fun when they’re performing, and it just makes it taxing to listen to. A show should be a fucking good time. I mean obviously you should be able to play and be able to perform everything, but you should just be fucking having fun. That’s what people are there for. It’s always been important to us--to have a good time at the end of the day.

OTW: How do you cope with that, specifically as the frontman? Are you an extrovert or an introvert, and how does that translate on stage?

HC: Honestly, I think I’m more of an introvert. I think in my personal life I don’t really have that frontman persona--I really don’t like being the center of attention.If someone had just met us at a party, they’d probably think Nathan or Zach is the lead singer because they’re louder, and I guess they can deal with attention probably better than I can. I can recognize that I can do it onstage--it’s weird. It’s like playing a character. I sort of like play a version of myself.

Photo: Hippo Campus Facebook Page

OTW: That’s why I asked because I feel like you have this alter ego thing going on onstage, and it works really well.

JL: Nice, yeah totally. You kind of have to do that. It’s good to have that separation because otherwise your head could start getting fucked with pretty easily if you don’t have a divide. If you carry this artificial reality that is the stage offstage, shit can start getting super weird. It’s kind of nice to have the divide. I think it’s that for all of us. We have a sort of divide between our offstage and onstage persona.

OTW: Is there any advice or tips that have helped you guys when performing live?

JL: I like the one that goes, instead of talking a lot at our shows, just shut the fuck up and play. I think there’s something nice about that. It’s fun to engage people, but at the same level, sometimes it’s nice to just have the show be entirely about the music, and not be about any single one of us saying weird things. It’s about being thankful to be there and saying that, but I think it’s good advice to just fucking play music. You don’t always have to fill any sort of awkward space with talking. It’s alright to just be present, and hang out and have a good show.

Photo: Connor Siedow

OTW: You guys have played shows with a lot of really cool bands like Modest Mouse, Walk the Moon, and Saint Motel. If you could tour with anyone, who would it be?

JL: For me personally, I’d love to tour with The Shins. I fucking love The Shins. They’re one of my favorite bands. A tour with Death Cab for Cutie would be pretty amazing. Obviously the big ones like Radiohead. They would be an amazing band to play with. Sylvan Esso. We’ve only hung out with them once, but it would be cool to tour with them at some point.

OTW: You guys are playing a lot of festivals this year, including Bonnaroo, FPSF, and Lollapalooza. What’s the highlight of that lineup this year?

JL: I think they’re all going to be pretty awesome. One of my favorite shows we’ve ever done was at Lolla two years ago, so I’m very much looking forward to coming back again. Bonnaroo should be awesome too. It’s our first time. It’s our first time at FPSF too, but I’m really looking forward to Lollapalooza. I think that that should be fucking awesome.

OTW: What do you think sets Hippo Campus apart from other indie bands?

JL: It’s hard to answer this question without sounding egotistical. We occupy this weird space right now. I really want to have a good answer to this question because it’d be good for people to hear it, because it’s like alternative people pigeonhole us as an indie band, and indie people pigeonhole us as alternative. I think inherently we want to be an indie band, or inherently we’d want to be like a press band, but I think that what we’re doing resonates with people, as opposed to like publications or tastemakers or anything. 

We’ve gotten some good press, you know, but I think what makes us different than a lot of indie bands is that it’s just resonating with real human beings on a different level than I’ve seen. If you went to our shows, you wouldn’t expect there to be that many people there, enough people who are deeply affected by it. 

I guess what makes us different is I feel like we’re a people’s band. We’re not a press band, and we’re not really a radio band. We’re just kind of a band that people really connect with, and I’m fucking proud to be that because that’s what is most important. 

Hopefully I didn’t sound too much like a dick. [Laughs].

OTW: No way, that was awesome. I think you summed that up really well. Is there anything now that has to happen for you guys to feel like, “We’ve made it”?

JL: I don’t think we’ll ever feel like that. I think we’re all pretty hungry individuals, so it seems like things are constantly growing, but nothing is really ever good enough to settle on, and I hope that’s something we all maintain. It’s important to not get comfortable. It’s very easy to get comfortable in this business at a certain level but I think it’s a goal to always grow and to always push and stuff because we can always do better. I think we’ve tapped into like 30 or 40% of the potential that we have writing and performing. I feel like there’s a lot of room left to grow.

OTW: A lot of people tend to emphasize your age. Do you think starting out young limited you guys in any way?

JL: Not really--if anything it benefited us. I guess it limited us in the way that every article will start off with, “Fresh out of high school, youngsters..they have a sound way beyond their years.” If I had a nickel for every time that we had “a sound way beyond our years,” I would be quite rich. It’s beneficial in the way it gives us an excuse at times. People are like “Oh well, they’re growing,” which is fucking true. We have to remind ourselves of that. I’m happy people want to write about us, but if we never had another article that started with “local youngsters” or whatever, I would be very happy with that.

OTW: Well shit, that was my headline!

JL: Fuck! [Laughs].

OTW: Who are three artists on your Ones To Watch list?

JL: This band called Whitney are pretty new. They’ve kind of come up as like press darlings. I’m really excited to see what they do in the future. I think there’s a lot of room to grow, and I think they’re a really cool band.

There’s a band from Minnesota called Remo Drive who I will always shout out. It’s like emo rock or punk. Emo revival is the right genre now. Anthony Fantano blogged about them and brought up a few of their music videos that have over 200k views now and shit, so I think they deserve more attention now than what they’re getting in kind of the local music scene, as far as like radio and press and stuff. I think that they’re gonna fucking blow up.

This band called Happy Children is another band too that I think is gonna do really well. They’re great homies, and Whistler actually produced their EP. So shout out Happy Children. Shout out Remo Drive. Shout out Whitney.

#hippo campus #interview #indie rock #indie pop #new music #landmark #radiohead #vampire weekend #bleachers #death cab for cutie #sylvan esso #lollapalooza #fpsf #bonnaroo #whitney #remo drive #anthony fantano #happy children #indie #alternative #indie alt #sxsw

[just-seheun]

bye 2017, hey 2018

I feel like I always get around to writing an end of the year post on tumblr even if i never really even get to use this site during the year.

well I guess it’s that time of the year (or new year I should say) where I try and look back as well as look forward.

let’s see what happened in 2017...

- let’s say, for one, ‘Murica as a whole kinda went through a lot of bullshit (still is honestly) - we’re getting rid of DACA, the tax cut bill was passed (holla @ the rich 10% and say bye to the other 90%), we’re slowly trying to get rid of/fuck up the EPA despite climate change being very real (if category 4-5 hurricanes occurring back to back is what we’d call “real”), and ya know just the firing of members of the HIV/AIDS awareness and prevention council in the government - to name a few (not to mention, continued police brutality, racial discrimination/injustice (tbh just racism as a whole), and dumb ass fucking people who - ugh 

well, moving on to maybe more lighthearted moments...

- I tried to infiltrate the Asian community a little more with (mixed, mostly unsuccessful) efforts. Idk man I tried. I think I did make stronger relationships with the Asian friends I started out with so, I think that’s definitely a major plus. (*insert thumbs up here*)

- also, kinda along with that one, I think I dived into more adventurous food/hangout spots in terms of finding kinda Asian hubs and places I vibe with (an accomplishment of last year too that I think worked and flourished even more in 2017). 

- Kind of cooled down with the whole going out scene. I still go out occasionally and have a pretty good time but it’s definitely dwindled down. We definitely started the year going out more but like I said, definitely calmed down a lot. 

- Went to my first Terp Thon FTK! Started my TTPT journey with the 1 million dollar year - pretty crazy and amazing. It was truly and unreal experience for all those kids and wouldn’t have changed it for anything. Super sad I won’t be there for Terp Thon 2018 though. 

- oh! successfully (kinda) resurrected my GPA from a sad 2.7 (result of getting a 1.7 from failing calc2 and getting a D in bio) to a nice and solid 3.23 which I am tbh very proud of. A 3.8 and 3.88 (technically straight As - woo hooooo) these last two semesters - yay! Just also improving in school as a whole. I’m really starting to enjoy what I’m doing. yeah, spring ‘17 sem was more chill and fall ‘17 sem was more like hell but, overall I’m pretty excited about the work and studies I get to do. (like hell as in 3 2900-3200-word papers in the span of like 2 weeks) 

- Another academic thing, I added Art History (officially) as a Double Major which probably means a winter term here or there but still very exciting. I also feel like I’ve really learned a lot about the fundamentals of art history that I really felt like I was missing this whole time. Just like the basic timeline of movements and key artists from Burgundian Netherlands to Venice to Rococo to Realism to Cubism (and all its various forms) to Der Blauer Reiter to Contemporary and everything in between. All cool stuff - definitely makes you pay attention more to dates and stuff when visiting galleries and museums and just makes me feel more in the know if nothing else. 

- Again, another academic thing, I’m officially in the English Honors Program - woo hoo! This does, however, mean I’ll be writing a 25-page thesis but honestly it’ll be fine, I’m fine, it’s all fine... I mean I don’t really know what I’m gonna write about and I have to skype my professor for like 2 months in the summer but hey, it’s all good and if it’s not I’ll just figure it out (*insert nervous sheepish grin here*)

- Kind of started the process of cutting off 아빠 which take that with a grain of salt. It’s a mess tbh, I don’t even know what to say honestly. 

- Finally left Slaveway for good. It really tbh started becoming too much of a risk and just uncomfortable for me to stay. Not an awful job (despite the shit customers a lot of the time) but I just couldn’t stay longer.

- I feel like there was also definitely a more solidifying of sustained relationships and a distancing in others. I don’t know definitely still a lot just up in the air and a lot of familiar faces but a lot of new things and stronger bonds in 2017. 

(now, post looking at my snapchat memories from the year and realizing how much shit I did this year... lol)

- I went to 2 concerts (kinda); one being 2 Chainz and all of the many acts that came before him at Art Attack 2017 and the other being Khalid’s bomb American Teen Tour concert at the Filmore that I initially just went to because Sam wanted to go and Anh had an extra ticket that ended up being real lit. 

- Had like a little fame after writing an Odyssey Online article about Moco which was kinda cool and kinda ridiculous lol. I also just stopped writing for them all together after like less than one sem rip. 

- Also realizing I went to a lot of really cool exhibits and art-related things this past year which I’m really happy about actually. Yayoi Kusama’s exhibit was crazy amazing and well worth the wait. Artec house was really cool and just visiting the NGA, the PMA, the Hirshorn, the Freer/Sackler with a fresh and more knowledgeable outlook was really nice. Also starting those solo museum trips during the sem was really nice no matter how short-lived they were. 

Honestly this year was very different from 2016 in many many ways. I think there’s been a lot more growth in this past year but I and the community around me definitely went through a lot. 

- Something I realized this past year in unfortunate circumstances, was the prevalence of loss and losing individuals close to your community. I never thought things like death, loss, grief, and suicide were things that I would ever come across (let alone, this often) at this age. We really did lose a lot of young lives that were filled with so much potential and hope this past year especially in this community, including an old classmate. Things that we always thought to be intangible and far away landed right in front of us and I don’t think a lot of us including myself still know how to grasp all of that. It’s hard to see the people around you, the ones you grew up with and always had by your side whether you knew them well or not, lead such a tragic fate. This year made us think about mental health more and more. You realize in the most unfortunate circumstances that everyone has there own demons that they’re fighting. No one is free from them. Even in regards to Jonghyun, it affects everyone in the darkest of ways. 

This past year really made me think more about how fragile life truly is. I’ve dealt with and still deal with my own demons and the dark thoughts of my past and truly wonder especially in light of all the tragic events from this past year, what things would be like. It would be a lie if I said that they didn’t make me wonder about past thoughts of my own more. 

I think it’s sad to think that even as I wonder about all this, I still feel empty about it in the midst of being unable to process it all. I feel like in a way, whether as a result from school distracting me and my own self protecting or shielding itself, I’ve grown numb. I feel like my own mind is trying to avoid emotions at all cost in a way that’s pushing away emotion and problems by just not dealing with them (which by no means is the right way to deal with things at all bc you’re not dealing with anything). I don’t know, I guess I’m getting by and I’m not as broody as I was in the past but I wouldn’t say I’ve improved, I’ve just kind of paused in a way I guess. 

I want to end this post with a brighter look toward the future though. I think 2018 has a lot of potential waiting to happen with lots of things to look forward to that I think should be highlighted in this post. After all, a new year means moving forward, not burying your past necessarily but, using the past to cast light on the future. 

So with that, things to look forward to in 2018...

- First things first, STUDY ABROAD IN ROME for Spring ‘18 sem! I mean it doesn’t get more exciting and new than this honestly. Yes, I am super stressed and there’s so much stuff to do besides the fact that I’m paranoid and don’t know what to expect at all. I’ve never traveled abroad in my life, let alone lived away from home (ever) so this is just gonna be absolutely nuts tbh. I have lots of hopes though. Do I want a fairytale, movie-like experience? Lowkey, of course. But I also try to be a harsh realist when I can so, we’re staying generally tame about our study abroad fantasies lol. Still, I’m hoping this will be a chance to make new friends and hopefully make some of them in my art history classes as well as in the school in general. It’s been a hard few years in the whole making friends department seeing as how all my past roommates are very antisocial. Yes, I myself am also very much like this but that doesn’t mean my internal self doesn’t want a lot of friends lol. I’m excited to take a class with Evelyn and just experience the city while hopefully staying safe and smart. It’ll be a crazy and hopefully amazing semester with a lot of travel and just a lot of fun before my senior year. I could go on and on about all my thoughts and hopes for this coming semester but, I’ll just leave it at that (your girl really needs to sort her life out/figure out what to pack/pack/schedule the rest of my home excursions/get her documents together/everything else. Bottom line: we’re a mess lol.

- Hopefully a summer internship. Forreal forreal like actually. Your girl was stuck at safeway again this past year and we’re not having that shit again. Nope nuh-uh, not happening. Not this year mm mm, no. We’re gonna find one. We have to - it’s gonna happen. Trust and believe. Trust and believe! 

- Also turning 21 this year (although, this probs won’t be exciting seeing as how I’ll be legal all semester while I’m abroad, then come home and be nonlegal for another like 2 months and then be legal again). Look, I’m just looking forward to getting mimosas and going to bars without memorizing random identity information from Illinois. 

- Also 2018 is really gonna be a year for me to REALLY think about me. In all contexts, really. Academically; figuring out what it is I really want from my education and working toward making the most out of it, finding a real path for myself in terms of grad school and other things school-related. Lifewise; gauging how I’m going to continue my life. Graduation is coming faster than I can think and by this time next year, I’ll be gearing up for my last semester as an undergrad. That is so wild. 2018 is really gonna be me trying to buckle down, I suppose. Trying to cloud out my peers and their success/failures/paths and really try to hone in on myself. It’ll be a challenge but we’ve got to start somewhere, right?

All in all a lot was thrown onto the table in 2017 in a lot of different ways. It’s been a different kind of roller-coaster with much much more to come after this year (my favorite number year really, 2017). 2018 will be a test of time and one of the biggest challenges but, also hopefully a year with a lot of hope and potential for success. Wishing everyone the brightest new year with health, opportunities, growth, and burgeoning happiness! Cheers to all 2018 has to offer all of us and to all the things 2017 gave us! 

#new year's #new year #bye 2017 #hello 2018 #2018 #2017 #일기 #새해 #새해 많이 받아랏 #thoughts #new year new challenges

[dixonministry]

If I Ruled The World

The world would be quite a bit different if I were its supreme dictator. Oh yes, I am in favor of a dictatorship, as long as that dictator is me! And here's how it would go. 

A few disclaimers before we begin: 1) Keep your expectations low when you read this. You won’t like everything I list but you won’t hate it all either. This is due to me being neither a liberal or a conservative solely but rather bits and pieces of each. 2) I am making this rant for my own entertainment and the entertainment of the few people who enjoy it when I rant. I am not making this in hopes of starting a debate on what is right or wrong, stupid or smart. If I sound like an idiot to you, cool. Let me sound like an idiot in peace! With that said, keep your lame ass argumentative comments out of my inbox. Thanks. Ok on with the rant!

First of all, I'd have to setup a single worldwide government. The current rulers of all current nations would become representatives of their respective countries on my World Senate. Of course, being a dictator I don't really need a Senate, but it's nice to have. As long as they know that anything they decide can get shit-canned by me, then it's all good. Not Bush though. And definitely not T.rump. I would pass a law that no-one in the Bush/T.rump family is ever allowed to enter politics ever again. I'd make 0bama the President again so he could be the American Senator, cuz I liked him.  It goes without saying that I'd first pass all sorts of Youth Rights laws. Every age-based law would be abolished and replaced by laws that actually make sense. For example, the driving age would get axed and be replaced by a more rigorous driving test. In fact, we have way too many stupid drivers out there as it is, so the WHOLE driving test would have to be retaken by everyone. I would bring back beheading as the favorite execution style. Lethal Injections are for pussies. What the fuck is scary about getting a shot that puts you to sleep? Fuck no, if you did something bad enough that you deserve to die, you're gonna lose your head, bitch! Murderers get the death penalty, period. No life imprisonments for assholes who kill people. You kill someone, you die, that's all. (Note: DP would however only occur with a substantial amount of concrete evidence) Rapists get the death penalty. If she said no, then it's NO, motherfucker.  If you beat your kids, you get put in chains in the middle of Times Square and people can pay $1 for one punch or kick. The beatings stop when someone draws blood (cuz we don't wanna kill your ass). On the 3rd offense, an angry mob gets to beat your ass into a coma. If you come out of it, your kids can decide whether you should live or die. If you molest a kid, whatever part of your body touched them gets painted with acid. Then you go to the chopping block! If you steal from someone, you lose your rights and freedom for 1 year and become your victim's endentured servant. On the 3rd offense, you will work until you have paid for 10 times the value of the item stolen or for 5 years, whichever comes first. Marijuana is legal in Salt’s World. It will be tightly regulated and heavily taxed, because if you're gonna be a pothead, you're gonna fucking pay for it. Growing your own shit or selling it without a license will be considered stealing from the government and you get the punishment for theft (see above). Drunk drivers get no chances. First offense of drunk driving means you lose your license for life, in theory. I say "in theory" because it will work sort of like a life sentence in prison works. You can be brought up for "parole" and a committee will assess whether you deserve to get your license back. Such assessments will occur once every 10 years. If you beat your wife, I annul your marriage and place a restraining order against you. I don't care if she gives me that brainwashed crying bullshit "but he loves me, he didn't mean it, really he doesn't abuse me." You hit her, you lose her, and that's final. I will have my government scientists figure out an alternative to abortion that everyone can live with. Preferably, I'd like to see us be able to remove an embryo and continue to grow it in a lab. People who're trying to adopt always want babies and they always have to wait years for one. Not anymore. Furthermore, it seems that adoption is frowned upon due to it being so difficult to get approved and those who do get approved have a predisposition for choosing pretty, white INFANTS. Under my control, a new process will be drawn up to make it not only easier to adopt regardless of sexuality, marital status, etc but make it so that people don’t get to “select” which child they want. First come, first given, end of story. If you really want a child, you wouldn’t be that gdamn picky anyway. If you don’t want your child, that’s fine and well. We will literally take it out of your stomach (same concept as aborting) and grow it for you. Real abortions will only be allowed if a health risk to either mother or child comes up. This is how I would attempt to find middle ground, a compromise if you will. My government will fund cloning research. I want to be able to clone stem cells and body parts. If this can be done, maybe sick and dying patients won't have to wait year after year for suitable donors. In a world where everyone is part of the same government, there's not much need for massive armies. A global police force will be instituted as the next step above Federal officers. So, it would go, local cops, state cops, federal cops, global cops. Without an army to feed, clothe, etc. a shitload of money would be freed up to make people's lives better. There won't be anymore fucking hunger in my world. Every single farm worldwide will be required by law to give 5% of their yearly output to the government for distribution to the poor. They will, of course, receive a humongous tax break for doing this and any farm that voluntarily gives in excess of 15% will pay no taxes at all. Yes, I know this will make the cost of food rise globally. Too bad. You pay a dollar more for your T-bone and you can just cry about it, but at least some little Ethiopian can have some fucking potatoes that night. And in retrospect, under my administration, the percentage of poor people in the world should lower dramatically if not disappear altogether if you play your cards right. But until this global shitshow is corrected, that’s what would have to happen. Medicine will no longer be big business. All wealthy citizens under my rule will see a tax increase, which will pay for everyone's healthcare. No more private insurance companies, it's going government-issue, baby! And, by the way, under my rule the words "government issue" won't be a synonym for "piss poor." No one should be groaning about this because the minimum wage will also see an increase to an actual living wage proportional to the cost of living that will make workers and their families happy and also boost consumer sales, thus increasing the profits of businesses everywhere. The lack of insurance plans employers now have to provide for their employees will free up some of that extra cash. We're dismantling nuclear weapons and using their radioactive components as fuel. What the fuck do we need nukes for when all the world is united under one government? I will pass a law stating once and for all that all sentient life on this planet is entitled to equal treatment and protection under the law and that no law may be passed which contradicts this. Gay marriage: Legal. If you file a stupid lawsuit, we throw you in jail for 3 months. This includes suing the tobacco industry when you're the one who lit up 50 times a day for 30 years, moron. You also can't sue because you're fat. Watch what you eat and exercise if it bothers you so much! I will force Microsoft, Apple, and all those Google people to work together and create "The Uber OS." It'll run Windows programs and Mac programs (all versions) and Google programs (all flavors). All the drivers will work interchangeably. They will all be told that if the OS ever crashes, they each lose a family member! Mwahahahahaha. (kidding obvs). Every citizen will be allowed to carry a sidearm, as long as the sidearm is worn in plain view (like the old west). Every citizen carrying a gun had better remember the price they'll pay for murder. Unless it's self defense or defense of another's life, don't pull that gun! Significant resources will be diverted to build subway systems. City-wide, State-wide, Nation-wide, and World-wide systems will be built. Any system that is Interstate or beyond must be supersonic. The World-wide system must reach speeds of Mach 2 or greater (don't try standing up on the train, bitch!). The purpose of this subway network will not only be to facilitate free travel across the globe, but also to provide countless millions of new jobs that should adequately handle our planet's homelessness and unemployment problems. I should've mentioned taxes earlier, but here it is. The worldwide tax brackets will be as follows: everyone making 10k or less will owe 12% (you can omit the extra 2% with a financial hardship exemption form but it should be noted that no full-time adult worker should be making that much under my leadership so this should be doable without a person’s quality of life taking a hit), everyone making between 10,001-99,999 will owe 15%, everyone making $100k-$200k will owe 30%. Everyone over 200k will owe 50%. Surely you don't think the money for all these great improvements is just gonna fall from the sky? Recycling will become mandatory. We throw away far too much shit. Why chop down a rainforest when there's enough paper in a city dump to fill a library 10 times over?! We will also have to become far less dependent on fossil fuels. I'll work out a timetable for eventually outlawing fossil fuels in favor of electric, solar, and nuclear power. Go back to that city dump and imagine how many atoms are sitting their going to waste when we could be smashing them and reaping the benefits. Prison overcrowding? No problem! Legalizing weed and making drugs a medical issue instead of a criminal one should take care of this problem for the most part and as for the rest, well, Antarctica is just sitting there not doing a damn thing, it's time we put it to use. Remember the penal colony "Rura Penthe" from Star Trek VI? Yup, it'll be something like that. No guard towers, no fence, nothing. If you wanna escape, go ahead. You'll just freeze to death, idiot. Otherwise, you'll stay right there in prison and serve out your sentence. Imagine how many new jobs a prison that size will create? And the cost of feeding them will be negligible. They'll have giant heated greenhouses for growing everything they eat. They don't work to grow it, they don't eat. In other words, a prison sentence means you serve your time as a farmer in the middle of frozen fucking nowhere. Jon Stewart will be appointed as my press secretary. At least all my press releases will have the whole world laughing their asses off. Minimum Wage will be increased to $12.50/hr. I think Ronald McDonald can afford to buy used overhauls for a while so that his employees don't have to shop at the Salvation Army. Corruption in government would be gone. No one is allowed to spend more than $500 on their election campaigns. They can put up a fucking website and do grassroots shit. That way there's no big corporate donations and shit to deal with. Plus, politicians are gonna become like preachers: We give them a place to live and a minimal salary, that's it. No big bucks, no fancy cars, nothing. It's not gonna be about the money. All the money we cut from politicians can go to teachers, cops, firemen, etc. Y'know, the government employees who actually fucking DO something worthwhile and give back to society. Pro Athletes get capped at $90,000/yr. None of this being a rich bastard because you play a fucking game. Maybe then, only people who LOVE the sport and DON'T corrupt it will find their way in. Just like with the politicians, when it's not about the money only people who actually give a fuck will want the job. Ninety grand a year is still a damn good salary. It's not like they'll be poor. The RIAA and MPAA will be told once and for all to shut the fuck up about Peer-to-Peer. They should've jumped on the bandwagon when it got rolling, now they can just suck it up. By the way, musicians and actors are capped at $60,000/yr. They can still have the royalties on their music, movies, concerts, commercial deals, etc. Wouldn't be fair to take that away from them. However, the industry will still be encouraged to develop better copyright protection methods so that all the true geeks can still enjoy the immense thrill of breaking a copyright protection scheme only days after it's implemented. They've gotta have something to do on a dateless Saturday night. Wouldn't want to rob them of that. We'll be having a government-sponsored betting pool on how long it takes the industry to figure out that copyright protection is fucking useless (they spend years developing some new state-of-the-art system and once it's released, a 13yo breaks it in 2 days... get a clue). SPAM will be made illegal! The punishment for spamming is 5 years in the Antarctic Prison Colony! I think that just about covers the basics. Of course, I could probably go on all fucking night with this shit, but if I kept going I'd never get this rant posted. Just know that there's like a billion more cool things I'd do. I might just have to make a sequel to this rant. Until then....... Salt for president 2020.  

#text #weekly rant #salt rants #I mean it #stay out of my inbox

[davidrobertscotland]

10 THINGS YOU REALISE ABOUT LONDON WHEN YOU HAVEN’T LIVED THERE FOR A WHILE

Disclaimer: I probably could have edited this down a bit but I was making myself laugh and as I haven’t done this in a while I decided to be more than a trifle self indulgent.

Samuel Johnson famously said ‘When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life’. Well Samuel babes, how about this: If there is one thing that will make you tired of life it is living in London for longer than about 6 months. The capital can often behave like THAT ex-boyfriend. At first he’s all sweetness and light and downright sexy to boot. He’s always up to something fun but also has a level head on his shoulders. In one word: Perfect. But slowly you start to notice things. That was a bit bitchy. Wow, he can be a bit rude sometimes. Why is he being so mean to me? OH MY GOD HE’S HACKED INTO MY BANK ACCOUNT AND STOLEN ALL OF MY MONEY.

That is why, when I was offered the chance to leave the ‘big smoke’. . .

Quick side bar. People in Scotland cannot say the word London. They have to ask you how you are getting on in the ‘big smoke’ because. . . there is no smoke in Scotland. And when there is it is almost always a small smoke and never larger than a medium smoke.

When I was offered the chance to leave London around this time last year I jumped at it.

I mean escaping the city itself wasn’t the only reason. The offer came in the form of a job working as a singer on a cruise ship and as a life long Loose Women (I’m talking the Carol McGiffin/Sherrie Hewson/Denise Welch/Kaye Adams era not the current Stacey Solomon/Jamelia - ‘you don’t even look old enough to have a son never mind to send him to a bloody prostitute for his 16th Birthday’ era) and in particular JANE MCDONALD fan this was pretty much as close to a dream job as it was going to get for me. I mean I reckon I only need to go back and do another two contracts maximum before I’M on a TV panel with three women talking about how I sent MY son to a prostitute for his 16th Birthday. . .

But despite all that escaping London for 8 months was a massive part of the attraction. And so I packed my bags and off I went round the world. And now I’m back I’ve fallen head over heels for the crazy bitch all over again. Kind of. Here’s why. And why not.

1. It is so diverse.

The finale of RuPaul’s drag race has nothing on London. Take that room and add a thousand other people of different religions, races, sexualities, styles and backgrounds and you have this fair city.

Now I’m not claiming that they all get on all of the time or that they are all accepted everywhere you go. But no matter who you are there will be a pocket of London that is yours to be whoever you want to be and that’s pretty special.

2. Everyone is attractive.

Either London is filled with ridiculously attractive men or every attractive man in London was at ‘The Book of Mormon’ when I went two weeks ago. And don’t even get me started on what happens when the sun comes out. Ethereally beautiful men and women appear from the air as if by magic and walk around parks in minimal clothing. It’s bloody brilliant.

3. It is so expensive.

It is far too easy to spend £100 a day in London. That’s fine though because there are a maximum of 31 days in the month so all you need to do is make sure you are taking home just over £3000 a month after tax. Which everybody is in London, right?

If that isn’t bad enough, once a month at least £500 evaporates from your bank account. And if you are paying £500 a month in rent in London you are generally consider to have found a ‘steal’. It’s fine though because that money is all going towards paying off a mortgage. It’s just a shame it isn’t your mortgage.

4. The transport system is amazing.

You can pretty much get to anywhere in London from anywhere else in London in just over half an hour and it rarely takes more than two tube journeys.

5. The transport system is awful.

Unless of course it’s a Sunday.  Suddenly those two tubes become an Olympic event consisting of three buses, a tram, a swim across the Thames and finally a 20km sprint to your final destination.

And don’t think you are safe if you travel by bus. When the trains stop running everyone gets on your bus and suddenly the 45 minute journey which usually flies by because you sit and read your book turns into three hours from hell because you have to stand for the majority of the journey actively trying not to wipe out everyone standing around you every time the bus turns a corner and when you do finally get a seat you are sandwiched between a lady with a pram and ten bags of shopping and a baby which for some reason you end up having to hold ‘for a minute’.

6. The food is amazing.

There are restaurants to suit every dietary need; even if that dietary need is that you can only eat Cadbury’s Creme Eggs. The diversity of London’s population means there are a million and one eateries all run by someone serving their own delicious and unique variety of food. You could probably work your way round and have a completely different cuisine every day for about two years.

7. But the food is awful.

Because you won’t actually be eating in any of those places regularly. Most of the time your budget will only allow you to frequent legendary establishments like ‘Dallas Fried Chicken’ or ‘McDoner’s Kebab and Fish Bar’. And if you’re really struggling with point number three then you are most likely surviving on a diet solely comprised of Coco Pops and when I say Coco Pops I mean Lidl’s own brand Coco Pops which taste just as good (they do not taste just as good).

8. Nobody gives a shit about you.

This is one of the best and one of the worst things about living in London.

On any given day you could step on to the tube, stark bollock naked and perform intricate choreography to ‘I Feel Love’ by Donna Summer and not a soul would look at you. Londoners do not have time to judge so as long as you don’t ask them to also strip naked and join the choreography they will just leave you to it. In a strange way, it’s liberating.

On the other hand it can also make London a pretty lonely place to be. Stranded on the train platform with half your leg chewed off by a Jaguar that has just escaped from the zoo, no-one would stop and help because if they do they might miss the 15.46 to Guildford and if they miss the 15.46 they will have to get the 16.10 and you never get a seat on the 16.10.

9. Even when it’s shit everyone just pretends that it’s great.

There is an unspoken rule among Londoners. We never share the shit side of London on social media. Nobody wants to know if your rent is overdue, your really cute packed lunch that you made to save money exploded in your bag, you get absolutely no joy from your job or you couldn’t afford the bus so you had to walk home. . . from Central London. . . to Penge. If anybody DOES post anything like this they are taken into a dark room by three of their closest friends, tied to a chair, gagged and told that if it ever happens again their bags will be packed and they will be sent on the first train back to Sheffield or Margate or wherever the hell they come from.

But if Miranda, the temp girl in your office, gets you a free ticket to a secret gig or your really cool friend Gigi takes you to the latest hipster/vegan/gluten-free/soy-fest cafe for brunch or you’ve finally saved up enough money to actually be able to afford a night out with your friends then you must instantly launch into a Facebook check in, name drop tweet, Instagram overload, 20 video long snapchat story extravaganza. That way everyone in your home town will think you’re having the best fucking time ever and not that you’re actually on the verge of a mental breakdown.

10. It’s the best fucking city in the world.

And I feel a lot more qualified to say that now I’ve been to so many others. I’m not even doing number 9 right now. Right now. . .

Love,

Dave x

#london #cruise #singer #loosewomen #janemcdonald #food #transport #money #capital #travel #writer #blog #essay #lgbt #gay

[aufcat]

K

So I need to rant hardcore right now

(under read more cuz it’s long and ranty and no one has to actually read it I’m just frustrated and had to vent to the void)

anyone who knows me knows that health insurance is like one of the only topic that grind my gears to the point of rage and tears

I have been trying for years

YEARS

to just get a freaking account made on the godforsaken mnsure site, so that I perhaps might have a chance to even apply for health insurance, cuz you know, you can’t even APPLY until you have an account, and if the god damn site won’t let you make an account, well then you can’t really get any where

So yeah, despite plugging in a valid SS number, the site tells you, ‘oh, I’m sorry, we can’t verify you’re a person, please try again, and if the problem persists, fill out this form and send it in with more legal verification that you exist(drivers license, school ID card, military ID card, etc, as if a school ID card is somehow more proof of existence than a SS number), and we’ll send you a temporary log in so you can get started’.

So of course this is the point where most people probably manage to move forward...

I have tried the online account making so many times I want to keyboard smash. I have filled out paper work and sent it in, and filled it out again and sent it in and sent it in and sent it in. I’ve been to an insurance broker, who told me to go to the court house, who sat me down in front of a computer to have me try making a log in on the hell site again, and when that didn’t wok, they had me fill out paper work again, and told me I’d see a temp log in in my email in 2-6 weeks; and after 3 MONTHS of religiously checking my email 3 times a day, both regular, trash, and spam folders, I gave up on that.

At the court house, they told me the website didn’t recognize me cuz I hadn’t filed taxes yet, and that once I had I should have no problem. So I grit my teeth, I waited, I did my taxes cuz I finally had a job and an income, I waited until open enrollment started again, I waited 2 extra days cuz the first couple the site is usually bogged down with to much traffic.

After all that, I painfully go back to the site, hoping to god, that maybe, just MAYBE, now that I’ve done everything that I can, maybe I’m a recognizable person, maybe the site will know I exist and let me make a goddamn account, so that I can apply for insurance and maybe see a doctor for the first time in five freaking years.

“Our online partner was unable to verify your identity. Please come back later and try to create your account again. If you have received this message two or more times, please visit our in person identity proofing page (aka go fill out the form again)”

I’m so mad

I’ve done everything

EVERYTHING

that I can

and now, I’m gonna have to take a day off of work, to go to the goddamn courthouse again (cuz I can’t just bank on being in and out in an hour or 2, this is open enrollment time now, it’s gonna be busy as shit, and I won’t risk not getting in cuz I’ll be late for work if I wait any longer) and all they’ll have me do anyway is put me on a computer once again, verify that I’m not a colossal moron who just can’t work the website, then fill out paperwork, send it in, tell me to wait 2-6 weeks for a temp log in, and hope and pray that perhaps now, it will actually work

I’ve been lucky so far, very god damn lucky, that in the 5 years i haven’t been able to even log in to try and get insurance, that I haven’t had any major health problems or accidents, but that luck won’t last forever, and all I want is a freaking CHANCE to be able to have insurance, so I can pay someone once a month to cover the possibility that something could potentially happen one day

I’m just

I’m so sick of not even being able to have the opportunity. most people can’t get insurance because of preexisting conditions, because of costs, because of situations. But I can’t even get in a door, it’s slammed and dead bolted in my face and no one answers when I knock, and the neighbors all say they’re home, just keep knocking, just keep knocking

I’m tired of this

#ranting #I really hate the mnsure system right now #everything sucks #Blarg