#I can’t even do the bare minimum for myself or her what am I even doing

[dreamwritesimagines]

Sunshine [7] - Heat Wave

AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your wonderful support and lovely comments and HCs! ❤️ You’re amazing! ❤️

I hope you like this as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: There are many ways how a first date can end.

Word Count: 4400

CW: Explicit language, mentions of sex, drinking, adult themes MDNI

Series Masterlist

A rational and emotionally mature person would know that drunk calls were normal, and the aftermath was inevitable. Drinking too much sometimes led to that, everyone knew, and a rational and emotionally mature person was supposed to just handle it with dignity.

Too bad you weren’t that person.

“So you’re avoiding the hot lumberjack?”

“Can we stop calling him that?”

You repressed a laugh and filled Nik’s cup with coffee.

“Well, I wouldn’t say I’m avoiding him,” you said. “It’s just…you know, I’m sure Logan is a very busy individual so if anything, I’m doing him a favor by not distracting him. For all we know, he could be on a mission right now. Do you really want him to die because he’s answering my call? I couldn’t live with that on my conscience.”

“Sunshine—”

“He could be saving the world,” you pointed out. “Do you want the world to end because he is answering my call? Do you want me to be the person who causes the extinction of the whole humankind? I mean honestly what am I, a tech CEO?”

“You’re so avoiding him.”

You heaved a sigh, then leaned against the counter.

“I texted him the next morning.”

“But you didn’t call him?”

“I can’t call him,” you whined. “I’ve made a fool of myself.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Nik said and you tilted your head at Jamie who was eating his breakfast.

“How are you being so quiet about this? I thought you’d be thrilled that I’m avoiding him.”

“I am but I can’t comment on this whole thing, I have a conflict of interest.”

“Conflict of interest?”

“Yeah I hate the guy’s guts,” he stated before nodding at you. “Keep avoiding him, you’re better off without him.”

Nik gasped. “Jamie!”

“Babe, that guy is a walking red flag.”

“Even if it were true, he also looks like he belongs on the cover page of those vintage romance books my grandma has in her library.”

“Fabio?!”

“I don’t know his name Jamie, but in Logan’s case I’ll allow a little red.” Nik stated. “It’s been years since she got laid.”

Your jaw dropped. “No it hasn’t!”

“I’m half scared she’ll join a convent,” Nik said, motioning in your direction and making you roll your eyes.

“Guys.”

“She’s not just going to get laid, she’s already talking about moving to the mountains with that asshole.”

“It’s not a mountain, it’s a cabin in the woods!” you argued and Jamie shrugged his shoulders.

“Whatever it is.”

“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want to hear from me after that night,” you said. “I mean I totally made a move on him and…”

“And he turned you down because you were drunk!” Nik said with a smile and Jamie made a face.

“That’s like the bare minimum, don’t get impressed by that.”

“And when he maimed three guys for her?”

“The least he could do, considering what they threatened her with. Should’ve killed them if you ask me.”

A shiver ran down your spine but you made yourself busy with the tablecloth, wiping at the counter while Nik raised his brows.

“Driving her home so that she wouldn’t walk in the rain? Fixing her car? Going all the way from school to her neighborhood because he was worried about her being drunk and outside?”

“What are we, keeping a list now?”

“Darling I know you’re very adamant about hating this guy but you do have to admit the things he’s been doing for her are the opposite of a red flag,” Nik said, patting his hand as if trying to console him and Jamie heaved a sigh.

“I hate this.”

“So you think I should call him?” you asked Nik and he nodded.

“You should.”

“I disagree.”

“Well aware of that Jamie.”

“I hate him.”

“Figured that one as well, strange as it sounds,” Nik said before turning to you. “Call him.”

You nibbled on your lip, then motioned at Stacey and held up your phone, making her nod before you made your way out of the diner. Taking a deep breath, you found his name on the screen and touched it before taking the phone to your ear.

It rang only once.

“Hey princess.”

“Logan, hi!” you said, your heart pacing in your chest. “Um, are you busy?”

“Not at all,” he said. “Took you a while to sober up huh?”

You could feel your lips curling into a smile at his teasing remark.

“I may or may not have been avoiding you,” you admitted, biting at your nails. “I’m sorry.”

“Not a problem,” he said with a small chuckle. “Why were you avoiding me?”

You shrugged your shoulders as if he could see you.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled. “Reasons.”

He hummed and you shifted your weight before you leaned back to the wall of the diner.

“Thank you by the way,” you said. “For…that whole night. And I’m sorry for—for making a move on you, that’s very unlike me and I—”

“Are you free tonight?”

Your head shot up, your eyes widening at his question and you felt your breath catching in your throat before you swallowed.

“Me?” you felt the need to ask and he paused for a moment as if he didn’t know how to answer that.

“…Yes?”

“As in tonight tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“Uh—sure!” you said, your voice going high pitched for a moment. “I’d love that!”

“Great, I can pick you up from the diner—”

“No!” you cut him off as you looked down at your uniform, frowning slightly. “I need to drop by my place first.”

“That’s fine,” he said. “I can pick you up from there then. Does 8 work for you?”

“Yeah!” you said breathlessly as you nodded your head so fast that you got dizzy for a second, blinking fast. “It totally works for me.”

“Great,” he said. “See you tonight then.”

“See you,” you said and hung up, then let out a squeal and pressed the phone to your chest, jumping up and down in your spot. You took a deep breath, then fixed your hair and made your way back into the diner to rush to the counter again.

“He asked me out!” you whispered to Nik, grabbing his arm. “Just now, he asked me out!”

Jamie let out a whine and buried his face into his palms while Nik grinned at you, patting Jamie on the back in a reassuring manner.

“See? Told you.”

“We’re meeting tonight! At 8!” you said and paused for a moment. “Oh my God what do I wear?”

“A Regency gown.”

“Jamie I love you but not now,” Nik told him before he turned to you. “We’ll videocall okay? You, me and Julie.”

“Okay.”

“And after you and Logan become a couple, we can have a double date.”

That was enough to make Jamie lift his head from his hands. “Absolutely fucking not.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll convince him,” Nik told you and you let out a giggle, your insides all warm with excitement.

“Nik,” you said. “I really really like him.”

Nik let out an “aw!” and reached out to squeeze your hand.

“That’s good!” he said. “I mean granted we will grill him about his intentions with you but it’s a great start.”

Jamie opened his mouth to disagree but Nik elbowed him, shooting him a glare. You suppressed your laugh as Jamie heaved a sigh, then turned to you.

“Just…” he said. “Be careful. Please?”

“Always am,” you promised him with a grin. “The pie is on me by the way. For emotional support.”

                                            *

It wasn’t that you hadn’t been on dates.

Nik was quite the matchmaker, so was Julie. In fact, for the last year, they had been acting like their sole purpose in life was to find you a boyfriend so if anything, you had been on too many dates.

Not that—

Not that you assumed this was a date.

Even if you were wearing matching lingerie underneath your dress.

You were basically buzzing with anticipation as you stared at your reflection in the mirror, fixing your hair before smoothing down your dress. Your wardrobe looked like it had exploded and for a moment the possibility of bringing Logan back to your apartment crossed your mind, making your heart skip a happy beat. You gathered up all your clothes into your arms to push them into the wardrobe, then put your hands on your hips, tilting your head to the side.

“Good enough,” you mumbled and walked to your vanity to check on your makeup, then went to the living room to approach the small fish tank. You grabbed the fish food next to it, then sprinkled it into the tank carefully before dragging your finger over the glass, following their movements.

Theo was going to be so happy when he saw them.

Your head whipped around when you heard the doorbell ring, your heart beating in your ears and to make it worse you knew very well that he could hear it but you refused to dwell on it, so you made your way to the door to open it.

Fuck, you were beginning to think you were never going to get used to just how hot he was.

“Hi!”

“Hi princess,” he said, his deep voice making your stomach do a happy flip as he looked you up and down. “You look beautiful.”

Oh dear God, you were not going to survive tonight.

“Thanks, so do you,” you said with a smile before you turned around to get your jacket and purse. “So um, where are we going?”

Where you were going turned out to be a cozy bar with soft music playing in the background. It was somehow so Logan, there was no chaos, no deafening noise or blinding lights.

Just pure comfort; the kind that made you almost lightheaded, warming your insides.

“So why exactly were you avoiding me?” Logan asked as the waiter put his whiskey and your cocktail on the table and you took a shaky breath, forcing yourself to focus on the question rather than how handsome he looked under the dim light of the bar as you crossed your arms on the table.

“I mean…” you trailed off, scrunching up your face for a moment. “I was embarrassed.”

“Why?”

“Uh I don’t know if you remember that night,” you tried to joke your way through discomfort. “But it wasn’t what one would call dignified.”

He shot you a lighthearted glare and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I turn into a very impulsive person when I’m drunk,” you admitted and his lips quirked into a smile.

“Yeah I don’t know that many people who buy fish when they’re drunk.”

“Oh you don’t know the half of it,” you said with a laugh. “I have a worse drunk story actually.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah, on my senior year in high school, me and my friends got drunk and in our town there was this guy who was a dog breeder,” you said. “And we knew he was terrible to them, we wrote petitions and everything for the town council to do something but there was no use. So one night, we knew he was out of town so we broke into his house and stole all the dogs.”

He raised his brows, smiling slightly. “Seriously?”

“Yeah! And we kept all of them at my friend’s house and one by one we got them adopted. The guy knew we did it, but there was no chip or anything so he couldn’t do anything.”

“Wow,” he said, a chuckle vibrating in his chest. “So you turn into a vigilante when you’re drunk, got it.”

“I do,” you said, raising your cocktail in a mock of toast before taking a sip while he leaned back. “I love animals. I was actually studying to be a—” you paused for a moment. “Well, studying is a big word for it considering I dropped out without even completing my freshman year, but I was studying to be a vet before Theo.”

He tilted his head. “Really?”

“Mm hm.”

“Classmate?” he asked and you licked your lips, an icy spark replacing the happy warmth inside of you.

“Uh,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant. “T.A actually.”

Logan pulled his brows together and you took a sip of your cocktail.

“Trust me, I know how fucked up it sounds now,” you said with a small laugh. “But back then I didn’t and it worked out very well for him.”

“That guy really sounds like he needs to get his ass beat.”

“Oh Jamie actually beat him up once,” you pointed out. “In what became known as The Legendary Bar Fight. We celebrate it once a year with drinks.”

“You could give me his address.”

“Absolutely not, and I don’t even know where he is to be honest,” you said. “Anyway, why are we talking about him? Also why am I the one doing all the talking yet again?”

“I like listening to you talk.”

You could feel your cheeks growing warmer and a smile curled your lips.

“Until I give you a headache.”

“Never gonna happen.”

 Your smile widened as you looked down at your cocktail, shifting your weight.

“Well, either way,” you mumbled. “It’s your turn now.”

“Oh, my turn?”

“I barely know anything about you,” you admitted. “Other than the fact that you have been saving me a lot since we met.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “What do you want to know?”

“Whatever you’re willing to tell me,” you said. “What did you want to be when you grew up?”

“Alive.”

Your brows pinched together as you took a deep breath.

“Limited options, got it,” you said. “Were your family also mutants?”

“My brother,” he said. “Victor. We don’t…talk anymore.”

Something in his tone was distant, so you decided not to push it.

“Do you like working for Professor X?” you asked, steering the conversation to safer waters and that seemed to pull him out of his thoughts as he nodded his head.

“Yeah,” he said. “Charles is the best man I’ve ever met. Don’t tell him I said that though.”

“Cross my heart,” you said with a giggle, proud of yourself for finding a better subject. “How did you meet him?”

“He found me back when I was a cage fighter.”

You blinked a couple of times. “Sorry, a cage fighter?”

“Yeah I was uh…” he paused for a moment. “Wandering.”

“How does one become a cage fighter?”

“Wrong crowd,” he joked, making you let out a laugh.

“I’d bet. And now you are part time teacher, part time…going on missions.”

“Mm hm.”

“And you have a costume,” you mused as he shook his head slightly. “Any chance I’ll get to see you in it?”

“If you ask nicely.”

A fire spread over your cheeks at the teasing tone in his voice and you scrunched up your nose at him.

“I’m always nice,” you pointed out nonchalantly. “Or has it escaped your attention?”

“Trust me, it hasn’t.”

His lips twitched when a smile warmed your face and that soft light started gleaming in his eyes.

“Okay,” you said, sitting up straight. “Another question.”

“Shoot.”

“You really didn’t get a handkerchief?”

He scoffed a laugh. “You remember that?”

“Unfortunately.”

“As I said, I had other priorities in mind.”

You narrowed your eyes a little. “I could see you in period clothing, now that I imagine it...”

“Please stop imagining me like that.”

“Like those long jackets, long boots—oh my God,” you gasped, making him raise his brows. “Logan!”

“I’m not gonna like what you’re about to say, am I?”

“A top hat!”

Logan nodded to himself. “Yep, called it.”

“No seriously,” you insisted. “On Halloween—”

“Absolutely not.”

You let out a small laugh.

“Nik throws these amazing Halloween parties and the theme was ‘write your own story’ a couple years back,” you said. “So I got this huge dress, like…17th century huge, with a corset and everything, and no one really thinks about it but it is quite hard to unlace a corset—" you tilted your head when you saw his smirk. ”Hey!”

Logan held up his hands, gesturing surrender.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Let me guess, you’re painfully familiar with how to unlace a corset?”

“Still not saying anything.”

You hummed, trying to adapt a serious expression.

“Anyway, Casanova,” you said. “So my story was, there’s this girl, who was betrothed to the love of his life, and then he gets lost at the sea and everyone is convinced that his ship sank, but the plot twist, he wasn’t dead so he comes back but he’s a vampire, and he turns her into a vampire as well –obviously with consent— and they live happily ever after.”

“Quite the love story.”

“Thank you,” you said happily. “So no handkerchief?”

“No handkerchief.”

You hummed, then heaved a sigh.

“Very well then,” you said and grabbed your purse to take out a pen, then pulled the napkin on the table to yourself to write your initials on it. You pulled back to look at it better, then held it out for him.

“There you go, Mr. I had other priorities.” you said with a grin. “A make do handkerchief.”  

The fond look on his face was enough to make your heart skip a happy beat as he stared at you, then took it from you and folded it before he pulled out his wallet, making your eyes widen.

“Oh I was just—you don’t have to actually keep it, it’s a silly joke,” you stammered and he shot you a glance of disbelief as if he was surprised that you thought he wouldn’t.

“I’ll keep it,” he said while placing it into his wallet in such a careful manner that one simple observer would think it was something incredibly precious for him rather than just a bar napkin. You blinked a couple of times, gawking at him.

“Really?”

“Really.”

You were painfully aware of the heart eyes you were giving him so you forced yourself to drag your gaze from him to your cocktail and took a huge sip, your heart still beating in your ears.

“Okay then,” you said, taking a deep breath. “I hope you’re ready for more questions, because I have like a million of them.”

                                            *

You had insisted walking after leaving the bar. It wasn’t that far away from your apartment, the weather was so nice, and you had hoped it would make him see you were completely sober, just in case it had escaped his attention how you had only drunk one cocktail in like two hours.

You had plans for tonight and it included him and your bed, God damn it.

“So you actually were a lumberjack?”

“I was cutting down trees and turning them into logs.”

“That’s what a lumberjack does,” you insisted as you walked beside him. “Julie has superpowers, I swear…”

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly. “And you had a real cabin in the woods?”

“Something like that.”

“Are they still hiring?” you asked him, making him let out a laugh. “Seriously, I want a cabin in the woods.”

“For your Hi-Horse?”

Your heart skipped a beat as you stared up at him. “You remember that?”

“Of course,” he said as if he wasn’t melting your heart with that simple fact and you licked your lips.

“Did you have a horse?”

“Nope.”

“You had a cabin in the woods and you didn’t have a horse and two dogs and a cat?” you asked, pretending to be scandalized. “That’s just being short sighted, Logan.”

“Not all of us want to have a zoo, sweetheart.”

“It’s not a zoo!” you said with a gasp, making him grin.

“A farm then.”

“It’s not a farm,” you argued. “Farms have sheep.”

“Oh you don’t want sheep?”

“Of course I do but that’s beside the point,” you said. “It’s not a farm—”

“What are the sheep’s names?”

“Shearlock and Wooly Wonka,” you muttered, coaxing a chuckle out of him.

“Very creative.”

“Thank you,” you said. “I think it’s against the law to not have animals if you have a cabin in the woods.”

“It’s not.”

“Well it should be,” you said without hesitation and he bit back a smile as you stopped in front of your house.

Anticipation was swirling in your stomach, filling you with excitement and making your heartbeat faster. You knew he could hear it but for the first time, you didn’t mind it.

Desire was too strong to let you feel anything else.

“Um, so before I say what I’m about to say,” you said after a beat, turning to look at him better as you leaned back on the wall of the building. “I would like to point out that I’m completely one hundred percent sober.”

He tilted his head to the left, a mischievous light playing in his hazel eyes.

“Like, in case it has escaped your notice I only had one drink and it was a cocktail and it was a pretty light cocktail so like, half juice really,” you said. “And I’m not even buzzed, and even if I were buzzed, we walked here so fresh air would’ve helped. Which, it has no reason to help because to repeat I’m not even buzzed. I will blow on anything—that sounded wrong,” you corrected yourself, pulling your brows together. “Um, a breathalyzer I mean, if I blew into a breathalyzer it would come out a zero because I’m so sober, and—and—I don’t know if you paid attention to it, but I walked all the way here in a straight line, which should be the proof and if you didn’t, I can walk in a straight line right now to—”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence when he pulled you into a kiss.

You could swear the rest of the world stopped existing the moment his lips touched yours. His arm sneaked around your waist while he cradled the back of your head with his other hand, making your breath catch in your throat. Desire turned into fire in your veins, reaching your chest before it sent the warmth all over your body, making you dizzy. You gripped his shirt tighter in your fists, standing on your tiptoes, a soft whine escaping from your lips as soon as he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours.

“Fuck…” he whispered and you blinked up at him, nearly drunk in the haze.

“No I—I wanted you to do it,” you tried to find the right words through the fog of desire and he licked his lips, looking down at you before he shook his head slightly.

“You shouldn’t,” he rasped out and you pulled your brows together.

“I shouldn’t want you to do it?” you asked him, still trying to catch your breath and he nodded.

“I’m not…” he trailed off against your lips. “I’m no good for you.”

Your frown deepened before you let out a breath, and slowly reached out to cup his cheek. His eyes closed for a moment as if your mere touch was anchoring him to the moment, pulling him out of his own mind before he opened his eyes again to look at you. A tentative smile curled your lips and you thought for a moment before clearing your throat.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” you said, your voice soft. “I’ll be the one to decide whether you’re good for me or not. Alright?”

His eyes searched yours before he let out a breath, then nodded his head.

“Alright,” he said, his voice a murmur before he dipped his head down to kiss you again. A squeal escaped from you as he picked you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist and walked into the building. You had no idea how he didn’t lose his balance or hit anywhere on his way but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when he was kissing you like this, and you only noticed you had in fact reached your door when he pressed you against it.

“Inside, inside!” you giggled as you fished your keys out of your purse, and he held you with one arm, making your eyes widen while he took the keys from you and opened the door, then walked in and kicked the door shut behind him.

Oh God.

Oh God this was happening.

Now you understood what all those romance novels were talking about. You couldn’t pull yourself away from his kiss even if you wanted to, the fire had taken over your whole body until every single thought disappeared; the only thing that existed was him, and how good his lips made you feel. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you both fell on your bed, his weight taking your breath away for a moment before you unbuttoned his flannel and pushed it down his arms. He tossed it somewhere in the room and got rid of his white shirt underneath, making you let out a breath at his muscular body.

Jesus Christ.

Your fingertips grazed over his broad shoulders before slipping down to his hard chest and he helped you up to unzip your dress, his lips finding yours as if he couldn’t stand not kissing you even for a moment. He pulled back only to pull the dress off of you, but he froze as soon as his eyes fell on you.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” the whisper left his lips like a prayer and you felt your heart skip a beat despite the ever-consuming fire.

“Not really,” you teased him. “I just planned it.”

He raised a brow, a mischievous glint appearing in his eyes and he slid down to the foot of the bed, then grabbed your ankle to pull you down, making you let out a small scream before you giggled, propping yourself up on your elbows to see him better.

“What are you doing?”

He gave you a wolfish grin, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine as he knelt down at the foot of the bed, his fingers drawing lazy circles on your inner thighs.

“Well, princess,” he muttered, your heart leaping up to your throat when you realized what he was about to do. “You’re not the only one who planned things.”

8 - Scorching

[chibelial]

.

[sentient-cloud]

Ok so. Hi. Me again! Last time I swear. Hopefully. I’m Tavian. Me and my mom and our cat have been through some things. We’re homeless, lack of a better word. We’ve been living in various hotels for about 3 years. Lost jobs from health issues, my moms been in and out of the hospital and has heart failure. I’ve got health issues myself that make holding down a job hard to impossible, especially if we’re going to keep the insurance that my moms depending on to keep her heart alive right now. That said I acknowledge I am far from a stranger for coming on here and begging for money in the past. I know I’ve asked for more than anyone can ever expect and I am beyond grateful for the help that’s allowed us to stay somewhat afloat. Words can’t describe how thankful I am the generosity of others has allowed us to quite frankly stay alive.

I need to acknowledge this isn’t the level of emergency past things have been. Especially now, when maybe people are in much more dire need than us.

That out of the way, we’ve been given an opportunity that quite frankly feels life changing. If we can come up with $300 by November 1st (or well as soon as possible, it’s what will lock the apartment for us) we can move into an actual apartment. A real lease, kitchen, bedrooms. No mold or bugs. She’s extremely generous with working with us to pay extra rent until we catch up with the full $2,400 amount that’s the technical move in cost. The only sticker is that extra $300 on top of what we can offer. If we can get that we’ll be able to move into a real place and out of hotels for the first time in years.

I acknowledge this is a big ask, but fuck man I have to try don’t I? I’m technically planning for $400, because this would allow us to get an air mattress to share and a month of service on my phone (so my mom can contact her work and so that I can have a way to get in contact with y’all about commisions and such.) But $300 is the bare minimum to have a real house.

I know this is a lot to ask, I can offer commisions, pay what you want, if anyone’s interested in my art. I have PayPal and Venmo and cash app, if anyone’s able to help. I also can promise I will refund your money, if you send in money and the deal falls through in the meantime. I’ll even still give you that commission. Dm me for details I guess? Fuck man. Fuck.

400/400. !!!

I’m speechless. Thank you all so so much, I will keep everyone updated (we tour the apartment tomorrow? And talk about when the money will be exchanged and the lease can be signed. I really can’t express enough how life changing this is for us. As I promised, i will keep everyone updated, and if this opportunity falls through (I’m scared of allowing myself to be too hopeful, haha it doesn’t feel real you know?) I will let everyone know and issue refunds, it’s the least I can do. I really can’t express enough how grateful we all are.

[statvette]

Help Cyan Get Through It.

Things are really difficult. The crime wave makes us live in fear, the drought makes us have hours and hours of blackouts, I’m paid the bare minimum, I’min pain, stretched thin and with nothing to my name. I’ve had to start selling things I can find around the house and I’m physically and emotionally exhausted.

For brevity I’ll list what’s going on quick and put explanations of each under read more but, if you can, please donate and share. I can’t carry on like this.

I’ve been disabled after a surgery. I’m in constant pain and my body is not the same since.

I am in the process of getting evaluated for disability, this is long and expensive,

There’s my psychiatric medications which are also, expensive.

My cat had to be admitted through emergency and then hospitalized.

Crime crisis, energy crisis, and making $400 a month make it all harder.

Please, help. More under the cut.

Disabled after surgery. I had a bilateral thoracic sympathectomy for hyperhidrosis. This is a procedure that pulverizes specific nerves, and ever since then I have no exercise tolerance, my heart beats fast and irregularly, I run out of breath while walking. I’m in constant, chronic, back pain. I can’t stay in a single position for too long regardless of if it is sitting, standing, or laying down, I need to be constantly repositioning myself. For reference, I am 26, 5’0 and 120 lbs.

The process for disability is long and expensive, it is supposedly free, but in here you have to even pay the schedulers or have someone inside to be seen. This is done by the government and they only accept assessments by doctors who work in the institution, meaning all my private testing is null for this process. There’s also the service fees. I need to be seen by a psychologist, psychiatrist, neurologist, neurosurgeon, pulmonologist, cardiologist and traumatologist. As well as get a new MRI, I don’t know what further testing they’ll ask of me. This is done at Los Ceibos. Even if I go through all of this, there’s no guarantee they’ll recognize me as disabled.

I have my own doctor, my psychiatrist, for a while, but an appointment with her is expensive, and so are the psychiatric medications. I’m on Venlafaxine, Methylphenidate and Bromazepam. That’s $300.

My cat Nalo, is 14, he had to be taken to veterinary emergency and then admitted. His intestines were inflamed, there were crystals in his urine that destroyed his urethra, he couldn’t hold anything down and was extremely dehydrated, one of his heart valves doesn’t work anymore. He’s doing better now but he has a strict routine, such as $70 kibble and permanent heart medication.

The crime crisis has made it so anyone can become a victim. January 2023 my father was kidnapped, June 2023 evaded a kidnapping event, January of this year made us go viral, a british millionaire got kidnapped, the sister of a friend at the university I study. We all have a story. So, if I go out and I get mugged, which there is a high chance of, and they take my phone, I become unemployed. I need it to work, and thus need a backup. There’s a drought which means we have no water in our energy dams, meaning we have blackouts for several hours a day every day, and that makes it so that sometimes I have ten hour shifts. I make $300 a month which is not uncommon here but it is not enough, I need to get accommodations for my disability, like an actual ergonomic chair, an appropriate desk.

thank you for reading.

[hatsunemiku-official]

ABOUT ME-KU

(+ FAQ / VOCALOID-OFFICIAL MASTERPOST)

hi! im miku and welcome to Internet! you can do lots of fun things here. like look at my blog! ok im gonna hand the mic over to the omnipotent being that watches my every move

thanks miku. here are some things to remember before you send an ask:

- I am not associated with crypton, sega, or the official miku twitter! im just a guy making funny post

- miku lives in a computer. i probably won’t answer anything referring to her doing things in the real world, since saying “I am in a computer what are you talking about” is only funny the first five times

- I use my askbox as a jumping off point for jokes! if I don’t answer your ask it’s not because I didn’t like it, I just probably couldn’t think of anything funny to respond with

- I love receiving art!!!!!!! please send me your miku art!!!!!!! you can even send me a link to your art posted on your own blog and I’ll reblog it so you still get the notes!!!! I LOVE ART!!!!!! (also the ai training toggle has been turned off for this blog so. you’re safe here.)

- there are some things you should speak to a mental health professional about ( ie “i just can’t go on” “my life is terrible” ect) and you should not send these things to hatsune miku. i understand and empathize with you but I cannot help you and it’s very upsetting to receive things like this !

- anything written in parentheses for the most part is an ooc comment from the person running this blog (that’s me!). I don’t like doing this very often though, so if you have a question that can only really be answered ooc then please ask it off anon so I can respond privately!

- please remember I am just one person and sometimes I make mistakes! im a pretty busy person and also disabled so sometimes things slip through the cracks when im low energy. I do my best though so please let me know if you think i’ve made a mistake and i’ll do my best to fix it :]

- sometimes I like to reblog miku art from other people! please be respectful in these artists notes. I know this is a silly jokes blog but these people have not necessarily signed up to be goofed at on their posts. please be kind and keep the clowning to a minimum on posts that aren’t made by me!

- no TERFS allowed. hatsune miku loves trans women

FAQ

Q: can I make a vocaloid-official blog too???

A: yes!!!! anybody can!! please let me know if you do so I can add you to the masterpost and interact with you! I would check the masterpost first though to make sure there hasn’t already been a blog made for that character :]

Q: do you also run [insert other vocaloid-official blog]?

A: no! I can barely think of funny things to say here do you really think I could manage being funny on two blogs at once. I am friends with the people who run the teto, luka and una blogs so if our posts seem coordinated it’s because I asked them really nicely

Q: who runs this account?

A: secret

Q: miku what’s your opinion on [insert queer identity]

A: I don’t like answering these because I don’t want to open myself up to shitty comments and I can’t think of anything funny to say that wouldn’t just sound like “ally twitch streamer smiling at the camera and saying trans rights”. this blog is run by a queer person and miku is whatever you want her to be, if that helps.

Q: i made a vocaloid-official blog! how do I get added to the masterpost?

A: adding people to the masterpost has gotten really overwhelming for me so I won’t be doing it anymore. sorry! feel free to still make a vocaloid-official blog and interact with me if you want, I just won’t be updating the masterpost anymore. the current list will stay up as it is as sort of like. a memento or something.

Q: do you know anything about PJSK???

A: no <3

OFFICIAL VOCALOID-OFFICIAL MASTERPOST

these are my Official Friends! go say hi to them!!

🥖 @kasaneteto-official

🐟 @megurineluka-official

🐙 @otomachi-una-official

🍷 @hanakomeiko-official

💛 @neruakita-official

🍌 @kagaminelen-official

🍊 @kagaminerin-official

🍦@kaitoshinon-offical

🐢 @ryuto-official (RESURRECTED)

💜 @vflower-official

🥕 @gumi-official

🖤 @zatsunemiku-official

🍡 @tohokuzunko-official

🩹 @fukase-official

🔌 @utatanepiko-official

🐰 @yukari-official

🩵 @ringsuzune-official

⚓️ @oliverv3-official

🌷 @nekomurairoha-official

🥢 @vocaloidcul-official

☕️ @rukoyokune-official

🥂 @meiko-offical

👑 @galaco-official

🐱 @seeu-official

🌸 @meikahime-official

🪻 @meikamikoto-official

🍆 @gakupo-official

🎀 @utanekoe-official

🌹 @sakinemeiko-official

🔪 @mayuofficial

🛰️ @moonbase-alpha-tts-official

🍺 @yowane-haku-official

🪐 @ia-official

🎹 @namineritsu-official

☁️ @tone-rion-official

🎤 @maika-official

🌈 @kawaiine-official

🍏 @macnenana-official

🌻 @dex-official

💗 @garnetvocaloid-official

💿 @yohioloid-official

🌺 @zhizidongfang-official

🤍 @kokone-official

🐸 @vocaloidrana-official

🌟 @xingchen-official

🍎 @yuki-official

🌿 @fionetheutau-official

💫 @sfa2miki-official

[l33bang24]

OMG It’s You… (Part 2.5)

YouTuber! Fem reader x Stray Kids

Summary: Y/N’s YouTube channel is taking off after her reactions to Stray Kids MV God’s Menu. Now she’s making videos nonstop along with working a full time job. What would happen if she got offered a job of a lifetime and met the boys of her succession?

⚠️Warning⚠️: mild cursing, anxiety, overthinking

🏷️: @laylasbunbunny @weirdowithaphone @silverstarburst @jusanontstuff @anxiousskylar @drewsandsebastianswife @amararosesblog @niaalove (Taglist open)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 6.5 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

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

Y/N’s POV

I rolled out of bed when I heard my alarm go off. I’ve had a motivation block lately (don’t ask me where I came up with that). Some days I just don’t have the energy to get in front of a camera because that said energy gets sucked out from work. Work can be a pain in the ass sometimes, however it brings in money that pays bills even helps with the channel. When I first started the channel, I didn’t have a lot of equipment. I started off with the bare minimum with the money I had leftover from paying bills. Once I had the starting equipment like a microphone, headphones, camera, etc., then I had to come up with the channel name. I ended up with y/c/n because it sounded like me. I knew from the start that I wouldn’t get a lot of views, still that didn’t help my anxiety any.

I try not to let things get to me, though it can be hard when you constantly don’t feel like you’re good enough. Anxiety and overthinking can make a person feel like that, even in situations that have nothing to do with you, yet you still worry about things you can’t control. I started getting ready for work, already dreading going in. Hoping that maybe today would be an easy day.

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

It wasn’t an easy day, it was actually the worst really. I am actually glad it’s the weekend though. I’ll have to rest up before I start up a new video. I’ve gotten into the routine of posting at least one to two videos a week (three if I’m feeling frisky). That way I can have time to go in and make edits of what I’ve recorded. I learned how to get a little creative with my videos over time, especially when I started moving my hands around when I’m talking. ‘You mean when you start rambling about a topic for hours?’ I hear my inner thoughts say.

I decided to take the rest of the day to relax since I have been running around all day at work. ‘I’ll just start filming tomorrow. That way I’m rested up from this hectic week and can be productive these next couple of days.’ I tell myself.

The Following Day

Taking a sip of my freshly brewed coffee, I hummed in delight. I took in my surroundings now that I have some caffeine in my system. It was a beautiful day outside. Feeling the morning breeze blow through the air ruffling the trees. Being able to sit on the back porch and take in the scenery with a cup of coffee in your hand makes everything feel simpler. Easier. Just for a moment.

I knew today would be a little busy for me but that’s what happens when you decide to make a YouTube reaction channel, especially when it’s about K-Pop. I had recently seen where I’ve now reached over 300K followers on YouTube. I need to make sure I mention that in my video. I didn’t do it once and the fans didn’t like that, not that I didn’t want to do it. I just didn’t pay it any attention. If I did that would really make my anxiety level go up and I don’t need that.

After finishing my coffee, I decided to go ahead and get started on making some new videos. I pulled my computer and monitors up, making sure that my microphone and headphones were up and ready to go. The last thing being my camera. Checking my monitor to make sure I have it positioned where I want it and that my main screen, where I show what I’m watching, is up as well. Once everything is to my liking, I take a deep breath and think about something that makes me happy to brighten up my mood. Clicking the record button, counting to three, I start my intro.

“Good Morning Lovelies! How are y’all doing this morning?” Taking a pause, I start again. “I hope you’re all doing well. Eating well, sleeping well, and going outside to enjoy the weather. It’s pretty outside today. I decided I’d have my morning coffee out there. Maybe next time I’ll film a little video for y’all, I’d think you’d enjoy it as well. Anyways before I get off track, today we are going to be watching the newest SKZ Code that came out recently. I always wait in case there’s a part two. So that way I can watch it back to back and not wait for the second part to come out. I believe most of you know this by now, though we also have new followers who don’t know that. Now I’m getting off track, haha. I can’t help it y’all, you know this. Okay! Let’s get started before I talk your ear off.” I smile looking at my main monitor that holds my videos for the day. I write down on my sticky notes nearby about the 300K followers so that way I don’t forget. I play the videos that I prepared for the day, laughing my ass off at the boys being silly. Occasionally wiping a stray tear from laughing so hard. Stopping to talk about my favorite parts or having to go back and rewatch a part just to laugh twice as hard as the first time.

Towards the end I look down at the sticky note I prepared. Getting ready to end the video I tell myself what I need to say. “Well, that’s it for the video today! I hope enjoyed it as much as I did, but before I let you go I have some thing I need to say. This channel just hit the 300K subscribers within this past week!! I’m so happy that people love watching Stray Kids as much as I do. I do more than just Stray Kids on here, but my Stray Kids videos get way more views than the others. I don’t like being biased to just one group but Stray Kids has always been the closest to my heart and I know my fellow Stays know that as well. And to Stray Kids if you ever see this, I hope you know just how much we love and appreciate everything that you do.” I smile at the camera. “Thank you everyone for supporting me and continuing to support me. Until then I will see you in the next video.” I do a two finger salute to the camera. “Bye!”

(A/N: Hi everyone! So I tried to get the whole part 2 together but I couldn’t figure out how to at more text under the pictures so I just made a second post to it. If anyone knows how I could do that please let me know because there might be more coming. Anyways thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy it!)

[roguishcat]

Conversations with a vampire - part 4/10

Summary: A story told through a series of conversations between Astarion and child Tav, tracing the slow and steady progress of trust and friendship.

Humor/Friendship/Angst

Rating: Teen. Mild language, mentions of abuse in later chapters, some violence.

Setting: Set before the events of the game.

There was a chill in the air and evenings were turning colder, seasons changing with slow grace, first leaves falling and scattering on the ground in a multitude of colors. Astarion started wearing his doublet more, his usual shirt being too light for this time of the year. That is, it would be if he could feel the cold. He supposed that was one of the few perks of his current state.

Tav was autumn personified, wearing an ankle-length coat in shades of bright amber with a brown fur collar which she left unbuttoned, revealing a shirt and trouser ensemble of a lighter shade that matched her leather boots. Her hair was in a low braid with shimmering golden threads woven along the tresses.

“You know, it’s the first time I see you wearing something other than that frilly shirt,” she commented, throwing a pretty sparkly ring into the air, and snatching it quickly before the trinket hit the ground. “You look nice.”

“Well thank you, not that your opinion was wanted or needed,” Astarion rolled his eyes. He didn’t need Tav to know he looked good, though he didn’t mind being admired by all. The doublet was beautiful, although the golden embroidery was a pain to look after. Not all his conquest were gentle when handling him and his clothes had a fair share of wear and tear. He took care of the little he had meticulously and carefully, as Cazador did not see it fit to give the spawn any more than bare minimum.

Yet, flattery would really get people everywhere and his mood was decidedly better now than it was before he set out for the night. Thus, assured of his good looks, Astarion strolled down the street with unhurried steps, keen eyes observing those he passed by. They passed the potion shop and were nearing Wyrm’s Rock. There were more people around for this time of night and not the usual crowd too. Families, children, young couples, their excitement for the fireworks display in celebration of the grand re-opening of Felogyr's Fireworks so palpable he could almost taste it.

“I just don’t understand why you don’t just come and work in Sharess’ Caress, with your looks you could make tons, tons!” she gesticulated wildly in her excitement to show just how astronomical his earnings would be. “And then you could have everything you wish to have, which whoever it is that you work for doesn’t provide. Mamzell Amira is not exactly nice, but she treats everyone well enough, better than you get treated clearly. I am sure-”

“I don’t need your advice. Or your pity,” he spat, cutting Tav off sharply. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Find another charity case if that’s what you are after.”

Tav frowned but did not flinch or move away. She was used to adults having little patience when dealing with her, perhaps understandably. She did go on and on sometimes. Besides, she had her suspicions about Astarion for a while now, and she knew the defeated look of a person who had no power to make their own choices and hated it. It was useless to pry, for now.

“Sorry, that was wrong of me to say that. It wasn’t meant to be pity. I really do say the dumbest things, don’t I?”

Astarion sighed, a little annoyed at himself for this display of emotion. Yes, she was an insensitive, intrusive little idiot, but she did it out of some feeling of misplaced kindness. And whilst he did not necessarily need her kindness, it was quite refreshing to talk to someone who wanted to converse just for the sake of it.

“Well, I guess it can’t be helped,” he brushed his fingers through his silver curls, “your atrocious lack of manners is especially obvious today, that’s all. You should really work on that.”

“Maybe. But at least I’m trying. Wouldn’t hurt you to be nicer, you know. Once in a while,” Tav said petulantly.

“And it wouldn’t hurt me to be less nice, so your point is moot,” he countered.

“Oooh, someone is in a bad mood. Fine, I’ll shut up,” she huffed and turned away, seemingly determined to show that she was upset.

That lasted for a grand total of two minutes before Tav started fidgeting and shooting furtive looks his way.

“Want me to do your nails then? It is party tonight, after all. I have everything with me. Polishes and all,” she asked hopefully.

Apparently, it was physically impossible for the girl to be quiet.

“No.”

“Aw, come on!” she whined in a most aggravating way. “You have beautiful hands! Like the bard with the lyre that played at Sharess’ the other night.”

“Well, I do know which strings to pluck to make everyone sing for me.”

The innuendo went completely over her head.

“So, is that a yes on the nails?”

“Still no.”

She pouted but did not insist anymore.

“The human delivery boy who brings the groceries to Sharess’ Caress asked me to go watch the fireworks with him tonight.”

“Oh?” He looked at her with his eyebrows raised. “Sounds like somebody’s got a date.”

“Eww, gross” Tav scrunched her nose at the suggestion. “He is a year older, but so juvenile for thirteen,” she said, clearly unimpressed with whatever the boy did to try to get her attention.

“Because clearly you are a picture of wisdom and maturity,” Astarion quipped.

“Well, maybe not,” she agreed, “but kids my age are boring. They see one gash on my leg, perhaps bleeding too much and maybe there was a bit of bone sticking out, I admit, and just faint! Wimps,” she scoffed haughtily.

“Not everyone has the devil-may-care attitude you do, it seems.”

“Exactly! And why would I want to hang out with someone bland and boring like that? They won’t be able to keep up.”

“Which is probably a good thing for them, as they clearly have a sense of self-preservation, and you don’t.”

“Whatever,” she smiled, apparently choosing to take his comment as a compliment. Tav flicked her hair over her shoulder, the golden threads making her blonde hair twinkle as if lit up my magic. “Besides, the fireworks are going to be down by the river, not far from Felogyr's Fireworks. I wouldn’t be able to go even if I wanted to.”

Ah, yes. There was the ever-present issue of her having to traverse these streets over and over again without being able to explore the rest of the city.

“You are not missing out on that much, fireworks are frightfully dull, overrated really,” Astarion said with a longsuffering sigh, as if going to a party was such a chore.

“Yeah, baby stuff,” she looked up, catching on quickly.

“Quite so.”

Her lips quirked into a smile. It was a ghost of her usual enthusiastic grin, but better than nothing.

“Ya know,” Tav looked down, suddenly finding the cobblestones worthy of her attention, “I decided I’m going to marry you when I’m older,” she said in a nonchalant manner.

“Are you now?” he snorted in amusement. “And I suppose you didn’t think to ask my opinion on the matter?”

“Just you wait, I’m going to grow up to be strikingly beautiful. Well, maybe not as beautiful as you”, she sighed, accepting that as a fact of life, “but close enough! And I’m going to save you from your master, because he clearly does not treat you as well as he should, and you will fall hopelessly in love with me!”

“Didn’t you say that this isn’t what you really look like? You might be quite a bland thing. Terrible warts on your nose. Missing teeth, bad breath.”

“Stop it, don’t be horrid!” she laughed. “You are just saying that to be mean.”

He was needling her on purpose, that was true. But Tav could take a joke and wasn’t fishing for praise. It was a nice change of pace when he didn’t have to needlessly stroke someone’s ego and come up with artful, empty compliments. Words were usually just another arrow in his quiver, a tool used for seduction to ensure his survival. It was pleasant to talk to someone just for the sake of it.

“Well, even if I am beastly and ugly, and you will not want to marry me, I hope we can still be friends even many years from now. And I am going to set you free no matter what.”

Set him free, she said. And who was going to set her free before that? Because no matter how negligent her family was, she was being educated, provided for, dressed in the best of the best. One did not just do that out of the goodness of their heart. There had to a purpose for whatever this was.

“Well, that sounds like a plan,” he rolled his eyes. “It may be missing the how and when you are going to best Cazador-”

Fuck. He didn’t mean to say his name. The less she knew about him, the better.

“Don’t make fun of me! I may be measly twelve now, but in a few years, I will be old enough to decide my own destiny. One day, I will do something great, really great, and it will change everything.”

“If you say so,” he allowed, relieved that she did not latch onto the name and start asking questions.

The fireworks display started abruptly, painting the sky a myriad of colours. It was obtrusively bright and showy, but seeing all this in his world where colours were muted and dull had a certain appeal.

“Right, whilst you idle away the hours, some of us have things to do, places to be,” he walked off, moving with the crowds that started making their way towards the Lower City.

“Okay,” she ran up to Astarion to hand him a potion, upholding her end of the bargain as usual, “hope your hunt goes well!”

Hunt. Yes, that is exactly what he was doing. And the crowd tonight seemed so ready for the picking, oohing and aahing at the beauty above them, drunk on their excitement and cheap beer. It was almost too easy to engage one, two, three victims in quick succession. Pluck them like ripe fruit, ready to be devoured.

The other spawn quickly caught on to where his hunting grounds were for the night, and he started glimpsing them here and there. Dalyria grasping a tiefling’s chin and bringing his lips closer to her own to whisper something seductively, him following her completely enthralled by whatever she was saying. Petras loudly propositioning a human pair, them laughing and calling him daft, which was obviously not the effect he was going for. Astarion scoffed. Petras was terrible at being suave, he lacked the finesse, the ability to improvise on the spot.

At one point, Astarion had a niggling suspicion at the back of his mind that Tav was watching him from the rooftops, he thought he saw her once or twice. But, when he crossed the bridge yet again and noticed her up on the roof of the potion shop, she was looking at a human family with a wistful expression, the child holding his father’s hand and gesticulating animatedly, clearly excited about being out and about after dark. The mother crouched beside the boy and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, eliciting delighted giggles. Tav scowled and quickly turned, walking away from the edge of the roof and then bleeding into the shadows.

A child without a name, without a family, and without any history.  Astarion supposed that she had little in common with children that sought her company, who had the luxury of enjoying the care and love of their parents, or at least were free to come and go as they pleased on a whim.  

She was a specter that haunted the streets of the city she could never properly explore. It was little surprise that she identified with him on some level. He was a creature who was a ghost of his former self, who was compelled to act as he was bid. A former elf without a past, a vampire spawn without a future.

Chapter 3

Chapter 5

Tag list: @ninty900 @dajeong @ayselluna

[askbensolo]

Journal Entry #51: Weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me in a Spacebucks

Ever since Poe and Beebee-Ate moved in, I’ve been buying caf in the morning more often, instead of making it at home. RIP my bank account.

See, Beebee is kind of hyper in the morning. When my alarm goes off, he rolls off his charging port and starts following me around. Even into the bathroom—like, bro. Personal space?? So, I’m kinda eager to just get out the door as soon as possible.

But, maybe Beebee-Ate is just my poor excuse. Because...coffeeshops in autumn? Vibes. I already admitted to you that I’m a sucker for seasonal beverages.

I'd had it in my mind to try to meditate before work. I had told Fannie I would. (This was before...stuff happened.) And over my morning caf seemed like a good time to do it. But…I never really ended up doing it. I guess I’m afraid of what I’ll see and hear, if I quiet my mind like that. I’m scared I’ll see whatever’s inside me that my mom seems so afraid of... Or, I’m scared I’ll see nothing at all.

Because...that’s how I’ve felt, lately. Like a husk. Holding my head above water, but just barely. Making it through. Texting my mom every day to keep her happy, and saying “Yes I love you I’ll tell my parents about you soon” to my sorta-girlfriend to keep her happy (guess I won't have to worry about that anymore at least), and showing up to work on time and generating five-hundred pieces of content to keep them happy, and lying to my uncle about my connection to the Force to keep him happy (won't have to worry about that anymore either I guess), and suppressing my urge to kick Beebee-Ate across the room like a football to keep my roommate happy (still have to deal with that unfortunately), and, well, I guess I kind of thought if I had my dream life in the city and a decently-paying job and a girl telling me every day that she loves me and I mean something to her and I’m not just a waste of space that I’d be happy, too, but—

…Frick. No. I can’t. See what I mean? I’m much better off keeping my introspection at bay.

And my little daily overpriced latte helps. Because it’s not just coffee. I am purchasing my sanity.

Somehow.

Even if it does cause me financial ruin in my thirties. But, hey—the way the New Republic is going, I don’t got a lotta hope for the decade ahead anyway!

And—well—I just made a little deal that'll set me up for life.

You’ll see.

So, anyway. Since I’m not meditating, I end up people-watching a lot. And, I end up watching Armitage a lot, because he is by far the most entertaining character of the ensemble. At first I thought he was the store manager, but then I saw him getting yelled at by the manager, so, I think he's just a shift leader or something.

But he wants to be the manager. I can see it in his eyes.

And I can tell this guy is a real psych case—someone clinging onto whatever little power he can grasp between his bony little service-gloved fingers—because he runs the place like a freaking military operation. Like, homie?? You do know you’re working minimum wage for a food service galacticorp, right?

I would soooo hate to work with him—but to give him credit, it’s the most efficient Spacebucks I’ve ever been to. Even at peak business hours. Armie runs a tight ship.

(I call him “Armie” in my head. One day it’s gonna come out of my mouth by accident, and dude’s gonna vault himself over the counter and try to murder me.)

(Well, try to murder me again, I mean. No, wait—I'm getting ahead of myself here—you'll see.)

So, last week, they got my order wrong. I brought it to the counter, and Armitage muttered “absolutely unacceptable” under his breath, and dragged over this poor zit-covered, sleep-deprived, college-kid barista by the scruff of his collar and publicly berated him in front of me and forced him to apologize to me and let me keep the first drink but upsized my new drink for free and remade it himself and forced the poor barista kid to watch him do it, and I’m pretty sure someone should report that as a workplace harassment incident—but it was also funny as hell, and sure made my day.

What I actually ordered was the korranut sweetgourd cold brew. But, I ended up kind of liking the first thing, too, so I came back to the counter to ask what it was. The traumatized barista kid ducked into the back when he saw me coming, so I flagged down Armitage.

“Yo, Armitage. What was in that first order?” I asked.

He blanched—as if he could get any paler. His eyes shifted around, like he was afraid who might hear. “What?” he whispered hoarsely.

I blinked a couple times. Was I insane? “Uhh…what was…in the first order…?”

He seemed to regain some composure, and squinted at me. “How do you know about the first order?” he hissed.

Now I was getting a little freaked out. “I…I tasted it?” I stuttered.

Then things got really weird.

He grabbed me by the wrist and took me behind the counter and pulled me into the back room. It happened so fast—my brain froze up. He was skinny as heck, but his grip was like iron. I could’ve beaten him up if I’d tried, but I was scared stiff. I threw terrified looks at the other baristas. Tried to say “help” with my eyes, but they just ignored me. The manager was nowhere to be seen. Either this was a normal occurrence to them, or they were too scared of Armitage to do anything.

Maybe both.

He pulled me into a storage closet and slammed the door behind us and shoved me back against the wall.

“Dude, what—”

“Who are you?” Armitage hissed. “I knew there was something I didn’t like about you from the start, Ben Quadinaros—if that even is your real name. Who sent you? How long have you been watching me?”

“I—I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I stuttered. I was bigger than him, but I don’t like when grown-ups yell at me—it doesn’t matter that I’m a grown-up now—I still don’t like it.

Armitage wrinkled his nose at me. As if I were literally garbage. (For reference, I am only figuratively garbage.) “What’s your real name, Ben Quadinaros?”

Was there a reason why I shouldn’t give him my real name? I didn’t know. Maybe? I couldn’t really think.

“Ben, uh...Calrissian?” I posed weakly.

He looked me over with a snarling grimace, seeming to feel I had insulted his intelligence. “No…no, I don’t believe that one bit. What is it really?”

The Solo snark won out. “Would you take Jabba the Hutt?” I asked.

He sneered. In an instant his hand flew to his hip, under his green apron, and I realized—OH, KRIFF ME—Armie was armed. It was Armitage Arkanis, in the broom closet, with the blaster. Ben Solo becomes a white outline on the floor. I got that horrible feeling all of a sudden like when you jump into hyperspace on a full stomach.

“Oh frick—geez—oh my Force—I’m—Ben—my name is—Ben Organa Solo!” I blurted, genuinely scared for my life. Because yeah, my life kinda sucks, but it doesn’t suck that bad—not bad enough to lose it to an unhinged ginger who’d smoke me in the back of a Spacebucks for, what—lying about my name?

“Solo,” Armitage said slowly, and his eyes flashed with recognition. “Yes. I knew it. The Alderaanian princess’s son. What do you want from me, then? Information?”

“I-I mean…yeah? I…I just wanted to know what was in the drink,” I choked out. “Please. Don’t kill me.”

Now his expression turned to one of bewilderment. “…The drink?” he repeated.

“Y-yeah," I said. "The order that got messed up. The…the first one.”

The longest thirty seconds of silence ever. My knees were shaking and my heart was pounding in my ears. I felt like I was either gonna throw up or piss myself. I wondered what it felt like to get shot.

And then Armitage blinked a few times and withdrew his hand from his hip and looked around for a second and became the shift leader again and seemed to realize how insane it was that he’d dragged a paying customer into a broom closet and threatened him. He took a clumsy step backward and cleared his throat.

“I…apologize for the misunderstanding,” he muttered weakly. I could sense his weakness.

Oh, I thought. He's not so scary. I could crush his windpipe with one hand. And then I stopped feeling so afraid.

I saw an opening. Stood up a little taller. Squared my shoulders a little.

“Uhh, yeah, you better,” I said. “‘Cause I’m reporting your ass. What the kriff, dude?”

He took another step back, and cast a worried glance behind him.

Oh! So he was scared of me now. I liked that. I liked that sooo much better.

“I mean...hello?" I shouted. "You’re kriffing insane! You can’t freaking do that to people! Who do you think you are? Who’d you think I was?”

“I misunderstood,” Armitage sniffed, but he couldn’t hide his discomfort. “I…I thought you were someone looking to get me in trouble.”

“Yeah, well, now I am,” I said. I took a little step forward, and he took a little step back. I found that really funny for some reason, and if I weren't so fired up I would've laughed at him. “Seriously! You were making threats on my life just because you thought I was like, what, an undercover workplace investigator? From Spacebucks corporate, or sentient resources, or something?”

“Yes,” Armitage agreed hurriedly. “Yes. That is—exactly—precisely—who I thought you were. Quite.”

“Well, you should damn well be investigated,” I huffed. “For Force’s sake! I’m filing a police report.”

“Don’t,” he begged.

“You were gonna pull a blaster on me!”

“I don’t have one. I don’t have one!” He pulled up the lap of his apron and showed me his pockets. And he was right. His legs were so skinny. Like toothpicks, or something. There was no way he had a blaster—not even one of those really little ones.

So, he’d been bluffing. That tracked. I was beginning to understand this guy real kriffin' well—he was scary as kark, until you had him in a corner, and then he just freaking melted.

“Okaaay,” I said. “Pretty sure you can still get in a lot of trouble for threatening me. You don’t want my mom to know about this, buddy. She practically freaks out when I get a hangnail.”

Armitage turned white. Again—as if he could get any whiter. “P-Princess Leia? I mean…the Senator Organa?”

“The one and only.”

Bro dropped to his knees on the dirty-ass closet floor. “Oh, my God. Please. No.” I once again suppressed the urge to laugh at him.

Wow! Wasn’t this amusing. I felt like I could kick him in the face right now, and he’d just sit there and take it.

Something stirred within me. Something toothy and mean and strong that rippled downward through my body and made my hands feel hot. Maybe it was that thing Mom and Uncle Luke were so afraid of. What Snoke had always tried to encourage, before I cut contact with him. What Snoke seemed to still want to stoke inside of me, now that his whispers had begun again to brush up against the perimeters of my mind. That power that had made me believe, for a second, that I could come at my uncle with a lightsaber...

Armie’s bottom lip trembled. Now he looked like he was going to throw up or piss himself. I kept him in suspense for a luxurious fifteen more seconds and wondered if he’d cry. I imagined what it’d feel like to bash this loser’s skull in for thinking he could threaten me.

How many homicidal fantasies is a guy allowed to have before he has to turn himself over to the psych ward? Is twice in one year okay? As a treat?

Asking for a friend.

Anyway. Now that I knew he wasn't armed, I wasn't scared of him anymore. Because if Armitage wasn't armed, then it was just up to whoever had bigger arms, and that was me—but luckily for Armie, we were kind of in an armistice.

Well, I was gonna call the police on him. But then I had the most legendary, freaking hilarious idea ever. A real stroke of genius.

“...Okay, Arkanis,” I said finally. “I’ve got a solution: buy me caf for the rest of my life, and I won’t tell your manager. Or the police. Or my mom.”

Armie’s eyes bugged out. “Buy your caf?” he spluttered. “For life?”

“Yep.” I gave him a little grin and a nod. “What can I say? I’m a college grad in a failing economy, who bought into the lie that my degree would mean something, and now I’m effectively an alcoholic—just with overpriced caf-based beverages instead of booze.”

Armitage blinked slowly, like an ugly little frog, and wet his thin, pale lips.

I shrugged. “I’m a simple man, Armitage. I’m giving you options here. Finance my addiction, and I’ll let this go.”

He slowly rose to his feet. “There is no way I could possibly afford that,” he spat. “You come in here almost every day.”

“Yeah, well. Can you afford me reporting you to the authorities?” I asked. “‘Cause I’ll throw in what an abusive little skrit-head you are to your employees, too. And the time I saw you accidentally sneeze into a drink but serve it anyway.”

If he was any paler, he’d be frickin’ transparent.

“...Fine,” he said. “But—there has to be a credit limit on this. Five credits a day.”

“Five credits doesn’t buy a single damn thing on your menu, and you know it."

“It buys a plain black coffee,” he disagreed haughtily.

“I don’t want a plain black caf, I can make that at home,” I snapped. “And what makes you think you’re in any position to negotiate? I don’t have to hold my tongue. I can call the police right now.”

Armitage opened his mouth and closed it again. Like an ugly little fish. (Basically you could describe him as an ugly little anything and it'd be accurate.)

Well, I already had all the leverage here. But I decided to throw him a bone anyway.

“Look, buddy,” I said softly. “I keep in shape, so I’m not gonna rack up a tab. And when I’m picking up orders for work, they let me do it on the company card. I'll go easy on ya. I swear. So…do we got a deal, or what?”

He was silent for several moments, his eyes kind of glassed over. Then he nodded dumbly.

Oh my Force. He actually went for it.

Ha! Baby’s first blackmail.

“Nice.” I grinned and punched him lightly in the shoulder. He flinched. “So, uh. You mind transferring me some credits for today? And then you can just, like, give me a gift card, or something.”

Again, he nodded, looking like I'd kicked his puppy—or, maybe just like a kicked puppy. For a second, I almost felt bad.

And then I remembered how he'd threatened my life—or tried to make me think that he could—and I thought of Snoke—and I thought of Luke—how my whole life I've always felt like everyone was always trying to control me—and how I'd sworn to never let anyone throw me around ever again—and suddenly, I didn't feel quite so bad anymore.

"Crabapple caramel crunch," Armitage muttered, all of a sudden.

I looked at him. "What?"

He raised his watery eyes to meet mine, the familiar scowl back in place.

"That was the first drink," he said quietly. "The...first order."

[hellfireeddiemunson]

W A I T IM SO DUMB OMG

I did the wrong fucking math of when i needed to be at work and i’m actually glad i woke up now bc i need to be awake

i went to bed at like 10pm lastnight bc i was so tired i kept dozing off but also bc i was just soooooo bored i was like why be awake !

the problem now is i’m awake and i don’t actually need to be up for work for another hour and 45 mins. 🧍🏻

[fiveapocalypse]

FAUST AND THE DEVIL

A little thing inspired by @nirby-wirby

“So it is only you whose come to meet my acquaintance.”

His head hurts. His stomach churns. There is a burning at the back of his eyes and Five swallows a lump in his throat as he sits across from the man who has held his fist over him even alone in isolation. “I can’t say I am too surprised, not with what I’ve seen so far of you and your, as you put it, family.”

A part of him wants to shout, scream, maybe even punch something just to feel anything, but instead, Five shrugs, lips pursed. “I didn’t come here to idly chit chat,” he spits, ire dripping from his words. If he was angry, he couldn’t be controlled. He couldn’t fall like Icarus wanting to touch the sun. “I came because we don’t belong here, because I know that you can do something about it.” There is a look in his eyes, calculating, and it makes Five clasp his hands together and dig his nail into his palm.

“Don’t belong here how?” Neither a laugh nor a smile, but an inquiry with raised brows.

Five takes a deep breath, grinding his teeth together. “Crapshoot,” he mutters, glaring at the pineapple in the center of the table, “thought I could do whatever wanted, landed myself in the apocalyptic future, and then—here, in this body—”

“You’ve refused to listen then,” Reginald interrupts, “if I am your father, and my word had been law, then it was no fault but your own for your circumstances.”

“That’s—"

“Perhaps, if you had not gone on a tantrum, you would not be here, struggling to even achieve the bare minimum with your lack of prowess.”

“You—"

“But, as it is now, your own foolishness has created your own mistake.” Reginald doesn’t let him get a word in, interrupting him with every second that passed. “You have failed because of your lack of patience, your inability to accept, and now you are looking to atone simply by admitting defeat.” Five hates the way his shoulders hunch up, words dying in his throat. “This, however, is not feasible. You have destroyed your own family by your own hands, with your foolishness and arrogance to prove. Tell me, how is it that the future I reside in has your family in such a state and yet, did it not all start after you had gone off on your own?”

His breath hitches, mouth feeling dry. He hadn’t ever really thought about it like that, not really, but now—it was starting to come together, the pieces falling into place. He’s been gone for so long, to the point where his siblings are 30, seventeen years passing by without him. What has he missed? What did he fail to protect because of his own selfishness? The disbanding of the academy, the drugs his brothers were on, the way that a book threatened to destroy everyone, Ben’s death.

He hadn’t been there for any of it. He hadn’t protected Klaus or saved Ben or made Luther question Reginald’s choices. He never picked up Viktor’s medicine, convincing him to not use it, never tried to remind Allison how much her rumors hurt, never helped Ben control the horror.

Instead, he had left, vanished off the earth, for seventeen whole years, and since then—

Everything had fallen apart.

All of the trouble his siblings had went through. The exclusion of their seventh. The brokenness that exuded from their very souls. It all came from something, from someone, and all his life—Five had assumed it was Reginald. He had fucked them up, had hurt them beyond compare, but looking at it now, and putting the puzzle pieces together, makes Five’s eyes burn something fierce. “I didn’t do anything,” he whispers, voice cracking, “I d-didn’t m-make them f-fall apart. I didn’t.”

Reginald stares at him with that calm face of his, not an angry wrinkle to be seen. “You disappeared,” he says, “you left them for your own desires.”

His throat closes up as he tries to swallow down the lump suddenly stuck inside. “I….” Maybe, if his siblings were here, he’d be more angry, more in control, but as it stands now, he sits there, hating how easily his eyes burn and the taste of salt falls on his lips.

and, like always, Reginald does nothing but watch him cry.

[deus-and-the-machina]

MCYT Yuri week day 3 - hurt/comfort

Hello again! once again this is for @mcyt-yuri-week, it's also on ao3 so if you enjoy it please give it some interaction! comments and kudos are incredibly motivating <3 This one's a bit shorter since I am currently sick but I like how it came out still.

Cleo glanced down at her feet where her eternal annoyance, the water witch Prismarina, sat sobbing into her hands. 

“Oh god, well this is awkward.” With a sigh, they bent down and tapped Prismarina on the shoulder. “Look, I don’t know what’s got you down in the dumps, but my tower doorstep isn’t your moping spot, alright?”

Prismarina stared upward, eyes filled with tears. A moment later, an almost comically shrill wail erupted from her as she continued to cry louder than over.

It was a pretty pathetic sight, but it wasn’t exactly increasing Cleo’s sympathy for the girl. Seeing as this might take a while, Cleo placed herself down on the tower steps and slouched over, watching Prismarina begin to blubber. 

“Stupid, stupid demon thing! And she–she doesn’t believe me and my date’s ruined and it’s all that wretched demon’s fault, why can’t I just be normal! Why does everything have to go wrong.” She broke down again at the last sentence, becoming illegible.

Cleo waited for her to calm down some, which took quite a few minutes. Occasionally, they’d reach out to pat her shoulder and mutter an irreverent “there, there.” The water witch was a snake and a liar, but Cleo would feel like a bit of a jerk if she did nothing. 

Not to mention her interesting comments. Once Pris’ bawling began to quell into quiet full body sobs, she spoke. “Did you say demon?” 

Her tear-stained face scrunched up at the mention of it, but she remained relatively calm. For her at least. “Yeah…It’s been possessing me and–I dunno, it’s all so confusing and it’s ruining my life and it ruined my date and AAAARRRRGH.” She grabbed at her hair, now more angry than mopey. “I don’t know the first thing about exorcism! How am I ever gonna get rid of it!”

Cleo tapped at her chin. “...This could be a problem.”

“What could?”

“The demon? The very one you just mentioned?”

Prismarina’s eyes lit up. “You…you believe me?”

They shrugged. “If you’re trying to trick me, I’m sure you already know how badly that would end for you. So for both our sakes, I’m going to assume you’re telling the truth. Not to mention that if this is an act,” she gestured to Prismarina’s whole mess. “You’re one hell of an actor. Forgive me, but I don’t believe you’re that good.”

The water witch huffed, but said nothing.

Cleo continued. “If one of the contestants is possessed, I feel like that can’t be good for any of us. Like, what if it uses you to become supreme? Less than ideal.”

 “So…can you do something about it?”

“Aside from reversing time and creating a new timeline where you aren’t possessed, which would be very convoluted and wouldn’t necessarily solve this you’s problem, not really. But,” she added quickly after seeing Prismarina’s face fall. “I have a coven member who knows some things about demons.”

She groaned. “Not Scott! He hates me even more than you do!”

“I’ll talk to him. If it’s coming from me, he’ll consider it.” Letting herself soften a bit, she reached out and wiped one of Pris’ tear stained cheeks. “Not feeling as though you’re…yourself can be harrowing. I wouldn’t even wish that on you.”

Her eyes gleamed, though with hope instead of tears this time. “God, this is the nicest anyone’s been to me all day.” 

Cleo snorted. “That’s sad! I’m just doing the bare minimum, not to mention looking out for myself.”

Still, Prismarina didn’t take it to heart and grabbed her hand. “No really, this means a lot to me, seriously. I…haven’t always gotten this ‘bare minimum’. Oh, you’re such a lovely sight I could kiss you!”

Cleo smiled. “Well, not right now, thank you, but I can take you to Scott’s right now if you’d like. Something tells me it wouldn’t be good to leave you on your own if this demon persists.”

“Thanks–hey what do you mean ‘not right now?’’

They rose, gesturing behind for Pris to follow. “You can interpret it however you like. Now let’s get you some help.”

[hargrove-mayfields]

Disabled Billy and Steve Week

Day 5- New Diagnosis

My prompt: Obsessive Compulsive Disorder in Billy

-•-•-•-

For what must be the tenth time in the last month, Heather is parked outside of the hospital, her baby girl in the backseat, but the passenger side empty, waiting for Billy to get back.

The doctors have been running tests and screenings at appointment after appointment. He’s been… struggling. Ever since Isabella was born, his mental health had plummeted. It was never perfect, but for the first time, Heather was genuinely afraid.

Watching her husband pick his scalp until it bled and turned his golden hair red, or wash his face until he got a rash because his freckles started bothering him, was terrifying.

The fear isn’t eased when Billy walks out with a prescription bag, and red eyes that make it clear he’s been crying.

“What did they say?” Heather asks, as soon as he opens the car door.

Billy takes his time answering. He seems like he’s in shock.

Heather would hold his hand, but he has to sanitize, take off his mask, then sanitize again. An obsession.

Somehow, Heather isn’t shocked when Billy finally mumbles, “It’s ocd.”

Honestly, she doesn’t know what to feel. She’s been researching, scrolling on a tablet for hours after Billy is asleep to see what professionals all around the world would diagnose her husband with. But none of that preparation had told her how to feel.

Some part of it is relief, to finally have answers and be able to help Billy manage his symptoms. Another little piece of her heart is scared for how Billy will be feeling through all of this.

She decides to let him tell her, “Is that a good thing? A bad thing? Talk to me, sugar cube.”

“I just need a minute Hetty. That’s all.” Billy tries to smile, but it’s more like a grimace. It hurts to see him like that, but Heather will give him his space.

Instead of bothering him more, she just checks on him every now and again, seeing him glance back at the baby using the mirror that points down at her rear-facing car seat literally every few seconds.

When they get back home, which isn’t far since they knew their array of medical issues would require them being close to a hospital, Billy takes the baby straight inside and lays on the couch with her, just closing her eyes and cuddling her as tight as he feels safe to cuddle her little body.

Heather gives him a kiss on the cheek, and goes to take her own meds, calling from the kitchen, “What are you feeling for dinner tonight, baby?”

Silence. She comes back in, and Billy is in tears. Their little girl is biting his shirt and dozing off, and Billy is trying not to shake too hard with each sob.

His red eyes lock onto her, his lower lip wobbling, “Am I a bad dad?”

“Biscuits for dinner it is.” Heather declares softly, deciding he needs one of his comfort foods at the moment. Additionally, she takes the baby in her arms and comforts Billy with her words, “And no. Sweetie, you’re the best dad in the world.”

It barely helps anything. Billy is spiraling, “But I’m the reason the baby room is so plain. It takes me three times as long as you to change a diaper and I can’t cook for my wife and my kid because I have panic attacks if the oven timer is the wrong number. I can’t clip my baby’s nails cause I might go too short, I can’t hold her when she’s hyper and moving too much- I can’t even fucking be trusted with myself, let alone her little life!”

After all that, Billy takes a shaky, tear-filled breath in, “This OCD shit sucks.”

“None of that means you’re bad though. Your way of doing things is particular, but baby, you’re still here, and you’re doing your best for our girl.” Heather soothes gently.

He scoffs at himself, wiping his eyes more aggressively than necessary, “That’s the bare minimum.”

“Some parents can’t do that. Your mother didn’t.” It probably stings, but it’s reality. One of Billy’s biggest fears when they got pregnant with Isabella was becoming like his parents, or worse. Heather needs him to know that’s not the case.

“Hetty-“ Billy’s face pinches up, like he doesn’t know whether to be hurt or not.

So Heather decides to offer a little bit more insight, and maybe lessen the blow of the brutal reality, “My mom didn’t either. She drugged herself out of her mind and missed my whole childhood. I don’t have any memories from before I was ten. But Bella’s gonna have so so many with you.”

It seems to work, with Billy even smiling as he looks at their little girl and takes it all in, “Do you think she’ll think I’m weird?”

“Honey bun, every kid thinks their parents are weird at some point. But I do know she’s going to think you’re the most loving father a little one could ask for.” Heather chuckles softly.

Now it’s her turn to feel a little bit of panic.

See, Heather has a secret, and seeing as Billy could use a little cheering up, she decides to let him in on it. She takes his hand in hers, and places it on her stomach, right above her scar, “Two little ones, actually.”

Instantly she sees the difference in Billy, and the way his eyes light up. He sits bolt upright and hugs her tight, crying now but for a much better reason.

“Holy shit, baby! How long have you known?”

“Four days. But I’m six weeks along.” Heather enthuses, combing her fingers lovingly through his long curls.

Billy looks like he’s calculating, then he gasps, “Six weeks- Hetty, that’s almost a quarter of the way!”

“I know! Hopefully it’ll fly by like the last one.” Heather laughs softly in pure joy.

Her pregnancy with Isabella was relatively easy, and the number of seizures she had even stayed consistent since her epilepsy medications were safe for her and baby. The worst thing was the morning sickness, but it passed early on enough that she’d somehow enjoyed pregnancy.

Billy had been a wreck, between his emotions and his fears. It took days of promising that she’d be okay when she was nine months in and he’d been scheduled for a work trip before he felt safe to leave her by herself.

At the moment, he doesn’t seem as panicked as he’d been before, but he does fret- “No, no, no, no- I need time. I need to work on stuff.”

Heather cups his face sympathetically, “Bubs, I already told you-“

But Billy interrupts to tell her she’d misinterpreted, “Not personal stuff, lover. I mean I literally need to work on fixing this shitty house up if we’re gonna have two littles running around.”

“First, we need dinner.” Heather happily changes subjects then, but sternly puts her hands on her hips when Billy gets up to help, “Don’t even think about it. This baby bun is literally the size of a grain of rice, I don’t need you butlering yet.”

“Please let me. I feel like I’m buzzing inside.” Billy begs, pouting his bottom lip out in that way that’s always made Heather feel soft.

She rolls her eyes playfully, and hands him a snoozy Bella back, the little one year old reaching for her daddy too, “Put baby girl in her high chair. I could use your help washing fruit.”

“Fruit and.. biscuits?” Billy looks absolutely perplexed by her dinner choices.

Oh how Heather loves this boy.

“No, silly. I’m making you biscuits. Bella can’t eat stuff like that yet though.”

A flush strikes Billy’s cheeks a deep red color- Heather's favorite since she met her soulmate in a pair of swim trunks the same shade- “How the hell do you remember all that stuff?”

Heather just shrugs, though her point is that it’s not as easy as it seems, “Because I don’t have two hundred other things to remember in a day. That and I read a lot of books when I was bedridden. C-sections give lots of time for learning.”

She also goes out into the kitchen, fishing ingredients out of the pantry and measuring utensils out of the cabinets. Billy steps behind her, his hand on the small of her back so she doesn’t bump into him, to reach into the fridge for some strawberries, blueberries, and grapes.

“I’d probably lose my marbles trying to keep track of what’s real and what’s pseudoscience garbage.“ Billy huffs, while portioning out fruit to clean.

It makes Heather recall a time when they were about to be parents and she couldn’t, “Right? Remember when I thought it was bad to sleep on my side when I was pregnant?”

“Changed your tune real quick when the back pain hit.” Billy laughs lightheartedly.

Heather takes the opportunity to reiterate what she’d promised Billy before, “Exactly. Nobody gets everything perfect on the first try.”

She looks over, and Billy is just staring at her lovingly. That was exactly what he needed to hear. Heather smiles back, and blows a kiss, a little puff of dough flour coming from her hands.

Billy acts like he catches the kiss, and puts it to his heart. Nothing beats flirting like dumb, lovestruck teenagers.

Until a piercing wail cuts it off.

Bella over in her high chair starts crying her little head off, Heather guesses because she missed a nap earlier while they were waiting for Billy to finish his appointment.

That sound to them as new parents is instant panic, all the time, and Heather isn’t sure when that feeling will end. Until it does, she knows it’s been hitting Billy harder, and decides to let him take care of it, in the form of an offer, “You wanna get her, bubs?”

Just like she predicted, he’s already drying his hands on the apron not around his own waist, but on Heathers, and running to grab the baby, “Already on it.”

Heather just smiles after him, proud and fond all at the same time. Throw any new diagnosis their way, and they can handle it. Just Billy, her and Isabella, and their little bean on the way. An unbreakable family.

~~~~~

Interested in helping the community? Today’s organization that I’ve chosen to highlight is the Peace of Mind foundation.

POM is part of the international OCD foundation, which means they are recognized as being on of the most beneficial sites for individuals with obsessive compulsive disorder.

On the site, folks can access information about their disability, seek positive affirmations, reach out to care teams, and provide education to family members or carers to make sure the individual is getting the best treatment.

While the site uses language that I personally see as demeaning, I still thought it was important to highlight what they do for the community. I also couldn’t find a single charity or organization that didn’t use the word “suffering” to describe living with our disorder. I personally don’t see my OCD that way, but as I said, I wanted to show that there is a foundation out there trying to support us.

The site accepts donations, saying they will go towards families, therapists, support teams, and of course individuals with OCD. If you’re interested in reading more on your own and forming your own view, click here and the link will take you to the site!

[offmychest-official]

I am sick and tired of being dismissed as a manchild who never tried to do anything with my life. The only reason I am living with roommates, have no car, work retail and still don’t have a college degree at 32 is Munchausen Syndrome by proxy. I did not get out until a few years ago, just before quarantine and I was not financially in a position to go to college at all until this year.

My mom exaggerated the symptoms of an autism diagnosis when I was 15 to put me on disability by saying I was unable to use the bathroom, bathe myself, dress myself and that I couldn’t understand speech or read. None of this is true and I tried to talk her out of it but nobody listens to the words of an at-the-time fifteen year old boy. Maybe I should have tried harder but I didn’t know what to do.

I don’t want to be on disability for my life but I also can’t go into the trades because I got hit by a car several years ago and it screwed up my back. I am in pain all the time and would like a desk job in the tech industry or something but in order to do that I need a degree.

My mother paid for my older brother’s college. He doesn’t have student debt. I didn’t get the same privilege because she blew my trust fund. I wasn’t comfortable with what she was doing with it and wasn’t even fully aware of what was going on at the time but once again, no one listened to me.

I realize I look like a bum. I’ll probably die alone because you know what they say. Broke boys don’t deserve boyfriends. But it’s not for lack of trying to make something of my life which is why I get so frustrated with my boyfriend for dismissing me as a manchild and being embarrassed to be seen with me because I don’t have a car.

Of course until I have a house, a car, get six pack abs and a six figure income I cannot expect any man to treat me better because as a man you have to bring something of value to the table that’s just how it is.

I have made improvements. I moved out, I have my drivers license now. I’m working even though they cut everyone’s hours. People laugh at me and say I’m unemployed but they cut everyone’s hours so I am so tired of everyone telling me I’m just being lazy because I’ve been using the extra time on my studies. I get it. I don’t have a degree or a car but I may have a car in the next 6 months because a friend of mine is planning on selling their van and I’m first in line.

While I have roommates and live in an apartment and not a house, it’s likely I’ll have a studio by the end of this lease term because I’ve been waitlisted for one of the studios here which is in my budget.

Overall, I’m just tired of being dismissed as a manchild and I am so sick of my hard work not being acknowledged. Probably going to get a lot of people in the comments saying that I am being childish and expecting a participation trophy for the bare minimum but you have no idea how with my life circumstances just how much work it took to get to this point. Not that he’ll ever recognize it unless I become a billionaire or something.

.

[raptorsaurusmelain]

Let me show you... Youtube - chapter 25

No chapter until the 6th of november because of a project at work.

Warning : no proof reading, English is not my mother tongue.

If you are interested in reading this fic, the tag "#twst lmsyy" will give you all the chapters.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Victoria still bought the pillow, in hope that it will solve her sleeping problem. That man could really sell his grandmother for some grapes.

After that she talked about nothing and everything with Sam. How she used to have sleepless nights, how her phD made her a star among her peers, why did he decide to not do any long scholar diploma, was Lucius always this THICC... A little bit of everything.

-For the question, Lucius used to be thin but became a healthy chonky boi after eating too many treats.-

She also bought some colorful wool -named “Hug me tender”- and a couple of crochet. She had found a tutorial about a skull cardigan on YouTube and she decided to do it. Maybe do one for Yuu and a little one for Grim if she had enough courage and her obsession was still on. She was in full arts & craft mode. It often came with her mania and it disappeared when she felt “normal” again. She always had many hobbies when she was in mania that she abandoned when she was in depression. She just hoped she could finish her cardigan in time for Christmas. She was the type of person that thinks that Halloween is all year long and pests when Christmas ads come before Halloween.

She went to her desk, deciding to procrastinate. Crowley never looked at what she did. He didn’t even understand what she did.

She wasn’t in the mood to work. She wanted to crochet and sleep. It was really a particular state of mind, to want to sleep so much and not do it, despite all the efforts in the world. It was… Irritating. She was sleeping the bare minimum for the human body to function, but not enough for the brain to handle the memories of the day. You couldn’t manage to do anything, everything was going too fast since your brain couldn’t handle the information well. Your senses were messed up too, having hallucinations for example.

It was a sh*tty moment to live. Hard days without proper medical help. She could just hope that Crewel’s tonic and the pillow will help her. Speaking of the pillow… She put the pillow on the chair, for her back. It wasn’t meant to be used like this but it would do for the moment.

She began crocheting. From what she understood, she needed to do 116 granny square. It felt good to procrastinate.

She heard a knock on the door. She quickly hidden the yarn. “Yes ?”

Crowley entered, a little timid. “It’s about earlier, Mrs Devi…”

Victoria became annoyed. “What about it ?”

Crowley sweated a little. “Well I wanted to apologize and explain myself, since I couldn’t do it when we clashed.”

[AH!] She spoke like it was evidence. “At the same time, I didn’t want to hear your tiny violin.”

He mimicked as if an arrow struck him in the chest. “Ouch, Mrs Devi can’t you be a little more generous, like me ?”

Victoria blinked for a few seconds. A few very long seconds. “No. I am a French monsieur, I am a pitbull made to grumble.”

Crowley looked at her, jaded. She continued. “Well, Can you explain to me why you want Yuu to attend class so much ?”

Crowley inhaled. “Even if Yuu isn’t from this world, it is important to set an example. It is normal for children to have those phases, but we can’t expect Yuu to miss school at the minor inconvenience.”

The woman blinked. “A… Minor… Inconvenience ? An overblot seems more than a minor inconvenience.”

The man continued. “My point is that, even if for you it seems like a quota, it wouldn’t be possible for a non-mage to enter this school. It really is just a matter of equity. Plus Yuu doesn’t have a guardian to sign his absence note.”

She cried out. “I can just adopt them ! I am old enough to have a child. Like this my mom will stop criticizing my life choices.” 

It was the raven's turn to cry out. “How are you going to do that ? You have no paper !”

There was a blank for a few seconds. “Very true… By the way, you wouldn’t know a doctor that accepts to see people without insurance or social security number ?”

Crowley looked at her, interrogative. “I can find that, yes… For when ?”

|I knew he was shady !!]. She answered with all the confidence in the world. “ASAP please, I need to sleep, else I will become more of a handful than I already am.”

Crowley nodded. “Very well… Could you give me your number so I can give you the details when I have your appointment ?”

The woman nodded. “Very well, it’s…”

When she got home, she got a text from Crowley indicating the details of the meeting, in a week from now. [He knows shady people too.] was her only thought. She was going to pay a lot of money for this appointment…

After an hour or so, she opened the windows and began to prepare the wall to be painted again. She decided to go for a more pine tree green than the original olive one. It was more ‘cute’ for her.

Yuu got downstairs at that moment. They were intrigued by her antics. “What are you doing ?” 

Victoria smiled. “I am preparing the wall to be painted… Want to help ?”

The Child’s eyes sparkled. “Really ?? What can I do ?”

The woman smiled. “Grab this brush and paint the wall in long vertical then horizontal strokes.”

They grabbed the brush and began to apply her advice. It made her smile fondly. She liked this kind of atmosphere. It reminded her of when at all of her cousins' weddings where she had to animate the painting activities for the children. Such fun times.

She asked. “What did you do today, baby ?”

Without looking away from the wall, Yuu answered. “I read the manuals. There are a lot of things I don’t know here.”

She put her hand on her heart. “Oooh studious like mom- I mean, me ! You need knowledge to adapt to a new environment !”

That night she didn’t sleep much despite the tonic. She was in her bed doing crochet. It is amazing all you can do when you don’t sleep at night. She refused to look at YouTube, she knew better now. Not today blue screen, not today.

She needed to train a lot to do regular stitches. It was hard when you see badly. So doing meticulous tasks had begun to be tedious, uh ? It was going to be a long week…

A voice could be heard. “I love you.”

She knew it deep down. She had auditory hallucinations about her ex.

Tag : @boba-tea-fish @hipsterteller

[talltoontales]

Don't Tapping the Glass!

Prompt: ANGER

Prompt by: Me

Started Writing: 05/31/2024

[WARNING: Heavy Feelings]

|| || || || || || || || || ||

Another one of those days.

I pull into the driveway after another long day at my minimum-wage job. Stuff left unfinished, customers & co-workers left pissed, and so many more problems left to solve.

“Put it behind you.” “Leave work at work.”

If I could, I would have by now, but…I dunno. I’m just not built like that. I pull out my phone and open up the manager's group chat. Where I spend the next thirty minutes texting, reliving the horribly eventful day in several large text blocks. Making sure the opening crew has a chance for a better morning. I look back on my day with a microscope to make sure I didn’t overlook any missed task, irate customer, or time-consuming task. Surprise! Surprise! This doesn’t make me feel any better.

You’d think after I’d send the text it would be over, heh. Nope, now I have to look at tomorrow and plan for all the problems that it’ll bring. I end up just slumped in my car, going through all of the worst possible futures and how to prevent them.

“Why do you work so hard for a terrible job?” “They don’t deserve real estate in your head.”

On my better days, I’d joke, saying something like, “I gotta switch, not a dial. It’s either one hundred percent or zero.” But I haven’t had too many “better” days for a while now. In all honesty, when I go to work, I go to work, I feel bad getting paid to just stand around and do nothing, even if I barely get paid. Plus, my associates deserve at least one good boss or one who tries to be good. I finally drag myself out of my car and make my way to the front door.

-Doctor’s appointments, car payments, school, family, friends (or lack thereof), groceries-

It’s amazing how, in the span of just under a minute, the human mind can speed-run through all of my problems, worries, and frustrations.

I get to the dimly lit front door, and I just stare at it.

-Laundry, cooking, dishes, self-care, all those shows I wanted to watch, reading, writing, having a proper sleep schedule-

Just more problems that other people don’t see as problems. I go inside, hang up my keys, grab another canned meal, and eat while watching a video on my phone—until I get a call from my mom.

Give her credit, she knows her son. Always calling just to make sure I’m ok, and like always, I lie and say I’m fine. She knows I’m lying, but what can she do? She talks about her day, and my brain does its job.

-She’s overworking herself, family problems, dad in his own world…again. I should spend more time with them-

The call never lasts too long unless I make it, and I never do. I can’t, I have to be back at work soon.

Teeth brushed, face washed, don’t smell, time for…lying awake in silence and being left alone with my thoughts.

// // // // // // // // // //

I don’t know, or I can’t really remember the last time I was happy. Like I said, I had better days, and I’ll probably have better days in the future, but I want to be happy. I don’t want to feel like I have to survive the next day, and I don’t want to see just all the problems I can't fix. I think back through my life, trying to find where I went wrong.

Maybe it wasn’t my fault, maybe I could have fixed it, had a better life, a life that would have made me happy. A life where I could deal with my problems like a functioning adult. A life where I don’t feel alone even in a room full of people who love me and want me to succeed.

But I know there’s nothing I can do now, just like there was nothing I could have done then. All I’m doing is fixing problems that were never meant to be fixed. Then why am I doing it? Why do I keep going through life, past, present, and future, looking for problems? Why do I keep doing this to myself?

\\ \\ \\ \\ \\ \\ \\ \\ \\ \\

For the past few years, anytime I get angry, and I mean “nearing the breaking point,” angry, I have what I can only describe as a waking dream.

I’m walking down concrete steps into a cold, dark, basement-type room. Once I reach the bottom, a light turns on revealing a glass wall splitting the room in half. On the other side of the wall, is dim light. The other side of the room is covered in shredded paper with writing on it, the walls have deep scratches in them, and the glass is covered in smudges as if someone was wiping their hands against it.

There’s no one on the other side of the glass, no doors or windows to enter or escape from, just me. I look along the glass, seeing cracks in the wall where it meets the glass. I put a hand on the glass, it feels hot. Not enough to be painful but far from comfortable. I look closer at the paper on the ground, and some of it looks scrunched up like it was covered in water at some point. Both lights flicker off for a second. Once they’re back on, the smudges on the glass move, now looking like someone was dragging their hand towards me.

It doesn’t take a genius to know what’s behind the glass or what IT wants. It doesn’t care whose fault it is or why I’m here, it just wants to be free to do its job. But it knows I won’t let it. it knows that I fear what it could become if I let it out. I felt the glass push against my hand as if pressure was building on the other side, but it doesn’t phase me. As I walk away, I hear frantic thumping as it wails on the glass. Once, I get to the stairs I turn around for one last look, and scratched into the walls hundreds of times over is the same word:

!!!YELL!!!

It’s not a threat or an order. It’s a plea. It took me years and one mental breakdown to understand what I’ve done and what I still do to this day. Maybe I should give myself more credit. Maybe it would be okay if only for a while. Maybe it was always my fault I felt this way. But then, what would happen to me if I let it out? Could I forgive myself for what I’ve done?

...

I walk up the stairs. The banging continues but fades as I leave, only the faint sound of crying can be heard as I reach the final steps. At the end of all of that, I wake up. I don’t feel better, I just feel numb, but it’s better than walking around angry.

. . . . . . . . . .

Hey... So, peek behind the curtain time. If you haven't guessed, I'm not in the best place emotionally. If it helps, I'm not as bad as I used to be. So, progress! I've never felt in control of my life, and what little I do have control over never feels like it matters. Some days I just feel like I'm just floating through life, never making an impact on anyone or anything. Does wonders for my self-worth. And before anyone says anything, I know packing that stuff down is not even slightly healthy for me, but I've just never felt like I was in a safe enough space to unpack any of it. But I wanted to try anyway. so I wrote this. Didn't feel great putting my emotional baggage out on the curb for anyone to look at, but...I'm just tired of all of this just being in my head.

Aaaaaaaaanyway, Thanks for reading, and I hope you...enjoyed the story. If you have any comments, critiques, or criticisms, please don't be afraid to let me hear 'em (as long as they're constructive). Also, if you have some spare time, check out my blog for more stories like the one above. Stay safe, drink plenty of water, and, now more than ever, be kind to yourself and others. We all could use more kindness in the world. See you next time.

[fawnforlali]

Fairy Kings & Floods: A Study in Drowning by Ava Reid

Cute. Wasn't for me—not entirely.

Meet Effy Sayre: a meek architecture student with an obsessive love for one author. Six months after the author’s death, she wins a competition to redesign his historical home, which is crumbling into the ocean. But there are secrets in this decaying place. 

While uncovering them, we also uncover the secrets of Effy’s traumatic past. 

Now, let’s go through some of the negatives first. 

Effy is the sort of protagonist that is unsure, passive, whose actions tend to be self-destructive. She is seen as nothing more than a “pretty face”—a temptress to every man she meets in the book. Given her past, I understand why she is this way, but that didn’t make me any less irked than I am now. I’m not criticizing other characters written this way, or people who do act like this in real life. I know that—and I absolutely saw myself in her character too (you can’t tell me she wouldn’t be practicing her Starbucks order since she got in line). I just wish that Ava Reid wrote Effy in a way that was less monotonous and one dimensional, especially after going through all that trouble into making her a real person. 

Mysteries are supposed to conduct the reader, give them enough information about the problem to catalogue and sort through as they read and trick them into thinking they solved it. That is, until the story drops the final piece and you’re left dumfounded. This book really didn’t have that classic mystery quality to it since I was able to pick just about everything up long before they concluded anything. 

This one was such a bother. I noticed the pervasive use of similes only a chapter or two in this book, and once I did, it became so distracting. 

And the positives...? 

As a teenage girl often too deep in her own fantasies, the romance in this book kept me fed. Especially the end of chapter eleven (p.234) for those of you who have already read it. Had me giggling like a lunatic. 

This book deals with the extreme misogyny that is the reality for women in this world, and I can see why reading it can be therapeutic for many of the girls out there. Ava Reid chose an important message to convey through her writing but unfortunately, I just wasn’t feeling it. I could go on about how a good part of the book was a shallow dissection of profoundly serious themes, but I don’t want my negativity to seep through onto what is supposed to be the ‘pro’s’ section of this book review. 

Angharad, oh, Angharad. Let’s take a step back into Effy’s character and how she’s obsessed with this dead author—Angharad being the title of the book she holds more love for in her heart than for herself. I totally understand why that is. I loved the little snippets of Angharad we got at the beginning of most chapters and—quite honestly—I wish Ava Reid could publish it for reals. All I got were the tiniest of passages and paragraphs and I’m already infatuated with a book that doesn’t even exist. 

One thing you must know about me as a reader, I fall in love with every book I read to some extent. I become a point-blank fanatic if the book is really that amazing, which is why I have to wait for my excitement to die down before I ever give a book a rating. First impression and second impression, as I call it. For my first impression, I gave this book a 4.5 (out of 5 stars), which is quite good. Though after truly giving it some thought, I diminished it down to a 3.25. 

I believe it had everything a book should have, but it never quite exceeded the lines of bare minimum. A Study in Drowning was a palate cleanser to me—nothing ground-breaking, but left turning page after page anyway. Maybe I had just been expecting too much from this book, but overall, I found the story bloated with superfluous trends and tropes that detracted from what could’ve made it a very rich, needed story. 

If you were planning on reading A Study in Drowning, please don’t let this discourage you in any way. I’m just some kid on the internet with no judging credentials whatsoever, so please don’t get too mad either.